Parents' Night Out

Many many moons ago, when Nikki was still a relatively young baby and not the fiercely independent toddler she seems to have turned into of late, the husband and I attempted an evening out without her. I had just stopped nursing Nikki, correction, I had been brusquely weaned with many an imperious shove and ear splitting shrieks by the child who was clearly more interested in the fascinating world of solids and other beverages that did not involve the mater and my indispensability quotient was at an all time low. To save me from the depths of misery in which I abjectly wallowed, P suggested we attend a friend's party cum art exhibition at an upscale restaurant that was also conveniently located quite close to our home. After battling several inner demons I finally took the plunge and decided to go. Careful arrangements were made to handle the most important part of our evening, namely babysitting Nikki. My parents who happened to be in town kindly agreed to look after Nikki for the evening and accordingly arrived at our house a couple of hours before we were to leave for the party. Our erstwhile maid S (a thousand curses on her pointy little head) was instructed to feed Nikki and ensure that she was sound asleep in bed before leaving for the day, since Nikki was used to be being put to bed by her. With all arrangements seemingly in place, we left while Nikki was having her dinner after kissing her goodbye. Or rather, P kissed her goodbye and then dragged me out the door as I threatened to turn into a clingy, sobbing mess. (Don't even ask me what I'll do on the first day of big school. Nikki, I'm sure, will be fine.)I still remember the panicked visions I had as we drove out of the society gates, of Nikki tearfully weeping for her mother who was far, far away. Fifteen minutes into the party and seven panicked phone calls later (yeah, I know I'm THAT mother.sigh.)my parents assured me that Nikki was absolutely fine and could I please put a lid on it and just enjoy the evening. There had been no tears when we left or thereafter and after devouring her dinner, Nikki was now cheerfully engaged in poking the eyes of her doll out, her favorite activity at the time (the chappie who said that stuff about sugar and spice and all things nice sure would've changed his mind if he'd met my little girl).

"I think YOU are the one with separation anxiety", a friend who was with us at the party announced as she watched me gaze anxiously at my phone for the umpteenth time. "Try to relax will you!"
And so I did. I had a drink. I ate an canape. I began to enjoy the music. And I was finally beginning to rid myself of the clouds of worry that had hovered miserably over me all evening when my phone rang. It was my dad.
"What is it?" I yelped as I answered, the canape turning to ashes in my mouth.
It was Nikki of course. She had been absolutely fine till that dreaded hour of the day, or rather, night: bedtime. Apparently, S, conveniently forgetting my laboriously spelled out instructions had vamoosed as soon as Nikki was through with her dinner and instead of going to bed soon after her meal as she was used to, Nikki had continued playing for well over an hour post dinner. As a result she was overtired, sleepy and cranky by the time my parents finally tried putting her to bed and not seeing either P or me around she decided to let them have it with a series of high pitched wails and cries for her mama and dada. Distraught with her crying my poor parents took her down to the park and took turns walking her up and down where she finally calmed down albeit temporarily. Several failed attempts to get her to sleep later, they finally called us. We rushed home only to find that Nikki had finally cried herself to sleep just minutes before we reached and was curled up miserably in her cot. She didn't sleep well through the night though, and woke up crying quite a few times with a tortured look on her face, refusing to be comforted by either of us. I wore my own tortured look for the next full week and needless to say, that was the beginning and end of any fanciful notions we may have had about being super cool parents cum party animals.

