Since I was cruelly cut off from the joys of blogging last month, many a post that I had penned on the happenings in December didn't get its fair share under the blogosphere sun. Here's one such that I intended to post the day we got cut off, a snippet from some happy days spent in December:
Nikki and I have been having the time of our lives these last couple of days! My grandparents, Nikki's great grandparents, are in town and right about now life totally rocks! I've always been very close to my grandparents since they pretty much raised me when I was little, with both my parents away at work. Even though they lived far away from us, between the two of them they always made sure either one was at home with me, so that I didn't have to be alone with the maid. I'm sure it wasn't easy for them, shuttling between cities and managing two homes. Their youngest son, my uncle, also lived with them then and was a student, so they had to manage that bit as well.
Additionally my dad was in the Navy which meant frequent transfers were a way of life, but they were always there when I needed them. As a result, some of my fondest childhood memories are built around happy times spent with my grandpa and grandma.
Like learning to read with my grandpa which got me started on the never ending love affair with books. Or playing house with my grandma who went to great pains once to organize a doll's wedding for me replete with miniature puris and aloo bhaji for the dolls :)
Or my first day at kindergarten when I was howling for my Aajoba (grandfather in Marathi)and the teacher who didn't understand a word of Marathi (my dad was posted in a little coastal town in the South then) thought Aajoba meant mother in Marathi. I don't think my mom was very amused, when, a few weeks later the teacher addressed her as Aajoba at a parent-teacher interaction!
As I grew older and started spending more time in school, my grandparents started coming to stay with us less often. But I would meet them at least once a year during the summer vacations when either they would come to stay with us or we would go to the little army town where they lived with my uncle. Those summer vacations were the stuff dreams were made of. Apart from the full on pampering that my sister and I received large doses of, our grandparents also let us live our Enid Blytonian fantasies to the full by joining us in 'nature walks' (romps in the nearby park), organizing tea parties with the neighborhood kids and pretending not to notice when we would prowl around the house spying on other house guests, on an over dose of Five Find Outers or Secret Seven.
The annual trip to my grandparents remained a regular feature over the years, even though with time the duration of the visits grew shorter every year. With mounting work pressures and crazy schedules, it became difficult to fit in enough time for a long, langurous vacation at my grandparents but we still tried to squeeze in at least a weekend or two. But when I found out I was expecting Nikki even that became impossible what with my doctor's strict travel restrictions.
After Nikki's birth we decided we would take her for a visit to my grandparents' once she was three months old, and I started looking forward to the trip eagerly. But as luck would have it the swine flu wave hit hard just then and Nikki's pediatrician warned us against traveling with her, especially to far flung places where it would be difficult to get immediate medical attention. So we decided to postpone the trip to when Nikki was a little older. My grandparents were having none of it though and decided they had waited long enough to see their first great grand child. They took matters into their own hands and those who know my grandparents well, will tell you that when they do that there's not much one can do but give in quietly.
And so it was that early December saw a 90 year old great grandpa and an 84 year old great grandma get on a plane and travel halfway round the country to meet their great grand daughter.
I felt a surge of emotion when I saw my grandparents at the airport, they looked so frail and vulnerable emerging out of the airport even though my dad was right beside them, so lost among the throngs of people swarming around them. It had been some time since I'd met my grandparents and I was a little taken aback when I first saw them; Aaji (Marathi for grandmother) was bent over slightly with age and Aajoba looked much older than when I had last seen him. But all my anxieties were dispelled after we'd spent some time together, they were as full of life as ever! It's a testament to their superb fitness levels that even at this age my grandparents are supremely fit and can enjoy all the pleasures life has to offer; they don't have too many restrictions on food even though they eat light, they can read & write just as well as the rest of us, enjoy music and movies and my 90 year old Aajoba still wakes up at 5am every morning, like clockwork, for his 40 minute daily walk. It's like a virtuous circle; with all their faculties in the pink of health they enjoy life to the hilt, which in turn boosts their fitness levels.
Nikki took to them almost instantly, especially Aaji whom she greeted like a long lost friend before bounding into her lap where she stayed for the rest of their stay, choosing to give me the complete cold shoulder. Aaji took to feeding Nikki all her meals and even insisted on giving her a massage or two which she did with great adeptness. Aajoba would entertain her for long stretches of time, sitting with her in our little balcony and singing silly little ditties that would have her in raptures. I loved watching Nikki with them, feeling so blessed that she could spend so much time with people who were just overflowing with love for her. And it was so amazing to see how effortless they made the whole parenting thing seem; whether it was handling a minor bump or bruise, a feeding related frenzy or sleeping troubles, Aaji just breezed through it all, making it seem like a total cakewalk! She also had this wonderful repertoire of age old games that were a fantastic combination of fun & learning, and that Nikki thoroughly enjoyed.
And yet amongst all these slices of happiness I just couldn't help the occasional morbid thought that flitted in persistently as I watched my grandparents in the twilight of their lives. Was this going to be their last trip to my home? Would this be the last time they saw Nikki? When would they get to see her again? When would I get to see them again?
Thankfully I snapped out of this morose space soon enough to snap back to reality, where I was surrounded by so much love and happiness and decided that I was going to make the most of the here and now. I've also resolved that I'm going to try and ensure that Nikki gets to spend as much time with her great grandparents as possible, so we're going to see a return of at least some bit of that annual summer sojourn.
I've also been extremely trigger happy the past few days, with my digicam constantly appended to my right hand as I click snaps to the galore and make tons of videos to capture all the memories so I can show them to Nikki later or watch them myself a few days down the line, on a lonely winter afternoon when I feel a little bereft thinking of my grandparents thousands of miles away. In fact I think I'm going a little berserk with the picture taking coz Aaji just remarked that in this trip I've seen them more through the lens of the camera than through my own eyes.
