munchies

Over the last week Ive discovered that the munchkin can yield a pencil like a natural. She draws perfect round golgoppa type circles, and keys in laddoo shaped eyes with perfect sticks for eyelashes. For the most part the pictures either are me or her sister, and she even shapes in the daughter’s rectangular glasses.

Today while I was hammering away a comment somewhere, munchkin droned on like a bee:
“I want to draw mommy, gimme paper and pen.”
“Ok, here’s a paper” *handing her a one-sided sheet, did I tell you I hate wasting papers?*
“Not this one, I want a new one.”
“fine, here’s a book, and here’s a pencil”
“MOM!”
“what?”
“I said, I want pen, not pencil”

Long story short, she finally started work on the sheet with a pencil that looked like a pen; and unlike how you, me and mere mortals draw, with the sheet laying flat on the floor with us bending all over it and smudging every little mark, she stands facing the wall, and with a serious concentrated pursed lip and scribbles away. The sheet’s laying flat against the wall, and the pencil’s moving with ferocious speeds. I think to myself, if not anything she’d make a good elementary school teacher!

I get back to emails. I am hardly done with one, when she flashes the paper brilliantly under my nose. This is what she drew.

I thought the expression was priceless, and continuing to flatter myself said:
“Nice picture munchkin, so my eyes look that big?”
“Mommy, those are my eyes.” *in a solemn patient tone*
“oh, okay. You are smiling?”
She nods.
“What are those sticks on either side of your face?”
“They are my hands.”

*okayyy, this is what happens when too many people pinch little girls cheeks. The girls imagine hands sprouting out of them*

“so whats all these long lines on either side of you?”
“That’s my longggggg Ju” *ju is short for juttu, which means “hair” in telugu*

..and that’s when I felt a little pang for snipping her hair off. *sigh. Curse the damn job, the drive and me leaving before she wakes up*

“but you don’t have long Ju right?”
“but I want me to have long ju, just like Ariel and Cinderella. Don’t cut my hair ever ever ever again ok, or I won’t be your friend?”
“Okay, I promise I won’t” Laughing, I kiss her on her upper lip.
“Mommy, are you being a boy?!”

?! *argh*

 

petty crime

Remember the times when we have indulged in something bad, really bad and felt like a criminal. The time when you jumped over a fence to get to mangoes, or the blatant lie you said looking right into your mom’s eyes without flinching or how about the time you swiped a fancy scented eraser from that spiteful neighbor at school who refused to share it with you? Despite how much ever we thought that we’d get deep fried in steaming hot oil in hell or that we’d be born a dung beetle in our next life there was a smug satisfaction of being not-good. Flouting rules and the thrill of getting caught more than qualified for the sin we were committing. They were petty little acts of defiance, propelled by an inner desire to achieve something. Right from the sour tasting mangoes to the triumphant smile on seeing a bully cry.

Now how about the times when you actually committed a “crime” unknowingly and stood mortified and aghast at what you were capable of? Such experiences usually descend on us grown-ups. As kids, the world was our loot. As adults, there are boundaries, rules, public eye, the policying, the keeping up of appearances and at the end of the day our own damned conscience to answer to. When it mocks and calls you nothing more than a common thief, a petty criminal. A few weeks ago, yours truly was an active participant in a blatant crime. It’s a miracle am running scot-free and not been reprimanded at the local courts. Really.

Remember the rushed Saturday, and the 10.15 am meet with the Noble King?

So as luck would have it, it was a cold, gray day with a steady drizzle to boot. I bundled the girls up and drove into the King’s driveway on the dot at 10.17 am [yeayea, 2 minutes is still on the dot!]. Felt happy that I made it on time and especially more so thrilled on realizing that we could very well be the first one to arrive on the scene. I chase the daughter to run up ahead and ring the bell, while cursing the rain making ringlets of my finely smoothed hair, I try convincing the munchkin to get down. She makes a big to-do on “doing it all by myself” and refuses to jump out quick enough. Finally, scooped her and ran up the stairs to the door.

I ask the daughter “Did you ring a couple of times?”

“Yeah”

So I push the buzzer once again, and put my ear to the door. Daughter’s giving me the wide-eyed look. Munchkin’s looking into the sky and feeling quite thrilled she’s in her thin stockings and huge big dots of darker spots were appearing fast on them. She’s even stuck a pink tongue out into the sky for fun.

I try the knob. It opens. I push the daughter in.

