I seriously wish there was a device to record memories just the way one experiences them. You know like record every aspect of a moment. The smell, touch, expressions, warmth and melting of ones heart as one cuddles! The cuteness, absurdness, madness. The setting, temperature and sound. All of it. I want to preserve my child’s childhood. His innocence. His agitation and impatience. His intelligence and kindness. His kisses. Thank god worlds most precious things are for free. The serene look on his ace when he sleeps… his snores! The warmth of his palm when he puts them on my face. It’s all to precious. These moments seem countless right now but I know better that time is really going by real quick. I wish to look back and be able relive those moments. Cherish them for what they are. Even as I long to start work and get out of the house, a part of me almost saddens at the thought of leaving him for that many hours. It would be an end of an era. My little one won’t be little any more…
So yes I’d love to preserve all these memories. For him. For me. For us 🙂
I’m stuck in my in laws house that has one floor with three rooms. And no genius could tell you that there’s absolutely no privacy. And I have 1.5 year old toddler who still breastfeeds. No one really enters my room except my mother in law. But for strange reason she think she can come in anytime. She doesn’t really barge in. She would peep inside the room so very often. It’s almost scary. And she does that bloody lot. I’m usually in my bed nursing my little one in side lying position when I’ll feel eyes on me. I’m pretty sure she thinks I wouldn’t get to know and she would just quickly checkout what I’m up to. But too bad mother in law. I know. Every single fucking time. And the moment I’d look at her she’ll just slyly whisper to ask if the little one is asleep. Well I want give her a full sarcastic comment like “Dont you have eyes, can’t you see”. But I just say yes he’s asleep. And there are times when she would just ask that so bloody loudly that he actually gets up. It’s annoying as hell. So I’ve got to do the whole exercise of twenty minutes to make him fall asleep. It’s annoying as fuck!
I feel this whole act of acting innocent to pretend that she’s concerned about my little one is utter bullshit. She just like to spy on me. See what I’m doing. She’s evil and sinister and doesn’t really have anything better to do.
Time is flying. At a super sonic speed. It’s becoming crazier by the day. I blink my eyes and whoosh, a month has already passed. What’s happening? Why is time at a fast forward setting? I want baby back. I want to see him turn for the first time again. Didn’t he just start gripping things? And crawling? I was worried sick that he hasn’t yet started to crawl properly. So when the hell did he starting walking so fast. He didn’t have teeth and now he has fourteen. And he’s just sixteen months. He would fit perfectly in my lap when I used breastfeed him. Now he’s always struggling to get a more comfortable position with his legs hanging out.
I want to stop time because it seems like the bestest thing in the world when he hugs me. His chubby cheeks, tiny feet and soft hair. I’m addicted to his baby smell… it’s intoxicatingly good. I love watching him going from one place to another causing a massive hurricane where ever he goes holding things, throwing them or checking them out. And he’s also started to talk in that baby language of his. It is simply adorable.
We have a super sweet tamilian housekeeper. She’s way too sweet. Tries to help everybody every time she could. She used to live in the same premises as us with her husband. This husband was under severe depression and became an alcoholic. Gave Guddi terrible time. He would fight with her and call up random relatives to fight or tell them that he’ll finish himself. So when one day he told Guddi the same thing and called up his brothers too, no one (including me) really cared. It had become such a routine. That day her life changed. Her husband (after consuming a lot of alcohol) hung himself to death. He left behind two school going children (a sone and a daughter) and Guddi.
Three months have passed since and she’s resumed work after a couple of months of staying with family mourning for his death. And I have questions springing up in my mind every time I see her. I want to know where did she get that strength. I want to see how a woman so dependent on someone for the smallest of decisions copes on a daily basis. Her life revolved around cooking, washing and ironing his clothes. What does she cook now? I see her with a lot of admiration. And sometimes with a lot of pain. She’s not a super woman. But the fact is She has become one and to say the least she didn’t really have an option left.
A bit of her died when her husband passed away killing the chirpy side of her. I sometimes miss that over enthusiastic housekeeper of mine. I really do.
