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, πŸ‹πŸ‹πŸ‹ which whales went where and why and away we went! πŸ€¦β€β™€οΈπŸ€¦β€β™€οΈ

And asking a child to put a πŸ“Œ 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. πŸ™‡β€β™€οΈπŸ™‡β€β™€οΈ

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

Of Nostalgia and Nosebleeds

Yesterday TO just semi-yelled out, “Oh darnit!” and I peeked out of the kitchen to see that the child had a nosebleed out of the blue! Since we are partial to him retaining his blood inside his body, Red and I rushed to see what the reason was.

The child in question wasn’t terribly worried barring the fact that his chunky mother hovering in front of his face was blocking his view of his laptop and wouldn’t you know it, that’s the time he’d decided that his online classes just couldn’t wait!! Never mind the other times when I’m dragging him out of bed so he can join his classes on time and not be a mini-zombie.

Anyhoo, after the usual “keep your head tilted, clean your nose out, stick this cotton up there, take this icepack” maneuvers, the flesh and blood pronounced himself to be nosebleed-free and fit as a fiddle. That is until I asked him to do some chores while there was a gap in his classes. Suddenly those few drops lost came to haunt him and he felt that he must sit down in an AC-cooled room andΒ  get his strength back a little bit.

Am grinning today while I type this out but trust me, I was anything but jovial yesterday. I’d called my mother in a hurry because I was prone to nosebleeds as a child although under slightly different circumstances and she lingered along Nostalgia Lane for a bit till I rushed her to the point where I had a possible solution in place. But the trip back to the #thetimesthatwere made me look back at things at a different time and place all day long. Maybe I needed a break from chores too, maybe it was from my family or maybe I wanted someone to dunk my feet in bubbling water that had Epsom salt, scented oils while I sat in a chair massager…oh baby!! Wait! What was I saying again?

My brief segue into salon porn aside, I was BADLY nostalgic yesterday. Am nostalgic at the drop of a pin most of the times and this staying inside is bringing out the #throwback vibes emos even more.

Speaking of emos and doing chores around the house, see how an adorable 5 year-old used to help his mother while getting into potentially dangerous situations (what can I say, I have a boy!)-have a looksee here!

For the uninitiated, I am a mother who is TERRIBLY fond of her child, the way he was. I am still getting used to who he is now and while the fondness remains, we may be reaching a GoT-kind of situation where vengeance and clashing swords could very well become the order of the day! Hey, the kid’s got the dragons part down pat, what did you expect?

More nostalgia posts to follow. For now, the Mother of the Dragon 2.0 has to rouse the sleeping cub and get him off to his “meetings”. Ah, the sweet life!

See the source image

Image courtesy: DeviantArt

The Portal of Peace

There’s a portal that exists within our homes. It hides in plain sight but you pass it by without seeing its charms or the wonders it holds. Even if you open it and enter, the true purpose of it is hidden till you become a parent. Because it is only then that the enchantment is revealed and the veil is lifed from our eyes and we see it for what it actually is- a refuge, a haven or a place to hideout till the little humans come for you.

Where Do You Hide From Your Kids?

I refer to, of course, the humble bathroom. The place that we all need; caste, creed, race, gender not withstanding. But for some reason parents need it more. From the initial days of becoming a parent when you can actual fall asleep on/near/ a commode or even while brushing your teeth, to the time when going to the bathroom becomes like a long-awaited entry to the exclusive nightclub around the time the child is crawling and reaching for everything that they shouldn’t be.

Mom's Genius Bathroom Sign - Bathroom Sign to Give Mom Privacy

Later on it’s just a place that becomes your refuge. You tiptoe past the child who hasn’t spotted you yet or sneakily creep around when they are calling out for you and make your way into the Promised Land aka The Loo! For it is the place you can bluff your way into and no one’s going to be able to come and check and see if you were really doing your business or just yanking their chain.

Numb Vulva, Chocolate Chips, and Truth – Pryvate Parts

Image courtesy: crappypictures.com

But there are limitations to the portal for it is not soundproof. And sometimes the space between the door and the floor is enough for little fingers to push their drawings through for you to see, or just to wave at you because who doesn’t like to engage in discourses about art or have social interaction while on the pot!

