Family Holiday: Mogambo Strikes Goa

I've been away from this blog for too long as always, but for a happy reason. The four of us actually managed a family holiday to Goa! We got off to a not so great start with a four hour flight delay which led Vir to announce that he wanted to abandon the whole Goa trip and just go home and sleep.

We weren't to be beaten however, and finally made it to our hotel at almost 3:00 a.m with the kids wide awake and ready to explore! Vijay and I decided we couldn't get the kids to bed, so we might as well start drinking. That was a good idea. The rest of the trip was just one good idea after another. Long naps by the sea, hours of reading while the kids watched TV or ran around with their buckets and spades, sitting at the beach and watching the kids experience the absolute joy of playing with sand and limitless amounts of water with no parental limits, leisurely swims with more than occasional trips to the pool bar...sigh. Holidays are just amazing, aren't they?

Both the kids had a lot of fun, but I think Vir more so than Tara. For some reason, though Tara seemed quite excited and was screaming Goaaaaaaa Goaaaaa at everyone three days before we were to leave, a part of her little toddler brain doesn't like change too much. Her way of protesting was to just stop eating. And for my independent little foodie, that's saying something. I couldn't understand why nothing on those elaborate hotel buffets would tempt her and why all her favorites were just being thrown around instead of munched. Now that we're back and she's eating, I realize it was just the change. But while we were there, I think it was her niggling hunger that she couldn't quite identify that made her madder than ever at the world for not doing EXACTLY WHAT she wanted EXACTLY WHEN she wanted it. If you were one of the guests at our hotel last week, you'll never forget the noise that scary toddler made every mealtime. I still get a little weak kneed thinking about it. One of the attendants at the restaurant named her DND. "You can look at her and you can admire her from a distance but you better not mess with her!" A part of me is quite happy that she is good at creating boundaries and letting people know exactly what she'll allow. Right now at the angelic and cheruby age of 2 (I'm taking refuge in sarcasm), those boundaries are very, very clear. Especially to her. And new boundaries are being formed literally as I type. This essentially means that you never know when you're crossing some sort of line with her and might start off a screaming fit complete with tears and snotty nose just because you helped her take off a sandal she wanted to manage herself or because you put a spoon of dal on her rice or because you gave her water in the WRONG WRONG WRONG bottle.

Well meaning strangers have been coming up to me to tell me that this is just a phase and it too shall pass. Vijay and I are sometimes dealing with her bravely and sometimes not. We're often seen sitting and watching another tantrum play out with a dazed and numbed-by-the-pain sort of expression. Sometimes, we deal with it by just laughing it off...the crazed and semi-hysterical laughter, not the ha-ha-this-is-fun laughter. Mostly, we just do everything we can to keep our wits about us and know exactly how she wants life to be so we can tread around the tantrums and not get sucked into them. I have no idea how to sustain our mine field treading for the whole year though...she just turned two...we've only hit the T of the terrible twos yet!

What gets us by of course is that when she's not mad at the world, she's just about the cutest little thing you ever saw. She has an irresistible smile which makes her eyes and nose just scrunch up and disappear and its the doses of that face and that little voice saying "lovelu so much mammmmi" that tell us that our little queen bee is just a little baby after all!

Growing up too fast!

My little Tara turned two this week. Cliche'd as it sounds, I just cannot believe how quickly this has happened. She was just born. She was a tiny, tiny thing being brought to me by the doctor as my heart was filled with sunshine (another cliche but equally true) that she was born a girl and I was now a daughter's mom! I don't know how to explain why this meant so much to me. Of course I would have loved a boy as much, but having her meant so many things that I so wanted. I wanted Vir to have a sister and her to have a brother like Vir. I wanted Vijay to know the joy of loving his little girl. I wanted a girl to talk to in a house full of boys. I wanted another bond like the one I share with my mom. I wanted a little doll to dress up (yes, yes I'm very shallow and laden with gender stereotypes). I wanted to justify shopping for insane amounts of clips and ribbons and pink junk. Basically, I wanted it all. And I have her to thank for making it happen. She is totally holding up her end of the bargain, giving us joy and entertainment and love all packaged up in the pink that I'll never tire of buying for her.

Before Tara came, I used to wonder how it was possible for me to love someone else the way I loved Vir. I was honestly worried that I wouldn't be able to do this twice and the second one would somehow feel less loved. I'm still amazed by how this problem went away the second she entered the world. As long as she doesn't do a post count on this blog and discover how little I end up writing about her, I think she'll feel very loved because I now know it's silly to worry about how to love your kid. You just do and that's that. Of course, a part of me knows that Tara is quite capable of conducting a post count and coming at me with the stats as soon as she can power up a computer. So, I'll be writing furiously over the next few weeks and all my writing will feature the junior most Gogoi as the protagonist. Baby Mogambo, as we have taken to calling her (only partially affectionately, I'm afraid), will only be happy when enough has been said about her and her prettiness and the prettiness of her hair, eyes, nose, clothes, shoes, and everything else to do with her. Luckily for me, I have a lot of writing material and new stuff is being developed everyday, thanks to the drama queen who just turned two.

