And so they grow... so, so fast. What a year it's been! Raina learned how to become a big sister; Rohan left his babyhood behind. All's that left are the memories.
P.S. Happy New 2009 to my fellow bloggers! Wish everyone a joyful, lively year ahead!
Monday, December 29, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Weaning Day
I've been so bad about blogging Rohan's milestones. Other than his 6-month 'birthday' and his first birthday, I've written little about him. But today is a special day and an extra special milestone for both him and his mom. Today's the first day Rohan went 24 hours without breastmilk.
So yup, the little man's weaned. Almost eight months after I thought to wean him. But it's done, without any fuss or muss.
The weaning actually began 3 months ago, when I started giving him formula in a sippy cup. Slowly but surely, the quantity of formula went up; consequently, the breastmilk started slowing down. At that point, I was nursing Rohan 5 times a day. Then about 45 days ago, I decided to quit nursing him to sleep for his morning and afternoon naps. I substituted nursing with books and a song, some gentle rocking. After lots of tears on both sides, he began adjusting to his new routine. Now he loves his books and gets so excited when it gets to be naptime! I know, the excitement defeats the purpose, but he does calm down quickly enough.
Next to go was his nursing session first thing in the morning. He wouldn't take the sippy, being still cranky, so I just began to pick him up from the crib and take him downstairs. There, watching the Christmas tree lights, Rohan drinks his milk.
Then tonight. It was not the day I would have chosen. We were buying a rug for the house, so were out till past his bedtime. So his routine of bath-then-bed was messed up. But I thought I would give it a try. I put him in his comfy blanket sleeper, out came the favorite books, then the song and rocking. When the time came, I put him down, kissed him good night, turned off the light and walked out of the room. Outside, I waited breathlessly for the tears I knew would come.
They didn't.
It's over.
So yup, the little man's weaned. Almost eight months after I thought to wean him. But it's done, without any fuss or muss.
The weaning actually began 3 months ago, when I started giving him formula in a sippy cup. Slowly but surely, the quantity of formula went up; consequently, the breastmilk started slowing down. At that point, I was nursing Rohan 5 times a day. Then about 45 days ago, I decided to quit nursing him to sleep for his morning and afternoon naps. I substituted nursing with books and a song, some gentle rocking. After lots of tears on both sides, he began adjusting to his new routine. Now he loves his books and gets so excited when it gets to be naptime! I know, the excitement defeats the purpose, but he does calm down quickly enough.
Next to go was his nursing session first thing in the morning. He wouldn't take the sippy, being still cranky, so I just began to pick him up from the crib and take him downstairs. There, watching the Christmas tree lights, Rohan drinks his milk.
Then tonight. It was not the day I would have chosen. We were buying a rug for the house, so were out till past his bedtime. So his routine of bath-then-bed was messed up. But I thought I would give it a try. I put him in his comfy blanket sleeper, out came the favorite books, then the song and rocking. When the time came, I put him down, kissed him good night, turned off the light and walked out of the room. Outside, I waited breathlessly for the tears I knew would come.
They didn't.
It's over.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
What They Hate About Mumbai
Whether you agree with Suketu Mehta or not, this is an interesting op-ed piece in the NYTimes. Check it out:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/29/opinion/29mehta.html?_r=1&adxnnl=1&emc=eta1&adxnnlx=1228239835-INt8tj3itWTx8DdQjAZuTg
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/29/opinion/29mehta.html?_r=1&adxnnl=1&emc=eta1&adxnnlx=1228239835-INt8tj3itWTx8DdQjAZuTg
Monday, December 01, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Mumbai Madness
I watched the black smoke billowing from the topmost dome of the Old Taj Hotel in Mumbai beseiged by terrorists armed with AK47s and grenades, filled with heaven knows how many terrified people. And while watching that image on TV, I was assailed by memories of laughter and color, of wedding receptions attended in the ballrooms, a Rotaract dance where I fluttered my hands like a Hawaiian, Wimbledon soirees. The Golden Dragon Chinese restaurant, the destination of so many birthday celebrations and special events, sometimes a restaurant taken to as a special treat after much coaxing. My brother and I would order our food, then slip out, a 100-rupee note clutching our hands, to the Nalanda bookstore, where we would buy a book each after much browsing.
Now the restaurant was the temporary home of a family friend, hiding underneath the table, the lights off, the doors barricaded. He was one of the lucky ones to slip away through the kitchen.
Next the TV images moved to the Oberoi hotel surrounded by commandos, the hotel where I, a college-goer with too much time on my hands, would hang out with my friends at the shopping arcade, looking at shoes, eyebrows shooting up at the prices. The Oberoi, home to a restaurant where I celebrated my 21st birthday with my parents dressed in my first chiffon saree, a bright shade of red. I ate caviar for the first time and drank champagne and got utterly toasted to the amusement of my family. My dad tells me that a lawyer he knew was lined up against that restaurant wall and shot.
The Leopold Cafe, only next to Mondegar's in my affection, with its good food, beer and upstairs dance floor, was where at one time my college friends and I saw the model Ranjeev Mulchandani and giggled endlessly. The walls are riddled with bullets I hear, but Leopold's actually opened its doors again today.
And throughout the 24-hour CNN coverage, I hear the TV host say again and again, "Mumbai has been brought to its knees." And I shake my head angrily and think no. He doesn't know my Mumbai.