I want to get rid of that flab. I’ve always wanted to be all toned and shapely. That’s always been my life’s concern. I don’t particularly hate my body but I’m obsessed with no flab, toned and firm body. After having my bundle of joy, my resolve to get back to my pre pregnancy shape has gotten even stronger.
I’m not crazy about losing weight really. As long as I feel good and look good and wear all those good looking clothes, I don’t care if I’m 60 (my ideal weight is supposed to be 42-48 and I’m… I don’t know, because I don’t care). So the deal is I’m quite determined to do exercises whether it’s cardio, weight training, Pilates or yoga. Discipline and hard work aren’t really my issue. My issue is I just don’t seem to have any time. And I’m not saying like how everyone says about everything they want to do. I genuinely do not have time. Because this toddler of mine really keeps me on my toes (and no, that’s not helping me get it into shape, if you’re wondering). And when he’s asleep, I get a breather. I drink coffee, tidy up the room, breathe, eat or just lie down. And just like that it’s time for him to get up. Well, I told myself to prioritise and say fuck you to my lethargy. So the moment he sleeps, I unlatch my breast ever so slyly, rush to the bathroom with my dumbells, put on fitness blender on YouTube and start off. I’m usually ten to fifteen minutes through when either he gets up again (which means he needs the boob again to fall back to sleep) or my maid would come rushing in to clean my room. I want to send her back telling her to come in an hour but the discipline at my in laws place sucks and would cause uninvited attention from my mil if I told her to go away. (I ducking hate living with my in laws)
I’ve tried the whole ten minute workout, two to three times a day (I don’t think it’s ever been three times though, max two) that’s the only way short workouts are supposed to effective if one can’t do longer workouts for at least 30-40 minutes a day.
So even though I’m still at it (partly because that’s the only thing I do for myself apart from being a mad mommy), I do feel discouraged. Had I been working this hard uninterrupted, I’d be toned as a model. (Ok, not a model per say but still quite fit). I often wonder when would I get my own time like hours together. Something tells me when I do have that time, I’d probably be used to this madness!
People get pregnant all the time and then they have babies. Babies. Those cute little tiny wrinkled creatures. There’s not one person I’ve met who hasn’t gone awww (I their expression of course) when they’ve seen a baby. Because babies are supposed to instil such a reaction. It’s nature. If we didn’t like babies so much, we wouldn’t reproduce and our species would eventually finish itself. So love for babies is natural.
So when I was pregnant, I attended various anti natal classes in the UK and one such was on breastfeeding. This is weird if you think about it because breastfeeding would seem like the most natural thing or a baby. It’s been their for as long as babies have been theren. Right? Wrong. To most mothers, doesn’t come naturally. Initially it is a bit of a challenge. For the mommy and the baby. It’s something both learn with time. After reading and attending these classes, I chose to breastfeed my baby.
Like most things in my life, I somehow manage to manifest more difficulties than I thought I would face while breastfeeding. My little one was jaundiced that he wouldn’t latch on. Three days of agony and bottle feeding left me feeling like failure of a mom. That’s when my husband stepped in and called in support. And that’s when my super hungry baby latched on correctly with a little help. The feeling was exhilarating. I felt victorious and oh my so loved. My baby would get nourished through me. (Well he did get nourished in my tummy too for whole nine months, but this was different).
But the decision to breastfeed isn’t just about feeding. It’s a commitment to your child for more than six months. When you breastfeed, your baby girl
When I was a child I was really lazy and I used to think, once I start work I will never have time to be lazy. When I started to work, I got super busy. Busy multi tasking, di ishing tasks, driving from one end to delhi to another. It was maddening. But come weekends and I’d lie on the bed like as uselessly as a bedsheet. Just being lazy. So yes, I did manage to find time to be lazy. And it was this laziness that made me feel relaxed. Made me ‘feel’ the weekends. Else life would feel duh! All work and no laziness makes one feel like shit. My mind justified this laziness by asserting that once I get married (though in my scheme of things, I’d planned no marriage because you know it’s so damn patriarchal) I would not get a minute to really breathe. Come first year of marriage and I actually had to say bye bye to laziness. Not because I didn’t have the time, but because being lazy isn’t really an option in husband’s