So for now, I'm going to set the camera aside and just go and soak in the sun while I watch Aaji & Aajoba play with Nikki, and fawn over her every move even as they reminisce about my own childhood so may years ago and make it sound like it was only yesterday that I was a little girl myself. And as for all those precious moments that remain unshot by the camera, I'll just capture them in my heart.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Monday, January 4, 2010
We're back!
At long long last! After one whole month of being cruelly cut off from the blogosphere, the powers-that-be at the ones who provide us with our internet connection finally deigned that enough suffering had been bestowed on our hapless household and re-connected us today.
About time too since I was on the brink of completely and totally losing my marbles at this random disconnection of my life line and support system rolled into one. It all started in the first week of December when I logged on in a particularly chirpy mood, my heart singing like a bluebird, a new post on my lips...er fingertips. 'Problem with server' said the screen when I tried to log on. "Pish tosh" said I, blissfully unaware of what lay ahead. "I'll just try again later". 'PROBLEM WITH SERVER' said the screen a trifle more forcefully the next time I logged on, just in case I'd missed the point the first time round.
"What the hell!" I said forcefully and did the first thing any strong woman in her right mind would do in a sticky situation such like.
I called P.
"The internet connection's not working!" I wailed theatrically and then proceeded to tell P how my blog would now die a slow and painful death. "I'll lose all my readers, all 1.5 of them!" I screeched. "DO something!"
"I'll look right into it honey" promised P and promptly forgot all about it. A few days later we figured that our connection had been cut thanks to a little mix up at the service providers end. Namely, they had misplaced the cheque we had handed over by way of payment and had then gotten rather confused because while the register clearly stated that said cheque had been received, the payment hadn't come thru since post receipt the cheque had gotten lost. In their wisdom they promptly went ahead and canceled our connection and then sat back twiddling their thumbs waiting for us to come knocking at their door as they knew we would.
After much deliberation and back and forth and also thanks to the complete absence of any other solution we've had to make the payment all over again thanks to the lousy little buggers (you know what I really want to say) but at least I'm connected again and it feels good SO to be back!
Much has happened in the real world while we were away from the virtual one. My grandparents (Nikki's great grandparents) came visiting and much fun was had by all. After they left we went off to Goa for a holiday and had the most fantabulous time ever! Of course we came back and promptly fell ill, all three of us, but we're all fine now, and it wasn't swine flu, so all's well that ends well! We've also had a rather nice festive season this time round with a lot of quiet time with family and friends and Nikki's first New Year was brought in in style. And 2010 begins on a celebratory note too, since Jan happens to be the month in which I celebrate my birthday and P & I celebrate our wedding anniversary. So here's to many new beginnings and many more good times ahead and on that happy note wish you all a very happy new year and hope you have a fabulous year ahead!
About time too since I was on the brink of completely and totally losing my marbles at this random disconnection of my life line and support system rolled into one. It all started in the first week of December when I logged on in a particularly chirpy mood, my heart singing like a bluebird, a new post on my lips...er fingertips. 'Problem with server' said the screen when I tried to log on. "Pish tosh" said I, blissfully unaware of what lay ahead. "I'll just try again later". 'PROBLEM WITH SERVER' said the screen a trifle more forcefully the next time I logged on, just in case I'd missed the point the first time round.
"What the hell!" I said forcefully and did the first thing any strong woman in her right mind would do in a sticky situation such like.
I called P.
"The internet connection's not working!" I wailed theatrically and then proceeded to tell P how my blog would now die a slow and painful death. "I'll lose all my readers, all 1.5 of them!" I screeched. "DO something!"
"I'll look right into it honey" promised P and promptly forgot all about it. A few days later we figured that our connection had been cut thanks to a little mix up at the service providers end. Namely, they had misplaced the cheque we had handed over by way of payment and had then gotten rather confused because while the register clearly stated that said cheque had been received, the payment hadn't come thru since post receipt the cheque had gotten lost. In their wisdom they promptly went ahead and canceled our connection and then sat back twiddling their thumbs waiting for us to come knocking at their door as they knew we would.
After much deliberation and back and forth and also thanks to the complete absence of any other solution we've had to make the payment all over again thanks to the lousy little buggers (you know what I really want to say) but at least I'm connected again and it feels good SO to be back!
Much has happened in the real world while we were away from the virtual one. My grandparents (Nikki's great grandparents) came visiting and much fun was had by all. After they left we went off to Goa for a holiday and had the most fantabulous time ever! Of course we came back and promptly fell ill, all three of us, but we're all fine now, and it wasn't swine flu, so all's well that ends well! We've also had a rather nice festive season this time round with a lot of quiet time with family and friends and Nikki's first New Year was brought in in style. And 2010 begins on a celebratory note too, since Jan happens to be the month in which I celebrate my birthday and P & I celebrate our wedding anniversary. So here's to many new beginnings and many more good times ahead and on that happy note wish you all a very happy new year and hope you have a fabulous year ahead!
Friday, December 4, 2009
The times, they are a changin!
A lot of times in the last eight months I've felt strangely disconnected from the outside world. Having taken a break from work post Nikki's arrival, for a variety of reasons AND having relocated to a new city, my life these days pretty much revolves around the home and the hearth. And this has not always been easy, given that it is a big change from my crazy, career obsessed pre-baby life.
Anyhow, the purpose of this rambling prelude, before I lose myself completely in the rambling, is to say that there are a few things in my life that have remained constant and that I turn to once in a way for cheer or comfort. Like some of my favorite blogs. Or books. Or music. Or friends who are always just a phone call away. There I go again. Getting back, there has been another thing that I sometimes turn to, just to get a different perspective. Bad television. Somehow, watching corny Hindi soaps once in a way works as a great stress buster for me, in spite of the glowering P ranting in the corner about the senseless trash people will watch these days. To be more specific there is one soap on Star One that I've been following quite diligently, which means I watch the odd episode once in a couple of weeks and it reassures me that all's well with the world and some things will always be around.