Now the restaurant was the temporary home of a family friend, hiding underneath the table, the lights off, the doors barricaded. He was one of the lucky ones to slip away through the kitchen.
Next the TV images moved to the Oberoi hotel surrounded by commandos, the hotel where I, a college-goer with too much time on my hands, would hang out with my friends at the shopping arcade, looking at shoes, eyebrows shooting up at the prices. The Oberoi, home to a restaurant where I celebrated my 21st birthday with my parents dressed in my first chiffon saree, a bright shade of red. I ate caviar for the first time and drank champagne and got utterly toasted to the amusement of my family. My dad tells me that a lawyer he knew was lined up against that restaurant wall and shot.
The Leopold Cafe, only next to Mondegar's in my affection, with its good food, beer and upstairs dance floor, was where at one time my college friends and I saw the model Ranjeev Mulchandani and giggled endlessly. The walls are riddled with bullets I hear, but Leopold's actually opened its doors again today.
And throughout the 24-hour CNN coverage, I hear the TV host say again and again, "Mumbai has been brought to its knees." And I shake my head angrily and think no. He doesn't know my Mumbai.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
LV4FUN
Now, if I had one of those vanity license plates that adorn almost every car in Southern California, it'd probably say something like above. If it wasn't taken already, i.e. All the fun ones usually are. So if one's going to go through the completely unnecessary expense of having one, it might be worthwhile to really rack the brain and get some creative juice flowing. It should have a point, right? If in these economic times, one decides that a vanity plate is a luxury one can't do without, surely it's worth some effort? Better yet, one can pay someone to come up with something zany, thereby creating jobs and providing that much needed boost the economy needs. Better than a taxpayer bailout. Must write to Obama.
Anyhoo, before I digress any further, the reason why I'm writing about this:
So I was dropping Raina off to preschool this morning and there's this car before me. Really nice black BMW SUV, if you like SUVs that is. Which I don't, but that's neither here nor there. And this really nice BMW had this Arizona vanity plate that read VERYHOT. Really? Now what exactly is really hot? Is it the car (which I may have already mentioned is really nice)? Or the driver? The occupants? Or is it just a reference to the Arizona weather? I've heard it's hot in Arizona. Very hot.
So dude, if you're reading this, a word of advice: If you're going to spend money on a vanity plate, surely you can talk about something more interesting than the weather. Right now, all your vanity plate says about you is that you're dull. Boring. A vanity plate is a good accessory, so make sure it's a clear style statement about you. Coz it's all about you and your vanity, don't you know?
Anyhoo, before I digress any further, the reason why I'm writing about this:
So I was dropping Raina off to preschool this morning and there's this car before me. Really nice black BMW SUV, if you like SUVs that is. Which I don't, but that's neither here nor there. And this really nice BMW had this Arizona vanity plate that read VERYHOT. Really? Now what exactly is really hot? Is it the car (which I may have already mentioned is really nice)? Or the driver? The occupants? Or is it just a reference to the Arizona weather? I've heard it's hot in Arizona. Very hot.
So dude, if you're reading this, a word of advice: If you're going to spend money on a vanity plate, surely you can talk about something more interesting than the weather. Right now, all your vanity plate says about you is that you're dull. Boring. A vanity plate is a good accessory, so make sure it's a clear style statement about you. Coz it's all about you and your vanity, don't you know?
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
OMG!
"What the heck?!" exclaimed Raina in disgust.
"Wha?" I looked at her shocked. "Little girls aren't supposed to say, 'What the heck'!"
"What can I say then?" my 4-year-old asked.
"Well, you already say, 'Oh my gosh!' That works fine," I explain.
"No, I like to say, 'Oh my god!' instead," she said. "Because I have 2 gods. One god is on my pillow and I have a god thing in my room."
(Note: She has a pillow on her bed that she hugs that has the picture of Ram. A statue of Krishna and Radha is on her nightstand.)
"But God is in my heart too," she continues.
"God is everywhere," I begin, a litany she's familiar with. God's everywhere, he's in you, you are God, etc.
"Yes!" she interrupts. "He's in my brain and in my eyes. The brain has lots of buttons in it, and I have 2 God buttons in it."
"Yeah," I say slowly. "OK then."
Glad we got that squared away.
We often argue about how many kids she should have when she grows up. She wants 10. I firmly shake my head. We bargain a bit, and now we're down to 2 kids. The reason I claim to have any say in the matter is because she vows to live with us forever. She's never getting married, she's decided. If she does, her husband will also stay with us. But she wants to be a mom for sure. "Being a mom is such fun," she told me this evening. "I can't wait to be a mom!"
"It's a lot of work," I correct. "It's fun but a lot of work."
"I want to do that when I grow up," she said. "I want to do what you do."
"Well, it's important to be more than a mom," I said, visions of teenage pregnancy flitting through my head. "It's important to study, so you can earn money, and when your kids are in school, maybe you would want to go back to work."
Whew.
Is it any wonder I'm braindead by the end of the day?
"Wha?" I looked at her shocked. "Little girls aren't supposed to say, 'What the heck'!"
"What can I say then?" my 4-year-old asked.
"Well, you already say, 'Oh my gosh!' That works fine," I explain.
"No, I like to say, 'Oh my god!' instead," she said. "Because I have 2 gods. One god is on my pillow and I have a god thing in my room."