We took to going out in the day since Nikki was absolutely fine being left in the company of her grandparents then and took turns going out in the evenings. Or we planned evenings in child friendly locales so that we could take her along as well and life went on an usual. Until the weekend before last when we found ourselves in the possession of passes for a rock concert. P, the eternal optimist, suggested we try taking Nikki along, after all she was old enough now and our concerted efforts to avoid repeated replays of Rythmic Rhymes From The Animal Kingdom by getting her to listen to our music had ensured that she was developing an ear for rock too. And so we went. And had a blast! The venue was a well spaced out open air amphitheater with sprawling lawns all around interspersed with cobbled pathways and little tinkling fountains making it an eminently child friendly venue. We found ourselves a grassy spot, not too close to the speakers and settled down to enjoy the evening. Only to find that we were being quite outdone by our little headbanger who'd really gotten into the groove and was dancing around shaking her booty and thoroughly enjoying the music. She even got hold of some empty beer cans halfway through and was jumping around with them looking for all purposes like she'd just swigged down the contents, making another couple nearby give us incredulous, shocked looks.
"People nowadays, they just don't pay any attention to their kids!" I heard them mutter as they threw me a disapproving look. Which in a perverse sort of way made me feel like a REALLY cool mom. Because, you know, I'm SO not one.
And then after she'd had her dinner, Nikki obligingly went to sleep right around bedtime and stayed that way, enabling us to stay on till the very end when this amazingly talented band from Shillong played some of the best rock I've heard in a long long time. We were so kicked we actually considered going for the after-party post the show but then decided not to push our luck and went home instead.

The next weekend saw us at another concert, Gary Lawyer live this time round, paying a tribute to Elvis. And guess who turned out to be the biggest rock aficionado of all? Even though it was well past her bedtime by the time the concert ended, the youngest Elvis (and Gary) fan at the venue was enthusiastically clapping and going Woo-Hoo! after every number! She enjoyed the music so much that we dusted off some of our old Elvis CDs the next day and had our very own rock and roll party at home. I guess 'The Wheels on The Bus' are going to have a wait a while for their place in the music system!

Much encouraged with these recent successes, we're now seriously considering venturing out more often in the evenings with Nikki. Outdoorsy venues with great music work beautifully. Nikki as it turns out is quite the party animal and likes nothing better than hearing that we're going 'out in Nikkkkki's car!' as opposed to 'its bedtime!'
The quiet dinners and plays of yore are going to have to wait a while though. Not unless I can convince the parents to babysit again!

Back from hibernation!

Hola from Nikki-land! Yes I'm still alive and well, and more importantly (for me that is!) still blogging! I guess I ended up going on an unannounced blog break thanks to the myriad events that have happened over the last month or so. Even so, I hate these long blog breaks and I wish there was a way I could discipline myself to be more consistent when it comes to regularly updating the blog. Well there's hope yet since the New Year fever hasn't quite subsided and its not too late for some resolutions eh?
You've ALREADY resolved to blog more regularly- and TWICE at that, you say? Er, well I'm trying to get there. I am too! I actually wrote out no less than six drafts in the last couple of weeks but my attempts at publishing a post were always thwarted by that not-so-friendly neighborhood Mr Murphy who's been hanging around a little too often in my backyard of late. Two nights in a row this last week, as I typed out a post, the child and joy of my life who has been sleeping well for the last several months now, decided that sleeping through the night was passe and imposed bedtimes of 8.30 pm were strictly to be frowned upon. Its party time I say, she proclaimed accordingly, and went on to do just that resisting all attempts at walking, patting, rocking and singing her to sleep. And today, just a few minutes ago as I sat here typing during the nap time break that I get every afternoon, she woke up howling from her sleep and continued in that vein till I was a likely candidate for slip disc surgery from all the rocking. The terror remains with me still and even as I write now the tiniest wail (we live in a building teeming with sleepless kids) from an adjoining apartment sends shudders up my weakened spine.

Anyway its time to ring Mr Murphy out with the old and herald the new, which will hopefully see a whole lot more happening in this space. We've been up to a whole lot in this break, which thankfully, unlike the last long blog break was not due to any crises but more because of a whole lot of happy happenings :)Soon after Diwali we headed off for a much awaited vacation to God's own country and on our return jumped right into the pre-shaadi frenzy that preceded my sister's wedding. The wedding itself followed soon after and we buzzed into the New Year in a happy post wedding haze which continued right up to my birthday which I also celebrated this week. The post party glow still shimmers since January also sees us celebrating our anniversary later this month and I hope to be blogging about all of this and more as the month goes by. On that resolute (but cheery) note wish you all a Very Happy New Year! Hope had you great festive season and here's to a fabulous 2011 ahead for all of us!