Happy Birthday Taru. Live happy.

So this is how it's going to be!

Me: Vir, did you sit with Tejas in class again today?
Vir: No, I'm not friends with Tejas anymore.
Me: Why not?
Vir: Because a girl, Gia, came to me and asked if I could be her friend. And I said yes.
Me: So?
Vir: So I'll have to tell Tejas tomorrow that I can't be his friend anymore.

:-)

How the humble crow came to our help in an hour of need

It constantly amazes me how the simplest and most straightforward of activities that you could just pull off without a thought before you had kids now seem like the greatest of challenges and get done either not at all or with much pain and procrastination. As an example, the light in our bathroom has been out for (I'm not kidding) over a month now. The particular tubelight that fits this rare holder is apparently only available in Sikanderpur - which is worse than a sharp pain you know where at the best of times. To go there with kids evokes such horror and fear in both me and my husband that we have happily lived with the alternative for over a month. We have chosen to live without a light and stumble along in the dark arms outstretched looking for the pot when we want to use the loo at night. We have taken baths in the light of our cell phones or little candles and even told ourselves that candlelit baths are romantic. Granted, we don't have a tub or jacuzzi and we haven't had glasses of wine and glossy magazines for company but hey, with two kids, you take whatever you can get, right?

Anyway, last evening, I had finally reached the end of my patience with make believe romantic baths and midnight stumbles just to pee and I really wanted a light in my bathroom damnit! Of course, one of us could have gone alone to buy the tubelight but we (believe it or not) wanted to spend the whole weekend together and this would be such a waste of time alone. So we gathered up our courage, made a list of all the other things that were not working in the house that we could get from Sikanderpur, got the kids and their water and the diaper bag ready, fed and walked the dog, and did all the hundred things one does when leaving the house with kids for even a little while. We felt so brave, finally on our mission to get things done, take control, sieze the day, and all that (of course it's that big a deal!)

So we get there and since Tara has fallen asleep on the way, I wait in the car while Vijay and Vir head into the market with the list of things to buy. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as Vijay gets into the shop and begins to tell the shop keeper what he needs, Vir announces that he wants to poop. Loudly in the store, "papa...potty aa gayi. Zor se potty aa gayi..." Really? Poop? In Sikanderpur? Plonk goes the whole sieze the day idea. Now it's just about buying as many of those tubelights and other things as possible before things get out of hand. Vijay hurriedly picks up some random bulbs and tubelights while telling Vir to try not to think about it and wait a little bit. Meanwhile, the shopkeeper is visibly tense because he has a business to think of and little boys who want to poop right in the middle of his shop can't be good for that. He urges the sales guy to hurry the hell up and get these people what they want already. Vir isn't helping at all with the non-stop "papa-potty-potty-papa-potty" chant.

I have no idea all this is going on and am just happy thinking of all the things I can strike off my to do list when I get back from this trip. So, I'm not too happy to see a not too happy Vijay rushing towards the car with a not too happy Vir. (Tara is happy, but only because she's asleep.) I get the jist of what's going on through Vir's chanting and Vijay's muttered grumbling. We're at least 25 minutes away from home and a clean loo. Trust kids to want to poop at all the wrong times. I try to tell Vir not to think about it and wait a little bit - that's been done before and it's not working, says Vijay.

Suddenly, when things are really on the verge if you know what I mean, Vijay remembers what worked for him when he was a kid in a similar situation. A little poem his nanny taught him. It's in Assamese and the protagonist is a crow or a kaori. The jist of it is that the crow is being asked to take away the poop and bring it back at a more opportune time. Vijay teaches Vir the poem and Vir earnestly repeats it. He forgets all the other lines after the first time and all we can hear is a very trusting little voice going "kaori-kaori-kaori-kaori-kaori." "Is it working, Vir?" says Vijay, "Is the kaori helping you?" (We're really hoping kaori is not sleeping on the job today since we need him to get us out of Sikanderpur.) "Yes," says Vir, "kaori-kaori-kaori..."

Phew. Turns out kaori really knows what he's doing because not only did he take away the poop, he also got Vir to fall asleep before we reached home. It's 16 hours later as I write this and kaori has yet to return :-)

 As for my tubelight? Let's just say we have a few more candlelit baths to take before I can report any success there!

Who needs TV?

Here's an attempted recreation of the scene before bedtime last night:

Scene: Kids' bedtime, mom tired and ready to end the day and pushing the kids to brush and change and go to sleep already. Vir is all changed up and fooling around on the bed while I'm trying to get Tara to change.

Me: Tara, lie down please...you need to wear your pyjama.

Tara: (wisely, while holding up her PJs) Panjana

Me: That's right Tara...that's your pyjama. Can you wear it please? Lie down!

Tara: Shakes head very decisively as she always does and refuses to give me the PJs

Me: You want to wear it yourself (little miss "too" independent)

Tara: Already putting her legs in and having a go at the PJs. After a few tries, she manages to get it on up to her knees.

Me: Okay Tara, lie down please so I can pull it up.

Tara: Shakes head decisively again.

Me: Now what?

