Accurate But Politically Incorrect

TO is learning about genetics and most things associated with them. I’m ashamed to say that barring being familiar with terms, I can’t recollect the definition without looking it up and most times I look them up with a keywords “for dummies” because they have the easiest definitions to understand. Unless I understand them properly, I can’t explain it to Mr.2000 questions aka TO.

Red on the other hand, remembers pretty much perfectly and can explain it to varied audiences without having to recalibrate his verbiage much. He’s really *that* good. *Grumble grumble about smartypants husband*

Anyhoo, today TO had an off from school because of a slight bug and with exams coming up, Red and I decided to use the time to quiz him a bit on the salient points of the science paper. And as always, it had it’s funny ha-ha moments, usually aimed at the unsuspecting parents. When talking about traits, we were going through the list of traits that are easily observable and asking TO to see which ones he could spot at home.

We chanced upon the free vs attached earlobes ones and after some amount of ear pulling to see if they were attached or free, mine were pronounced the ‘pudgiest’ in the whole world. Apparently it was a compliment but TO’s not yet familiar with the dangers of using the words chubby, chunky, pudgy and other synonyms of “being healthy” to a woman.

Reunited…

Once there was a little necklace. It was very happy and bright. It had rounded beads and was liked by everyone who saw it. It was a very happy little necklace indeed!

One day came the Little Grabby Fingered Imp. The Imp grabbed and pulled the necklace towards himself but the necklace didn’t want to go with an Imp. It wanted to stay with the girl whose neck he had made his home.

But the Imp kept grabbing and pulling and grabbing some more till the necklace broke and the beads danced away into the shadows. The Imp didn’t want the it anymore because it was broken now. The necklace was sad. The girl was sadder still.

After many, many years the girl was getting her toes painted and without knowing it, she chose the colors of the necklace…it was time again to make the necklace whole. She would do it very soon indeed!

Problematic Pet Peeves

I was largely educated in convent schools where wooden rulers and thick books (Wren&Martin) flew through the air and landed on unsuspecting hands and back with unfailing frequency. They were almost always accompanied by beady-eyed looks of utter disapproval and disappointment by nuns sporting sparse to scary amounts of mouthbrows. Yikes!

Add to that my father’s continuous litany of ‘Perfection Is NOT an accident!!’ and you have a person who is a bit uptight about her language and the way it gets expressed.

Red has some lovely memories of me scrunching up my face going ‘what the..!’ during the time we were dating; they usually involved something he said which I knew was pronounced differently and it was *quite* a task not correcting him then or even now.

This is not to say my spoken English or English comprehension is sublime. It’s good, that’s all there is to it. And given the number of girls who studied with me, there are hundreds of us out there with a good level of competency in their English grammar, syntax and expression.

But habits die hard. Good or bad; they really do die hard. So when I come back from the gym achy, sweaty, wondering why the space below my knees feels like it’s tied up in knots and my kid, seeing me for the first time in the day, starts talking by using double negatives…the experience is just GAH!!

Sadly, I’m not sure what the more painful part of that whole thing is.

Takes A Bloomin’ Continent

A lot has been written about the people in the frontlines of this pandemic. As it should be. They literally are the first line of defence and often end up in hazardous situations themselves in the process of trying to cure or keep the populace safe.

But I don’t think enough has been written about the people who’re trying to make sure the little monkeys we brought into this world, remain educated, remain interested in education and actually learn something during these times where the only certainty is that it’s all still very uncertain!

30+ Most Accurate Teacher Memes - UPDATED!

Case in point: a teacher spends a good amount of time explaining things in fairly minute detail to middle schoolers and then asks if there are any questions. These are the inputs which come in from the kids-

  • Student#1 Ma’am you didn’t mark me present.
  • Student#2 Ma’am we have only 3 minutes left for the class to end.
  • Student#3 Ma’am can I go to the washroom.
  • Student#4 Ma’am you said XYZ’s name wrong…
  • Student#5 *umm…hmmm…erm*
  • Student#6 yawns loudly
  • Student#7 *humms*
  • Student#8 Ma’am it’s time, can we leave?