Back when I was working, watching a couple of minutes of this soap was a tried and tested remedy to dispel the blues. It was like a rock steady comfort blanket, if you know what I mean. The storyline hadn't wavered for decades. The actors were like old pals, except for one lead female character whom they kept changing for some reason, but since all she had to do was make gooey eyes at the male lead opposite her it really didn't matter. It had all gotten into a rather comfortable routine. Lead pair fights. Makes up. Fights again. Makes up. An so on and so forth. Even the background drum beat remained comfortingly the same. It was all very peaceful and de-stressing. None of that saas bahu banter, nor the drama of reality shows. Just pure unadulterated drivel that remained consistently the same with characters that went nowhere and did nothing in particular. Apart from fighting and making up of course.
Which is why I wasn't at all prepared for what happened yesterday. It had been a bad day with the maid playing hooky, P working late and Nikki deciding that this was the day to beat the tar out of the sleep fairy. So at 8 pm or thereabouts, in severe need of some comfort viewing and deciding it was time for a dose of Dill Mill Gayye, I turned on the television. True it had been weeks and weeks since I'd last seen it but the thing had been going on without anything remotely resembling change forEVER and I was mentally prepared to watch some of the same old, same old. Only to get totally gobsmacked at what I saw! This couldn't possibly be my DMG! There was none of the same or even the old about this DMG! Everyone and everything had changed! My peace of mind now completely shattered, I quickly called the teenage female cousin who specializes in all things telly related for an update. I had to know what the hell had happened here. Turns out the earlier cast have all being either killed (gasp) or retired (shudder) and a new young and restless cast and crew is in place. The only thing that seems to have remained constant is the lack of a storyline. Not that I care anymore. My reasons for watching the damn thing in the first place have all been wiped out along with the old cast. Goes to show you can't take anything in life for granted anymore. Not even bad television. Sob.
****
Telly obsessed cousin, who bonded instantly with me after aforementioned phone conversation (having given up on me for being one of the geeks of the family earlier) called some time back. The poor girl was shattered with the turn of events in DMG too having fallen madly in love with Dr Armaan, the erstwhile male lead, specialist in gooey eye making. Nobody from the new cast is cute enough apparently. Anyway, she seems to have discovered a new show on the rebound which goes by the name of Mile Jab Hum Tum and has cute young guys and gals who keep fighting and making up all the time. Just the kind of stuff I would've liked in the old days. Except that I'm not taking any risks with any more of these fickle soaps. From now on its the tried and tested DVD re-runs for me, thankyouverymuch. Good ole Remington Steele, Poirot, Sex & the City, Friends & OC! Always there when I need 'em!
Anyhow, the purpose of this rambling prelude, before I lose myself completely in the rambling, is to say that there are a few things in my life that have remained constant and that I turn to once in a way for cheer or comfort. Like some of my favorite blogs. Or books. Or music. Or friends who are always just a phone call away. There I go again. Getting back, there has been another thing that I sometimes turn to, just to get a different perspective. Bad television. Somehow, watching corny Hindi soaps once in a way works as a great stress buster for me, in spite of the glowering P ranting in the corner about the senseless trash people will watch these days. To be more specific there is one soap on Star One that I've been following quite diligently, which means I watch the odd episode once in a couple of weeks and it reassures me that all's well with the world and some things will always be around.
Back when I was working, watching a couple of minutes of this soap was a tried and tested remedy to dispel the blues. It was like a rock steady comfort blanket, if you know what I mean. The storyline hadn't wavered for decades. The actors were like old pals, except for one lead female character whom they kept changing for some reason, but since all she had to do was make gooey eyes at the male lead opposite her it really didn't matter. It had all gotten into a rather comfortable routine. Lead pair fights. Makes up. Fights again. Makes up. An so on and so forth. Even the background drum beat remained comfortingly the same. It was all very peaceful and de-stressing. None of that saas bahu banter, nor the drama of reality shows. Just pure unadulterated drivel that remained consistently the same with characters that went nowhere and did nothing in particular. Apart from fighting and making up of course.
Which is why I wasn't at all prepared for what happened yesterday. It had been a bad day with the maid playing hooky, P working late and Nikki deciding that this was the day to beat the tar out of the sleep fairy. So at 8 pm or thereabouts, in severe need of some comfort viewing and deciding it was time for a dose of Dill Mill Gayye, I turned on the television. True it had been weeks and weeks since I'd last seen it but the thing had been going on without anything remotely resembling change forEVER and I was mentally prepared to watch some of the same old, same old. Only to get totally gobsmacked at what I saw! This couldn't possibly be my DMG! There was none of the same or even the old about this DMG! Everyone and everything had changed! My peace of mind now completely shattered, I quickly called the teenage female cousin who specializes in all things telly related for an update. I had to know what the hell had happened here. Turns out the earlier cast have all being either killed (gasp) or retired (shudder) and a new young and restless cast and crew is in place. The only thing that seems to have remained constant is the lack of a storyline. Not that I care anymore. My reasons for watching the damn thing in the first place have all been wiped out along with the old cast. Goes to show you can't take anything in life for granted anymore. Not even bad television. Sob.
****
Telly obsessed cousin, who bonded instantly with me after aforementioned phone conversation (having given up on me for being one of the geeks of the family earlier) called some time back. The poor girl was shattered with the turn of events in DMG too having fallen madly in love with Dr Armaan, the erstwhile male lead, specialist in gooey eye making. Nobody from the new cast is cute enough apparently. Anyway, she seems to have discovered a new show on the rebound which goes by the name of Mile Jab Hum Tum and has cute young guys and gals who keep fighting and making up all the time. Just the kind of stuff I would've liked in the old days. Except that I'm not taking any risks with any more of these fickle soaps. From now on its the tried and tested DVD re-runs for me, thankyouverymuch. Good ole Remington Steele, Poirot, Sex & the City, Friends & OC! Always there when I need 'em!
