The last time….

Of late, Facebook has been bouncing memories back at us….’see your memories, you have memories to look back’ kind of stuff. And I have been going back, and reposting old posts, like many others. There are some quotes, some pictures, and some reminders of becoming friends with various people on fb.

Some pictures of my kids took me back in time, and then I went a little further, testing my memory. Even with the number of grey hair on my crown increasing rapidly every day, I do vividly remember how my now 10 year old son looked when I first held him in my arms, how he gurgled as an infant, when he turned, sat up, crawled, walked, called me ‘mamma’ for the first time. I do remember all the ‘firsts’.

And I also remember how he would make me repeat his favourite playtime tricks ‘one last time’ endlessly. Then, sure enough came a last time, but I don’t remember any of the ‘lasts’. When was the last time he asked me carry him because he was too tired walking with me? When was the last time I helped him take a bath and get dressed? When was the last time I fed him, one painfully slow morsel after another? When was the last time I threw a soft ball for him to hit with his plastic cricket bat?

Though it fills me with pride, like any mother, to see my son growing up well, and excelling at many things, the thought that he will soon be a grown up and will be independent, and would not rely on me, does sadden me. But then isn’t this exactly what we parents strive for- making our kids independent and self-sufficient?

As I see him – now almost as tall as me- gliding deftly on his waveboard, manoeuvring the narrowest spaces with ease, I wonder when was the last time I waved kisses at him as his school bus left, because it was very ‘embarrassing’ for him! Here he is, ‘hi-fiving’ with his buddies as they manage to swish past each other on their waveboards, without dashing. Though I feel a surge of emotion, I know I would rather not hug him in front of his ‘gang’!

So today morning, as school reopens after Christmas vacation, and he managed to wake up in time to get his bus to school, and he called me for a ‘good morning hug,’ I forgot that he was wasting precious seconds , lazing around, and rushed to hug him….for this could very well be the ‘last time’ he wanted it!

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It's a boys team!!

There she was… a tiny bundle, wailing and kicking with all her might. I looked at her and fell in love all over again. She was a wish fulfilled, a prayer answered, and as I kissed her, I thought there was nothing more precious and flawless than her- my newborn daughter. 'Isn't she the prettiest girl in the world?' I smiled widely as I asked the surgeon while she administered anaesthesia and put me to sleep. 

I have an older son- and he was six when my daughter was born. When he was 2 or 3 years old, I would look longingly at those pretty dresses and cute sandals and accessories displayed in all kids wear shops. I  love my son to bits, but secretly wished I had a daughter whom I could dress up in all those oh-so-cute things. I wished and wished and wished, until he turned almost 5 and wanted a playmate - a brother, to be precise. 

During the months that I was pregnant, he would often say- 'Mamma, I am sure I will have a brother, who will play cricket with me' and I always said 'I am sure you will have a sister, so we will have a girls team against you and daddy!'

And a girl it was- a sister for my son. And he was happy, nevertheless. He even carried her in his arms on the very first day, very confidently, gently and affectionately. For me, taking care of an infant was a tad easier this time around. And I was only too happy that I could now buy all the prettiest dresses in the world for my doll.

But that was not to be. I was able to doll her up only till she was nearly three years old, which is roughly when she began pointing out what she liked to eat/wear/play. She displayed interest in everything that is conventionally meant for boys. The possible reason could be that she has an older brother whom she wants to emulate and whose approval she values the most.

My tiny doll is now four, and has a mind of her own. She has no love for pretty dresses, cute sandals and accessories, or girlie toys. She wears superhero t shirts, plays with cars, and can easily hit and punch while playing football! When she speaks, she says 'Main aunga, khaunga, jaunga'.

I did try at first to change her mannerisms, correcting every sentence that she spoke, cajoling her to wear girlie clothes, admonishing her for kicking the ball around inside the house, and chiding her for not letting me tie her hair. But soon I realised that all this only made her more react more boisterously, determined to 'become a boy'.

I also realised that there was nothing wrong with her, it was actually me. Not only was I giving in to gender stereotypes, which I always abhorred, but was also making her more rebellious. So, I had to some rethinking on the way I addressed her love for all things deemed 'boyish'.

Instead of lamenting that she never wore a single hair band or hair clip I bought for her and admonishing her for unkempt hair (which were very uncomfortable for her), I got her a short haircut. Not only is it more convenient for her, but for me also, when I need to get her dressed for school or while going out! I also stopped buying dresses for her completely (sigh), and now I buy t shirts and leggings for her, clothes that are comfortable for her to manage when she has to go to the washroom all by herself at school. I also don't buy her dolls or cooking sets, but try and find more gender neutral games for her.

Several times, people have asked me 'Isn't that a boy?' when I call her name, a girl's name. Or there are other kids, including my son's friends, who say 'Is your "sister" a boy?' And I don't mind explaining it to them that she is a girl who loves to behave like a boy. Reactions from people are varied. Some find it amusing, some think it is wrong, while some display sympathy, and say 'Don't worry, she will grow out of it.' But I am least worried.

And I wouldn't worry even if she doesn't grow out of it. It is alright if she keeps wearing superhero t-shirts forever, or plays noisy games, with boys. To me,  she will always be 'the prettiest girl in the world', whether she dresses up like one or not.

