Inherited passion

Yesterday, Pickles and I went into a bookstore. I love spending time at bookstores. I could spend hours browsing and picking (and spending a fortune) and just being around books. It is however a pastime of the past now with Pickles and a full-time job. But yesterday, I had to pick up a couple of gifts for some upcoming birthday parties. And I generally like to buy books for kids rather than toys and I had to do it rather urgently. When Pickles and I set out from home, I'd thought it would be a quick entry and exit from the store.

So, Pickles is fond of books. We've been doing a lot of reading for him ever since he was born. He really shares my enthusiasm for them, of course he can't read just yet. And the library is one of his happy places. It's very hard to curb his enthusiasm on our weekly visits to the library. It's one of those things that he really looks forward to. I must mention at this point that I think the National Library is one of the best things about Singapore. And it is great that Pickles started out on his "reading" ventures here. He loves to run around and browse and pick books to read. Although most library staff are amused to see this little excited toddler happily browsing, some of them ask us to keep it down.  And although I didn't have to worry about keeping the silence, I still was nervous about the visit. And so, I set my very jittery feet into the bookstore with an excited toddler by my side. As we went in, I explained to him that this was a bookstore and not a library and he could not just pick up books to take home. I also told him that we were there to buy a present for his friend and he nodded like he understood and in a very adult tone said "OK".

And when we walked out, I was wondering why I worried at all. We stayed in the store for a good one and a half hour! And he was just as adult-like as I was. We walked into the different sections together and as I would look, he would browse too and would suggest "this one". I would then tell him why that particular book was not ok, and we would move on. He kept chattering on all the while about the different things in the books that he found interesting. And I managed to even browse for something for myself after I had picked up what I needed. The whole experience was such a joyful one, I almost had happy tears when I saw him sitting happily on the floor of the store, browsing for a while and putting the books back in place. I could see that he was as happy as I, when we were there. I had always hoped that he would enjoy books as much as I do but I hadn't expected that it would be this early.

I for one am very happy that he shares my love of books. I can't wait for the day when we can read our favourite books together and talk about them. Going by how fast things are moving, that day doesn't seem far at all.

Choices

I'm not a people person. I am generally friendly and at most times, there is a higher chance that you would find me with a group of people than by myself. But I like being around people that I know and I''m uncomfortable and almost awkward around strangers. And hence every time I get invited to events and parties where I don't really know a lot of people, I turn it down. Even when the person inviting me is a good friend. I don't like to be lost in a sea of people, starting from scratch and trying to make new friends. That seems like a lot of effort to me and not always worth it. There have been times when I soon figure out that I might actually enjoy it but it's probably too late to get out of the excuse that I just made to avoid going.

Recently, R and I have made this arrangement where we each take an evening of "me-time', during the week. So, every Wednesday evening, I focus on doing things that I enjoy; a drink with friends, shopping, watching a movie or whatever catches my fancy for the day. But after a few weeks, I was at a loss of things to do during 'me-time'. I had run out of most things and I went back home a couple of weeks too (!) And soon, it looked like I would soon lose my 'Me-Wednesday' evenings if I didn't push to make it last. And luckily, I got invited to have a drink with some friends after work and I happily agreed to go. Until, someone mentioned that there will be others (people I didn't know) going too. Suddenly, I was uncomfortable with the idea and started looking for excuses. But since it was too late to do anything, I just bit the bullet and went ahead anyway.

And I had fun. There was some interesting conversations with some good people. I won't say I made new friends but I might smile or nod at them if I see them again. But, it turned out that they were a bunch of foodies who loved Indian food. What came out of that conversation were plans for some experiments with Fusion-food for the following weekend. Although, it has been done before, my friends who were there that night and I decided to try to make some 'Naan-Pizza'. From scratch, no less!

Butter chicken- naan pizza.

Palak paneer-naan pizza

Pardon the bad pictures but this was the best I could do before they disappeared. They were   really great.

