Another Mother's Day came and went. There was no breakfast in bed. No 'Happy Mother's Day, mom!' shriek in unison. No cards. No gifts. No flowers. Not even a damn 'Happy Mother's Day' sms from Airtel. Instead,the habitual chaos prevailed. The usual grumbling before every meal, "Why can't we have anything different, ever?" One daughter had to be forced to do her home work. The other had to be literally pushed into the bathroom to take a shower. The hubby had to be gently reminded that it was NOT Mother Teresa's birthday the world was celebrating. The menu had to be planned, the laundry had to be done, the clothes had to be folded. Well, life is unfair to start with. And then you become a mother.
I have two daughters, and let me tell you, every time I see my friends with sons, I feel envious. No, it has nothing to do with my archaic Indian mentality. Just that mothering sons seems to be so easy. They eat without counting calories. They have short hair that need no combing. They do not spend hours on the phone talking. They do not have to be told to go down and play instead of watching TV. They never look at gangly, gawky 16 year old boys and burst into giggles and most important, they never talk about waxing their legs or plucking their eyebrows. The mothers only have to cook enough food to feed an army and the boys seem rather happy. The sons also seem to dote on their mothers. My elder daughter on the other hand thinks I'm her public enemy number one. In a few years,the younger one I am sure will start feeling the same. Though I would never exchange my daughters for sons, I really could do with some doting.
My mother perhaps would not have agreed with me on this one. The moment my brother turned 16, she turned into a deranged woman. She regularly checked his bag to find out if there was a love letter hidden somewhere. She sniffed for cigarette smoke every time he entered the house. She kept a check of how he was spending his pocket money and constantly worried about him getting into bad company. From a perfectly normal happy woman, she turned int a spy with an obsessive compulsive disorder. This went on till he finally married at the ripe old age of 33. Honestly, I do not know how my brother survived those maddening years.
I think this motherhood thing does not come easy to me. I wish along with the babies, God had also sent me an instruction manual to handle them. I would not have stumbled so many times on the way then. This Mother's Day, when I saw some lovely e-mails that my friends sent me, I started thinking, what was the fuss all about? Wasn't it like any other day? We cooked, we fed, we cleaned, we took care, we loved fiercely and we tumbled into beds that night too tired to even straighten out the bed sheets. That has been my routine for the last 14 years. That day was no different. And I know I was not the only one who felt like this. A lot of mothers all over the globe dealt with tears and sicknesses, tempers and tantrums, scraped knees and heart breaks on Mother's Day. And they all survived.
So why just celebrate it on a second Sunday of May each year? Why not every day? After all every day we are mothers, and every day we survive.
Some days with difficulty and the others with some cuss words...
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
My raison d'etre
The soft cry was what made me conscious.
When I looked around and saw only happy faces, I knew every thing was all right, but still, battling anxiety I asked, "All fingers in place?" My mother was so engrossed, she did not hear. For the new dad, it was love at first sight. Even if the baby was born limbless, he perhaps would not have cared. And my brother and the cousins who had gone there to support me, the less said the better. One look at the baby and they forgot all about me.
Ishita's birth was a celebration in my family. She was the first grandchild. To witness her birth, at least 15 members of my family had turned up. Wait a minute,probably there were more. Ask Sujata, she might have the right number. I was drugged out of my mind (thank God) and have no recollection whatsoever. I am not good with numbers even when I am not giving birth anyway.
So, after a while, when I realised there was no help coming from my mom or my dad, I yelled. "Hello, does anyone remember I exist?" My husband came hurriedly to my side and said, "Need the doctor? Will call." And disappeared again.
She was the cutest baby born in the family for a long time. Actually, she was the only baby born in the family for a long time. My brother's son, who was next, came 4 years later. For 4 years, she enjoyed being the only one, pampered and loved, spoiled and cosseted. The initial years, which kind of merge in my mind, were the years of discovery. Witnessing a tiny infant, slowly growing up to be a beautiful girl. Nature's greatest miracle.