Teacher: sighs DEEPLY and says, “Ok children, anyone have any questions about what we’re discussing right now? For the things which were due 2 days ago? Any questions at all?” There’s pin drop silence. You can hear the clock tick, the birds chirp outside and the leaves of the tree rustle softly. Teache: No one? Nothing to ask?…sighs DEEPLY once more and says, “Ok children, you can leave the meeting.”

Students as ONE: BYEEEE MA’AAAAM!!!

It may have taken a village in the past to raise a child, but it takes waaay more to teach one!

To the teachers- we salute you!

Oh The Humanity!

Parenting is a delight and a joy depending upon which time of day, which season and generally which parent you catch hold of. On some days the WTF moments are so numerous that you really need to take a step back and say to yourself, “Did I knowingly bring forth that child into this world?”

TO is in middle school this year. That coupled with the pandemic has made for a unique circumstance where the de facto response to pretty much everything is Nyet, No, Nada, Negative, Naaah and Nyaah, nyaah, nyaah. It should be taken into account when so many languages across the globe fall back on a single consonant to convey the same sentiment. Can anyone say conspiracy?

Anyhoo, Red and I have decided to divide and conquer. I take the subjects he doesn’t want to help out with and he takes the subjects I never did well in school- viz Maths and Science. That isn’t to say that I was a total dumdum…my response latency in those two subjects was slower than was permitted by the school authorities, parents and Indian society overall. Apparently when the genes for STEM were being handed out my mother missed the bus but stayed at the busstop longer for the Humanities and Language doles.

It’s been the same throughout TO’s childhood, I did most of the Art and Music classes with him in Gymboree, did more finger-painting with him while Red did majority of the the kinesthetic activities. Can anyone say physics geek? Back to circa 2020 and homework is supervised by either Red or I based on the subject we consider to be in our wheelhouse.

Last night Red took a break from home, hearth and homework and went off to play with his friends while I took up Math with the surprisingly blunt child. He told me categorically that we should hold off on the homework till his father got back since I wasn’t good at the subject and we’d probably have to redo them anyhow.

To say I was insulted would be to put it mildly. When a 11 year old calls you a dummy without actually saying it out loud, you feel at all once proud and miffed. Sadly both sides are still warring with each other and no clear winner has emerged.

I conceded the point a wee bit but this morning is when the audacious child really took the cake! There was a poetry workshop of sorts hosted by his seniors and I was hearing bits and pieces of words as they floated over the kids talking to each other. Now even a lapsed English Litt major will tell you that when they hear the word Onomatopoeia, something latent in them awakens and they almost dreamily float to the source where such figures of speech are being bandied about by kids. And that’s when life kicks you in the face!

I went up to TO and asked him what was going on and who was talking about Figures of Speech. In turn I was sneered upon and told that I didn’t know what I was talking about since it wasn’t about figures of speech..it was about ononma..onomo..omono…whatever! To add insult to injury…he showed me THE HAND.

Yeah..because that’s why I was instructed up close and personally by mean nuns wielding Wren&Martin textbooks and why I did 3 years of undergrads with ONOWHATEVERS making up my days and nights!

If you thought that delightful anecdote was the only #dafuq moment of my day, then you’d be wrong! So so wrong! During a break between his classes, I asked TO to quickly fill up the water bottles and to keep the glass ones on the dining table. This is what he did-

Apparently unless you specify that said glass bottles also need to be filled with water, they shall remain dry and empty.

So to sum up: be literal AND specify when communicating with your kids. Otherwise you’ll spend a lot of time counting and looking up, or down (depending upon where you draw your inspiration from) just to get through the day.

Nuff said!

From The Diary Of A Distractible Kid’s Mother…

TO and I were delving into a new chapter that’s just started in Science and it was a slightly bumpy roller coaster ride- for me. 🤢

See, I know the kids’ tendency to yawn, stretch and curl up into a ball at the mere thought of homework or academics. 😴😴😴Been there, done that and I now channelize those skills when confronted with housework. But that’s a different story for a different day.