The whole experience was a riot, though. I had so much fun, making and of course eating the stuff later that I decided I must do newer things more often. We will definitely try more fusion food in the weeks to come and now bouncing ideas for the next one is a regular thing during our lunch sessions. Although, that Wednesday was just a starter for the whole thing, it was still fun! And I for one, will think twice before turning down invitations again.

And now we're done!

Or Chronicles of our breastfeeding journey!

So, it was the morning after Pickles was born. The nurse woke me up at 6 am and mumbled something about pumping. First I thought she was nuts. I had just gone to sleep at about half past 4am, after a particularly tough ordeal the previous night. I had given birth to my little baby at 33 weeks (he was born premature) And for a first time mother who had put aside a lot of reading about breastfeeding for the last trimester,  I had no clue what she was talking about. I barely even remembered I had given birth as I rubbed my eyes. And then it hit me, my baby would ask for food sometime soon from the little enclosure that he was put in the night before. I sat up worried and the nurse came back again, this time to help me express what was supposed to be colostrum. She said she wasn't sure there would be any as it may be too soon but to both of our surprise, my body had decided it was indeed ready to make food for the little baby. And there began my journey.


After that I started to pump regularly, every 3 hours on the clock. And the output got better and better. But Pickles could only get it through tubes and eventually through bottles, as they had to limit his intake. And the space in my freezer was filling up. I was determined to give him the best food I could, like I felt I had to compensate because my body couldn't hold him in for longer.  Like every mother, I wanted only the best for my child and I was as disciplined as they come. I don't remember any other thing that I've been so fiercely devoted to. And one particular day, the doctor said Pickles was ready to latch and we should try. And the nurse put him to my breast. I had no clue how this would work but the little guy seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He leapt at me, nursed like he hadn't eaten for days and then fell asleep contentedly in my arms. I can't even begin to describe how it felt but it will suffice to say that it was a very emotional moment for me. In that moment, it felt right. All the hard work, pumping every 3hours, everything seemed worth it.


And then we brought him home one fine morning. It was a new beginning for both of us and I'm glad we both came out of it pretty strong. I've heard a lot of mothers complain about the difficulties of breastfeeding and I'm not saying it was not hard. It was super tiring in the initial few months, to say the least. But I loved the bonding time we had, Pickles and I, especially in the middle of the nights. Call me crazy but I actually enjoyed the time when the world was asleep and we would wake up t nurse. It was as if we had stolen a pocket of time and kept it for ourselves to savour. Just the memory of it makes me ache to go back. But that is not to say that I don't remember feeling tired and angry at times when he wouldn't stop or wouldn't fall back asleep. Or the tired mornings when I had to go back to work. Or being so angry at R for snoring away when I was trying hard to put Pickles back to sleep and I couldn't.


When Pickles was about 3 months old, he started to get really bad diarrhoea and an even bad diaper rash. We saw many doctors but the problem persisted. One doctor asked me to stop breastfeeding, saying it could be the cause but after intense research of my own,  I refused to believe her. Some doctors said it had something to do with my diet and I changed my diet considerably, avoiding things like dairy that could trigger such a reaction. But it still didn't work and the diarrhoea persisted. Finally, we saw a GI specialist who seemed to think that Pickles was lactose intolerant. He asked me to stop breastfeeding and start feeding Pickles soy milk formula instead. I decided to give it a shot for a couple of days. This incidentally happened to be around my first "Mother's day". I remember spending it so depressed. A lot of people told me I was lucky I could stop now and that I would now get my body back, but I didn't want it back. I just wanted to nurse my child again. After that it still didn't help and I had had enough of this nonsense. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went back to breastfeeding Pickles and treating the diaper rash very aggressively. It worked! I was happy again but another problem them emerged out of this. Pickles was now refusing the breast. He had nipple confusion. Just as I was beginning to feel I had won over one battle, a totally big war was now upon me. Fighting nipple confusion took more out of me than anything I've known. I was torn between trying to nurse and stopping completely.  If you think I'm joking, try to feed a baby who is really hungry but refuses to eat. But I fought on, trying all sorts of tricks to get Pickles to latch again. And then one fine day, all was well with the world again! He latched on and I had won this round!