(Note: She has a pillow on her bed that she hugs that has the picture of Ram. A statue of Krishna and Radha is on her nightstand.)
"But God is in my heart too," she continues.
"God is everywhere," I begin, a litany she's familiar with. God's everywhere, he's in you, you are God, etc.
"Yes!" she interrupts. "He's in my brain and in my eyes. The brain has lots of buttons in it, and I have 2 God buttons in it."
"Yeah," I say slowly. "OK then."
Glad we got that squared away.
We often argue about how many kids she should have when she grows up. She wants 10. I firmly shake my head. We bargain a bit, and now we're down to 2 kids. The reason I claim to have any say in the matter is because she vows to live with us forever. She's never getting married, she's decided. If she does, her husband will also stay with us. But she wants to be a mom for sure. "Being a mom is such fun," she told me this evening. "I can't wait to be a mom!"
"It's a lot of work," I correct. "It's fun but a lot of work."
"I want to do that when I grow up," she said. "I want to do what you do."
"Well, it's important to be more than a mom," I said, visions of teenage pregnancy flitting through my head. "It's important to study, so you can earn money, and when your kids are in school, maybe you would want to go back to work."
Whew.
Is it any wonder I'm braindead by the end of the day?
Monday, November 03, 2008
The Catch-All Post
OK, a quick review of what's happened in the past month:
1. Obama's leading in all the battleground states, which tells me that he's going to be declared US president fairly early tomorrow evening. Here's keeping all my fingers and toes crossed for him.
2. My parents came. My parents left. Barring a few issues, a good time was had by all.
3. Rohan turned 1. Yes!!!! My little boy is officially one whole year old! And for all those folks who're going to say, oh time's just flown, let me tell you, that has not happened for me. It's been a heckuva long year. I enjoyed his babyhood as much as I could, but I'm glad to see it go. I know, weird me. I'll probably look back on these days with nostalgia, starting when he's a teenager and demanding more money, more clothes and the nice car to take out for a drive. (And the answer to all that is "NO!" Gotta start rehearsing now.)
Not that Rohan's not giving me many opportunities to say "NO!" to him already. He's into everything that he shouldn't be. Electric outlets beckon to him. Door stoppers make inviting twanging noises. Electric cords lure him to chew them. Floor fans are just begging to be poked at. I know he's going to start opening all the kitchen drawers next and dumping stuff out.
As a result, all the housework is half-finished, abandoned in yet another race to get to him before he seriously hurts himself. Of course, he gets hurt all the time. He has black and blue bruises on his forehead today from falling once again while attempting to cruise between his activity table and thin air. Dude, you can't walk by yourself yet. But you get points for trying. Again and again.
He still doesn't weigh much. He's in the 5th percentile for weight, in fact. But short of force-feeding him, there isn't much I can do about that. And yep, he's still nursing, so maybe that's not helping the weight gain any. He does drink some whole milk, though, so the weaning process has begun.
Today he began pointing at everything and saying "Da?" He wants to know the names for everything. I love this age when they're just starting to talk. I can't wait to see what his first word will be. Raina's was "light." Not Ma, not Dad. So let's see what her baby brother comes up with. You can be sure I'll blog about it!
In the meantime, here are some pix of Mr. I'm Now One Year Old! Woohoo!
1. Obama's leading in all the battleground states, which tells me that he's going to be declared US president fairly early tomorrow evening. Here's keeping all my fingers and toes crossed for him.
2. My parents came. My parents left. Barring a few issues, a good time was had by all.
3. Rohan turned 1. Yes!!!! My little boy is officially one whole year old! And for all those folks who're going to say, oh time's just flown, let me tell you, that has not happened for me. It's been a heckuva long year. I enjoyed his babyhood as much as I could, but I'm glad to see it go. I know, weird me. I'll probably look back on these days with nostalgia, starting when he's a teenager and demanding more money, more clothes and the nice car to take out for a drive. (And the answer to all that is "NO!" Gotta start rehearsing now.)
Not that Rohan's not giving me many opportunities to say "NO!" to him already. He's into everything that he shouldn't be. Electric outlets beckon to him. Door stoppers make inviting twanging noises. Electric cords lure him to chew them. Floor fans are just begging to be poked at. I know he's going to start opening all the kitchen drawers next and dumping stuff out.
As a result, all the housework is half-finished, abandoned in yet another race to get to him before he seriously hurts himself. Of course, he gets hurt all the time. He has black and blue bruises on his forehead today from falling once again while attempting to cruise between his activity table and thin air. Dude, you can't walk by yourself yet. But you get points for trying. Again and again.
He still doesn't weigh much. He's in the 5th percentile for weight, in fact. But short of force-feeding him, there isn't much I can do about that. And yep, he's still nursing, so maybe that's not helping the weight gain any. He does drink some whole milk, though, so the weaning process has begun.
Today he began pointing at everything and saying "Da?" He wants to know the names for everything. I love this age when they're just starting to talk. I can't wait to see what his first word will be. Raina's was "light." Not Ma, not Dad. So let's see what her baby brother comes up with. You can be sure I'll blog about it!
In the meantime, here are some pix of Mr. I'm Now One Year Old! Woohoo!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Why Men Cheat
So I was reading this interesting story on Yahoo! or someplace about "why men are unfaithful." According to the counselor who conducted some kind of study on unfaithful men, the number one reason why men cheat on their wives is, hold your breath, under-appreciation. Apparently men have a tremendous need to win, and if they feel that they are not "winning" in a relationship, they start to withdraw from their spouse.
