Bumbling into Books - 1

I'm starting a monthly series called 'Bumbling into Books'. 

In general, it will be about children's books and in specific, it will be about the books S currently loves or books I am planning to read out to her.

Here are the books my 16-month old toddler & I bumbled into this September:

S loves saying "Aggle flaggle klabble" and "wumby chumby"

Thanks, SP, for the recommendation!

S cannot stop saying "no!", cos it's finally her turn to say "no" to me ;)

Thanks, SP, for the recommendation!

S thinks tigers love tea. 

For some strange reason, she calls the tiger "A--- anna", one of her friends' names. He is M&D's son

What books do you want to add to this list?

We like name-calling in our home

A and I yell out Precious' name even when we are calling out to each other. This is a sure case of lost identities, methinks. Are we now parents first and then husband and wife to each other?

Scary.

When I was younger, my grandmother used to call out her daughter, daughters-in-law and then grand daughter's names before she finally landed on mine. She blamed her forgetfulness on old age. My FIL does the same thing, he calls out for his sister, daughter and then finally arrives at his grand daughter's name! 

A and I don't even have the 'we are getting old and losing memory' excuse! We remain young-ish.

Speaking of young things and name-calling - S has learnt our names and loves calling us by name now, the little imp. She was SO kicked that just like her, her parents have names too. I guess it's inevitable that she calls me by my name when nobody else around me refers to me as 'amma'. I spent all of last week correcting her and trying to add an 'amma' after my name and 'appa' after A's name. 

We are getting there slowly. 

When I lived in India, I used to naively think that American kids referred to their parents by their first names. Except Archie Andrews and his gang, who sometimes had 'mom's and 'pop's in their homes. Now that I have American friends, I know that's not true at all. Most of my friends might call their in-laws by first name, but usually not their own parents. It's just not natural to address your parent by his or her first name.

But last week, S did make me wonder if she was going the 'first name' route. I was surprised that I instinctively didn't like it one bit. At least we have some illusion of 'control' and 'discipline' because S is only 16 months old. 

I shudder to think of what names she will call us in her teenage years!

How to shoo bad juju

'Rather than being your thoughts and emotions, be the awareness behind them' 

Eckhart Tolle

Everyday I strive to be the 'awareness' behind my thoughts and emotions. Some days, I let myself go and simply express my thoughts and emotions. and I accept that that's ok too.

Since I ranted in my previous post, and I do believe that good things don't happen to whiners, I wanted to balance out the potential bad juju in my life with thankfulness. That's how you shoo bad juju. 

Good juju, come on over. 

Thoo thoo. (Spits in air to ward off evil eye)

Juju-gods, are you listening, I ask?

I must say that the rant felt good AND bad. Good to purge, bad to be negative. I think exposing my weaknesses and vulnerabilities is what makes me and the rest of us more human. So...no regrets. 

Moving on, here's what I am thankful for at this 'rush hour' stage of my life. Thanks, C for the 'rush hour' reference in your comment to the previous post.

I am thankful for:

- My family: You make me feel loved, respected and cared for. You make me want to love, respect and care for you

- My job: It is a privilege to have a job and a partner who are perfectly creative, strategic and flexible at this stage of my life

- My friends: You make me laugh, you give me perspective and tell me it's ok to be bitchy, mean and needy at times

- My gym: You give me my me-time and energize me

- The weather right now: Not too hot, not too cold. Just right

- Music: You make me smile and little S dance...err....jump

- Healthy food: You make me feel active and energized

- Movies: You make me lose myself in another world

- Hot chai: YUM. You are my sinful indulgence

- Pilates: You make me fit, cool and....well...bendy

- Children's books: You make me feel like I'm the least talented, least creative person in the world and push me to read more of you to expand my horizons and try harder

- Credit cards and online shopping: You make me feel spendy powerful in control. I don't know the right word for you. It's like having the first crush - so overwhelmingly heady and powerful and yet flooded with a sense of helplessness

If we are not in touch, YOU are 50% to blame

Yes, this is a rant. 

Because I am starting to get pissed. and hormonal. and running out of patience. 