And a very happy Diwaala to you too!

Hello there peeps! Its me again, here to wish you all a very happy Diwaala! That's how I've been greeting people on my second Diwaala and it never fails to send them into peals of laughter. The life and soul of the party, that's me! I thought I'd stop by The Mommy Woman's blog and spread some festive cheer around here as well. Besides the poor Mommy Woman needs a helping hand with her blog now and then, given her dismal track record at being regular with updates starring me and its been a while since I've dropped by so what better occasion than Diwaala to grace the blog with my super cute presence!

I've just had a wonderful second Diwaala and I celebrated it with loads of friends and family. I thought The Mommy Woman would be happy to note that I've more or less outgrown that little stranger anxiety thingie I went through in between but no! Really that woman is so hard to please! Take for example my encounter in the elevator with the friendly grandpa who lives right above us. Now I've always made it a point to studiously ignore any friendly overtures by said grandpa in the past but I decided Diwaala is as good a time as any to make amends and so when we happened to be in the elevator together and I happened to be standing right behind him I tried to be chummy by casually giving him a friendly swipe in the seat of his pants.He seemed quite amused too and I'm sure it would have been the start of a beautiful friendship if it hadn't been for that pesky Mommy Woman who suddenly started apologizing for some weird reason and totally ruined the moment. Or take that day in the restaurant where I was having a blast playing a new game with The Papa Man. The restaurant had these groovy chairs with big gaps in the backrest and I discovered this fun game where I would poke The Papa Man through one of the gaps and he would act all startled and make funny faces. We were having so much fun that I thought I should treat some of the other chappies in the restaurant to this fun game as well so I trotted off to the neighboring table and gave a jolly poke to a tubby looking fellow stuffing his face with some soup. He must have really enjoyed it coz he let out a strangled yelp and nearly swallowed his soup spoon and I was going to rev up the fun a few notches higher with another poke, when I noticed that The Mommy Woman had turned a delicate shade of purple and was doing that whole apology thing again. Really that woman can be such a ditz! First she was worried about my whole stranger anxiety phase, and now when I'm going all out to make my debut, as it were, on the social scene, she has a problem with that as well. Hmph! The other day that pest control chappie had stopped by and I was doing my best to keep an eye on him by following him around and giving him encouraging pats for a job well done and trying to get my hands on that goop he was sticking on the walls to see if it was A-grade material, and she got all hysterical and had me removed from the scene! I ask you! The woman has no appreciation whatsoever for a friendly helping hand around the house.

Take the other day when I saw her handing some vegetables to the cook and, deciding to offer my services, I took out some potatoes and onions from the vegetable basket in the kitchen and stacked them up on the counter, just in case the cook required them. Now how was I to know that poor chump of a cook would assume that The Mommy Woman had kept them there and chop them all? Next thing I know The Mommy Woman is doing the headless chicken act all over the kitchen, demanding to know what is to be done with 2kg each of extra chopped onions and potatoes. Really, how am I to know! She'll be asking me to look up recipes on Google next! I decided that the kitchen is probably not the place for me and went looking for that nice bai who does the jhaado pocha in our apartment and who always has a kind word for me. I love helping her out with the pocha and the dusting and I thought I'd lend her a helping hand by attacking a particularly nasty looking dirt stain on the floor with a soft cloth I found on the bed. I was happily scrubbing away (I SO love doing pocha!) when I heard a shriek and saw The Mommy Woman turning that familiar shade of purple (someone tell the woman that purple is so passe!)and then she grabbed the mop from my hands and started moaning about her beloved silk sari. I tried telling her that if she wants to avoid these misunderstandings she really shouldn't leave her things lying around like that but I don't think she quite got my point. She can be so obdurate sometimes, really. I must make some time to hop across to Landmark next weekend and get my own copy of What to Expect with The Mommy Women in the Toddler Years. I hope they have a section on the Terrible Thirties, because with The Mommy Woman behaving the way she has been these last few days, I'm going to need all the expert advice I can get!