Over the years, I have tried to be a teacher, as well as a mother. Teaching her to stand up after she fell. Teaching her to talk. To read and to write. Teaching her to respect every individual, to show love and kindness...but a lot of the time, the roles were reversed. It was she who taught me to be patient. It was she who taught me to be unbiased . To find pleasure in the smallest things. To find laughter in Disney characters. From her I learned that every day was a new day and nothing was commonplace. There was joy to be found even in chasing a butterfly.
She is still teaching me. I have learned lately that my love is not always unconditional. At times I am guilty of loving less.That I am capable of harsh words.That though I am her staunchest ally, I am also her worst critic. From her I learn every day that motherhood is not easy, specially when you are a mother of a teen.
So there are slammed doors and angry tears. Ugly skirmishes and yelling matches. There are hurtful words and lack of understanding.But there is also love, beneath all the overwhelming thoughts.
Over these 14 years I have realised that my daughter is the central point of my life. Though I did not set out to be a full time mother, this is what has made my life rich. She is the motive for everything that I do and being her mother is the identity I have carved out for myself. And when I see her happy, vibrant and smiling, I know I have not done a bad job.
Happy Birthday sweetie-pie.May you get everything that you wish for in life, including that i-pod. But don't wish for a boy friend just yet. There's still some time for that.
Like may be when you are 28?
When I looked around and saw only happy faces, I knew every thing was all right, but still, battling anxiety I asked, "All fingers in place?" My mother was so engrossed, she did not hear. For the new dad, it was love at first sight. Even if the baby was born limbless, he perhaps would not have cared. And my brother and the cousins who had gone there to support me, the less said the better. One look at the baby and they forgot all about me.
Ishita's birth was a celebration in my family. She was the first grandchild. To witness her birth, at least 15 members of my family had turned up. Wait a minute,probably there were more. Ask Sujata, she might have the right number. I was drugged out of my mind (thank God) and have no recollection whatsoever. I am not good with numbers even when I am not giving birth anyway.
So, after a while, when I realised there was no help coming from my mom or my dad, I yelled. "Hello, does anyone remember I exist?" My husband came hurriedly to my side and said, "Need the doctor? Will call." And disappeared again.
She was the cutest baby born in the family for a long time. Actually, she was the only baby born in the family for a long time. My brother's son, who was next, came 4 years later. For 4 years, she enjoyed being the only one, pampered and loved, spoiled and cosseted. The initial years, which kind of merge in my mind, were the years of discovery. Witnessing a tiny infant, slowly growing up to be a beautiful girl. Nature's greatest miracle.
Over the years, I have tried to be a teacher, as well as a mother. Teaching her to stand up after she fell. Teaching her to talk. To read and to write. Teaching her to respect every individual, to show love and kindness...but a lot of the time, the roles were reversed. It was she who taught me to be patient. It was she who taught me to be unbiased . To find pleasure in the smallest things. To find laughter in Disney characters. From her I learned that every day was a new day and nothing was commonplace. There was joy to be found even in chasing a butterfly.
She is still teaching me. I have learned lately that my love is not always unconditional. At times I am guilty of loving less.That I am capable of harsh words.That though I am her staunchest ally, I am also her worst critic. From her I learn every day that motherhood is not easy, specially when you are a mother of a teen.
So there are slammed doors and angry tears. Ugly skirmishes and yelling matches. There are hurtful words and lack of understanding.But there is also love, beneath all the overwhelming thoughts.
Over these 14 years I have realised that my daughter is the central point of my life. Though I did not set out to be a full time mother, this is what has made my life rich. She is the motive for everything that I do and being her mother is the identity I have carved out for myself. And when I see her happy, vibrant and smiling, I know I have not done a bad job.
Happy Birthday sweetie-pie.May you get everything that you wish for in life, including that i-pod. But don't wish for a boy friend just yet. There's still some time for that.
Like may be when you are 28?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Those Speechless Moments
For a school programme, she was asked to dress up in a saree and mouth a really long dialogue.
The conversation went like this.
Baby : I am Sarojini.
Me : Ok, will do....