“Mom, shouldn’t we be waiting?”

“Oh, he’s expecting us. Just step in already, we are getting drenched.”

We enter, and I shut the door behind us. The living area of the house is one level up. So as soon as we stumble in, there is a short flight of stairs, a landing and then another few steps up into the living room. We stand huddled at the bottom, cramped amongst the couple’s shoes and our own. I put munchkin down, and start heading up. Daughter’s still shuffling her feet, and munchkin’s behind me.

The place is quiet. All of us are straining and looking up hoping to see a familiar face appear. Any face, as a matter of fact. By now, I’ve reached the top of the stairs. I pop my head in around the corner, and I see toys scattered, the lights on and I hear silence with the hum of the humidifier on the background. I am on the very top of the stairs, with the daughter almost with one foot out of the door, and the munchkin between us.

Whispers get loud, and I ask:

“I don’t see anyone. Do you think all are upstairs or something?”

“I donno! Why you asking me?”

“er, coz no one else is around!” Pause. “Are you sure this is the house though? I don’t remember the couches being blue. Maybe not, the toy chest is in the same place. Curtains seem familiar and …

Daughter interrupting “MOM! Of course it’s the house. Look at the picture there!” Pointing to a Ganesha picture on the wall at the landing.

“Yea right! That helps. Every second house is a desi in this place!”

She glares at me. 

I start rambling again “So what do we do? Should I just call his name, coz ‘Hello’ isn’t helping?! Maybe you should shout the son’s name? You know him right? ”

“I know his name, but I am NOT going to go calling the kid. Maybe we should just step out and wait till someone shows up. Just where are you going? Mom! Oh Great! Look at munchkin!”

I turn around. Munchkin’s settled quite comfortably on the landing. Her shoes are removed and placed neatly next to the King’s shoes. She’s taken her jacket off and hung it on the stairs, is settled crosslegged in the middle of the landing, has her ziploc bag of cheerios open and is digging right in. Shocked at the comfortable scene she’s created, I now was beginning to get desperate.

Lightbulb moment and I decide to call him. Realize that I didn’t exactly have his number in my cell, and it was still somewhere in my inbox, and I didn’t know anyone else who knew it either. Flip the phone and see that I have a ‘missed call’  at 8.30 am and it’s a familiar number. There’s a voice message too, but then I have this thing about messages - I don’t listen to them. I call folks right back, why call voicemail only to hear “call me when you get this message” which is what it is for the most part. So I hit dial.

All three of us jump out of our skins.

Like programmed robots. The shrill phone in the King’s house went off. Frantically, I turn it off, worried that I’ve probably woken up the neighborhood [really, it was that loud!], and secretly hoping it’s woken the homeowners up at least. But no, not a single pip from anywhere, no hurried shuffling feet, no kid’s screams “Let me answer the phone!”; nothing.

I realize the prudent wise thing to do would be to listen to his voice mail and dial to hear the King’s voice start off apologetically asking if we could shift our meet 45 minutes later… I don’t wait to hear the end of it. I say aloud:

“Uh-UH! He isn’t home!”

Daughter’s quite mad at me by now “Mom! I told you! This is just perfect. Just perfect! I am going to wait for you in the car. Bye.” Off she takes off only to ping pong right back as I try to stuff munchkin back in her jacket with her hand full of cheerios. Dropped a few in place, and I wished I had a couple of more hands to pick up the shoes and everything else that I schlepped. Munchkin’s wondering what’s happening and she declares “But mommy, I don’t want to go home.”

Daughter in a controlled voice “Give me the keys.”

In the shuffle, I drop the keys making a loud clanking sound, and she says “It’s a good thing they aren’t dog-lovers!” before she stomps out.

I manage to hurry the munchkin out, and scoot back into the car. Buckle her and fall into our seats. Daughter in her normal stable mind tells me calmly : “I think you should go lock that door, not all petty criminals are going to be nice like us!”.  So I step out yet again, rush up, turn the catch around and slam the door again before piling into the car. Again.  

Taking in the last few minutes, daughter and I start giggling, of embarrassment, cold and the ridiculousness of it all. Munchkin’s wailing “I don’t want to go home”.

“Mom, that was just not funny! We practically broke into his house! Imagine if he had ADT!”

“I know! That would have been fun what with all the cop cars around us. Our moment of fame.”

“Yea sure! So where is he anyway?”