As it is I have my hands full trying to keep The Mommy Woman busy in some constructive activities all day long so that she doesn't waste too much time idling away in front of the laptop. I try and put in an hour of reading with her everyday where I point out various objects in my picture books and make her tell me what each object is. Or I make her sing songs by telling her exactly which song I want with some innovative actions, and I get her to repeat each song a few times so that she gets each nuance perfectly right.
I even tried setting up a play date for her last week with a friend who has a Mommy Woman of her own, the same age as mine, but that didn't go so well. The thing is, being my usual helpful self, I thought I would help The Mommy Woman out with some of her household chores. I'd heard her cribbing about how she never gets enough time on weekends to do her grocery shopping, and there seemed to be a lot of groceries and stuff lying around at my friend's place, where we were having the play date so I thought I'll pick them up for The Mommy Woman and save her some time. I thought she would be happy at my thoughtful gesture but I should have known better. There were a range of emotions that flitted across her face when we were back home from the play date and she opened the diaper bag to find six teaspoons, one packet of sugar, a slab of butter and one tea cake in there, but happiness was not one of them.

Really, pleasing The Mommy Woman is next to impossible, I'm beginning to think. "I'm having a particularly tough time with The Mommy Woman these days" I said gravely to The Papa Man that evening "I don't think I can handle the pressure anymore."
"Ooh my little chatterbox, you've started talking so much these days! Chutter putter, chutter putter all day long! Soooo cute!" he gushed, cooing with delight and going into a complete mush overdrive as usual. Really is it too much to expect these people to at least try and understand what I'm trying to say for a change, instead of babbling like idiots every time I try and make a few statements? I guess not. Anyway, enough ranting for one post. I'm off now to spend some time with Chintu, my new friend and next door neighbor. He's been helping me make some delightful new additions to my vocabulary. Like that new phrase he taught me last week, "Abey Chup!" I'm not sure what it means exactly, but it must be something wonderful because The Mommy Woman went into a near dead swoon when I tried it last on that aging relative we'd gone to meet for Diwaala. Ooh I can't wait for Diwaala holidays to end and school to begin so I can try it on my teacher. She'll be impressed all right! Maybe then The Mommy Woman will finally be happy!

Mommy Manners 101

Its that time of the day again. A freshly blessed diaper awaits The Mommy Woman to come over and do the honors. As she goes about doing the needful, she asks the help to stand guard as a preemptive measure against a possible attack from The Fingers That Squish. As she cleans, she glimpses a swift movement from the corner of her eye and looks up in alarm. Too late she realizes that the curse of The Fingers That Squish has struck again!! The help, busy examining a particularly fascinating spot on the wall examines her nails and yawns.
"Oh shit!" says the Mommy Woman in despair. And then as The Fingers strike again, "Oh F***!"
"Sheet!" squeals the child with unconcealed delight "F***!!!"
"Gaaahhh!" gasps The Mommy Woman in dismay."Nooooo!!! No, No, No, No! Nikki, sweetheart, please don't say that. You can say 'Oh No!' instead. Ok? Oh No, Oh No, Oh Nooooo!!!"
The child looks at The Mommy Woman with a diabolic smile. There is a definitive gleam in her eye.
"Sheet!" she trills again displaying a brilliant grasp of previously unheard of words "F****!".
The Mommy Woman collapses on the floor in a dead faint.