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
The 8 month old Big Girl
I'm convinced I'm suffering from a rather premature attack of the empty-nester syndrome. What else explains the fact that all I can think of these days is how my once helpless little bundle has been permanently replaced by a hyper active little critter with multiple arms and legs and a mind all her own.
So Nikki turned eight months old last week and its time for another one of those barmy parent updates. The idea was to wait until nine months for the next update, but so much has happened in the last two months, that I really feel the need to document it now, lest some priceless Nikki-nuggets slip my sorely sleep deprived mind!
Sleep (as always!) tops the list, being a scarce and therefore highly valued commodity. Overall we've been having better luck with the quantum and patterns of sleep, but still more often than not, the sleep fairy continues to be vanquished from Nikki-dom, cowering and defeated, as Her Majesty valiantly battles on against this most useless (in her opinion, I think otherwise!) of activities. What has changed radically though is Nikki's style of sleeping. No longer is the arms akimbo, on her back, the preferred sleep position. Instead she rolls over oh so cutely, on her side or on her tummy and covers her face with one hand a la Manoj Kumar before drifting off into dreamland. On weekday mornings as we dash in and out of our bedroom on our always ongoing, but never quite accomplished 'get P to work on time' project, the still fast asleep Nikki often opens her eyes, smiles a million dollar smile on catching sight of her beloved Daddy and drifts right back into sleep with a look of complete bliss on her face.
Which brings us to the subject of how this child of mine, whom I nurtured for nine months and gave birth to, is a complete and total daddy's pet. I cease to exist as far as Nikki is concerned as soon as P walks thru the door, and any delusions I may have of being indispensable are rudely shattered on weekends when he-who-reigns takes over Nikki-dom. But, envy apart, it's truly a joy to watch Nikki and P bonding during those precious Daddy daughter moments. Only P can make Nikki burst into squeals of delighted laughter, loud giggles and excited shrieks. And her eyes follow him around everywhere, her neck twisting and turning into previously inconceivable angles when he goes out of sight. Even feeding becomes a chore, eating away into precious time with Daddy darling.
We amble on through the land of solids, with days when feeding is an absolute delight, and I pride myself on being a cordon bleu chef so what if the fare is khichdi! And then there are days when I sit there, with a Cerelac face pack (anyone know if this stuff is any good for the skin?), feeding Nikks for HOURS as she does a detailed analysis of the surroundings between each bite and chomps her way (or sprays out, depending on the mood of the moment) thoughtfully through every morsel. And of course the days when the spraying and spitting out begins even before spoon has touched base with lips! I'm still feeding her too, but the days of long nursing sessions are long gone. And I miss them! Now its very wham-bam-thank you mum and Nikki throws herself back with a dramatic flourish, reminiscent of the Bollywood heroines from the 70's, making it very clear that she's done. Oh and breastfeeding on the go, which used to be a piece of cake with me and Nikki snugly ensconced in a stole/ shawl/ dupatta is very much a thing of the past now. The stole/ shawl/ dupatta is immediately thrown off with the same dramatic flourish, Nikki-ishtyle, and made use of to play peek-a-boo instead!
On the activity front, we are zooming towards the crawling and sitting up stage with death defying speed. A few months ago, I used to worry that Nikki didn't seem terribly interested in rolling over and was quite content playing on her back or being on her side. I needn't have bothered as it turns out. Now even two large mattresses aren't enough to contain her as she rolls, turns and creeps her way all over the place. No more can I leave her unsupervised in the center of my very large bed even for a minute, she's at the edge within the fraction of a second. And the supervision needs to be sharp too. Last night as I lay down on the bed, sleepily watching Nikki, she rolled over and scooted backwards at the speed of light. I caught her just in the nick of time.
We even had a fall off the bed recently, which was quite a scare, but no damage done. My grandma reliably informed me later that I used to regularly roll off the bed as a baby and I turned out ok. * Except for the occasional bouts of madness when the full moon is out. Ahahaha!- P*
Peek-a-boo continues to top the list of favorites as far as games go, and the love for the game has led Nikki to develop her very own variation. She hides her face with her comforter and then peeks out slyly; an adoring audience adds to the fun of course, but she can even play this all by herself for hours! I keep vacillating between waiting for her to start crawling (what fun!) and dreading it in equal measure- my limited peace of mind will be drained completely when she does, I'm sure.
Much progress has been made on the linguistic front, and my little chatterbox is displaying several signs of being a great orator as she holds forth confidently while her spell bound audience gapes on. Unfortunately her preferred time of holding forth is often 2am which is not great for us, the chronically sleep deprived. Then again, maybe the tired raccoon look will just grow on me.
I'm hoping I get some rest over the next couple of days when my grandparents (Nikki's great grandparents!),come to visit for a few days. They pretty much raised me when I was very young, since both my parents used to work, and meeting them always brings back fond memories of my childhood. With them around, its going to be a time of nostalgia and joy, a time when memories are made. Most of all I can't wait to watch them with MY little girl, while, just for a few moments, I get to be a little girl again :)
So Nikki turned eight months old last week and its time for another one of those barmy parent updates. The idea was to wait until nine months for the next update, but so much has happened in the last two months, that I really feel the need to document it now, lest some priceless Nikki-nuggets slip my sorely sleep deprived mind!
Sleep (as always!) tops the list, being a scarce and therefore highly valued commodity. Overall we've been having better luck with the quantum and patterns of sleep, but still more often than not, the sleep fairy continues to be vanquished from Nikki-dom, cowering and defeated, as Her Majesty valiantly battles on against this most useless (in her opinion, I think otherwise!) of activities. What has changed radically though is Nikki's style of sleeping. No longer is the arms akimbo, on her back, the preferred sleep position. Instead she rolls over oh so cutely, on her side or on her tummy and covers her face with one hand a la Manoj Kumar before drifting off into dreamland. On weekday mornings as we dash in and out of our bedroom on our always ongoing, but never quite accomplished 'get P to work on time' project, the still fast asleep Nikki often opens her eyes, smiles a million dollar smile on catching sight of her beloved Daddy and drifts right back into sleep with a look of complete bliss on her face.