So gee, on top of all the number of times we have to say "thank you" just because our husband deigns to put his dish in the sink, we have to figure out other ways to show our appreciation so that he doesn't stray!
OK, I can't complain. My husband not only puts his dishes in the sink, but washes them, loads the dishwasher, wipes down the kitchen counters and swiffers the floor. And I do appreciate it. I do. I am very vocal about my appreciation too. Is the compliment returned? Umm, not so often. In fact, getting a compliment from the husband's a lot like extracting teeth -- a painful experience.
Does that mean I am going to get down and dirty with somebody at the nearest motel? I don't think so! Sounds like an excuse to me.
On the other hand, everyone appreciates being appreciated, right? Cee Kay was ranting in a recent post about a similar thing. The double standard where the husband is praised to the skies by parents, in-laws, etc. for doing work around the house. But the lady of the house can't do enough for her family to be similarly praised. Even the husband, the person who one would think would be supremely aware of what his wife does to keep the family functioning in a well-oiled fashion -- even he seems to take all that work for granted.
It would be so nice to be appreciated by our spouses. Just once in a while. Just a few words is all it takes to make my day. To make all the cooking, cleaning, feeding feel less like chores and more like one's making a difference. Even when people KNOW that they're doing mundane stuff that needs to be done. Just because everyone has to do it, should it be any less of a big deal?
The counselor in the news story had some useful stuff to say too: about how it's important for a husband and wife to shut off the TV and the "Crackberrys" and communicate for about 45 minutes at least 4 times a week. I know if I don't "download" my day to P, I feel dissatisfied. Like I haven't completely de-stressed. And TV, email, blogging (!), cell phones all cut into the time I have with him.
So shut down the electricity and light some candles, people! Maybe we can then have a heart-to-heart about our MUTUAL need for appreciation.
So gee, on top of all the number of times we have to say "thank you" just because our husband deigns to put his dish in the sink, we have to figure out other ways to show our appreciation so that he doesn't stray!
OK, I can't complain. My husband not only puts his dishes in the sink, but washes them, loads the dishwasher, wipes down the kitchen counters and swiffers the floor. And I do appreciate it. I do. I am very vocal about my appreciation too. Is the compliment returned? Umm, not so often. In fact, getting a compliment from the husband's a lot like extracting teeth -- a painful experience.
Does that mean I am going to get down and dirty with somebody at the nearest motel? I don't think so! Sounds like an excuse to me.
On the other hand, everyone appreciates being appreciated, right? Cee Kay was ranting in a recent post about a similar thing. The double standard where the husband is praised to the skies by parents, in-laws, etc. for doing work around the house. But the lady of the house can't do enough for her family to be similarly praised. Even the husband, the person who one would think would be supremely aware of what his wife does to keep the family functioning in a well-oiled fashion -- even he seems to take all that work for granted.
It would be so nice to be appreciated by our spouses. Just once in a while. Just a few words is all it takes to make my day. To make all the cooking, cleaning, feeding feel less like chores and more like one's making a difference. Even when people KNOW that they're doing mundane stuff that needs to be done. Just because everyone has to do it, should it be any less of a big deal?
The counselor in the news story had some useful stuff to say too: about how it's important for a husband and wife to shut off the TV and the "Crackberrys" and communicate for about 45 minutes at least 4 times a week. I know if I don't "download" my day to P, I feel dissatisfied. Like I haven't completely de-stressed. And TV, email, blogging (!), cell phones all cut into the time I have with him.
So shut down the electricity and light some candles, people! Maybe we can then have a heart-to-heart about our MUTUAL need for appreciation.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Got Game?
Pikey The Cat aka Non-Official Lucky Mascot of the Ohio State Football Team is gearing up for the big game tonight against USC...
As you can see here, she's attempting to escape the firm clasp of a determined little player to score the winning touchdown. Trounce the Trojans, Pikey, ummm, Buckeyes! Beanie or no Beanie, Sloopy will hang on...
As you can see here, she's attempting to escape the firm clasp of a determined little player to score the winning touchdown. Trounce the Trojans, Pikey, ummm, Buckeyes! Beanie or no Beanie, Sloopy will hang on...
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Palin In Comparison
American women wanted Hillary Clinton in the White House -- but since they can't have her, they'll settle for the next best thing, Sarah Palin.
If the political pundits are to be believed, that's why Republican presidential hopeful John McCain chose the completely unknown glam queen (she was a runner up for Miss Alaska) as running mate -- hoping to cop the votes of those women feeling disenfranchised after Clinton failed to win the Democratic presidential nomination.
My first thought when I read that was "What the heck was he thinking?" I mean, it's laughable, right?
On the one hand you have (or don't have, as the case turned out) Hillary, strongly intelligent, pro-choice, as experienced in world politics as, well, Bill, with a hefty 8 years under her belt as U.S. senator and ummm, a Democrat.
On the other, you have Sarah, no doubt intelligent (but how do we know that?), anti-abortion, a gun owner (has anyone seen that picture of her proudly posing with that moose she killed?), experienced in world politics because "Alaska is the closest to Russia," courtesy Cindy McCain (who could be First Dumb Blonde Lady -- let's not even go there), experienced to help lead a nation of 250 million because her longest political stint has been as mayor of a town of 7,000 people (though she's been governor now for less than 2 years) and ummm, a Republican.