I am so sick of listening to people, both family and friends, whine away:

X: Oh but you never call
me (thinking): Neither do YOU. 
You don't call on birthdays, you don't call on Deepavali or New Year's, you don't call on weekends, ohwaitaminit, you have actually NEVER called me once since I moved out of India

X:Oh but it's been so hard to stay in touch with you since you moved to the US
me: Why is that? You have a mobile phone, you know how to text, you are on whatsapp, you are on Facebook, you are on Yahoo, you are on Google and you know how to use email. You have no excuse. At least you can return my calls

X: Oh you know how it is in India, so many people, so many demands, I have no time to even pause and think
me: Yes, I actually DO know. I lived there most of my life. I also know that people have people to help them at home, people watch movies at the cinema frequently, sit glued to the TV for hours on end, go out to eat often and bitch about how their lives suck and seem to have quite a bit of time to talk to other people ABOUT me. Why not suck it and call me or write to me? If you have so much time to dedicate to Mrs.XYZ who visited you last week, how come you don't have the time to say a humble hi to me? 
Be frank and say that I rank low on your priority list so don't expect me to rank you high.

X: Oh you are the younger one here, it's understood that you should call me
me: Seriously, have you checked the day and age we live in? Humans are equals in communication-expectation unless you are my grandmother and are technologically challenged. If you are anyone else and are older and wiser, I could benefit from hearing about your life experiences. Call me to distribute your gyaan at least

X: I am so busy
me: Yes, I know all about it. I have my hands full too. Let's not get me started on that

It takes two to make a relationship. If you want to be really close and not just pay lip-service, it takes a balance of frankness and assertiveness as well as true understanding and patience. If you are the sort who is whiny and lazy and still feel like you have some right to expect me to do all the communication work when I'm in the busiest phase of my life, you are delusional. Or you think you are entitled...for no apparent reason.

Please understand that there are lifestages that people go through and each has its share of busy seasons. I understand when you are busy and cannot call. Just don't have this unfair expectation that I should be the only one doing the calling and then whine.

There are three things any relationship needs to stay strong:
Time, Talk and Teamwork. How about you fitting me into your calendar sometime this year, huh? Maybe we can talk and try to work as a team to figure this out.

Oh and you just fell off my list of people to really care about. 

A's bike ride - Before the event

A is going on a bike ride this Sunday to help raise money and research a cure for epilepsy. 

Some burning questions I have at this stage are:
- Will A finish the 25 mile bike ride?
- Will he strike a pose good enough for me to create the caption contest that I am DYING to create?
- How tired will he be?
- How sweaty will he be? Gross.
- Will it rain? Or shine? 
- Will he be able to pedal fast, drink water from his bike-bottle and listen to his favorite music all at the same time?
- Who all will contribute to his cause? No pressure.
- How much will he be able to raise by Sunday?
- Can we use that money towards an amazing dinner splurge on Sunday night?
- Will S want to ride her trike alongside her appa?

If you guys are my Facebook friends, that means I have already reached out to you to contribute. 

What are you waiting for, HUH?!
(no pressure)

The bird in the car

I don't know of a single infant who was instantly happy to be belted into her car seat. 

If you do, please let me know. 

My story begins with S hating her car seat from the time she was tiny. She was fine sitting in it if grandma and grandpa were sitting beside her, singing or playing. 

She grew bigger, both sets of grandparents went back to their homes in India and I started driving S to daycare. My oh my! Day-1 was awful and she screamed bloody murder while I tried to concentrate real hard on driving safely.

My wise cousin Am, mom of two kids, told me, 

"I know it's heart-wrenching to listen to your baby cry. Trust me, ignore her and focus on the road! She'll get over it soon enough"

So, though I felt like the most cruel, hard-hearted mom in the whole wide world, I persisted. Day-2 was bad but Day-3 better, S only cried when I was backing up. My car  Our car makes this ki-ki-ki-ki sound when it reverses and S freaked out when the ki-ki-ki-ki  started. Desperate and trying not to bump into the huge and expensive-looking SUV behind me, I told her we had a bird in our car that was saying hi.