Around this time, I had to go back to work full time. Although I was happy to be up and about, I remember hating having to leave Pickles with a complete stranger. But soon G was not a stranger any more. She supported my decision to breastfeed Pickles for as long as I did. She would feed him whatever I had expressed, even at times when he was not receptive. She was such a great nanny that I started to worry that he would love her more than he would love me. But I needn't have worried. Pickles was always happy to see me after I came home and would then just want to be with me. Our bond was strong. I may be wrong but I believe it was breastfeeding that made the bond tighter. And contrary to all that I had heard, Pickles never had any confusion about who his mother was.


Going back to work was something I always worried about. I wasn't sure how I would pump when I was at work. We didn't have a mother's room (pumping room) but when you really want something badly enough, you somehow make it happen. In my case, my colleagues and friends did. At work, my desk was in a room with a bunch of other grad students like me, who would leave the room whenever I needed to pump. After a while, I didn't even need to ask, they would just walk out when it was time. I remember someone even put up a poster on the door when I was pumping, that said something like "Don't knock. Baby-food cooking inside" or something like that! And thanks to this kind of support, I continued to pump at work until Pickles was 18 months old. And then I stopped pumping. I started to nurse on demand whenever I was around and at night.


And so we continued. I've seen little Pickles transform from a little animal who would pounce on the breast when he was hungry to a little gentleman who would wait for me and then put his little arm around my waist while nursing and then again to this circus clown who would want to nurse standing up or doing all kinds of acrobatics. If nursing a baby is pure joy, nursing a toddler is total entertainment. Pickles would suddenly want to talk while nursing or wait until he finished and then suddenly say something very funny. We had our own code word, 'Nunnu'.  It was one of the first few words that he used. And then when he was about two, I started telling him he could only nurse at night. And so it became 'Nunnu-taachi' (meaning nurse and sleep). So whenever he was sleepy, 'nunnu-taachi', he would beckon. And he would run to our bedroom and sit at my pillow, waiting for me to come and nurse him.


At some point, I started to worry that I would never be able to go out late again. And I couldn't even go to a conference if I wanted to. And I was already dodging all the travel plans at work. I considered weaning Pickles but three things held me back. One, that I had always thought I would nurse him until he self-weaned (if such a thing was possible). Two, I was too scared to even try, knowing the amount of tears (for Pickles) and sleepless nights that would come with it. Three, I wasn't sure I was ready to let go just yet. Foolishly, I thought my baby would still remain a baby as long as I kept nursing him. And so, I put off weaning almost infinitely. On nights when Pickles would keep latching or latch and come back over and over, I would swear to wean him soon. I kept chatting with a friend and every time she would bring it up, it would remind me that maybe I ought to try. And then I would procrastinate yet again.


Until the dentist pulled the plug. Although people warned me about the ill-effects of nursing at night on babies' teeth, I had found equal amount of research that suggested otherwise which I was happy to believe. At his first dentist's appointment, we found out that Pickles had a developmental defect called Enamel Hypoplasia, which meant that his enamel was not developed properly. Although he had no cavities yet (!), the dentist said that Pickles teeth were at a higher risk for decay. And he gently suggested weaning as he didn't want to put him at any more risk that his teeth were under.
After much consideration, I decided to finally bite the bullet and do it. Weaning (and some sleepless nights) were scheduled on the calendar for the following weekend. I started preparing Pickles early in the week that his 'nunnu' would be finished soon and he behaved like he understood. On the first night, he cried himself hoarse when I said nunnu was finished but fell asleep eventually. I considered giving up so many times, but I just held on. He woke up many times and every single time, R and I gently coaxed him back to sleep with a sip of water. On the second night, he asked for nunnu and then told himself that it was over and fell asleep listening to a story. I wondered if it was so easy and when he woke up a zillion times that night, I decided it wasn't. On the third night, it was slightly easier. I felt depressed that maybe it is really over now. And tonight is the fourth. And he fell asleep easily enough.