When TO and I were talking about measurements, we were trying (I was) to discuss why there were differences in the units of measurements for a particular substance. And I mentioned the Mariana Trench (I shouldn’t have)🌊🌊🌊 and from there the talk wildly veered to whales, 🐳🐳🐳their mass, 🐋🐋🐋 which whales went where and why and away we went! 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

And asking a child to put a 📌 in something is like trying to curb a force of nature. It is very difficult to do, sustain and even repeat if the occasion calls for it. 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

By the time one of his little friends called to check if he was free to play, I practically pushed him out the🚪! I was all tuckered out from meter-long fingers and foot-long glasses and kilograms of ocean water being tossed around.

My Week Till Now…

This week signals one month since TO’s school started again…online albeit. And it’s been oh so interesting.

I feel for the teachers, I really do. While the children have my sympathies since this is hardly the most optimum way of doing things, the teachers have to manage home and hearth plus keep an eye on the kids, critique their work and pretend their heads are not likely to explode from all the chatter and noise from the classes.

You have your ‘first benchers‘ and ‘back benchers‘ for online classes as well. The former are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed all day long and the latter are a mix who have multiple tabs open for games, surfing the internet, daydreaming or annoying their mothers for food.

There are also kids who spend nearly the entire duration saying “Ma’am ma’am ma’am” followed by one of these litanies or just saying Ma’am because they just seem to like the sound of the word quite a bit:

  • my internet isn’t working
  • my camera isn’t working
  • your audio isn’t working
  • I can’t see you
  • what are we supposed to do
  • I have to go to the bathroom
  • where are we supposed to submit the work?

Never underestimate the extent of hunger and sleep a child can experience till they have a class they need to get to or an assignment whose deadline’s passed. Anyhow, that’s all there is about the classes. Then there’s the near constant rain that’s putting a frown on TO’s face. Because that means that he can’t go out and cycle or play cricket.

Last night before going to bed he looked out the window and say that it was STILL raining and would probably rain all night long as well, rendering the cricket pitch a soggy mess for the next day and this ensued- a small enraged human stomping around saying, ” Oh F-word, F-word, F-word, F-word….ughhh F-WORDDDD!! Red looked at me with the censure that’s ever-present whenever TO drops an unsanctioned word. I shrugged and said, “at least he self-censored”.

Speaking of F-words and others which aren’t sanctioned in “polite” company, I end up dropping a bushel’s worth whenever I’m in my online fitness class. Fitness and I are age-old enemies. I nurture the flab and life keeps putting me in Fitness’s way for a series of activities which makes me feel like my body is turning into a pretzel and not in a good way.

I’ve noticed something though; every activity that has an animal’s name associated with it, barring the Cobra, makes me feel like the world as we know it, is about to end with me exploding in a burst of guts without the glory. You also get weird thoughts in your head like, “Burpees have nothing to do with burps at all!!

Be as that may, it’s a good way to get your blood pumping but at the end of everything you wish for a personal masseuse and a sauna with no husband and child around who look at you to provide food, read to them or cuddle while you are a puddle of sweat and bad muscle tone. NAMASTE

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

My kid thinks I’m blind AND dumb. If he didn’t, why on earth would he cut off a clump of hair that he couldn’t untangle instead of bringing it to his mother who’s so damn handy with a comb and also when we have a detangler spray handy as well? My face is going to have permanent indentations from all my facepalming.

Anyhoo, two days ago TO walks up to me very nonchalantly and asks for screentime access when I notice a lopsided part of his hair. On asking him what happened to his hair he goes coy and says “nothing” and then once I poke him on the bald spot he can no longer deny, he tells me how it was hurting him to comb his hair and he just cut it to make easier on himself. 🙄

After making it clear to him that a combover wasn’t something he should have to consider in this tender age, he agreed to get his hair cut so it would seem nice and even and less like male pattern baldness was setting in for a 10-year old.

At the parlor however, his desire to look funky had to be recalibrated because he didn’t have enough of floopy hair left on top to have a mohawk or even a mushroom cloud-like shape. What was inevitable was a bootcamp look. Ye Gods.

