Here Comes Trouble

Typical scenario at breakfast/lunch/dinner:

Mom and Rohan wrestle to keep Rohan on his chair at the dining table. Rohan agrees to stay, provided he's standing or leaning precariously against the back of the chair.
Mom: Rohan, noooooo! Sit properly baby, or you're going to fall!
Rohan: (happily) Fall.
Mom: No fall. Rohan will get an owie.
Rohan agreeably sits down -- for precisely 3 seconds. Then he's leaning on the table, climbs it. Mom firmly picks him up and puts him in his chair.
Mom: (pointing to Rohan's nose) Rohan, you are trouble. TROUBLE.
Rohan: (perplexed) Nose?
Mom: Yes, Rohan's nose.
Rohan (smiling toothily): No. Tubble.
Indeed.
Need I add the terrible two's have begun in full force Chez Muser?

Why Work?

My neighbor was in a mood today. She keeps going back and forth over her decision to re-join the workforce after having 2 kids, even though she's now been doing it for over a year. Every day after she comes home from work, she says, "I just want to resign. I miss my kids. I should just resign."
Today, she talked about why she went back to work.
"It was just killing my marriage," she confided. "I couldn't stop myself from resenting K. I mean, he had lunch breaks, where he would get to relax. I would be so frazzled by the end of the day, watching the kids."
She talked about her friends who were stay-at-home moms, how they would endlessly bitch about their husbands. Maybe she was waiting for me to make a similar confession.
Instead, I said, "It is hard. It was harder for me when I had just Raina to take care of. Now that I have two, it's easier."
A paradox, I know. But what I mean is that I am now more used to the job.
After Raina was born, the first couple of years were miserable for me. I had been working till a month before her birth, and I sorely missed being outside the home, interacting with fellow adults. Motherhood seemed such an isolating experience to me. And anyone who's ever earned a paycheck can testify that there's a unique satisfaction in making your own money. For not just days but months I resented my husband for being able to say "bye," turn around and head to work. I couldn't sympathize with his concerns at work, simply because I didn't feel I had anything worthwhile to contribute to the discussion. There was nothing exciting going on in my life, or so it felt like to me. In short, I loved my daughter, but I was bored out of my skull.
So when she was 15 months or so, I put her in a home daycare for a few hours a week. It was so liberating to be the one to say "bye" and turn around and leave. It sounds pathetic, I know, but I needed that break from my daughter. I needed to use my brain, interact with grown-ups, make a little money and become a "productive" member of society again.
I continued to freelance from home until Rohan was born. Then I went back to being a full-time stay-at-home mom. Sure, I did a couple of projects from home, but it was too taxing to work during naptime or after the kids went to bed at night. So I gave it up. I could've put Rohan in a daycare instead. I chose not to -- because I was actually having FUN.
Sure there are hard days. It's true that raising two doesn't double but quadruples the workload. The laundry is endless, for example. The dishes, oh my goodness. And then there are worse days when I feel like an unpaid servant.
But I am not one, I remind myself. I am a mom. And I get the chores, but I also get the hugs, the taking care of booboos, the questions, the laughter, the sheer joy of watching my kids be kids, be siblings, bond and grow.
I don't resent my husband anymore for going to work everyday. Some days, I actually feel sorry for him because he's missing out on some fun times. But then when he comes home, I get to recount what the kids were up to all day. And no, I no longer think I have nothing worthwhile to contribute to our discussions anymore.
So if you're a working mom, I want to hear from you. Was resenting your husband part of the reason why you went back to work? Just curious.

No News Is Definitely Bad News...

... and there's been no news of Pikey for almost 2 months now. We've informed our neighbors, put up fliers, visited the neighborhood animal shelter. I had pinned my hopes on the shelter because Pikey didn't have a tag or a collar and if someone had found her, that's where she would be.
There were lots of cats. Lots of black cats. But none with Pikey's sweet face. None who was 8 years old. None who meowed happily on seeing me and Rohan. So we went back to the car. I buckled Rohan to his seat, sat down behind the wheel and bawled.
There's nothing else for me to do.