Which brings us to the subject of how this child of mine, whom I nurtured for nine months and gave birth to, is a complete and total daddy's pet. I cease to exist as far as Nikki is concerned as soon as P walks thru the door, and any delusions I may have of being indispensable are rudely shattered on weekends when he-who-reigns takes over Nikki-dom. But, envy apart, it's truly a joy to watch Nikki and P bonding during those precious Daddy daughter moments. Only P can make Nikki burst into squeals of delighted laughter, loud giggles and excited shrieks. And her eyes follow him around everywhere, her neck twisting and turning into previously inconceivable angles when he goes out of sight. Even feeding becomes a chore, eating away into precious time with Daddy darling.
We amble on through the land of solids, with days when feeding is an absolute delight, and I pride myself on being a cordon bleu chef so what if the fare is khichdi! And then there are days when I sit there, with a Cerelac face pack (anyone know if this stuff is any good for the skin?), feeding Nikks for HOURS as she does a detailed analysis of the surroundings between each bite and chomps her way (or sprays out, depending on the mood of the moment) thoughtfully through every morsel. And of course the days when the spraying and spitting out begins even before spoon has touched base with lips! I'm still feeding her too, but the days of long nursing sessions are long gone. And I miss them! Now its very wham-bam-thank you mum and Nikki throws herself back with a dramatic flourish, reminiscent of the Bollywood heroines from the 70's, making it very clear that she's done. Oh and breastfeeding on the go, which used to be a piece of cake with me and Nikki snugly ensconced in a stole/ shawl/ dupatta is very much a thing of the past now. The stole/ shawl/ dupatta is immediately thrown off with the same dramatic flourish, Nikki-ishtyle, and made use of to play peek-a-boo instead!
On the activity front, we are zooming towards the crawling and sitting up stage with death defying speed. A few months ago, I used to worry that Nikki didn't seem terribly interested in rolling over and was quite content playing on her back or being on her side. I needn't have bothered as it turns out. Now even two large mattresses aren't enough to contain her as she rolls, turns and creeps her way all over the place. No more can I leave her unsupervised in the center of my very large bed even for a minute, she's at the edge within the fraction of a second. And the supervision needs to be sharp too. Last night as I lay down on the bed, sleepily watching Nikki, she rolled over and scooted backwards at the speed of light. I caught her just in the nick of time.
We even had a fall off the bed recently, which was quite a scare, but no damage done. My grandma reliably informed me later that I used to regularly roll off the bed as a baby and I turned out ok. * Except for the occasional bouts of madness when the full moon is out. Ahahaha!- P*
Peek-a-boo continues to top the list of favorites as far as games go, and the love for the game has led Nikki to develop her very own variation. She hides her face with her comforter and then peeks out slyly; an adoring audience adds to the fun of course, but she can even play this all by herself for hours! I keep vacillating between waiting for her to start crawling (what fun!) and dreading it in equal measure- my limited peace of mind will be drained completely when she does, I'm sure.
Much progress has been made on the linguistic front, and my little chatterbox is displaying several signs of being a great orator as she holds forth confidently while her spell bound audience gapes on. Unfortunately her preferred time of holding forth is often 2am which is not great for us, the chronically sleep deprived. Then again, maybe the tired raccoon look will just grow on me.
I'm hoping I get some rest over the next couple of days when my grandparents (Nikki's great grandparents!),come to visit for a few days. They pretty much raised me when I was very young, since both my parents used to work, and meeting them always brings back fond memories of my childhood. With them around, its going to be a time of nostalgia and joy, a time when memories are made. Most of all I can't wait to watch them with MY little girl, while, just for a few moments, I get to be a little girl again :)
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
A brush with the nasties
I had a frightful scare last morning. During the course of one of her day time naps, Nikki rolled right off her bed! It was the first time something like that had happened and I was petrified that she may have hurt herself. Thankfully, apart from being very rattled because of the fall, she was absolutely unhurt; not even a minor scratch or bruise. I fed her and rocked her to calm her down, and within 20 minutes she was right as rain. It took me a lot longer to calm myself down though. After a few frantic calls to P and Nikki's ped, who managed to convince me that a visit to the hospital emergency section was really not required, I spent the better part of an hour examining Nikki in minute detail to be really really sure she was a-OK. She was of course by then, and demonstrated likewise by being her usual super active self and bouncing off of all available surfaces. So then I got down to the next important task of worrying myself to death about how I could have ever let such a thing happen. I usually put Nikki down at night in her cot, but the bed still remains her preferred choice of location for daytime naps. Since we have a really really large double bed in the master bedroom, thanks to a Delhi based carpenter who believed deeply in the concept of materialistic largesse, I had been putting Nikki down to nap bang in the center of this for her naps, surrounded by a veritable fortress of cushions and bolsters. No longer good enough, clearly, coz she had scaled all of these to make a clean landing on the floor. She also managed to do this within the span of 2.5 minutes, since between me and the help we make sure we check on her every 5 minutes when she's alone on the bed. Anyways, I decided that the cot it is now for every nap, short or long, and spent the rest of the day being a super clingy, chipku kind of parent. I think Nikki was quite relieved to be rid of me when P got back from work. I've also decided its high time I stopped procrastinating on the baby proofing of home project that is way overdue now. So the weekend will see me headed, guns blazing, to the land of corner cushions and child proof locks and such, so that we have a safe haven for Nikki to crawl around in, in the next couple of days.
In other news, I had a mastitis scare over the weekend. Thankfully it was just a clogged milk duct and went away on its own in a few days time, after loads of nursing and warm showers. The timing sucked though, I had a wedding to attend on Sunday and being in terrible pain I went around greeting all and sundry with a horrible glassy smile plastered on my face. I think I single handedly managed to save the bridal party a fair bit of moolah; the sight of me must've ruined the appetite of a lot of people for sure, causing them to beat a hasty retreat before lunch. Sigh, there go all my la-di-dah notions of being one of 'em yummy mummies.