And just like that it is over. I hadn't expected it to be like this but I think he will be over it soon. But will I ever be, of that I'm not sure!

W: Wonderful Women!

I was only recently thinking about this and I realised that I am surrounded by amazing women. Not that the men in my life aren't great, some of them are but I can't really say that of many.

The most amazing woman I know has to be my mom. I've posted about her so many times and yet I can't put into words all the levels at which she amazes me on a daily basis. My adulation for her only increased when I saw her recently. So tired, yet she continues to work and inspire me to be better, every single passing day. A close second comes my aunt, mave who is my mum's sister. I've posted about her many a times too. How these two sisters brought up so many kids without much/no support from their husbands never fails to bring a sigh of admiration from me. Apart from doing what they needed for their families, they always did good by whoever they knew.

The second bunch of wonderful women I know are the sisters I grew up with, all six of them. Each one an inspiration in her own right. From managing difficult mothers-in-law to being patient daughters, from single handedly managing teenaged sons to making time for their little ones, from being great cooks to learning cooking from scratch when needed, from being the perfect working mothers to giving up great careers to bring up kids and yet going back to the workforce after 10 years, I've seen them all fight battles and win them.

Of course, I've been very lucky to have an amazing set of girlfriends. A wonderful bestie, trying to hold her own against this patriarchal society, learning the ropes and trying to fight for what she thinks is right with all she's got and yet at the same time creating some magnificent art. Another great set of friends I ran away from home with, all doing their thing in this world and making me proud. Another friend who is such a great mum, it brings tears to my eyes! I'm lucky to have friends who push me to be better, inspire me to run more, share great recipes, who're there when I need a pep talk, advice me about how to manage my time, and to bring up my kid.

And those are people women who I'm actually related to. And the women I see everyday, who work with me, my awesome ex-boss, managing work and home with such so much ease and such a great attitude. The cleaning aunty, who looks after her entire family with her meagre earnings and yet has a brilliant smile for everyone.

I think women are creatures of great strength and rise to any occasion as needed. Don't even get me started on the power of mothers. I have seen such strength in those beings that I now believe there is a reason why nature made it that way. Everywhere I look, I see a wonderful woman and even though it sounds pompous, I think men are really lucky to have us around!

S: Sisters

One of the biggest assets I have are my sisters, all six of them. Yes,you heard that right, six!
And I'm pretty sure I've mentioned on this blog, time and again about how great they are and how lucky I am to have family like them. Actually, sisters like them. I'm sure that brothers are great but they'll never come close to what sisters are. They're just awesome!

Thank you girls, for being in my life and for being all that you are. I love you all!

Of balconies and outdoorsy places

I’ve always had a fascination for balconies. I’m talking about the slightly outdoorsy places at home that can be a common man’s private garden, laundry drying space or a relaxing corner,based on who you ask.

Growing up, we lived in an apartment with a balcony. It was a small 2 bed room apartment where I lived with my parents and 3 sisters. When we were kids, my parents of course had grills put up in the balcony for obvious safety reasons.  In my school days, I remember during exam times, each of us sisters had a specific place we’d prefer to study in. Mine was the balcony. I spent a lot of time in that little haven and maybe that has something to do with my liking of balconies. Once we were older, for need of extra space, the balcony was then converted to an extra room by putting glass windows all around. But that room was still my room! It was still outdoorsy since you just had to open all the windows. But it wasn’t a balcony!

When I moved to Singapore, the initial couple of places I lived in did not have any outdoor space at all. It is not very commonplace here for houses to have balconies. So, I’ve lived all this while without the joy of a balcony at home.

Now, when we were house-hunting, we came across a few places with balconies and now suddenly it is on my list of priorities. In my head, I already see myself enjoying my morning cuppa (on weekends at least) or a late night drink with R. I look forward to sitting and having long conversations with R with  the breeze blowing away the daily exhaustion. I look forward to growing my own little herb garden (I have one but nowhere near to what I’d like). I also look forward to putting my feet up and some long hours of relaxing reading in the evenings. Fingers crossed, I hope I can even find a nice little house attached to the perfect balcony. I’ll keep you posted.