202 Parenting Memes That Will Make You Laugh So Hard It Will Wake ...

The kind of conversation that can go on from either sides of a portal is mindboggling but true nonetheless. Here are some examples:

  • “What are you doing in there?
  • When are you coming out?
  • Are you coming out?
  • Can I come in?
  • Are you doing anything in there because I can’t hear anything?
  • Can you make me a snack?
  • Can I have the Netflix password?
  • Can you unlock the iPad for me?
  • What kind of cake am I having for my birthday this year? (this question was posed during January and the child’s birthday is in August).
  • Are you reading your Kindle in there (Yes I was).
  • Are you watching digital media in there (yes, at times).
  • Are you eating? (eww…no. Coffee’s different.)
  • Can I have some money and get something from the store?
  • Can we go out for dinner tonight?
  • Are we rich?
  • I want to check my Amazon Pay amount.
  • Can I have a little sister? (!!!)
  • I want to make a deal..(and the negotiations begin).

Each time a child sees a closed door with a parent behind it, some primal instinct awakens in them and they feel the urge to communicate till some sort of reciprocation is forthcoming. For a parent, it’s a sense of cold comfort hiding out on the porcelain throne till it’s time to call it a day and open the portal back to the land of the little hoomans. That is, until the next time the portal opens and a world of isolation beckons away from the “gimme-gimmes”.

Mom sleeping in bathroom! | Mom humor, Sleep funny, Funny quotes

Cabin Fever Bloglet#2

  1. You find toothpaste on the ceiling of your bathroom/top of the shower cubicle and pretty much everywhere but on the toothbrush.3
  2. You see animal figurines appearing in laundry baskets, inners, the fridge and also the vegetable baskets.6
  3. The little hooman hides the remote in his school backpack as payback for switching the telly off. 9
  4. There’s a T-Rex silhouette behind the glass in a dark bathroom where you lit tealight candles.3
  5. There food’s on the table, it gets eaten, leftovers get put away and suddenly the cries of “I’m hungry” echo throughout the house. 7
  6. You go to the loo to do your business and there’s a persistent knocking on the door and questions of what you’re doing, how long you’ll be and why you went in there start raining down.10
  7. The little hoomans look at you and all they can say is Netflix/chips/buy me top-ups for games. 8
  8. The moment you think, “Ah! some peace and quiet” a little voice pipes up, “Wotchu doing Ayu? Can I do it with you?” 4

Despite all my gripes, and there are many I agree; I want to reiterate that there are mothers out there who proudly proclaim that their little angels are the best thing to grace this planet since the discovery of coffee. To them I say, “liar liar pants on fire!”

Image result for liar liar pants on fire gif

The Gift

My husband isn’t a person who does a lot of things by himself for others. He doesn’t give “of” himself consistently unless it’s for his son. For TO this man does everything I expect and then some. But neither does he wait around for others to ‘do unto him’. He takes what comes his way, if he wants more, he helps himself; if he doesn’t then he doesn’t. It’s very cut and dry and without hidden messages to decipher.

A few weeks ago I told him that instead of the family road trip that we’d planned out in this month, I wanted a few days by myself. And he agreed. He did it gracefully is what I’m focusing on. ‘Me by myself’ would have meant either I go off for introspection, fun, vegetate in a place outside my home or stay put and have the home and hearth to wander around in. I chose the latter.

Image result for me time meme

T.O almost exclusively travels with me. I have more time on my hands and it’s easier to align my trips with his time off from school but I’ve been wanting to make TO more flexible about where he travels, with whom and basically not get too rigid about anything in life. And the first ever father-son mini-vacay took place. They’re in Goa right now, our-once-every-year-holiday-spot while I vacay at home. And it’s been blissful.

I didn’t need to be away from them. I needed to be with me. And that’s not any feministic, soul searching claptrap. Sometimes you really don’t want to have to do anything beyond what you want to do. And I did exactly that. My indulgences consisted of switching off the daily alarms (yes..I have more than one) and just potter around the house while listening to everything from this to this. And no, I didn’t get drunk out of sheer joy. Alchohol did not touch these gabby lips once. And it’s nothing to brag about. I just didn’t feel like it.

I cooked. I sang. I did my usual minimal housekeeping because let’s face it, I don’t go on a cleaning frenzy till my folks are due to arrive and I need to maintain appearances about being a tidy housewife. But it’s been lovely and I’m actually looking forward to having these two back and hearing all about their stag trip that’s been full of fun, grilled fish and loads and loads of chatter and most of all, bonding.