“oh right, the voice mail, let me listen.” Sitting in the driveway my eyes widen with every word he speaks. The man has taken his son to the doctor and so wanted to meet us later. He left a detailed message couple of hours ahead of time.

“Mom, you so totally broke into his house!”

“I did not! The door was open!”

“But how could they have left the door unlocked?!”

“oh, they’d have driven out through the garage right?”

“Right.” She parrots again ”You so totally broke in! haha”

“ hey, wait a second, if I broke in, so did you!”

“No way, you led the way, and am a child with a guardian, you are the one in trouble. In any case, where did the mom go?”

“To the doctor’s right?”

“But why would all the three go? They aren’t visiting the park right?”

….I explained the phenomenon of single kids and close-knit families as I drove off with a protesting munchkin kicking the seat with all fury, in search of gas, as it was running dangerously low and I sure didn’t want to be a criminal who broke into someone’s home and then got caught with no gas to hit.

There’s more such follies but that would be part 2.

 

mom’bable

6.30 pm - Home

Getting dressed to go to a friend’s place for a Satyanarayana Pooja. Almost done, and in a sari, wrapping up. Munchkin walks in. Widens her eyes and smiles and says

“mommy, you so mombabel”

“eh? say that again?”

“mombabel. You looking so cute and mombabel”

“oh! what’s mombabel?”

“you know, like, see, like we say dora-babel”

“Dora? oh, like Dora?! haha, thanks munchkin!” *feeling happy I solved the lingo*

Munchkin slaps her forehead, rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips and says: “Mom. Listen to me. Come down here.”

“hmm.. ok” Kneeling down.

Cupping my face “not Dora mom. Remember akka says and you say? To me? A - do - ra- bable - that one. You are a mommy, so you are Mom-ba-bel!”

Laughing, I hug her and walk down the stairs. Compliments rare and sweet in nature make me feel all giddy! The most I’ve gotten from the husband’s been a raise of an eyebrow, and a nod of the head with a smile before he’d rush me out of the house. The older ones have said some stuff, but nothing as made up as a mom-bable.

Then I got greedy.

Related the whole story to the three in the family room, and made the munchkin say it again. In a good mood, she relents and repeats. She loves the attention she’s created.

After the repeat - son and daughter start laughing.

Daughter says to the son “You’re also thinking the same right? “

Son” Yeah!” *giggle giggle* and then at me “But mom seriously, for a second I thought munchkin said “you’re abominable”

Daughter guffawing like crazy “haha, I know. Mom’s abominable” giggling and cackling uncontrollably.

Husband in a Buddha role enjoying it all silently.

Munchkin looks at them both and then at me and says “Gosh, stop it guys!” and stomps off to find her shoes, shouting back at the husband “Daddy, are we going yet?”.

***

Yeah, I know, we ought have our own show!

 

rebound

*on reading this again, it reads like chicken soup for a mom’s soul, and it’s long, so beware. :–)

***

After a particularly bad afternoon feeling crappy and so many of you being such nice souls and providing some much needed kind words, I came home to an extremely conflicting schedule. Daughter had her Band recital precisely overlapping Son’s basketball all-star championship game. Husband had forgotten the schedule and I had 35 minutes to make a snack to sustain us all till 9pm when dinner can magically was to land on our plates, and shuttle them to their individual places.

After the daughter got into her uniform - which is quite smart btw, nice long black skirt, white long sleeved shirt with a maroon cummerbund and a black bowtie, that warranted a “ooo, akka, you look so pretty” from munchkin, I managed to stuff half a fajita down her throat before we rushed out to her school 20 minutes before showtime as scheduled. Came back home, stuffed another fajita and a glass of milk down son’s throat, a yogurt into munchkin’s [she's been stealthily hoarding up on cheetos sitting in the corner of the couch hidden from all], tried to convince son that wearing a bright yellow shirt under a bright robin blue jersey with black shorts was nothing short of screaming for attention on a grayed basketball court, only to get a reply “Of course I want everyone to watch me play, I rock!”.

The plan was to watch daughter play her flute in first chair for 15 minutes and then drive out to son’s game who also had to be 30 minutes ahead of time. Husband was to pick up daughter at the end of her recital and then head to the game.

Band, Orchestra and String concerts are part of the spring mania that takes over this time of the year at all local schools. As part of the county’s curriculum [and I am sure all of United States], all kids, starting from 3rd grade have to choose a musical instrument and learn the notes and well, play it. It’s the best thing ever. Fantastic!