M is for Motherhood

This was a no-brainer for me! M had to be for Motherhood. With this post, I've actually made it halfway through the challenge. How are you faring?

"Wait till you have a kid, and then you will know!", I've heard this enough number of times from my mum and several other mums too. I guess it is true, motherhood teaches you so many things, it's amazing! It's almost like with the title mum, you also get many other qualities imbibed into you, just by diffusion or something. Motherhood has changed me in so many ways that sometimes I wonder if I am still the same person at all. The list below is not exhaustive, just things I could think of over the top of my head:

Sleep
I have always been a person who needed a minimum of 8 hours a night. I could hardly function well without sleep. That is one of the first things that changed after motherhood. I can hardly remember a night since Pickles was born, where I even slept for 6 hours straight. Now I am amazed at how little sleep I can actually get by with.

Patience
Patience was initially a virtue that I was completely devoid of. I used to think R would be the one who's more patient with the kids and I would be the impatient parent. But I was wrong. I find myself being patient with Pickles for things that would have driven me crazy before he came along. Although I've always had a short fuse for a lot of things, with Pickles, I've actually surprised myself time and again. I can actually do the same thing a million times with him, sing the same songs, read the same books over and over,  and generally handle him without losing it. I used to always wonder how Ma could be so patient. Now I think, it's probably due to the fact that she has four children, so she would have needed four times the amount of patience to handle us!

Multitasking
If I thought I was good at multitasking before, now I must be a super multi-tasker or something. My mind is constantly a whirr of things that need to be done. And I am always planning the next thing to do on my calendar even as I am finishing a task. Planning work in the lab has never been better. I try and get as much done in as little time as I can, just so I can be home in time for Pickles! No more working late nights or weekends for me. Making shopping lists, grocery shopping, planning meals and everything else happens like clockwork. Calls to friends and family are only during travel time and that is the only time I have to talk/message.

Extra energy?
As I mentioned above, all that multitasking ensures that I get so many things done! Sometimes, I find it amazing that I have energy left even when I am overwhelmed with fatigue. I can actually get up from bed to do that one little chore that I had forgotten about (a thought that was laughable at one time!). And to top it all, I can wake up in the middle of the night to pump breastmilk if need be. My current mantra is, 'what doesn't kill you, actually makes you stronger'.

Paranoia
I am bothered by things that never bothered me earlier. I am scared about a lot of things, like climate change! I worry about what kind of a world I've brought Pickles into. I find myself crinkling up my nose at smokers, especially if they're smoking around Pickles. I refuse to get associated with people, who I think will be a bad influence on him.

I want to be a better person
This is one of the best changes that motherhood has brought about. I am constantly trying to be a better person now, because I want to teach Pickles to do the right things. I figure that if I don't follow what I preach, how can I expect him to take me seriously? Whether it is the silliest of habits like washing hands or important practises like being polite, I have to do it right, so that I can give Pickles something to look up to, something to follow.

More appreciation for my own Mother
I've always loved Ma a lot, and I respect her a great deal. But after I stepped into motherhood, I have a newfound respect for her. When I sometimes complain that it is difficult to manage with a job and one kid, I wonder how she managed singlehandedly four kids and a full-time job with little or almost no help from my dad! And she did an amazing job with all of us. I can't remember even one instance when I needed her and she wasn't there for me, even now!

It just gets me thinking that she set the bar too high. If I can manage to be half the mother that Ma is, I will consider that I have done justice to my role as a mother.

K is for Keeping fit

I am not an extremely fit person. But I try to make sure I eat healthy and exercise regularly, although I tend to hit road blocks every now and then. When it comes to fitness, I'm not a very picky person. As in, as long as I have company, I'll go with the flow. If I find a friend who is a swimming enthusiast, I'll gladly swim. If I find company for a run, I will run. Call it a weak mind, but a buddy system is my best form of training.