Tara: Pats bed a few times that she wants to wear her PJs sitting down (She's fiercely independent but not currently capable of thinking through her decisions.)

Me: (Okay, let me explain this calmly. Arguing with Tara doesn't help. And ordering certainly doesn't.) But Tara, if you're sitting down, how will the pyjama go up your bottoms? See...it'll get stuck right here...

Tara: Pats bed again stubbornly (I already told you how I want to do this, right mom?)

Me: Okay - try it. 

Tara: Tries it. Doesn't work. 

Vir: (jumping into action) Mamma...I can teach her how to do this! But I'll have to take my pyjama off to show her. 

Me: Watching in dismay as the one kid who was actually ready for bed swiftly undresses and joins the party.

Vir: (super cutely demonstrating how a pyjama is worn while Tara looks on like everything depends on this) Look Tara....first you have to hold the pyjama like this, then you have to look for the tag and make sure it's at the back, then you have to put your legs in. Now you have to stand up and pull from the front and pull from behind. (It works! Vir's pyjama is back on and Tara looks like he may have a point after all. She may be stubborn but you can't really argue with such strong visual proof. I can almost see her considering trying this radical new way of wearing pyjamas.)

Tara: does exactly as instructed by her PJ teacher cheered on very enthusiastically at every step by the said teacher and a mother who is seeing light at the end of the long bedtime prep tunnel. And will you believe it, she does it! The PJs are where they should be, Vir is ecstatic at having imparted wisdom, Tara is happy that she didn't have to ask for help, and I can't help laughing out loud at my comical kids and my uniquely comical bedtime routine!

Big School!

It's finally happened! Vir has started big school. Embarked on a long journey and all that. His Shroopie masi thinks the journey should end at her doorstep - with a PhD in hand. I'm already in awe of the said masi so I'd love for that to come true. On the other hand, I often think of the romance involved in him becoming an out of work artist. Vijay wonders why my dream involves him being out of work. If he's an artist, so be it, but can we at least hope that he should have work? There has also been a time when Vijay and I have paranoid-ally worried that he might be into car racing given his passion for cars and we have visualized ourselves as a terrified old couple cowering in the stands while our son races past at a speed at which you don't want your children to race past. Sigh. All that is thankfully later. For now, I just hope that he loves his school and his little nursery class and his two teachers and that he gets off his bus everyday grinning and full of stories for me.

I was really worried about how he would take school especially since he's been at home with me for so many months. I spent the last month prepping him for this but didn't have too much hope that this would result in him happily trotting off into class while waving me a cheerful goodbye. That doesn't happen with him. What I expected was him starting with a low grade whining about not wanting to go to school and ending in loud wails while clinging to my thigh. That happened.

Luckily though, there's a happy ending. I didn't have to peel him off my thigh and leave him crying and kicking at his unfortunate teacher, thanks to Tara! I had taken her with me to drop Vir off to class and while he was not at all interested in any of the things set up in his class to invite and encourage kids, Tara was thrilled to see all the play dough and the toys and the colors and and immediately made herself comfortable in his class. When Vir wouldn't let me leave and Tara wouldn't agree to leave the class, one of his class teachers took pity on me as I was getting increasingly frazzled (God bless her) and offered to keep Tara in class for a while too so Vir had someone he loved in there. Vir loved the idea and of course Tara wasn't complaining. So they held hands and trotted off into the classroom, this time waving me cheerful goodbyes. Phew! I managed to extract Tara after a while and bit all my nails off over the next couple of hours as I went home and waited for the bus to drop him off after school. I'm happy to report that he jumped out grinning widely and had all sorts of things to tell me about his first day.

He's off to school now - it's his third day and I just can't wait for him to back. It's strange for me to not be part of what he's doing for so many hours in the day, and all I want to do is hear his stories! 

Where does he get this stuff?

Vir: Mamma, do you know how to dance? 

Me: Yes. Why do you ask?

Vir: You know, you have to dance to get married.

Me: Really?

Vir: Ya, that's how you get married. 

Me: By dancing?

Vir: Yes, by dancing. That's how. And there's a princess who teaches you to dance if you don't know how to dance. 

Marriage is quite the theme of discussion these days. Here's another conversation:

Vijay (to me): Hey, we have to go that wedding this weekend, remember?

Vir: Is it my wedding?

Me: No, Vir. 

Vir: Why?

Me: Not yet. One day many years later, you'll find someone to marry and then it will be your wedding.

Vir: I will marry Tara.

Me: No Vir, she's your sister. You'll find someone else because sisters are different from wives.

Vir: Then I won't marry anyone. I'll just stay in Vatika City always. 

And another one:

Vir: Mamma, I miss Mamta didi (was the maid who worked with us when Vir was 2)

Me: Yes, Vir. I know that. (So do I!!)

Vir: Why did she have to go away? Did you fire her? (really need to start watching what I say in front of him)

Me: Umm (gulp). Yes, but she needed to go to her house anyway because she had to get married.

Vir: So why did she have to go away if she had to get married?

Me: Because sometimes when you get married, you need to go to a different house. 

Vir (from the bottom of his heart): Mamma, marriage is so unfair. 

:-)