Kanna, the car-bird is saying ki-ki-ki-ki, give it a kissy
S stared me me, eyes wide open but was young enough to accept my explanation at face value. She started loving the beeping noise and I felt like the most creative, resourceful mom in the world. 

S now loves her car seat and we play this game in which A and I go Carrrrrrr and she goes seat!!! We go on and on and she never tires of it.

The car-bird trick worked well till recently.

Now that she is older and wiser, she asks me where the bird is and I need a solution, quick.

I manage the situation by telling her Car bird, kaanum! missing! and divert her attention to the bus, plane, anything exciting outside the window. But she persists. 

One fine day, since S is American and will know her rights and all that jazz, she will probably be a passionate adolescent who sues me for keeping a live bird in cruel conditions in my car our car. For 13 long years.

P.S. I have started referring to A's car/ our car as 'my' car and am trying not to get all possessive. 

Generation GYPSY

I'm an avid blog reader and enjoyed this post a lot. Read it now! It discusses why Generation Y, the generation born between the late 1970s and the mid 1990s or GYPSYs are an unhappy lot. I was shocked that nearly every single point attributed to defining oneself a GYPSY applied to me. I am not unhappy, though. I am quite a happy soul.

This discussion brings two of my loves together - blogging and generational gyan/wisdom. At my previous jobs, I used to pore over reams of data and conduct numerous researches understanding and comparing generations to understand why certain people or roles behave the way they do. 

I especially love the writer's advice for the GYPSY generation:

1) Stay wildly ambitious.  The current world is bubbling with opportunity for an ambitious person to find flowery, fulfilling success.  The specific direction may be unclear, but it'll work itself out—just dive in somewhere.

2) Stop thinking that you're special.  The fact is, right now, you're not special.  You're another completely inexperienced young person who doesn't have all that much to offer yet.  You can become special by working really hard for a long time.  

3) Ignore everyone else. Other people's grass seeming greener is no new concept, but in today's image crafting world, other people's grass looks like a glorious meadow. The truth is that everyone else is just as indecisive, self-doubting, and frustrated as you are, and if you just do your thing, you'll never have any reason to envy others.

I wonder what Precious' generation will be like. Will there be a war that redefines what hard work and struggle looks like? Will there be an end to racial discrimination? Will there be asexual humans? Aliens? 

Banananananannana and Papayayayayayayaya

These are Precious' favorite fruits these days. Thing is - she doesn't know when to stop. That applies to eating the fruit as well as saying the names out excitedly with SUCH a silly grin plastered all over her face that I want to eat her up ASAP. 

We wake up together in the morning (it's always 'we' because she used to wake up and call out "amma" and these days my body clock just wakes up a half hour before hers anyway and I lay in bed waiting for her to wake up). After the routine diaper change, sippy cup of milk and running around just for the heck of it, I start talking to her, in the spirit of treating her as a creature who can communicate clearly. I also buy time by talking to her and keeping her engaged while I cook breakfast. 

We have a very adult conversation in Tamil that translates to:

"What mum-mum do you want to have, kanna?"
"Pappu mum-mum" (Dal rice/ Rice and lentils)

"Oh of course, I'll give you pappu mum-mum later. That's for lunch. Do you want a fruit?"
"banyanyanyanyanyanya!!!"

"Yay. ok here goes!" 
I seat her in her high chair and peel a banana and hand it to her. We ALWAYS have bananas at home. She eats one mouthful and on the sucky days, throws the rest on the kitchen floor

"Kanna, please don't throw food on the ground. What do you want?"
"papayayayayyayayaya!!!"

"Oh there's no papaya at home. Here, eat the banana, I'm making eggs for you"
"PAPAYAYAYAYAYAYYAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"

I ignore her protests and give her breakfast of some sort. Every minute or so, she remembers what she was asking for earlier and breaks into her papaya-song. I repeat what I said earlier.

I'm wondering when long term memory happens to these kids. This situation reminds me of those movies in which the hero miraculously survives an underground or submarine bomb blast but unfortunately loses his long term memory and can only remember things told to him five minutes earlier. The story-writer must have been a toddler's mom.