I remember the best form I was in was probably around 10 years ago. I was single, had a good job and lived with my parents. Every morning, I would wake up at 3:30 am (insane, I know!) and head to the gym at 4 am. And then I would go for a run with my coach and a bunch of others. Coach was a veteran runner who represented India in the Asian games. He was still competing in the veteran category. For some reason, he had taken me under his wing and decided to coach me to get in good form. I would gladly accompany him for his morning jog (which was, of course a run for me!), irrespective of whether the others would turn up or not. Then around 5am, we would get back to the gym to hit the machines or join the cardio class, depending on whatever was the schedule for the day. Coach encouraged me to keep a record of what I was doing at the gym and what I was eating, also the amount of weight/inches lost or how close I was getting to my ideal weight and fitness levels. And during that one year, I think I was in the fittest form of my life, and why not? I was working out for almost 2 hours, six days a week.

And then I moved! Singapore is a runner's paradise. I would see runners everywhere and at any time of the day, be it hot afternoons, early mornings or late nights! There are tracks and park connectors all over town and what's more, it is safe to run at any time of the day or night. So, I got R to accompany me in the beginning and soon he was bitten by the bug too. We ran a few 10Ks in the first year and a half-marathon in the next. Then, we met friends who made running even more fun. We started training for the marathon together. R and I ran every day in the evenings. And every weekend involved a stay-over with friends followed by an early morning run and then a much-deserved breakfast/brunch. And we all finished the full marathon that year. Although the training was fun, I swore I would never put my body through that again (that is a story for another day). After finishing the marathon, I ran a few times again, but never so regularly.

Later, R and decided to get as fit as we could, when we could still do it. We both joined the gym and it became a regular thing again after work, three days a week. We would both push each other, eat healthy and follow a very strict regimen. We even went swimming once a week. And then, work or someone visiting would get in the way and our exercise routine would be destroyed. We would attempt to start again but only to let something disrupt it and from there things just went downhill. We played badminton with friends once a week, and that remained the only form of exercise for a long  time.

And then I got pregnant and I still continued to play badminton. But I had some complications with the pregnancy and then from then on, I was forbidden from any strenuous form of exercise. I went swimming once in a while and walked very often but that was it. After Pickles was born, however, I had no form of exercise at all. My only form of exercise was running for the bus and rocking him to sleep.

All that has slowly started to change. A month ago, I decided enough is enough and that I need more me-time. I started to go for a swim once a week with a friend. Then, this weekend, I went for a run in the morning, and it felt amazing! I ran while R walked Pickles in his stroller. I realized how much I miss the rush. And I want to do it more often. I am even contemplating joining a class, so I am forced to go but I fear it may be a bit too overwhelming and that I might give up something else. It's hard being a mom. It's bad enough to leave Pickles every morning and go to work. But doing something in the non-work time is another level of guilt altogether.  But I also think I owe this to myself and my sanity. Perhaps a run every weekend by myself, a kickboxing class maybe. But I'm hoping I can do more eventually. Wish me luck!

G is for GOODNIGHT MOON

For those of you who have actually heard of the book, I'm sure you either have babies or have grown up with this book yourself. The book is about a bunny who doesn't want to go to bed. So, he says good night to all the things around him. So he keeps saying good night and you hope your little one will doze off by the time he's done. I've heard a lot of parents who say that their kids loved this book. I wondered why!

It has lines that go something like this:

Good night comb and good night brush.
Good night Nobody, Good night mush!
And good night to the old lady whispering hush!

I find these lines almost eerie, don't you think! But Pickles too, for some reason, loves this book. Maybe it is the colour scheme of the book, alternating between black and white and colour. Maybe it is the rhyming words. I don't really know! Imagine my plight when I find Pickles actually smiling at the page which shows a blank white page saying Good night Nobody! Until I figured he was probably looking at the adjacent page which shows a bowl of food and a spoon saying Good night, mush. I think the food bowl seemed familiar to him and hence the smile of recognition.

