Wednesday, December 22, 2010

May Your Days Be Merry & Bright...

Merry Christmas and best wishes for a happy, healthy and prosperous 2011 from our home to yours.

Monday, November 08, 2010

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

This Is The Way We Wash Our Hands...

"Mom, I don't WANT to wash my hands! Mom, that isn't enough soap! Mom, I don't WANT you to sing 'Happy Birthday' while I wash my hands! No, I don't LIKE 'Row, row, row your boat either!' NO, NO, NO! Mom, I want you to sing 'Happy Birthday.' Mom, I NEED more soap! No, Mom, I WANT YOU TO SING 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY!' While I wash, Mom! I want YOU to turn on the water, Mom! No, I want to wash my own hands, Mom!"

This is the way we wash our hands, wash our hands, wash our hands. This is the way we wash our hands every time each day... thanks to Rohan.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

The Function of the Heart

Every night before sleeping, Raina requests a verse of a Hindi song, followed by the translation.

Usually, I try for kid-friendly songs, but tonight, I just couldn't think of one. So I began singing, "Dil deewana, bin sajana ke, maane na..." Yup, Maine Pyaar Kiya. It's funny the songs one thinks of. Anyhoo, I digress.

So this was the translation: "My crazy heart, without the person I love, doesn't feel happy." I know. Sucky translation. But my daughter doesn't care. Probably because she knows no better.

Ensuing discussion --

Raina: So this basically means that this person's heart isn't happy because the person she loves is not around.

Me: Exactly!

Raina: Because her heart is full of love, right? Because hearts have a lot of love. They pump love. They pump blood too, but in the center is love, and they have blood in the sides, right?


Couldn't resist sharing that nugget.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010


"No, Raina, you don't get to keep a broken hairclip as treasure. That isn't treasure, that's trash," I explained exasperatedly to my recently turned 6-year-old. Raina would put packrats to shame. Her toy bags (yes, plural) are overflowing with stuff any sensible kindergartner would have dumped as garbage a long time ago.

There are the ubiquitous rocks. Many, many rocks. All indispensable, of course. There are stacks of paper of all shapes and sizes that have been cut out and painted. All sculptural and artistic masterpieces and therefore, unthrowable. Then there are miscellaneous itty-bitties -- pipette bulbs from her dad's workplace, bits of ribbon and string, pieces of shells. The plastic whatnots like hair clips, paper clips, garish rings, beads... Just a casual glance around the playroom is enough to make my fastidious husband shudder.

So I put my foot down recently and explained to Ms. Raina the difference between trash and treasure. Her response? "Mom, it's good to reuse."

Thursday, February 18, 2010


Just after a bath tonight, Raina said, "Mommy, since I am a lady, I don't need to be married to have kids, right?"
"Er, no baby, you don't," my eyebrows raised high as heaven.

Just a couple of weeks ago, the topic of being a mommy came up while I was bringing her home from school.
"Mommy, A [Raina's best friend -- a girl] and I are going to live together and not have any babies," R remarked.
I was truly surprised. It was about two years ago that Raina was threatening to have a dozen offspring.
"I thought you wanted to have a bunch of babies," I said. "How come you changed your mind?"
"Well, I don't want to be cut up for the babies to come out," she replied.
"But, but..." I floundered, "you don't always HAVE to be cut up for babies to be born."
"How else are the babies going to come out?"
I sure walked right into that one.
"I will explain it to you when you are older," I answered feebly.
"Maybe when I am 10?" came the pat question.
"Sure, sure, that's a good age."
Phew. Close call there.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010


There are many benefits to taking Rohan to the park every morning. One, he stops saying, "Go there! Go there!" -- his morning chant until I give in. Two, there's the power of fresh air, swings and slides to tire a 2-year-old. Three, I get to hang out with other stay-at-home mommies, though there are usually more nannies than mommies at the park. It's also amazing to see the number of grandparents there, keeping up gamely with the little ones, while their parents work. I'm totally envious of these parents. They come really close to getting it all -- career and minimum guilt about leaving their kids behind.
But what I want to talk about are the times I hang out with other SAH mommies. There are the multitaskers, mothers who talk on their cellphones while pushing the swing. Others chat with other moms, while their kids run around. A mom or two just sits in the sidelines, probably enjoying a moment of peace. Then there are the inspiring ones -- the ones with teeny babies in a sling against their chest, patiently explaining to their 2-year-old why they need to share.
These look like Supermoms to me.
I met one at the park today. She had her 10-day-old son on a sling, while her just-turned-2-year-old boy climbed, jumped around and almost broke his neck a few dozen times. And she was telling me how much fun she was having. I think my eyes were wide. I mean, I love babies and all. Cute things, wot. But to deal with a 2-year-old and a newborn at the same time would have me headed to the nearest loony bin. She must have the patience of a saint.
But it seems such a common American trend these days -- to have babies who are months apart. And the moms just deal. Which makes me feel, why do I think it's a big deal to raise a 2-year-old and a 5-year-old? Why is it so hard for me? Why do I need my time away from my kids, my personal space, something "other" than taking care of the kids, without all of which I start getting realllllly snappy?
The plan is to put Rohan in a preschool in September, when he's close to 3 and hopefully potty trained. At which time, I will, also hopefully, work from home as I used to with Raina. But September seems far away, and I am soooooo bored.

Monday, January 18, 2010


It's always wonderful when it rains in Southern California. Mainly because it happens so rarely. Life slows down, as if straining to listen, to memorize, the soft rhythm of the raindrops.
Rohan goes, "Raink, raink!"
Raina rushes out, arms aloft and wide, an eager recipient for what the dark clouds may bring. The world greys and glistens, while we dance.
Lights turn on in the daytime, echoing the warm glows inside us. We huddle close, listen to music. I drink tea, and more tea. The kids nap because they feel like napping. And I blog, finally, after months.