******************
A few hours later, the battle weary Mommy Woman is enjoying some solitude and her afternoon cuppa. The doorbell chimes announcing the arrival of The Grandparents. Nikki falls on them with squeals of delight and they reciprocate with equally high pitched squeals. The Grandfather in particular is eager to spend some quality time with his beloved granddaughter, having been out for a few weeks on a work related trip.
"Oh how she has grown!" he exclaims fondly "So what is she up to these days? Has she learned anything new?"
"Yes!" says the help who likes to display her marked lack of common sense at the most opportune moments. "Didi taught her some new words today and she has been repeating them all day! She picks up words so fast you know!"
The Grandparents beam with pride. "What are the new words Nikki?"
A strangled cry emanates from the corner as The Mommy Woman's cuppa makes contact with the floor. She tries to speak but can only manage a few squeaks and gasps. The child looks at The Mommy Woman. She has that familiar gleam in her eye.
"Sheet" she says crisply to the part eagerly awaiting, part horror struck audience "F***". Dramatic pause. "Sheet! F***! Sheet F*** Sheet F*** Sheeeeet F********!!"
The Grandparents stop beaming. They exchange looks. The Mommy Woman sighs and looks down at her cuppa wishing it had something more potent in it.

****************************
And on that happy note, here's wishing everyone a very happy festive season! We seem to have kicked it off in our very own Nikki- Speshul style, and I'm going to need the rest of the evening to recover. Today isn't a dry day is it?

The one where I have nothing to blog about and so I shall ramble

Right, so just after I'd gotten myself all pepped up with all those noble intentions of blogging every week, I've discovered that the creative juices seem to have all but dried up. One minute I have a million ideas buzzing through the mind like Nikki on a sugar high (have you seen what a slice of birthday cake can do to an 18 month old, whose paranoid mother otherwise carefully monitors her sugar intake? *shudder*), the next minute my mind is a staggering blank. This is what happens to me when I don't blog regularly. I dunno if you've experienced this as well? When you're blogging regularly, you get so caught up in the enthusiasm of it all that as you write one post there are a million others brewing in your head like fresh espresso. And the writing flows easy, like a blob of butter meting on hot toast. And then you take a break and bam! It gets harder and harder to write and there are millions of unfinished drafts until you're convinced the blogging part of your brain has sort of fossilized because of the lack of use.

Of course in my characteristic organized and disciplined way, I regularly fail to jot down the inspiring thoughts that flit through my mind a thousand times a day providing much needed blogging fodder. Instead I just let them whir around in my head like windmills and when its finally time to sit down and do the actual writing bit it gets a tad tough dealing with all the cacophony that's flying around inside. The domestic woes that have plagued me of late haven't helped any. But its all going to change for the better soon I hope because I have finally found someone who is willing to share in the domestic burden and she will be coming on board soon. In fact she was here yesterday for a few hours and I felt rather proud as I took her down to the park with Nikki, like a coy bride, showing off her macho, rich husband.

Strange how much havoc lack of domestic help can wreak in your life. Specially when you've gotten used to them and life has fallen into a comfortable pattern and then they suddenly hit you with the disappearing act. I was quite indignant about the whole thing initially and declared to P that I was never going to depend on a bai again.
"Cooking and cleaning and child care, I can do it all on my own!" I screamed vehemently. " I don't need any of these nasty bais. What's more I'll be a super mom and a yummy mummy and a domestic goddess to boot!! I'll show 'em all!"
"Right" said P in a resigned sort of voice and went off to order pizza while I collapsed on the couch at the sheer exhaustion of thinking of it all.
Anyway things seem to be back on track now and hopefully they'll stay that away. Anti jinx chant, anti jinx chant, anti jinx chant. Dear Goddess in Charge of Bai Karma up there, I've had my share of misfortune, please bestow your blessings and goodwill on me now, thankyouverymuch. While we're on the subject of domestic help I also have to mention this fabulous dhobi I've found! Yeah, see how exciting my life is? I'm devoting a whole post to the bai and the dhobi, it doesn't get better than this! I wonder what the girl I was seven years ago would say to me now, as she toiled in a swanky office with corner office dreams in her eyes. That being as it may, this is the way life as I've chosen it seems to be panning out at the moment and I can't say I haven't enjoyed the ride so far. So anyway, getting back, this guy, the dhobi is absolutely fabulous! He's punctual and regular, does a fabulous job with the clothes quite unlike Rajkumar The Rascal and get this- he smiles and wishes me with a polite 'Good Morning Madam' when I open the door. Oh yes, life seems to be getting back on track all right. Hopefully the weight loss wagon, off which I'd fallen so long ago that I don't even remember what it looks like anymore, will get back on track too and I'll leave it at that. (Note to self: Consistency is going to the gym everyday, not once in six months). There, now that I've put it on the blog I'll have to hit the gym! Then again, I have mentioned the battle of the bulge earlier haven't I and it didn't really shame me into doing anything about it. Oh well. Onwards ho to the gym then, I'm sure that gym instructor whom I'd earnestly assured that I would be terribly regular at my last visit a few years ago is going to want to have a word with me.