And in other nastier news I espied a rat in my home yesterday. A rat. A RAT. In MY home. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhh!! Now don't get me wrong, I'm usually pretty good at dealing with this stuff. Like cockroaches. Pish tosh! Long live the pest control guys! Or lizards. P is a great lizard evictor, he shoos them out quite regularly outta the apartment and into the elevator to go forth and explore fresher territories. Or mosquitoes even, I was on back slapping terms with them in our old apartment in Bombay (hail All Out!). But rats? This is the first time in six years of playing house, that I've had to contend with this menace. I spent the first half of the day raising hell for my help and turning the house inside out. I mean I have OCD when it comes to keeping the house clean, so there had to be something wrong here. My maid, who still hasn't figured out how to put Nikki to sleep and is therefore not among my favorite people at the moment, redeemed herself greatly by picking up a broom and venturing forth bravely in search of the rodent. Eventually we figured out that the rat is probably a resident of the drying area in the flat directly above ours and was probably just dropping by to check out new locations. Even so, there was always the possibility that it could make this aimless wandering around a habit. Then what? Naturally, I've resolved to deal with this sticky situation with my characteristic calm and fortitude.
I'm thinking, a couple of months at my mum's while P figures out how to make these parts rodent free?
In other news, I had a mastitis scare over the weekend. Thankfully it was just a clogged milk duct and went away on its own in a few days time, after loads of nursing and warm showers. The timing sucked though, I had a wedding to attend on Sunday and being in terrible pain I went around greeting all and sundry with a horrible glassy smile plastered on my face. I think I single handedly managed to save the bridal party a fair bit of moolah; the sight of me must've ruined the appetite of a lot of people for sure, causing them to beat a hasty retreat before lunch. Sigh, there go all my la-di-dah notions of being one of 'em yummy mummies.
And in other nastier news I espied a rat in my home yesterday. A rat. A RAT. In MY home. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhh!! Now don't get me wrong, I'm usually pretty good at dealing with this stuff. Like cockroaches. Pish tosh! Long live the pest control guys! Or lizards. P is a great lizard evictor, he shoos them out quite regularly outta the apartment and into the elevator to go forth and explore fresher territories. Or mosquitoes even, I was on back slapping terms with them in our old apartment in Bombay (hail All Out!). But rats? This is the first time in six years of playing house, that I've had to contend with this menace. I spent the first half of the day raising hell for my help and turning the house inside out. I mean I have OCD when it comes to keeping the house clean, so there had to be something wrong here. My maid, who still hasn't figured out how to put Nikki to sleep and is therefore not among my favorite people at the moment, redeemed herself greatly by picking up a broom and venturing forth bravely in search of the rodent. Eventually we figured out that the rat is probably a resident of the drying area in the flat directly above ours and was probably just dropping by to check out new locations. Even so, there was always the possibility that it could make this aimless wandering around a habit. Then what? Naturally, I've resolved to deal with this sticky situation with my characteristic calm and fortitude.
I'm thinking, a couple of months at my mum's while P figures out how to make these parts rodent free?
Thursday, November 19, 2009
All in a day's work
It's been a long night. One of those in which your baby, troubled by teething, took ages to fall asleep, only to wake thrice at 1am, 3am and 5am, each awakening requiring an hour long session comprising a feed, rocking and soothing to sleep. Understandably, you're not feeling particularly perky the next morning. You're awake early nonetheless because it is the day you're having the Vile Female Relative over. The VFR, in town for a few days, has invited herself over for lunch and newly endowed with The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood, you have not avoided her like the plague, like you would have done otherwise.
So you're up and about, wanting to get yourself and baby ready for the visit. Its specially important that you get baby well fed and rested so that she's in a good mood during the visit. Not that you feel pressurized or anything, but the VFR has a habit of gloating about her 'model' three year old and you don't want any unpleasant comparisons. So you go about baby's morning routine- wash, feed and nap at the end of which she will awaken refreshed and cheerful. Having crossed the first two off your list, you commence the nap routine. Twenty minutes of rocking later, baby's blissfully asleep and you are making the transition from arms to cot. DING DONG! The doorbell startles both you and baby out of your collective wits. No sweat for you, but baby is awake. You bound to the door, handing baby over to your new maid. It's the person from X Bank, there in connection with opening your new bank account. Except that he's three days late and has arrived way past the clearly specified time limit of 9.30am. You tick him off and he goes on the offensive telling you how he's come all the way just to open YOUR account, so what if his timing sucks. You restrain yourself, what with The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood, complete the required paperwork and send him off. You commence the process of putting baby back to sleep. Ten minutes later, just as baby is drifting into dreamland..DING DONG! Friendly neighborhood chappie from X Bank again! He's forgotten to take your signature on one of the documents. With pursed lips you sign the doc and slam the door in his face. Meanwhile, new maid has tried to put baby to sleep and failed miserably. So you start rocking feverishly again with an eye on the clock. But as someone wisely said, time and tide wait for none, and in a matter of seconds the doorbell dings again.
The Vile Female Relative is at your doorstep, model son in tow. Your baby is still awake and understandably not cheerful, thanks to lack of nap. She lets out a howl as soon as the VFR takes her in her arms and continues in that vein for the next twenty minutes. You hurry into the bedroom, put baby to bed at last and hurry back to make polite conversation before lunch. You find the VFR gloating in your living room, while her son, you see, is running amok all over your previously neat house. You try and keep an eye on him as the VFR tells you how her son never, ever gave her any trouble with sleeping, he could just sleep anywhere, anytime and on his own. And he never, ever needed to be rocked. Um hum, you say, refusing to be provoked, now that you've got The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood. Instead you pounce on the model son as he tries to shred your favorite PG Wodehouse into bits and safely put your books away, as the VFR drones on in the background about how particular she is about her books and likes to maintain them in pristine condition.