Sound like twins, don't they?
McCain obviously thinks so. He thinks women either don't care or don't have the requisite intelligence to understand that all Clinton and Palin share is gender. That just because Palin is a woman, Hillary supporters will rally around her, catapulting McCain to the White House. And once there, Palin will just... fade away into the background, letting the man lead. Like she herself said, what does a vice president do anyway?
If Palin ever became vice president, it would be one small step for woman, one giant leap backward for womankind.
So what's the American woman to do? Vote for Obama, I say.
Wish I could.
If the political pundits are to be believed, that's why Republican presidential hopeful John McCain chose the completely unknown glam queen (she was a runner up for Miss Alaska) as running mate -- hoping to cop the votes of those women feeling disenfranchised after Clinton failed to win the Democratic presidential nomination.
My first thought when I read that was "What the heck was he thinking?" I mean, it's laughable, right?
On the one hand you have (or don't have, as the case turned out) Hillary, strongly intelligent, pro-choice, as experienced in world politics as, well, Bill, with a hefty 8 years under her belt as U.S. senator and ummm, a Democrat.
On the other, you have Sarah, no doubt intelligent (but how do we know that?), anti-abortion, a gun owner (has anyone seen that picture of her proudly posing with that moose she killed?), experienced in world politics because "Alaska is the closest to Russia," courtesy Cindy McCain (who could be First Dumb Blonde Lady -- let's not even go there), experienced to help lead a nation of 250 million because her longest political stint has been as mayor of a town of 7,000 people (though she's been governor now for less than 2 years) and ummm, a Republican.
Sound like twins, don't they?
McCain obviously thinks so. He thinks women either don't care or don't have the requisite intelligence to understand that all Clinton and Palin share is gender. That just because Palin is a woman, Hillary supporters will rally around her, catapulting McCain to the White House. And once there, Palin will just... fade away into the background, letting the man lead. Like she herself said, what does a vice president do anyway?
If Palin ever became vice president, it would be one small step for woman, one giant leap backward for womankind.
So what's the American woman to do? Vote for Obama, I say.
Wish I could.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Thankee, thankee!
Got this bling from Mamma Mia! Me A Mamma? (mammamiameamamma.blogspot.com). Thanks, Mamma Mia! I am not worthy, etc., but I am truly gratified! You know, I started this blog just for me. Although I'd been a reporter, I was so burnt out I couldn't write about stuff that mattered to me anymore. This blog was an attempt to regain my ability to put my thoughts down. But the true inspiration was Raina.
After her birth, there was just so much about her that I wanted to record. And that spurred me to sit before the computer and blog about Raising Raina. But once I started, it seemed that there was so much I wanted to say, after all. And this blog became more than notes for posterity. It became a journal.
When other folks began to read it and comment on it, I was amazed. This was so much more fun than merely a journal! My blog's now a kind of sharing of thoughts and life incidents with actual, real, live people! And I get to share in their lives too! Sounds an awful lot like friendship to me -- even though I've read that what people blog is not really who they are, that we just see the face they want to portray. Well, who's to say that what they portray is not who they really are? And how do we know who people really are, even when we do meet them face-to-face?
What I'm saying is, this works for me.
OK, now on to passing this wonderful award to some truly deserving folks. Because that's what the rules say. Got to pass it on to 7 more. Most of these folks have already received this award multiple times, but what the heck. Surely they don't get tired of hearing how brilliant their writing is? They are all on my blogroll.
1. Eve's Lungs. For her astute observations.
2. Dipali's Of This and That. For her thoughtful words which transform the everyday to the extraordinary.
3. Terri's Tails. For showing us the world through an ABCDog's humorous eyes.
4. Anamika's Thinking Cramps. For painting pictures through her words.
5, 6, 7, 8, 9. For Cee Kay and Choxbox, Mad Momma, Mystic and CrazyMumma for sharing their own wonderful experience of mommyhood -- including the zillion gaffes we make -- with honesty and humor.
All you ladies are so inspiring! Go forth and pass on the award to blogs that inspire you. The rules are below:
This award is for blogs whose content and/or design are brilliant as well as creative.
The purpose of the prize is to promote as many blogs as possible in the blogosphere.
1. When you receive the prize you must write a post showing it, together with the name of who has given it to you, and link them back
2. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs (or even more) that you find brilliant in their content or design.
3. Show their names and links and leave them a comment informing they were prized with ‘Brilliant Weblog’
4. Show a picture of those who awarded you and those you give the prize (optional).
5. And then we pass it on!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Pressing the Panic Button
"Mommy, how do babies get inside mommies' bellies?"
Dang. Thought I'd been prepared for this. But of course, come crunch time, all I'd carefully researched and rehearsed about explaining the birds and the bees in a manner calculated to satisfy the most exacting little kid seemed to have evaporated leaving a big blank in its place.
"Umm," I murmured, desperately playing for time, while racking the grey cells for something. Anything that didn't include the hardware that acts in the reproduction process.
"When mommies and daddies love each other, they make babies," I said, sounding lame even to me.
"How?" asked my scientifically minded 4-year-old.
"Well, when they get married..." I said, digging a deeper hole for myself.
"But HOW?"
Finally I muttered something about thinking about it and getting back to her.
HELP!