But this post is also about something else. It is about the myth of parents putting babies to bed or rather scheduling sleep times for baby. The babies trick us into thinking that we put them to bed when in reality, they decide exactly when they want to sleep! They seem  to be thinking, "Take that, Gina Ford!"

I read a lot of books during my pregnancy. I wish Pickles had read at least a few of them. Because it seems like he knows nothing about what he is expected to do! He just does his own thing!
Coming back to sleeping habits, I had read that babies eventually get used to the rocking and it is best that they are not rocked when they are little. I followed this very diligently as soon as he was born for the first few months. I would snarl at anybody who as much as gently rocked the baby. I'm sure people thought I was crazy but in order to avoid the wrath of a sleepless mother, they all meekly agreed.

And then, one day, Pickles fell ill. He had some issues, due to which he refused to sleep. I tried everything and this little thing wouldn't as much as close his eyes. It was around this time that I got a new nanny. She offered to put him to sleep and sleep-deprived as I was, I handed him to her and went straight to bed. I woke up to the pleasant sight of a dozing baby. When I asked her, she said she had just carried him around and he had fallen asleep. So, after that, that is what we did. Eventually, even that did not work! Around this time, I had to go back to work. In my absence, I know the nanny rocked him to sleep a few times. I don't blame her. I know it is so hard to put my own baby to sleep. I can only imagine what it must be like to do the same thing for another's. So, there began the saga of rocking Pickles to sleep. At around the same time, I read an article that said it is ok to rock babies  to sleep and that will grow out of it as they grow slightly older. What it didn't mention, though,is the timeline.

After that, the nanny rocked him to sleep for his daytime naps. At night time though, I'm glad he fell asleep at my breast. So, I wasn't exactly complaining. As long as we all were happy, things were good.  Everyone else, however, thought this was a bad practice. I might have agreed if I was not on the other (read sleepless) side. If you want to judge, judge away but not until you've put my little  monster to bed at least once. My mother-in-law tsk tsked our putting-baby-to-sleep practices and vowed to make changes when she visited. She stayed with us for a month and tried. Eventually, she conceded and in fact started rocking him to sleep too.  When I went to India for a month-long-trip, my mum tried her hand at putting the baby to sleep in a lot of other ways. Nothing worked. In the end, rocking still rocked!

It has been a good one year now.  We have a good bedtime routine. We have a warm bath followed by a gentle massage. Then we read a book together, most often it is Good night moon! After that he is ready to drift off to la-la land. We still rock him to sleep but we don't have to, always! Sometimes, he just drifts off to sleep. I am hoping he will outgrow rocking to sleep soon. If not, I will just include it in my exercise regime!

PS: As I finished writing this, it occurred to me that I could have done this post for R : Rock-a-bye-baby. But, too late! I'm too pooped to write another one now!

B is for Blah blah

And I neither mean the song nor the album. What I’m talking about is the good old gift of the gab, which I suppose we all have. It’s just a matter of the company we are with.

What inspired this post is a long chat with my bestie, who is miles away right now. We haven’t spoken to each other in ages but whenever we chat, we can pick  up right from where we had left off. We chat endlessly, giggling like a couple of school girls, laughing over silly memories and at each other, even hurling insults like no one else can or will dare to. After an hour-long conversation, when R asked me what we were chatting about, I didn’t have any specifics to give him.  I guess that is what is special. The fact is that we can go blah blah for hours on end but with no specific topic in mind.

I love my weekly chats with my mom, where I fill her in on the latest gossip in my life, complain about work or discuss anything under the sun and take notes for recipes that I want to try for the weekend. Of course, it is incomplete without some gyan and admonishment from ma for the mischievous things I admit to her.

I know that it is one of the special reasons why I love shopping with my girlfriends or have a meal with them. It is not so much the shopping or the food (well, it is that too) but what I love most is the conversations we have. It doesn’t have to be about anything important or specific even. Just that the tête-à-têtes don’t stop until we have to split for the day, and even after. Then again, isn’t that what determines whether you can be friends at all in the first place?