Though my friends found it very difficult to find gifts for her on her birthday, and though I see her picking up only blue racquets and blue balls and blue shoes and avoiding pink completely, I know that she will always be my princess.

At the same time, I marvel at the determination she has displayed at such a tender age, holding her own against older boys, when she plays with her brother and his friends. And her brother, my son - he is a proud brother. Yes, he has a sister, but it's a boys team at home!

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To shout, or not to shout!

A very intelligent neighbor of mine once asked me ‘Do you know the secret behind Lata Mangeshkar’s melodious voice even at this age?’ I was still thinking of some answer which that intelligent lady would approve of, and she had me splitting with laughter with her answer- ‘she has no kids!”

Great joke, but how true it is! Women, after becoming mothers, just transform so much! There are days in every woman’s life when she is the perfect, demure lover/wife whose voice drips honey as she speaks! And a few years later, when you see the same woman with a kid or two in tow, she is a totally different woman! Not just physically, but in every possible way! The angel-faced kids moms love so much have the ability to transform the most soft-spoken woman into a hollering mad woman in no time!

At least with me and a lot of women I know, this is really true! Hollering and running after the tots, I look and sound very different than what I was a few years ago! My kids keep me on my toes all the time, and I must thank them for that- they have helped me stay slim and fit! (Even if it sounds like I am boasting that I am slim, it is true!) And yes, I do shout sometimes, though I hate it and hate myself when I do that.

I am like any other mom. And whenever I ask my kids to do something, I always do it with a smile and a sweet tone at first. The second time, more sweetly, with a please. The third time, sweetly again. Fourth time, a little sternly. Then a pause, just to give them some time to do what they have been asked to do. Then the fifth time a little more sternly. And the sixth time and seventh, more sternly. And finally, I have to shout to be heard by my kids! Sometimes I feel as if they listen to me only when I shout!

And there are times when shouting just doesn’t help. Like when I want my three year old daughter to get dressed fast as she might miss her school van, and I raise my voice a bit, but you know what happens? She starts bawling, and spreads herself on the floor. Result? She misses the van and I have to either drop her at her school myself or let her be at home.

Kids.....it is as if they know just the right buttons to press to my patience! And they can match me, shout for shout, look for look and even stomp when I try to make them understand exactly why they should do what they are being asked to do.And most of the times, I do give in, even after a good round of shouting. What's more, I feel guilty about shouting at them. And the battles continue...

Though I have an unwritten rule that I never hit my kids (a thwack once in six months or so doesn’t count as hitting!), I am yet to stop shouting at them. But this joke about the not-so-sweet voice of moms has made me think about it. I guess I need to stop shouting at them, too. Not just to save my voice, but also for them.

After all, I don’t like being shouted at. And I didn’t like it when I was young and any of my parents shouted at me. Why would my kids like it? I cannot behave like I own them, they are also individuals like me. I have to understand that they are just children, and need a lot of time and space to grow up and be responsible. Inculcating discipline in children from a young age is fine, but that doesn’t require any shouting….or does it? I am still wondering…..

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Am I Doing It Right?

A mother is never sure if she is doing the right thing- whatever she does, she always has a nagging doubt at the back of her mind- I know because I am a mother of two cute, adorable and bright children and this creepy thought manages to cross my mind a zillion number of times every day.

Right from the time a child is born, a mother is also born- she also learns new things and makes new changes as the baby grows. She learns to wake up from deep slumber if the baby lets out the tiniest cry. She learns to cradle the baby to sleep, to massage the baby, to burp the baby, she learns to be half-awake all night and yet carry on her with her chores through the day.

Then she learns to prop the baby with pillows, she learns to cook semi-solid foods for the baby and she learns interesting tricks to make the baby eat all that! She learns to keep the floor spotlessly clean and get sharp objects out of the way when the baby crawls and walks. She learns to understand the needs of her child- when the toddler is hungry, needs to go for poo-poo or wants to play with mamma. She learns to read or narrate her child’s favourite story everyday without getting bored.

As the toddler starts pre-school, she learns to finish all her chores within those few hours and then give undivided attention to her child. With regular school, she learns how to help her child with school projects. And the process carries on as the child keeps growing- every new stage in the child’s life brings new lessons for the mother, too.

I am also on the path to learning new things and teaching some to my children as well. I often wonder, ‘Am I doing it right- staying at home and taking care of the needs of the children instead of going to work in some office and get a fat pay-check and buy them all the games and toys they ask for? (They do see some kids their age with all that expensive stuff, after all- that is why they ask for it.)

Am I doing it right- asking them not to compare with others but be happy with what they have? Am I doing it right- teaching my children to be honest and simple instead of mean and ready to pull anybody down to go up?

When I see my son coming home dejected because someone hurled abuses at him and he can never retaliate, I ask myself ‘should I have taught him to hit back?’ When my daughter comes home from plays-school with bruised knees because someone deliberately pushed her, I ask myself ‘should I have taught her to push the ones who push her?’

But when I recently went to my son’s school for a Parent-Teacher Interaction and his teacher told me ‘what a well-brought up child- so intelligent, so well-mannered and humble’ I found the answer to my question – ‘yes, I might not be the best mom in the world, but I maybe am doing it right!’ I know this feeling is not going to last long- I will be asking myself soon- AM I DOING IT RIGHT?

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