Am sure we’ll be visiting the stylist again, soon, for yet another hair dilemma. As I was telling someone yesterday, he went from pretty to butch in a single snip!

What The F*** Did You Say F*** For?

Last Sunday TO had some of his friends over for a pizza lunch. It went just fine. All the complaints, tears, sulks, hurt feelings and booboos turned up bang on schedule at the 2 hour mark like they do with x number of kids under the same roof for a given amount of time.

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One of the little ones was happily lazing at the dining table, with his feet up on the opposite chair and drawing out the cheese from his pizza slice and his friend was peppering him with questions, one after another, with nary a break. And then this happened:

Child#1– Hey J…did you see..blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah??? Child#2– munch munch, chomp, chomp, chomp…No. Child#1– But it was blah blah blah blah blah blah. Child#2– chomp chomp, more pizza…munch munch. Ok. Child#1– It was so blah blah blah blah blahx10!! Child#2- Hey M..shut the f*** up! And there was a bit of silence for a bit. Only because the rest had their mouths stuffed with pizza.

 Child#1 comes over to me and says (sadly and loudly),”You know J said shut the f*** to me!!” Before I can decide whether I should have my outraged, sad, stern or even my controlling-my-laugh face, Child#3 goes, “You should NEVER say F*** because it’s a BAD WORD!!” Child#4 chimes in-” I NEVER say F*** because it’s not a nice thing to say F*** and I’m not supposed to say it! Child#1– “But J said F*** to me RIGHT NOW (and pouts)!!” And my very own Bratosaurus leisurely finishes the pizza in his mouth, burps and says “Parton me (he says ‘parton’ instead of ‘pardon’) and adds, “We should all stop saying F*** because my mother is right here!”

      Image result for he said what nowImage result for he said what nowImage result for he said what now

The lesson here ladies and gents is this- always get the pan pizza with the thick crusts. Opt for the crusts filled with cheese if need be. It takes a while for these little yappers to get their tireless jaws around the whole thing. They can effectively talk AND curse with the thin crust pizza and spew half-masticated pieces of food all around in the process.

Here endeth the lesson.

 

 

Myopically Yours

I have myopia. I inherited from both my parents. I helped it along but for the most part, it’s their fault. I also have TO..that’s all Red’s fault. And I’ll tell you why…not why it’s Red’s fault; that’s Biology 101 and I have no desire to relive it. But when my myopia and my child’s influence overlap with each other, it becomes like a 3-beer, 2-black coffees+3 beers kinda Saturday for me.

So my myopia is fairly severe. Minus my glasses and more than 5 feet of distance between and the object, everyone’s The Blob. I kid you not. And with the humidity post the rains last night, I took off the glasses to go wash my face and came out to look for my hand lotion. The tube was open, with the cap on one side and the tube lying a bit further away. Sign #1 of TO infestation.

I thought I’d put it back and lifted the cap to find quite a bit of lotion inside it. Sign #2 of TO’s presence. So I thought I’d give him my patented ‘Thou Shalt Not Waste Beauty Products’ spiel once he got back home and liberally look the lotion from the cap and started to smear it on the back of my left hand. Danger bells ringing yet? No? Well…it should!

The “cream” was heavier, stickier and didn’t seem to get absorbed into my skin like before. If anything, my skin was beginning to look rather albino-ish when I squinted at it properly. Being a mother, I sniffed at it for good measure. It was WHITE. POSTER. COLOR. I mean why wouldn’t it be? I found a dinosaur in my bra once so why not poster color disguised as hand cream? Totally in my wheelhouse. So I squinted a bit more and found the open bottle of color shoved haphazardly amongst his books on the bookshelf and then decided it wasn’t the little imp’s fault. It was my myopia. I should know better than to touch anything on any surface of his room that I can’t either clearly see, smell or what doesn’t set off a Geiger counter.

So this post is dedicated to my folks…because this morning’s “colorful” experience is all on them and their shortsighted genes! And am seriously tempted to go Buffalo Bill on someone’s little behind right about now!

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