I turn to you, my friends. I know some of you have blogged about this in the past. If so, could you please send me the link? Anyone struck with inspiration can advise. Just don't tell me to tell her like it is. I believe in being as matter-of-fact as possible with Raina, except where human reproduction is concerned. I think she's too small to know what goes where and what actually happens.
There's got to be books about explaining this.
Dang. Thought I'd been prepared for this. But of course, come crunch time, all I'd carefully researched and rehearsed about explaining the birds and the bees in a manner calculated to satisfy the most exacting little kid seemed to have evaporated leaving a big blank in its place.
"Umm," I murmured, desperately playing for time, while racking the grey cells for something. Anything that didn't include the hardware that acts in the reproduction process.
"When mommies and daddies love each other, they make babies," I said, sounding lame even to me.
"How?" asked my scientifically minded 4-year-old.
"Well, when they get married..." I said, digging a deeper hole for myself.
"But HOW?"
Finally I muttered something about thinking about it and getting back to her.
HELP!
I turn to you, my friends. I know some of you have blogged about this in the past. If so, could you please send me the link? Anyone struck with inspiration can advise. Just don't tell me to tell her like it is. I believe in being as matter-of-fact as possible with Raina, except where human reproduction is concerned. I think she's too small to know what goes where and what actually happens.
There's got to be books about explaining this.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
It's Time for... More Rainisms!
"Mommy, did you know that dinosaurs are in-sting?"
With visions of bees and dinosaurs running in my head, I said what I say often these days when listening to Raina: "Huh?"
"Yes, they are all dead!" piped R.
"Ah! Extinct!" intelligence belatedly dawned.
"Do you know, Mommy, when I discover a dinosaur in the backyard, what I am going to call it?"
"What are you going to call it, Raina?" I asked obligingly.
"Rainatops."
"Huh?" says this very duh mama.
"Yes, because T-rex and Triceratops are already there -- and they're all dead! Mine is going to be a new one, so it's going to be called Rainatops."
"Why not Rainasaurus?" asked her dad.
"OK, the next one I find in the backyard, I'll call Rainasaurus," Raina assured him.
Lately, Raina's been pretty preoccupied by thoughts of death and marriage.
Yesterday, when tucked in bed for the night, she said out of the blue, "Mommy, when people die, do they all die as a family?"
"Well," said Mommy, reluctantly engaging her fatigued brain into gear, "not necessarily. Sometimes, mommies or daddies die, sometimes kids die."
"But if everyone died, I'd be so sad!" R said, her voice beginning to break. "I would be alone and I would sit on the couch and cry and cry because everyone would be dead and I won't be able to marry anybody!"
"Well, I am sure not everyone would die at the same time. You'll find some man to marry."
"I don't want to marry a man! All men are already married!"
"Not all men are married. Your Uncle Mikey's not married."
"Uncle Mikey doesn't want to marry. That's why he's not married. OK, name three men who are not married."
"Huh?" said Mommy, ready to crawl under Raina's comforter and pass out herself. "OK, let me think."
Long pause while Mommy thinks. She can't believe how few single men she knows these days. Then she names three men.
Comforted, R goes to sleep with a big smile on her face.
P.S. Folks, this is post #101!
With visions of bees and dinosaurs running in my head, I said what I say often these days when listening to Raina: "Huh?"
"Yes, they are all dead!" piped R.
"Ah! Extinct!" intelligence belatedly dawned.
"Do you know, Mommy, when I discover a dinosaur in the backyard, what I am going to call it?"
"What are you going to call it, Raina?" I asked obligingly.
"Rainatops."
"Huh?" says this very duh mama.
"Yes, because T-rex and Triceratops are already there -- and they're all dead! Mine is going to be a new one, so it's going to be called Rainatops."
"Why not Rainasaurus?" asked her dad.
"OK, the next one I find in the backyard, I'll call Rainasaurus," Raina assured him.
Lately, Raina's been pretty preoccupied by thoughts of death and marriage.
Yesterday, when tucked in bed for the night, she said out of the blue, "Mommy, when people die, do they all die as a family?"
"Well," said Mommy, reluctantly engaging her fatigued brain into gear, "not necessarily. Sometimes, mommies or daddies die, sometimes kids die."
"But if everyone died, I'd be so sad!" R said, her voice beginning to break. "I would be alone and I would sit on the couch and cry and cry because everyone would be dead and I won't be able to marry anybody!"
"Well, I am sure not everyone would die at the same time. You'll find some man to marry."
"I don't want to marry a man! All men are already married!"
"Not all men are married. Your Uncle Mikey's not married."
"Uncle Mikey doesn't want to marry. That's why he's not married. OK, name three men who are not married."
"Huh?" said Mommy, ready to crawl under Raina's comforter and pass out herself. "OK, let me think."
Long pause while Mommy thinks. She can't believe how few single men she knows these days. Then she names three men.
Comforted, R goes to sleep with a big smile on her face.
P.S. Folks, this is post #101!
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Nine Months of Rohan
The boy has officially spent as much time outside the belly as within. So...
He can drink other than breastmilk.
He can eat solids.
And he can partyyyy!
Happy 9 months, Rohan!
He can drink other than breastmilk.
He can eat solids.
And he can partyyyy!
Happy 9 months, Rohan!