Random ramblings from my shatteringly mundane existence

Yeah, its been one of those days. You know. One of those where everything seems to go wrong and Murphy is disturbingly all pervasive and at the end of which you just want to kill somebody. The last couple of weeks have been a series of one unmitigated domestic disaster after another. At last count, one maid was yet to recover completely from an attack of dengue, the other was seen merrily traipsing off to explore greener pastures without so much as a by-your-leave and the friendly neighborhood rogue, otherwise known as the dhobi, burnt some of P's best shirts and promptly vanished into thin air leaving us dhobi-less and with a drawer full of burnt shirts.

The making of 'Oh boy, oh boy, oh bai!- The Sequel' is currently underway and our life currently, minus the tenuous support of domestic and other peripheral staff is in a state of gentle disintegration . In other words it is an unholy mess. The mornings start with several rounds of interviews with aggressive women in the locality masquerading as bais. I open the door with a deep feeling of dread, akin to that faced by the meek spirited job seeker when faced with the nail-chewing-for-breakfast prospective employer to find Petulant Padma or Sulking Shanta at my doorstep. You recognize them instantly: the flared nostrils, the knotted brow, the ferociously clenched jaw and the beady look in the eye. The lark that sang merrily on many a gay,dewy morning certainly never made the acquaintance of these formidable ladies.
"Bai chahiye kya?" barks Petulant P or Shady S, as the case may be, and so begins the interview.
"Er yes" you meekly submit.
"Kaam kya hai?" continues PP/SS and then goes on to ask minute details of the work involved, the timings, the pay, only to shake her head in the manner of a displeased bull disappointed with the performance of the matador in the ring, before strutting away. Some, of the less forthright variety, promise to get back only to vanish into oblivion thereafter.
I shouldn't be surprised really, given my many years of bad maid karma (right up there with the bad boss karma that affected me quite regularly back when I was working), but I continue to live with that faint glimmer of hope that someday a gentle, loving, matronly sort of woman will land up at my doorstep to lovingly share in the domestic chores. Until then I will continue being afflicted by the Petulant Padmas and Sulking Shantas of the world.

The recent hobnobbing with these unfriendly sorts has made me wonder whether the world has become a ruder place in recent times. Last weekend we were at a sports shop trying to buy some badminton rackets when the shopkeeper trotted up and barked at us to expedite our shopping immediately because the shop closed at 1'o clock sharp. On being asked why on earth the shop needed to close in the middle of the day on a Sunday we were curtly informed that 1pm to 4pm was siesta time for the owners and the shop downed its shutters come rain or a deluge of customers. He was rather aggressive about the whole thing, unscrewing the shop shutters even as he spoke and we beat a hasty retreat for fear that he might decide to guillotine us with the shutters if we lingered too long. The entire neighborhood seemed to be a fan of the 1-4pm siesta and all the other shops were downing their shutters as well so we popped into a nearby, busy restaurant for a quick bite. Frenzied crowds were thronging the place and as we searched for a place to sit or a waiter who might help us with the waiting system, a crusty old waiter affronted us with indignation oozing out of every facial feature.
"Kyaa chahiye?" he barked, swinging the menu he was holding in his hand like he'd like to swat me for crowding his space.
"Ooooh I was thinking I'd rather like to have a bath with some of that lovely mineral water you have on that tray there!" I said, only, of course, I said it in my mind.
"We'd like a place to sit" I said to him as politely as I could manage.
"Jaga chahiye to dhundo! Yaaha pe khaali peeli khada hone ka nahin mangta!" he rapped out sternly, turning on his heel as I gaped after him. Taking the levels of customer delight to new pinnacles and all that.