A few nerve wracking hours later you've had lunch and the model son has finished massaging desert into your sofa cushions. Baby is awake too and attempting to crawl on her play mat. 'Doesn't she walk yet?' demands the VFR in horror. 'The model son was running at her age!' You ignore her, attributing the remark to a lapse in memory given that your baby is not yet 8 months old, and ask your maid to put baby down for a nap. She tries but being new needs help and so you intervene. 'You don't train your maids well!' begins the VFR right on cue, and proceeds to tell you how her maids don't even open their mouths unless she tells them to. She also adds that your baby wouldn't be so 'kamzor' if you'd trained your maid to massage her thrice a day to stimulate growth. Thankfully for VFR, coz by now you are beginning to lose it, her voice serves as white noise and baby falls asleep faster than usual. But just as you are about to put her down..DING DONG! You guessed it right, its the bank chappie again! This time he wants your photographs that he'd forgotten to take in the morning.
Baby, tired of all this disruption starts howling in right earnest. The VFR starts telling your maid how the model son was never clingy and cranky and never uttered a peep. You ignore all of them and start hunting for the photographs, realizing in the process that you need to get your papers more organized. You needn't have bothered of course, the VFR is peskily hovering behind you helping you realize the exact same thing, peppered with examples of her super organized home. You finally find the photographs and hand them over to bank chappie. 'Oh no Maydame!' barks he, 'We need snapes with white bakeground ownly!' You lose it. Deciding that The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood can go suck an egg, you send the bank chappie off with flaming ears and the 'snapes' that you'd found. You re-enter your living room to find the VFR analyzing the contents of your baby's diaper while ticking off your maid for baby's lack of potty training. The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood now a distant dream, you give the VFR a piece of your mind, and while you're at it also tick off the model son who is impersonating Spiderman on the wall with your favorite paintings. The VFR takes umbrage and says she may not stay for tea after all. You remind her that it wasn't on the anvil anyway, since she'd invited herself only for lunch. You part ways coldly with the VFR.
It's also time for your maid to leave, so you bathe and feed baby, read her a story and sing her a lullaby. Then you begin rocking her to sleep. She's just beginning to settle down when..atishoo..ATISHOO..ATISHOO! Your baby looks like the top of her head has blown off, as you sneeze with the worst timing ever. Must be the curse of the chappie from X Bank. Luckily, the husband walks in through the door right then, and as always, comes to the rescue. He rocks baby to sleep, orders your favorite pizza and spends the rest of the evening patiently listening to you bitch about the VFR. You begin to feel a whole lot better. The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood begins to seep back into your pores.
The next day you vent on your blog and seriously consider sending a link to the VFR. The husband dissuades you gently. You give in magnanimously. The VFR is still family after all. And then you sit the husband down and tell him all about the Maturity that comes with Motherhood.
So you're up and about, wanting to get yourself and baby ready for the visit. Its specially important that you get baby well fed and rested so that she's in a good mood during the visit. Not that you feel pressurized or anything, but the VFR has a habit of gloating about her 'model' three year old and you don't want any unpleasant comparisons. So you go about baby's morning routine- wash, feed and nap at the end of which she will awaken refreshed and cheerful. Having crossed the first two off your list, you commence the nap routine. Twenty minutes of rocking later, baby's blissfully asleep and you are making the transition from arms to cot. DING DONG! The doorbell startles both you and baby out of your collective wits. No sweat for you, but baby is awake. You bound to the door, handing baby over to your new maid. It's the person from X Bank, there in connection with opening your new bank account. Except that he's three days late and has arrived way past the clearly specified time limit of 9.30am. You tick him off and he goes on the offensive telling you how he's come all the way just to open YOUR account, so what if his timing sucks. You restrain yourself, what with The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood, complete the required paperwork and send him off. You commence the process of putting baby back to sleep. Ten minutes later, just as baby is drifting into dreamland..DING DONG! Friendly neighborhood chappie from X Bank again! He's forgotten to take your signature on one of the documents. With pursed lips you sign the doc and slam the door in his face. Meanwhile, new maid has tried to put baby to sleep and failed miserably. So you start rocking feverishly again with an eye on the clock. But as someone wisely said, time and tide wait for none, and in a matter of seconds the doorbell dings again.
The Vile Female Relative is at your doorstep, model son in tow. Your baby is still awake and understandably not cheerful, thanks to lack of nap. She lets out a howl as soon as the VFR takes her in her arms and continues in that vein for the next twenty minutes. You hurry into the bedroom, put baby to bed at last and hurry back to make polite conversation before lunch. You find the VFR gloating in your living room, while her son, you see, is running amok all over your previously neat house. You try and keep an eye on him as the VFR tells you how her son never, ever gave her any trouble with sleeping, he could just sleep anywhere, anytime and on his own. And he never, ever needed to be rocked. Um hum, you say, refusing to be provoked, now that you've got The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood. Instead you pounce on the model son as he tries to shred your favorite PG Wodehouse into bits and safely put your books away, as the VFR drones on in the background about how particular she is about her books and likes to maintain them in pristine condition.
A few nerve wracking hours later you've had lunch and the model son has finished massaging desert into your sofa cushions. Baby is awake too and attempting to crawl on her play mat. 'Doesn't she walk yet?' demands the VFR in horror. 'The model son was running at her age!' You ignore her, attributing the remark to a lapse in memory given that your baby is not yet 8 months old, and ask your maid to put baby down for a nap. She tries but being new needs help and so you intervene. 'You don't train your maids well!' begins the VFR right on cue, and proceeds to tell you how her maids don't even open their mouths unless she tells them to. She also adds that your baby wouldn't be so 'kamzor' if you'd trained your maid to massage her thrice a day to stimulate growth. Thankfully for VFR, coz by now you are beginning to lose it, her voice serves as white noise and baby falls asleep faster than usual. But just as you are about to put her down..DING DONG! You guessed it right, its the bank chappie again! This time he wants your photographs that he'd forgotten to take in the morning.