The day of the programme daddy and mommy went to see Baby perform.
Teacher : Now comes Ayushi, dressed as ...who are you honey?
Baby : I am Sarojini Nagar market.
Me :
Then she turned three. And the conversation went like this.
Baby: Mama, why is
Me : Like what baby?
Baby : With one leg crossed?
Me : That's his pose for playing the flute.
Baby : I think he needs to go to susu and he is trying to control himself because there is no bathroom.
Me :
And this happened when she was 5.
Me : Baby,come here. I will take your photograph.
Baby: Can I paint my teeth with your glitter nail polish first?
Me: Whatever for?
Baby: I want my teeth to sparkle and shine when I smile at the camera.
Me:
And then she turned really intelligent when she was 6.
Baby: Mama, who are these men?
Me : This is Ratan Tata. And this one is Adi Godrej.
Baby : What kind of parents did they have?
Me : I think pretty good. Why do you ask?
Baby: They were cruel to name their children after trucks and almirahs. Do you think their friends teased them in school because of their names?
Me :
And this conversation happened just two weeks back.
Baby: Do you think I can celebrate my birthday in the place that opened recently?
Me : I don't think so. That is a place for grown ups.
Baby :Why do you say that?
Me: Because what they serve is not meant for children. They serve what adults like.
Baby: Oh! you mean they serve drugs and alcohol?
Me :
Exactly 8 years ago, more or less at this time, I had looked up and seen the beaming face of my doctor." Congratulations," she had said.
Then she had tried to look sombre. " Did you want a boy?"
I had looked around and seen the anaesthetist taking off her gloves. She had smiled and winked at me. The paediatrician was still holding the baby and she had seemed completely enamored with the new born. I had also seen the two nurses who had tirelessly helped the doctors.
Through out the process, the doctors had discussed amongst themselves the most comfortable yet fashionable shoes to wear in the hospitals. They had discussed the challenges of working mothers. Their parents and their special needs. And had cracked jokes. I did not know whether they did all this it to keep my mind off my anxiety. Or that was how they always worked.
Incidentally, I was also vaguely aware of the presence of two males during my ordeal. One had become so nervous that he almost destroyed the corridors of the hospital with his pacing. The other one was the orderly who had wheeled me in. Did I want a boy?
That was my best speechless moment as a mother.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
A baby of her own
After 15 years of trying, my cousin Raktima finally got her baby.
Her uncluttered, orderly house these days sport a new look. It looks untidy and messy.Walk a bit and you will stumble across a teddy. Explore further and you will surely find a bassinet in the living area. The pillows have been thrown on the floor. There are some really cute toys strewn everywhere. Considering how finicky she was about her designer home, I can only marvel at this transformation.
She has been married for 16 years. The last 15 years went in trying for a baby. She quit her job to be a full time trying -to -be- a -mother..There have been monitoring temperatures and maintaining charts. There have been 4 doctors in 4 different cities. There have been various drugs that saw her weight balloning to 74 kgs from her normal 55kgs. There have been routine pokes and invasive procedures. There has been a surgery.There have been the rather humiliating experience of revealing extermely intimate details of her life to all those in her family who considered themselves feritlity experts. Then there was the exorbitant cost of the treatment. Plus she also went through the mandatory pilgrimages. Why leave everything to science. God also performs miracles.
So her god finally performed a miracle and fulfilled her greatest desire. She became a mother last June. Beaming grandparents, exhuberant friends and well wishing cousins all lined up in her home to welcome the new baby. She was a scrawny,hairless bundle. Her tight fist held on to my cousin's finger. Even sleeping her face would at times turn to her mother as if seeking reassurance. When her aunt tried to take away the baby from the mother, she protested loudly. None of us were in any doubt about her spunk. The baby made her presence felt from day one. The entire household revolved around her schedule and she knew it. Her every whimper would bring her doting parents to her side and she made full advantage of it.
