The charms of a mom are finally being overcome. Yes, Mira has started liking her school and goes without saying that both of us are extremely happy about it. Graduating from just having a mom and nanny for company, the school has suddenly exposed her to a whole new world of friends, teachers and toys.
Staring through the glass window at her, I am always overcome with a sense of pride. My little girl whose views about the world were just limited to what her mom told her about is now shaping into her own person each day – struggling to meet new challenges and learn new experiences unaware of her mom’s loving eyes watching over her.
Hearing about my exaggerated emotions, Papa always jokes around saying that if a playschool can manage a lump in my throat, wonder what the grad school will do. I completely agree with him – I have absolutely no clue.
*****
The first couple of weeks when I was accompanying Mira to the playschool everyday, I’ve to admit to my falling for the profession of a kindergarten teacher. It is noble. It is fulfilling. It is fun. And I think it is highly suitable for someone like me who mostly believes that her arrival in this world was programmed to don several roles, with that of a mom being the most important one. While I was busy imagining myself having interesting conversations with an army of kids, the damn ego kicked in - reminded me that if I haven’t worked on communication that might completely elude consumers but does manage to win a couple of awards every once in a while, the ROI on my MBA hasn’t been availed of.
And so, here I am devising plans to crack strategies, write programs and bribe judges. But, probably some years down the line when the heart has completely overtaken the brain – it will be nice to head towards a noisy kindergarten, to pacify wailing toddlers as their poor moms embark on a guilt trip.
*****
My home lately has become a laboratory for political experiments. Remember, there was a talk sometime back about how toddlers easily latch on to the word “Obama” and not “Clinton” for whatever reason – simplicity, appeal, magic etc. Papa being a huge Obama fan immediately put the theory into action. A few days’ instructions and the results were apparent. Whenever the man appeared on the screen, both Papa’s and Mira’s eyes lit up – former with appreciation and the latter with recognition. While Papa struggled with his new policy on change, Mira ran across the entire room shouting – “Obama bama bama”. And at times, it was preceded by the ubiquitous loving punju title– “Oye Obama, Oye Obama, bama, bama, bama”.
*****
Animation movies seem to have a profound effect on me these days. Ratatouille was the first thing on the planet that made me believe that I had all the capabilities of being a great cook. I had just about managed to crack Moong daal and a couple of other tough recipes, when Kungfu Panda hit the theaters. According to Panda, everything in this world is possible provided you believe in it. I’ve lately started believing that I can have a rocking full-fledged career while also being able to attend to Mira, every-time she smiles or cries. I know it is a bit difficult given that humans still haven’t invented the technique of being present at two different places simultaneously, but what the heck, Panda says believe in yourself and I’m just going to do that!
Trailers show that Wall-e is the next upcoming one – any idea what that would be about?
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
The mole
A lazy Saturday morning. Papa, Mira & I, still in our night-suits, are stretched out on the bed. Papa is constantly pulling out tricks one after another to amuse Mira and is decently succeeding at it too. Suddenly, Mira notices something unexpected on Papa’s arm. She leaps forward and grabs hold of the arm, brings her finger close to the unexpected object, crinkles up her face and with the most disgusted expression, says “Chee Chee”. Not really sure if the audience got the message across, she completes it with a disdainful – “Dirty Dirty”.
Papa and I burst out laughing. It’s a big dark mole.
Papa decides to reverse the situation and begins to aim at me. He catches hold of my right arm – points out to a big birthmark close to the elbow and exclaims – “Chee Mama Dirty”. See Mira – “Mama dirty”.
Mira instantaneously turns back. Without even looking at the spot, she straight leaps on to me. Hugging me close, she shoots back at Papa accusingly – “Mama Dirty no Papa”, Mama Dirty no Papa”.
And finishes it with the most appropriate – “Dirty Papa”, “Dirty Papa”.
:-)
Papa and I burst out laughing. It’s a big dark mole.
Papa decides to reverse the situation and begins to aim at me. He catches hold of my right arm – points out to a big birthmark close to the elbow and exclaims – “Chee Mama Dirty”. See Mira – “Mama dirty”.
Mira instantaneously turns back. Without even looking at the spot, she straight leaps on to me. Hugging me close, she shoots back at Papa accusingly – “Mama Dirty no Papa”, Mama Dirty no Papa”.
And finishes it with the most appropriate – “Dirty Papa”, “Dirty Papa”.
:-)
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Playschool updates
Usually known for decisiveness and clear thinking, the playschool subject has clearly proven me otherwise. My emotions range from one end of the spectrum to the other from the time I drop Mira in the morning to the afternoon when I get her back.