Baby, tired of all this disruption starts howling in right earnest. The VFR starts telling your maid how the model son was never clingy and cranky and never uttered a peep. You ignore all of them and start hunting for the photographs, realizing in the process that you need to get your papers more organized. You needn't have bothered of course, the VFR is peskily hovering behind you helping you realize the exact same thing, peppered with examples of her super organized home. You finally find the photographs and hand them over to bank chappie. 'Oh no Maydame!' barks he, 'We need snapes with white bakeground ownly!' You lose it. Deciding that The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood can go suck an egg, you send the bank chappie off with flaming ears and the 'snapes' that you'd found. You re-enter your living room to find the VFR analyzing the contents of your baby's diaper while ticking off your maid for baby's lack of potty training. The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood now a distant dream, you give the VFR a piece of your mind, and while you're at it also tick off the model son who is impersonating Spiderman on the wall with your favorite paintings. The VFR takes umbrage and says she may not stay for tea after all. You remind her that it wasn't on the anvil anyway, since she'd invited herself only for lunch. You part ways coldly with the VFR.
It's also time for your maid to leave, so you bathe and feed baby, read her a story and sing her a lullaby. Then you begin rocking her to sleep. She's just beginning to settle down when..atishoo..ATISHOO..ATISHOO! Your baby looks like the top of her head has blown off, as you sneeze with the worst timing ever. Must be the curse of the chappie from X Bank. Luckily, the husband walks in through the door right then, and as always, comes to the rescue. He rocks baby to sleep, orders your favorite pizza and spends the rest of the evening patiently listening to you bitch about the VFR. You begin to feel a whole lot better. The Maturity That Comes with Motherhood begins to seep back into your pores.
The next day you vent on your blog and seriously consider sending a link to the VFR. The husband dissuades you gently. You give in magnanimously. The VFR is still family after all. And then you sit the husband down and tell him all about the Maturity that comes with Motherhood.
Monday, November 16, 2009
A milestone of sorts
This weekend saw the arrival of Nikki's new cot at long last. It was originally meant to be our Diwali gift to Nikki, but thanks to the delivery lead time of 15 days and then a defective piece turning up at the store, it finally arrived only over the weekend.
I felt a pang as I saw the delivery guy disassemble the crib which Nikki has used since birth and set up the relatively mammoth looking cot bed in its place. We had bought the crib when I was in the last trimester, a few weeks before Nikki arrived. It had been set up in our room next to my side of the bed and just looking at it every day as I waited for d-day used to cause a rush of joy and excitement as I tried to picture what the new baby would look like peacefully asleep in his/ her crib. A few weeks later I got to live this fantasy, though reality was slightly different. It became clear enough in the first few days that 'peacefully asleep' was a concept Nikki was (and still is) not terribly fond of, but even so when she did sleep I spent many a blissful moment gazing at her in her crib. The crib was also the place for much merriment once the cot mobile and crib toys made their appearance and I could even snatch a few minutes to myself as Nikki learned to entertain herself with these for short periods of time. I realized what a great investment the crib had been when I spent a few weeks at my mum's. The crib didn't go with us, so in those few weeks sleepless nights were spent as I shared a bed with Nikki worrying that I would roll over and crush her or inadvertently wake her if I turned over. I also found that Nikki slept a lot better in her crib, as did I, since the chances of me disturbing her or vice versa as we slept were minimized.
The sight of the crib being neatly packed away was a reminder that my little baby is not so little anymore. She's too big for the crib that used to once dwarf her tiny little presence and its also unsafe to use the crib now since she's showing signs of learning to sit up by herself any moment.
So the cot bed was duly done up with new sheets and bumper, and the cot mobile and toys transferred to it as well. Nikki didn't take too well to the change for the first two nights; having gotten rather used to sleeping with us in our bed for the last couple of days, ever since we discovered she was too big for the crib. But tonight she's slept quite well (so far!) in the new cot. And as I watch her fast asleep, once again looking like a tiny little cherub in the huge cot, I feel strangely happy that in so many ways yet, my baby is still my little baby.
I felt a pang as I saw the delivery guy disassemble the crib which Nikki has used since birth and set up the relatively mammoth looking cot bed in its place. We had bought the crib when I was in the last trimester, a few weeks before Nikki arrived. It had been set up in our room next to my side of the bed and just looking at it every day as I waited for d-day used to cause a rush of joy and excitement as I tried to picture what the new baby would look like peacefully asleep in his/ her crib. A few weeks later I got to live this fantasy, though reality was slightly different. It became clear enough in the first few days that 'peacefully asleep' was a concept Nikki was (and still is) not terribly fond of, but even so when she did sleep I spent many a blissful moment gazing at her in her crib. The crib was also the place for much merriment once the cot mobile and crib toys made their appearance and I could even snatch a few minutes to myself as Nikki learned to entertain herself with these for short periods of time. I realized what a great investment the crib had been when I spent a few weeks at my mum's. The crib didn't go with us, so in those few weeks sleepless nights were spent as I shared a bed with Nikki worrying that I would roll over and crush her or inadvertently wake her if I turned over. I also found that Nikki slept a lot better in her crib, as did I, since the chances of me disturbing her or vice versa as we slept were minimized.
The sight of the crib being neatly packed away was a reminder that my little baby is not so little anymore. She's too big for the crib that used to once dwarf her tiny little presence and its also unsafe to use the crib now since she's showing signs of learning to sit up by herself any moment.
So the cot bed was duly done up with new sheets and bumper, and the cot mobile and toys transferred to it as well. Nikki didn't take too well to the change for the first two nights; having gotten rather used to sleeping with us in our bed for the last couple of days, ever since we discovered she was too big for the crib. But tonight she's slept quite well (so far!) in the new cot. And as I watch her fast asleep, once again looking like a tiny little cherub in the huge cot, I feel strangely happy that in so many ways yet, my baby is still my little baby.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)