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Jingle Rock
So I was taking a bath this morning, and when I was squeezing out some green liquid soap, a jingle I'd heard about gazillion times on TV when I was a kid came unbidden to my mind. It goes something like this:
"How about a Minty, when you are having fun?
How about a Minty, when you are in the sun?
How about a Minty, just to pass the day?
Just have a Minty, and let it make your day.
Minty! Minty! Minty! Minty! NP Minty!"
Or at least that's how I remember it.
Then later on when I was giving Raina a bath, I came up with another one:
"Bubbles! Bubbles! Bubbles!
Add something special to an ordinary day!"
I used to make my mom get that kiddie soap for me, just because of that commercial.
The memories got me racking my brains for all the jingles I remembered hearing in the bygone years. And boy, there were lots. Lots and lots. I can't seem to get them out of my mind now. So I'm planning to pass on the jingle-bug by mentioning a few.
My all-time favorite jingle:
"We're all in it together for the fun of it
For the taste of it.
Campa Orange flavor
Adds the flavor of fun!"
I remember watching that commercial wistfully. The kids in it seemed to be having such a blast. And hey, that clown, doesn't he remind you now of Ronald McDonald?
Favorite jingle with celebrity:
"Kapil Dev. The tough cricketer with the tough beard. He uses Palmolive Shaving Cream with SGL4.
Kapil Dev: 'Palmolive da jawab nahin!'"
Indeed!
Jingle when heard stays in your head for the rest of the day:
"Marlex pressure cooker. Khana jaldi pakaye, kaisi seeti bajaye.
Marlex! Marlex pressure cooker!"
Most annoying jingle:
It's the Hawkins pressure cooker one. Hands down. Can't recall the exact words, but I still remember Neena Gupta mouthing, "Hawkeenz! Hawkeenz! Hawkeenz!" at the end. Horrible.
Jingle that got the most adolescentish guffaws:
"Jo OK sabun se nhaiye, kamal sa khil jaaye..." with the clincher : "Kaafi bada hai."
That one still makes me scream with laughter.
What jingles from those 'golden years' can you recall?
"How about a Minty, when you are having fun?
How about a Minty, when you are in the sun?
How about a Minty, just to pass the day?
Just have a Minty, and let it make your day.
Minty! Minty! Minty! Minty! NP Minty!"
Or at least that's how I remember it.
Then later on when I was giving Raina a bath, I came up with another one:
"Bubbles! Bubbles! Bubbles!
Add something special to an ordinary day!"
I used to make my mom get that kiddie soap for me, just because of that commercial.
The memories got me racking my brains for all the jingles I remembered hearing in the bygone years. And boy, there were lots. Lots and lots. I can't seem to get them out of my mind now. So I'm planning to pass on the jingle-bug by mentioning a few.
My all-time favorite jingle:
"We're all in it together for the fun of it
For the taste of it.
Campa Orange flavor
Adds the flavor of fun!"
I remember watching that commercial wistfully. The kids in it seemed to be having such a blast. And hey, that clown, doesn't he remind you now of Ronald McDonald?
Favorite jingle with celebrity:
"Kapil Dev. The tough cricketer with the tough beard. He uses Palmolive Shaving Cream with SGL4.
Kapil Dev: 'Palmolive da jawab nahin!'"
Indeed!
Jingle when heard stays in your head for the rest of the day:
"Marlex pressure cooker. Khana jaldi pakaye, kaisi seeti bajaye.
Marlex! Marlex pressure cooker!"
Most annoying jingle:
It's the Hawkins pressure cooker one. Hands down. Can't recall the exact words, but I still remember Neena Gupta mouthing, "Hawkeenz! Hawkeenz! Hawkeenz!" at the end. Horrible.
Jingle that got the most adolescentish guffaws:
"Jo OK sabun se nhaiye, kamal sa khil jaaye..." with the clincher : "Kaafi bada hai."
That one still makes me scream with laughter.
What jingles from those 'golden years' can you recall?
Thursday, June 05, 2008
C'est Moi
As if everyone didn't know enough about me, Eve's Lungs has tagged me to tell you more! And since I was one of those teenagers who wrote pages and pages about myself in friends' opinion books, I'm dishing it out here. Enjoy... or beware!
I am: a good listener.
I think: way too much and act way too little.
I know: that I am changing every day in every way -- and some changes I don't love.
I want: a life well lived.
I have: nothing. Trying to be less possessive about people and things.
I wish: my kids will be all they can be.
I hate: to schmooze. So I don't do it.
I miss: Bombay. My parents. My brother. My friends.
I fear: for my kids. The world can be an evil place.
I feel: Raina's ribs. That girl is too thin.
I hear: Rohan crying... even when he's not. :(
I smell: the cool evening air, presently.
I crave: chocolate.
I search: for the next step I want my life to take.
I wonder: how Pikey The Cat can sleep all day and night.
I regret: not going into the science field.
I love: people-watching in cafes with P.
I ache: when I see a news article on a missing child.
I care: about planet earth.
I am not: a domestic diva.
I believe: in the healing power of cuddles.
I dance: with Raina and Rohan.
I sing: in my car all the time. Loudly.
I cry: when I'm sick and hurting.
I don’t always: go out of my way for people.
I fight: when I am angry.
I write: because I love words.
I win: fair and square. I hate cheating.
I lose: with a smile and a shrug.
I never: lose hope.
I always: live and let live.
I confuse: my relatives. They just can't peg me.