Pikey The Explorer

This Saturday, it will be 2 weeks since we last saw Pikey The Cat.
It's been a long 2 weeks.
Since then, we've wept, called out her name endless times, walking our front yard and back yard.
We were hopeful, at first. Even though the longest Pikey had been out was one night. Always the next morning, we would see her black funny face at our backdoor, meowing piteously, waiting to be let in so that she could run upstairs to our bed, cuddle on soft sheets and take a blissful nap.
When we didn't see her the next morning, we went looking, sure we would hear her meowing behind a garbage can or underneath the car parked on the driveway. When we'd looked and looked, we figured she was hiding somewhere waiting for the dark to make her way home. You see, while Pikey acted like a tiger on the prowl at night, during the day, she was just an itty bitty scared kitty.
So we waited that night. And waited. We checked the back door many times before finally falling asleep. Called out a few more times. Tried not to think of the coyotes the neighbors had seen nearby a few weeks ago. The first tears began to fall.
Of course we didn't tell Raina about our fears.
We told her that Pikey was off on a big adventure, exploring just like Dora.
Rohan thankfully is too small to miss her. Even though he was the one who adored her the most, followed her around like Mary's little lamb. She rarely minded it, often plopping down right next to him, so that he could pat her gently or tug at her tail.



As the days passed, the tears began to fall faster.
P and I recalled the many times Pikey had made us laugh in the 8 years she'd been with us. Recently, she'd made us angry more often than not. Bringing mice home. Clawing the new handmade rug. We'd been impatient with her, complaining about the black hair all over the house that she'd shed. Maybe she decided she'd had enough, P said.
I pointed out to him that through it all, Pikey still slept right on top of him at night. Or next to him. Somewhere within touching distance. That she still got attention in the evenings once the kids were in bed. Pikey time, we called it. She'd plop on a cushion on our laps and get caressed to her heart's content. Then off she'd go to the backyard, and from there to the canyon beyond, hunting mice, doing what cats do.
But when it was time for bed, we'd call out to her and she'd often come running back.
So we've put up some posters in our neighborhood. If anyone's seen a black cat with yellow eyes, skittish but affectionate and very, very loving, please call.
Deep in our hearts, we're still hoping. We see her everywhere, a black blob in the closet shelf, in the shadows of the house at night. But for now, the food and water bowls have been put away.

Raina Proposes

About a month ago, just when she was about to step into the bath, Raina had something important to say.
"Mom, when I grow up I'm going to marry Z," she said.
Z is Raina's best friend at preschool, and to him, she's the "awesomest" girl he knows. Z's a little younger to Raina, so he started in her class just a few months ago. One day they began chatting, and since then, it's been Z this, Z that Chez Muser. It wasn't hard to figure out why they became such fast friends. Z's parents are from Lahore and his resemblance to Raina is marked.
A couple of weeks after announcing her nuptials, Raina said, "Mom, I'm so glad Z is not my baby brother. Because if he was, I couldn't marry him, and I want to. I asked him today, and he said, 'OK.'"
"Oh, OK," I said weakly. "Good to know."
My 5-year-old girl just made her first proposal.

5 Things I Love About Being A Mom

1. I get to be always right!

2. I have magic eyes at the back of my head and can shout out without looking, "Rohan! Don't climb that chair! You'll fall!" "Raina, let Rohan have that toy back NOW!"

3. :) It's not only OK to yell, it's part of the job description.

4. I can make foolish faces and play silly games with the excuse that I'm doing it to entertain my bacche.

5. In my kids, I have two willing partners ready to dance it out in the living room any time of the day.

6. And here's an extra: I get to be as sentimental as I want over them, take pictures of them using gazillion angles, hug and squeeze them when I feel like, smother them with kisses, all without feeling a fool.

Thanks for passing on such a wonderful tag, Eve's Lungs! And now doing my dooty and tagging Mystic Margarita, Dipali, Choxbox, Cee Kay and Maggi, who's had a new baby but it's time she got back to blogging so here's the incentive!

Mouthing Off

Rohan had his 18-month appointment yesterday, and as is usual, the doctor asked me if Rohan says any words.

"Ummm," I began, "He says 'boon-boon' for balloon, and 'car' because he loves cars, and 'mun' for the moon, 'bah' for ball -- he loves balls! -- mama, dada, 'na' for raina his big sister, 'whoo' for shoe, 'vis' for fish..."

"So he says a lot of words," said the pediatrician, seemingly hopeful of stemming the flow of words.

"Uh, yeah," said I, stopping short. I still hadn't told him about 'kak' for truck, and oh god, how could I forget, 'mummm' for Pikey the cat because she says "meow," and as she meows ten thousand times a day, we have to hear "mummmm" ten thousand times too. And "va-va-va" for the dog as in "bow wow wow" and just "wa-wa" for water and most importantly, "duhn!" said while raising his hands to his ears to signify he's done eating something. And then there's "ta-ta-ta" he says, waving one hand to indicate he wants to listen to music while he eats so please could I turn on the iPod.

There's the frantic "Ta! Ta! Ta!" when he wants Mommy to do something but she strangely enough can't understand. But mostly, he manages to get his point across.

I'm sure the doctor would've wanted to hear all about it. He must have been running behind on time.

Oh well, here's a picture of Rohan so you folks out there can see what the pediatrician saw.