Nothing really has changed since last June. The baby is spunky still. The parents are doting as ever. They just look exhausted all the time. After a really exhausting cleaning ,feeding and cleaning again spree, I asked my cousin whether all this was worth it. The numerous visits to the doctor. The traumatic treatments. The severe depressoin. All that money spent. She could have taken the short cut long back... got a baby home from an adoption centre.
My cousin disagreed. The last 15 years strengthened her desire to be a mom. Motherhood was not easy. And if she could handle this pain, she could handle anything. Because she went through all this, she realised how precious each child was. And because of that realisation, she could so whole heartedly embrace this precious new baby.
Raktima is not the biological mother of her baby. After 15 years of trying, she defied nature and became a mother. She adopted a tiny little girl. She opened her heart and welcomed this miracle into her big family, waiting so long for a child. She showered her love and care, her patience and her devotion and transformed this once scrawny, underfed little girl into a healthy, happy one year old. This was not a short cut to motherhood. This was an obstacle course that finally led her to joy.
After 15 years of trying, my cousin Raktima finally gave up depression and adopted happiness.
Her uncluttered, orderly house these days sport a new look. It looks untidy and messy.Walk a bit and you will stumble across a teddy. Explore further and you will surely find a bassinet in the living area. The pillows have been thrown on the floor. There are some really cute toys strewn everywhere. Considering how finicky she was about her designer home, I can only marvel at this transformation.
She has been married for 16 years. The last 15 years went in trying for a baby. She quit her job to be a full time trying -to -be- a -mother..There have been monitoring temperatures and maintaining charts. There have been 4 doctors in 4 different cities. There have been various drugs that saw her weight balloning to 74 kgs from her normal 55kgs. There have been routine pokes and invasive procedures. There has been a surgery.There have been the rather humiliating experience of revealing extermely intimate details of her life to all those in her family who considered themselves feritlity experts. Then there was the exorbitant cost of the treatment. Plus she also went through the mandatory pilgrimages. Why leave everything to science. God also performs miracles.
So her god finally performed a miracle and fulfilled her greatest desire. She became a mother last June. Beaming grandparents, exhuberant friends and well wishing cousins all lined up in her home to welcome the new baby. She was a scrawny,hairless bundle. Her tight fist held on to my cousin's finger. Even sleeping her face would at times turn to her mother as if seeking reassurance. When her aunt tried to take away the baby from the mother, she protested loudly. None of us were in any doubt about her spunk. The baby made her presence felt from day one. The entire household revolved around her schedule and she knew it. Her every whimper would bring her doting parents to her side and she made full advantage of it.
Nothing really has changed since last June. The baby is spunky still. The parents are doting as ever. They just look exhausted all the time. After a really exhausting cleaning ,feeding and cleaning again spree, I asked my cousin whether all this was worth it. The numerous visits to the doctor. The traumatic treatments. The severe depressoin. All that money spent. She could have taken the short cut long back... got a baby home from an adoption centre.
My cousin disagreed. The last 15 years strengthened her desire to be a mom. Motherhood was not easy. And if she could handle this pain, she could handle anything. Because she went through all this, she realised how precious each child was. And because of that realisation, she could so whole heartedly embrace this precious new baby.
Raktima is not the biological mother of her baby. After 15 years of trying, she defied nature and became a mother. She adopted a tiny little girl. She opened her heart and welcomed this miracle into her big family, waiting so long for a child. She showered her love and care, her patience and her devotion and transformed this once scrawny, underfed little girl into a healthy, happy one year old. This was not a short cut to motherhood. This was an obstacle course that finally led her to joy.
After 15 years of trying, my cousin Raktima finally gave up depression and adopted happiness.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Whatchamacallit
I am losing it. Slowly I am losing that ability to remember a particular name, a place or a word at the right time.
Yesterday we were having a a heated discussion with the society secretary about BMC's proposal to introduce a hawkers' zone in our area. Right at the most opportune moment , exactly when it was my turn to address the issue, I forgot the term 'hawker'. So here I was nudging my husband...
Me _"What do you call those people who sell their wares ?''
My husband - Shop keepers?
Me - No, no. You know those who line up on the streets and display their stuff ? And then sell them?