I listen: to Raina's talks, Rohan's babbles and P's day at work.
I can usually be found: in the library. OK, that was before I had kids.
I am scared: that the worst is yet to come.
I need: my books.
I am happy about: my decision to have two kids.
I pass this on to Anamika, Rads, Cee Kay and Sraikh (asaaan.blogspot.com).
I am: a good listener.
I think: way too much and act way too little.
I know: that I am changing every day in every way -- and some changes I don't love.
I want: a life well lived.
I have: nothing. Trying to be less possessive about people and things.
I wish: my kids will be all they can be.
I hate: to schmooze. So I don't do it.
I miss: Bombay. My parents. My brother. My friends.
I fear: for my kids. The world can be an evil place.
I feel: Raina's ribs. That girl is too thin.
I hear: Rohan crying... even when he's not. :(
I smell: the cool evening air, presently.
I crave: chocolate.
I search: for the next step I want my life to take.
I wonder: how Pikey The Cat can sleep all day and night.
I regret: not going into the science field.
I love: people-watching in cafes with P.
I ache: when I see a news article on a missing child.
I care: about planet earth.
I am not: a domestic diva.
I believe: in the healing power of cuddles.
I dance: with Raina and Rohan.
I sing: in my car all the time. Loudly.
I cry: when I'm sick and hurting.
I don’t always: go out of my way for people.
I fight: when I am angry.
I write: because I love words.
I win: fair and square. I hate cheating.
I lose: with a smile and a shrug.
I never: lose hope.
I always: live and let live.
I confuse: my relatives. They just can't peg me.
I listen: to Raina's talks, Rohan's babbles and P's day at work.
I can usually be found: in the library. OK, that was before I had kids.
I am scared: that the worst is yet to come.
I need: my books.
I am happy about: my decision to have two kids.
I pass this on to Anamika, Rads, Cee Kay and Sraikh (asaaan.blogspot.com).
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
A Tag for Bookworms
I am such a geek. For days now, I've composed blog posts in my head while nursing Rohan to sleep. Prose that was, of course, brimming with wit and insight. But nothing short of a kick in the derriere would cure me of this inertia to sit before a computer and actually type. Or so I thought, until Anamika tagged me (http://thinkingcramps.blogspot.com).
Anamika, you got me pegged. A tag on books and I'm typing furiously before you can say, "What a lazy lying bum!" This one's so much fun!
OK, the rules:
Pick up the nearest book.
Open to page 123.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the next three sentences.
Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you .
So I grabbed "The Good Women of China: Hidden Voices" by Xinran, which I am presently re-reading. When I read it for the first time, I was depressed for days. Never thought I would read it again. But I'm fresh out of reading material, so yesterday I reluctantly picked it up. Glad I did, for now I'm looking beyond the shock and horror of the true-life accounts in this book and really thinking about this China we don't know.
OK, Page 123, Fifth sentence. Here goes:
"My grandfather was already over seventy when he was imprisoned. He survived his ordeal with an astoundingly strong will. The Red Guards spat or blew their noses into the coarse food and weak tea they brought to their prisoners. An old man who shared a cell with my grandfather died of grief, anger and shame at this treatment, but my grandfather kept a smile on his face. He removed the mucus and spit and ate everything that could be eaten."
I didn't stop at three sentences because it wouldn't make sense. And it's interesting that although the entire book is about the voices and lives of Chinese women, the above lines deal with a man. So although they aren't representative of the content, you may get some idea about the style of the writer (a Chinese journalist, who's a woman).
Thanks for tagging me, Anamika! And I pass this on to Terri's mom (http://terristurf.blogspot.com), Amodini (http://reviewroom.blogspot.com), Cee Kay (http://my2centstoo.blogspot.com), Mystic (http://mysticmargarita.blogspot.com) and Rads (http://kowthas.wordpress.com)!
Anamika, you got me pegged. A tag on books and I'm typing furiously before you can say, "What a lazy lying bum!" This one's so much fun!
OK, the rules:
Pick up the nearest book.
Open to page 123.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the next three sentences.
Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you .
So I grabbed "The Good Women of China: Hidden Voices" by Xinran, which I am presently re-reading. When I read it for the first time, I was depressed for days. Never thought I would read it again. But I'm fresh out of reading material, so yesterday I reluctantly picked it up. Glad I did, for now I'm looking beyond the shock and horror of the true-life accounts in this book and really thinking about this China we don't know.
OK, Page 123, Fifth sentence. Here goes:
"My grandfather was already over seventy when he was imprisoned. He survived his ordeal with an astoundingly strong will. The Red Guards spat or blew their noses into the coarse food and weak tea they brought to their prisoners. An old man who shared a cell with my grandfather died of grief, anger and shame at this treatment, but my grandfather kept a smile on his face. He removed the mucus and spit and ate everything that could be eaten."
I didn't stop at three sentences because it wouldn't make sense. And it's interesting that although the entire book is about the voices and lives of Chinese women, the above lines deal with a man. So although they aren't representative of the content, you may get some idea about the style of the writer (a Chinese journalist, who's a woman).
Thanks for tagging me, Anamika! And I pass this on to Terri's mom (http://terristurf.blogspot.com), Amodini (http://reviewroom.blogspot.com), Cee Kay (http://my2centstoo.blogspot.com), Mystic (http://mysticmargarita.blogspot.com) and Rads (http://kowthas.wordpress.com)!
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