So while I type this out, drink my unsweetened coffee (in your face sugar!) and sigh contentedly as the lovely cool breeze flutters the curtains all around, I’m going to go on record and say that for his services to preserving the sanity of this mother, I’m going to ease off on the nagging front with Red for as long as I possibly can. I’ll crack in a week, if that long but such gestures need a get out of jail free card and this is his.

Salut!

If Thou Beest Sick…Beest Ye Properly

I have no idea why I lapse into the Ye Olde Dayes…I just do. Imagine an imp with a neck ruff a la dear ol’ Will sitting on my shoulder, nudging me to shake things up a bit.

Anyhoo, I’d had a fever for a bit. Nothing critical but it was on the higher side and I felt bloody awful. There were fevers I’ve danced my way through (literally) but barring that I felt quite weak and miserable. I had weird Frankensteinish dreams which are bits and pieces of everything around me and my consciousness, all knitted together into an unholy mess. For e.g: I had visions of cobras being milked (I know they were damn cobras because my kid loves them and because I was stupid enough to read this article on The Better India) and some friend of the family moving into the home of one Red’s tennis partners. *shrugs*

I dreamt of days of more leisure, less responsibility (because that’s what the mind and body was craving). I kept dreaming of dinos because I was camped out on my kid’s bed while I sent him off to sleep with Red in mine. I had weirdass sound tracks running through my dreams as well because my mind was still preoccupied with setting up my customized playlists on Amazon Music for our own dear Alexa!

All the dream dissection apart, I just want to take some time and appreciate my peeps. I married one of them and made the other but both are equally precious to me this weekend at least. The Lord&Master kept me quarantined and took over the running of the house, poured liquids into me at regular intervals and made sure I took meds and basically kept my germs to myself and kept my grumpy face to my part of the house.

The offspring, and this is uber cute, came up to me for multiple hugs and kisses only to be turned away each time with threats of germs migrating onto him and setting up camp. He finally came up with a solution; he would give me a massage and make me feel better and get heaps of praise for his efforts-making him feel oodles better too. As a result of which, there is a bottle of Jergens which will not see the light of day again. Apparently the surface area of my body merits almost an entire 400ml bottle. I almost slipped out of bed by the time the lotion application got done.

But I have to mention that tiny, soft little hands, gently and delicately massaged goops of aloe-scented lotion onto my face, forehead, hair, roots, up my nose, in my ear and it was *quite* relaxing for the most part. What was particularly endearing was,”Aww you poor baby, you look soooo bad. I’ll make you feel better.” Followed by waking me up from my half-stupor to make me relate to everyone how well he’d taken care of me and what a good boy he was.

And he was…they both were. They let me wallow, they let me heal and MOST importantly…they LET ME BE. Weekends are relaxed but I’m usually the one picking up the slack. Red and brat help out but obviously I wish they were more proactive (Nyah!). And here they were, cleaning up wherever they could and BEST of all…not adding (much) to the mess. It was blissy. Verry, verry blissy.

So, moral of the story? If you’re going to be sick, don’t be a half-assed kind of sick. BE SICK! They love you to bits when you are.

Here endeth the lesson.

Cough, sniffle, sneeze!

 

Eating Your Words

Let me assure you that having to eat your own words is not a culinary experience to aspire to. Nope!

Classic cases of eating one’s words that I’m pretty sure quite a few adults go through-

  • When I grow up I won’t talk to my kids the way my parents talk to me- Reality? We used phrases like “Because I said so!”, “We’ll see”, ” Wait till your father gets home”, “Sit straight and don’t slouch” and the list goes on.
  • I can’t wait to see what my baby will do next- Again reality bites hard because the same child who you couldn’t wait to see toddling and uttering his first words is now a person who flies rather than walks and can put parrots to shame with his chirping and twittering and continuous mouthing of “Why”, “Please”, “Can I”, ” Are we there yet”. And this list too is sadly unending.

I had taken the offspring to the doctor’s office today and while I was waiting there I spied a woman who looked EXHAUSTED. I thought to myself, “this woman hasn’t slept properly in a while, or had the chance to bathe leisurely and probably has a preschooler…boy.” Three for three baby!

We shared looks of commiseration and fatigue across the room and I recalled when I first saw MLM’s sonogram and thought to myself that I couldn’t wait to have a baby…yup. My words will need a lot of seasoning going down my gullet.