Mornings are usually filled with confusion and sadness. The car ride from the house to the school, which earlier used to have Mira enthusiastically pointing out things to me has now-a-days left her concentrating on the road, wondering where our destination would be. As soon as we step into the school, she breaks into continuous crying, not loud enough to reach people standing nearby but strong enough to let me re-evaluate the decision to get her there. It is a hard moment to take her off my arms and hand her over to the teacher, as her crying reaches a higher volume and I continue walking towards the car.
Afternoons are a different affair altogether. I usually reach a bit early so that I can see Mira having lunch through the glass window – the last activity of the school before they call it a day. There’s a good amount of calmness on Mira’s face as she struggles to balance the spoon till her mouth. She confidently walks towards the nanny when she’s done – gets herself cleaned up and willingly changes into a clean dress, all ready to be carried back. It is at this time that I bang open the door and yell out a lively “Mira”, while all she gives me is a pleasant confident smile, not a sigh of relief, mind you and raises her arms to be picked up for the journey home.
So, while every morning I swear that this is going to be our last day in school, every afternoon cheers me up and lets me give the next day a shot.
The confusion finally got to me today and I decided to take a call. Realizing my inability to think objectively, I turned to Papa for the decision and promised to stand by it. We did a bit of research – the school teachers shared that Mira’s crying lasted just till the time she saw me around and that she changed into a reasonably happy child after that. It's nothing but separation anxiety from the mom, Papa gave his expert comment.
And so, while mornings might continue to remain tough, we’ve decided to go ahead with the school for a while.
A friend tells me that sooner or later all kids start liking the school. Her’s infact takes to the floor and refuses to go back– 5 different bribes and the promise to come back the next day just about manage to get her to the gate.
While I’m surely not looking forward to Mira doing the same, but a bit of excitement will certainly be great!
******
Mira’s Papa and I are very similar people. I mean, given a certain situation, I’m sure both of us will reach the same conclusions, for the same set of values and reasoning that we share. But, there’re other differences though – I tend to get a bit more emotional and subjective, just the way all women are while Papa has a more rational and “I can see through the façade” kind of approach, which probably all men have, I guess.
These differences keep cropping up every now and then – take the last Friday’s incident for instance. Just like all other days, I had gone to pick up Mira from her school – Friday was the last day of the summer camp and the school was going in for a week long break before the next session resumed. As a token of remembrance of the camp, the teacher handed over the following to me:
Let me explain, this is a frame that’s got Mira’s picture on the right, as you can see and a small piece of clay with different colored beads stuck into it, on the left.
Mornings are usually filled with confusion and sadness. The car ride from the house to the school, which earlier used to have Mira enthusiastically pointing out things to me has now-a-days left her concentrating on the road, wondering where our destination would be. As soon as we step into the school, she breaks into continuous crying, not loud enough to reach people standing nearby but strong enough to let me re-evaluate the decision to get her there. It is a hard moment to take her off my arms and hand her over to the teacher, as her crying reaches a higher volume and I continue walking towards the car.
Afternoons are a different affair altogether. I usually reach a bit early so that I can see Mira having lunch through the glass window – the last activity of the school before they call it a day. There’s a good amount of calmness on Mira’s face as she struggles to balance the spoon till her mouth. She confidently walks towards the nanny when she’s done – gets herself cleaned up and willingly changes into a clean dress, all ready to be carried back. It is at this time that I bang open the door and yell out a lively “Mira”, while all she gives me is a pleasant confident smile, not a sigh of relief, mind you and raises her arms to be picked up for the journey home.
So, while every morning I swear that this is going to be our last day in school, every afternoon cheers me up and lets me give the next day a shot.
The confusion finally got to me today and I decided to take a call. Realizing my inability to think objectively, I turned to Papa for the decision and promised to stand by it. We did a bit of research – the school teachers shared that Mira’s crying lasted just till the time she saw me around and that she changed into a reasonably happy child after that. It's nothing but separation anxiety from the mom, Papa gave his expert comment.
And so, while mornings might continue to remain tough, we’ve decided to go ahead with the school for a while.
A friend tells me that sooner or later all kids start liking the school. Her’s infact takes to the floor and refuses to go back– 5 different bribes and the promise to come back the next day just about manage to get her to the gate.
While I’m surely not looking forward to Mira doing the same, but a bit of excitement will certainly be great!