Then there's the afore-mentioned dhobi, the charming Rajkumar, who in times gone by would land up at our doorstep with a becoming scowl and his trademark "Kapdaa hai kya?" A reply in the negative would unleash a series of under the breath mutterings and grumblings as he sulkily stalked away, and a positive reply would get you a long suffering why-can't-these-slops-iron-their-own-stuff sort of look accompanied by an overwrought sigh. Really makes me miss my good 'ol society in Bombay where I had overcome my bad maid karma to get some wonderful staff and a happy and non shirt burning dhobi to boot. Sigh. Well, man, or in this case, woman lives in hope and we shall, hopefully, overcome these minor domestic glitches soon. Aah and now I must rush, for the doorbell has chimed as I type these words...onwards ho with the interviewing of maids then. The heavy breathing and gentle grinding of teeth I can hear from the other side of the door seem to indicate that Raging Rekha, or possibly, Depressed Devki, may be at the door,

Happy Birthday Blog!

Right, so I'm back after a full twenty days, right after having passed that breezy remark of trying to blog every week! Well I guess a house full of guests, the house help down with dengue (uncanny how this ALWAYS happens when there are guests at home!) and a baby octopus masquerading as a toddler who tries to defy gravity at any given opportunity do not a prolific blogger make. Not that it means I'm going to stop trying though, I fully intend to blog as often as I can, but I guess right now taming the domestic fires that blaze untempered must take priority in my getting crazier by the day life.

Anyway the point of this post, just in case you're wondering, and you would be fully justified in doing so, given that the first paragraph and the heading of this post have not the slightest connection, was to wish my blog a very happy first birthday! For as the hands of the clock slowly crept upon midnight on the 8th of September, Hello Mommyhood turned one year old! And I found myself in the same state of semi wondering, semi amazement as I had on Nikki's first birthday a couple of months ago.
I still vividly remember that quiet September night in my somewhat lonely at the time, stay at home mum's life , when I finally quietened those gazillion misgivings and doubts and published my very first post. And the joy and elation I finally felt at seeing that post up on the blog. More than a year later, blogging remains just as exciting, with every new chronicle of Nikki's childhood captured, every warm memory shared and the fabulous interaction with fellow bloggers giving me the same frisson of happiness it did when I first started blogging. Blogging also helped me reconnect with an old, long lost love: writing. I've always enjoyed writing and used to be an enthusiastic writer back in school and college, but with time, as other seemingly more pressing matters began taking up more and more of my time and attention, my once near passion began to fall by the wayside, until I was doing less and less of it and finally was down to just jotting random musings in a tattered old notebook. Then came motherhood and along with it some other life altering changes. Suddenly I had a lot more time on my hands and a lot less to do (I'm not discounting the many demands of motherhood here mind you, but sometimes in those early weeks, when you get lucky and they do fall asleep after three hours of rocking and lullabies, and stay that way for a couple of hours, you suddenly have the luxury of time again!). I'd also discovered the world of blogging by then and was reading many many wonderful blogs and sharing in the joys and tribulations of the authors. And just as suddenly, that night of 9th September I was struck by a flash of inspiration. Here was a chance to reconnect with that long lost friend again, to rediscover that passion, the embers of which still glowed deep down in my heart.

So here I am one year later, and so much the happier for it. It's been a fabulous journey so far, I've connected with some wonderful fellow bloggers, made some friends, shared my stories with you and shared in yours, and learned some life lessons along the way as well. For those of you who like dropping by here, thank you for your comments, your words of encouragement and your interest in the snippets I share from my often times crazy world! And as we go forward into year two, do drop me a line telling me what you'd like to see more of or less of, or maybe even none at all of in the blog as we go along! Oh and the stuff you like too! Do join me then as I raise a toast to my blog, a dear friend and a wonderful reminder of a very special period in my life. Happy birthday HM and here's to many more!