Husband - "Hookers?"
How did you think I reacted?
I was enraged.
All this while the secretary was watching us like a hawk. And then it struck me.
That's right...hawkers. And thank god the heated discussion continued on the right line after that.
It keeps happening all the time. I address my elder daughter by my younger one's name. She gets mad ." Mom, I am not Ayushi."
I feel guilty. "Sorry baby, It was just a slip of the tongue."
To avoid such situations from happening again, I now call her 'baby'. Whew. Motherhood is tough on a forgetful mind.
It is not just the names. I also forget incidents. Like once my sister in law, who is a very keen observer of women's dresses, asked me " Do you remember the diamond set the bride was wearing ?" Squirming I said "Yeahhhh! Was n't that gorgeous?" All the while trying desperately to remember did we actually attend a wedding together???
Then there are those incidences with the purse. I keep losing it. Just when the milk man or the presswallah comes for payment, I have trouble recalling where I kept it last. So then begin my efforts to involve the children in hunting for my elusive purse. It starts with a request, "Will you please look for my purse"? Then it becomes a threat. "Look for it or else no T.V." and ultimately turns into a bribe. "The one who finds it first gets Rs 50 from it." I am so bad at this motherhood thing.
And then there are those annoying dates. The birthdays and the anniversaries. Dates of the parent teacher meetings. Arrival or departure dates of those numerous people who come to my house. The date of the distribution of school uniform. I started making notes in my cell phone, but could not find the blasted thing when it rang. I forgot where I kept it.
Yesterday we were having a a heated discussion with the society secretary about BMC's proposal to introduce a hawkers' zone in our area. Right at the most opportune moment , exactly when it was my turn to address the issue, I forgot the term 'hawker'. So here I was nudging my husband...
Me _"What do you call those people who sell their wares ?''
My husband - Shop keepers?
Me - No, no. You know those who line up on the streets and display their stuff ? And then sell them?
Husband - "Hookers?"
How did you think I reacted?
I was enraged.
All this while the secretary was watching us like a hawk. And then it struck me.
That's right...hawkers. And thank god the heated discussion continued on the right line after that.
It keeps happening all the time. I address my elder daughter by my younger one's name. She gets mad ." Mom, I am not Ayushi."
I feel guilty. "Sorry baby, It was just a slip of the tongue."
To avoid such situations from happening again, I now call her 'baby'. Whew. Motherhood is tough on a forgetful mind.
It is not just the names. I also forget incidents. Like once my sister in law, who is a very keen observer of women's dresses, asked me " Do you remember the diamond set the bride was wearing ?" Squirming I said "Yeahhhh! Was n't that gorgeous?" All the while trying desperately to remember did we actually attend a wedding together???
Then there are those incidences with the purse. I keep losing it. Just when the milk man or the presswallah comes for payment, I have trouble recalling where I kept it last. So then begin my efforts to involve the children in hunting for my elusive purse. It starts with a request, "Will you please look for my purse"? Then it becomes a threat. "Look for it or else no T.V." and ultimately turns into a bribe. "The one who finds it first gets Rs 50 from it." I am so bad at this motherhood thing.
And then there are those annoying dates. The birthdays and the anniversaries. Dates of the parent teacher meetings. Arrival or departure dates of those numerous people who come to my house. The date of the distribution of school uniform. I started making notes in my cell phone, but could not find the blasted thing when it rang. I forgot where I kept it.
I confess, initially I used to be rather worried about the state of my mind, but now I have sort of calmed myself down. If ever my mind becomes totally empty, devoid of anything substantial, my husband and my children would have to deal with it, not I. I will be in a blissful state. Imagine what a relief it will be not to remember who is coming to my house that day and what is his favourite food.
So now that I have established that losing my, er, you know, that thing...the faculty by which the human mind stores information , is not really my problem but my family's, I would like to ask you something... do you guys ever go through the same thing once in a while? This sudden loss of, you know...that word, that I vaguely remember starts with an 'm'? Let me know. I will be glad if I am not the only one with this whatchamacallit....
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