******
Mira’s Papa and I are very similar people. I mean, given a certain situation, I’m sure both of us will reach the same conclusions, for the same set of values and reasoning that we share. But, there’re other differences though – I tend to get a bit more emotional and subjective, just the way all women are while Papa has a more rational and “I can see through the façade” kind of approach, which probably all men have, I guess.
These differences keep cropping up every now and then – take the last Friday’s incident for instance. Just like all other days, I had gone to pick up Mira from her school – Friday was the last day of the summer camp and the school was going in for a week long break before the next session resumed. As a token of remembrance of the camp, the teacher handed over the following to me:
Let me explain, this is a frame that’s got Mira’s picture on the right, as you can see and a small piece of clay with different colored beads stuck into it, on the left. Clay with the beads is Mira’s creation – I mean, with the help of the teacher obviously, she rolled out the clay and then, put different beads onto it.
I was extremely excited to see it.
I immediately called up Papa to share the excitement, as soon as I got Mira seated into the car. After the usual long thinking pause, Papa muttered out – “Hmm….these school people come up with the best of gimmicks. See, now we parents are hooked on for long.”
Sorry…..what did I hear – GIMMICKS? And here I was, drooling over Mira’s first piece of work – her first ever creation. My mind by now had already raced through the future – visualizing different achievements of my little girl, all nicely occupying important positions in our drawing room.
Papa’s reaction was surely a bit of a damper. Did someone just say that we both think alike?
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
A new beginning
23rd June, 2008 marks a historic day in the annals of our Bhopali household.
Mira went to (play)school for the first time this day and boy, you should have seen the parents – pride levels were nothing short of a child being sent off to a path-breaking space mission or to guard the very borders of our dear country.
The only difference was that this mom tagged along and patrolled the areas for the first two weeks in our new undertaking.
It’s been all good so far – largely because Mira knew that mom was always around in case of any emergency situations. Situations that demanded her to talk to scary strangers called “teachers” or to remain restricted to one’s own plate during lunch sessions.
To be fair to Mira, she didn’t really seek my active participation during most of the days except for 2 key situations - one, when there was diaper changing time and Mira cried out for help on being physically encountered in the wrong places. I hope that she gets over this soon enough and that the teacher doesn’t have to look for help everytime the damn thing reaches its maximum absorption capacity.
The second thing in fact, made me feel good and I hope that the habit continues for long. Mira used to come running to me as soon as she discovered something interesting (a big dinosaur toy the first day) to play with. Having only heard “My TV”, “My remote” and “My blanket”, it was nice to know that at least someone in the house believed in sharing.
Mira has entered her third week of schooling now and the teachers have sworn to call up 100 if they ever see me around, except for the time the kid needs to be carried back. All the pride and excitement, as you’d expect has been suitably replaced with anxiety, worry, fear and guilt.
The deal is to see how Mira takes it for the first few days and then decide whether to continue her schooling or to postpone it by a few more months. While the signs on the first two days haven’t been too bad, a proper conclusion will be reached only by the end of this week.
Keeping my fingers crossed – let's hope our small space mission ends up successfully.
Mira went to (play)school for the first time this day and boy, you should have seen the parents – pride levels were nothing short of a child being sent off to a path-breaking space mission or to guard the very borders of our dear country.
The only difference was that this mom tagged along and patrolled the areas for the first two weeks in our new undertaking.
It’s been all good so far – largely because Mira knew that mom was always around in case of any emergency situations. Situations that demanded her to talk to scary strangers called “teachers” or to remain restricted to one’s own plate during lunch sessions.
To be fair to Mira, she didn’t really seek my active participation during most of the days except for 2 key situations - one, when there was diaper changing time and Mira cried out for help on being physically encountered in the wrong places. I hope that she gets over this soon enough and that the teacher doesn’t have to look for help everytime the damn thing reaches its maximum absorption capacity.
The second thing in fact, made me feel good and I hope that the habit continues for long. Mira used to come running to me as soon as she discovered something interesting (a big dinosaur toy the first day) to play with. Having only heard “My TV”, “My remote” and “My blanket”, it was nice to know that at least someone in the house believed in sharing.
Mira has entered her third week of schooling now and the teachers have sworn to call up 100 if they ever see me around, except for the time the kid needs to be carried back. All the pride and excitement, as you’d expect has been suitably replaced with anxiety, worry, fear and guilt.
The deal is to see how Mira takes it for the first few days and then decide whether to continue her schooling or to postpone it by a few more months. While the signs on the first two days haven’t been too bad, a proper conclusion will be reached only by the end of this week.
Keeping my fingers crossed – let's hope our small space mission ends up successfully.
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