Of course, there is nothing like the good old-fashioned in-person, heart-to-heart, a stay-up-all-night blah-blah session. But with so many miles in between friends, a phone-call, a skype chat or a whatsapp chat is almost just as good.

I also have a strong bond with my first friends i.e. my sisters and cousins. I have not one two but 6 sisters who love me very fiercely. I have a different bond with each of them, one is my mentor, one is my role model, and one is my partner in crime in the family and so on…. you get the picture. So every time, depending on the issue at hand, I know which of them to call. I really have a support system that works overtime. Whether it is to bitch about R during a fight or to get a boost when I’m feeling low, I know it is there.

Speaking of R, he and I started off as very good friends first, who could talk endlessly about anything and everything. We started talking 16 years ago and we never stopped. We will grow old together and as long as the conversation flows, I know we’ll be ok.

Someone once told me, “ Food is the one thing that you enjoy at all stages in your life. It can make everything alright.” To that I say, "Food may not always do the trick but a pep talk from the appropriate person will right almost everything."

The Smile Spreader

• This man is 78 years old and he still works for a living. 
• In spite of that, there is never a bitter moment around him.
• He is almost toothless but his smile is perfect.
• He always sports a smile and you can’t help but smile back at him, even when you’re having a really bad day.
• No matter what you say to him, he always has a funny retort. There was this time when I asked him, “What’s in your pocket?” and he said, “my girlfriend’s letter, don’t tell my wife”.
• He walks with a stoop but he always opens doors for the ladies.
• He plays pranks on the aunties on the floor. In spite of that, they all pamper him.
• He has nicknames for everyone. He calls me Mona Lisa. And tells me I must smile more often.
• He reminds me to comb my hair.
• He is one of those people who make you want to believe the world is good.
• He told me today was his last day at work today.

Goodbye, Pachek. I’ll miss you.

Mind versus Body

Today we went on a long hike to Yosemite valley. Like I said in my last post, this trip has been full of self discoveries. I discovered that I am an outdoor person. I really enjoyed myself on the hike today. The mountains, hiking alongside the waterfall....the whole experience was wonderful. I also found out that I am a natural gardener.the rose and gardener theory, anyone? 

Our guide, Dave is a good hearted guy. He took us around, gave us plenty of info, brought food and also kept us entertained. He is a lot of fun but he refused to let anyone take pictures of him, because he said it's like it takes away his soul or something like that. Funny guy!

It all started as good fun in the beginning with everyone in good spirits and enjoying themselves. But once the hike started, it separated the best of us from the rest of us. It was a tough climb but I really enjoyed it. I helped a few of them make it through and it was a wonderful experience.

Though I had seen snow and snowfall in Switzerland last year, hiking through twelve  inches of snow was another matter. I'll admit it was a lot of fun, complete with snowball fights but falling on snow, not so fun. Considering I was hiking with my crocs (really a bad idea, btw), I was lucky I got away with just one fall.

The giant sequoias were amazing, grand as they stand. Each one a few hundred years old and some funny ones as well....the grizzly bear, three graces and a bachelor, faithful couple and a few others. Aren't they breathtaking?

I am really tired as I pen this post, but I had to do it now, because I know that once I go back, it's gonna be a mad mad rush all over again.
Dave was telling us today that a lot of people who come here say they want to come and live here. It ain't easy, he says. People say they can but it only takes a special kind of person to come and live up here in the wilderness. But I think I can do this. I would love to. Maybe some day!

Life's Little Pleasures

I can’t quite describe it,

This feeling that I get.

Brings a twinkle in my eye

Adds a spring in my step.

On Wednesday it appears,

But it’s ever so slight.

On Thursday it’s more intense,

This feeling of delight

On Friday morning, it is definitely there

And it lasts all day.

By evening, it reaches a crescendo

The feeling is here to stay...

What more can I say…

Thank God It’s Friday!!

The weekend’s finally here!!