The daughter started off with Viola for 3 years and then 2 years since is playing the Flute. The son has been playing the Viola for 3 years now. As with different levels of mastery over a talent, the county and schools offer opportunities for the kids to race ahead based on their interest. With increasing challenges come increasing commitments of interest, time and most importantly practice sessions. Based on the kind of instrument, the kids are divided up into different groups. Strings is obviously string instruments, and Band would have the rest, along with percussions. As they grow older, they merge and re-arrange based on a whole bunch of stuff I am clueless about. The interesting part is this is one area where I don’t have to say a word. They like their choices and enjoy spending time in the evenings locked in their rooms, as the notes and music fill the house.

The daughter plays in the Band. She got the coveted first chair, which means she’d worked her way up from 4th chair at the beginning of the year. There were at least 12 different instruments that various 12 year olds were perched on. Saxophone, flute, drums, and more. I have been attending concerts such as these since they were in 3rd grade. All 3rd, 4th, 5th graders get together to put up this show a few times in the year. Holidays, Spring and then the Annual one. Everytime I listen to these concerts, I choke. Everytime. The music these little kids are capable of creating in unison is nothing short of divine. Music, I believe is overpowering even to the tone deaf. In symphony, it creates a wave within you, while you watch serious intent 8, 9, 10 year olds with so much concentration and excitement watch their notes and follow the hands of their music teacher to start, stop and pick up on cue as they flood the entire hall and the parents with what is, really, their own.

For obvious reasons the older they get, the more commanding, powerful and intricate the music pieces get. The pieces range according to the season; fun, serious, playful, deep and even dark. All dressed in white shirts and black pants/skirts, they look like miniatures of the professionals we admire. Their music is no less. When the final long difficult piece is done, there is a moment of hush in the audience before it resounds with claps and cheers. Encores are not uncommon during the holidays, while parts of the audience sings along. Music teachers are awe-worthy.

I couldn’t stay till the end and rushed out to another local school that housed the championship basketball game. basketball’s been the sport of the home since 1st grade. Both kids have been playing it for 6-7 years now and enjoy it tremendously. The way it works is this, our area is divided into counties. Each county will have a set of leagues. Each league will have at least 8-12 teams based on coaches availability and kids enrolled. The coaches are all volunteer dads and moms who commit to couple of hours a week to train the 10 individuals to become a team. So through the season, each team will practice and face off one other team over a Saturday game and keep score and tally to finally be the winner of each league. 2 players will be selected out of each team to go forth and form the All-Star team. All-Star teams from different leagues battle out for the championship. Two players are again chosen to represent the county.

The daughter has played for the county the last 2 years and the son’s been an All-star for 3 years now. I’ve tried to go cheer for their teams as much as I can, but since munchkin it’s become a bit difficult to attend almost all, and there are days when the schedules overlap that the husband and I are forced to drive different directions with a kid in tow. The daughter used to be gentle and ladylike intially, almost to the point that if some bigger girl stood in her face she’d say “here, take the ball” to being nick-named “elbow” - yes, she actually elbows out opponents and is not scared of fouls. The turnaround happened somewhere a few years ago when to get her to be more aggressive the husband suggested her to pretend that every player on the opposing team was her brother. It worked! Son of course dreams, eats, breathes basketball, so apart from his knees troubling him this season as he put on 4 inches over the summer, the guy pummels and owns the court. Being the tallest 11 year old helps.

Yesterday’s game was nail-biting. Boys games usually are. Well, actually this season the daughter’s team had some strong players and it did get vicious, but for the most part, while girls games are “sneaky” and ridden with “steals” including tears and drama, boys are fast-paced, high-scoring, tons of fouls and injuries. So what’s new eh? :–)

Though we live in an area that has high desi and asian population, games are usually the domain of the whites and blacks. You’d see very few asians making it up the ladder, and I have no idea why! We on the other hand rule in the geek squad area - MathCounts, MathOlympiads, LegoLeagues and Chess. In a sea of whites and blacks, I was the lone desi jumping up and down. The 1st quarter was a disaster for our team and then the tide turned, and baskets kept happening through the 2nd and 3rd quarter. The dodges, steals, rebounds, and fouls layered on each other on both sides. Obviously the two were the strongest in the area and each edged over the other by single points. Since it was the final game of the league, the school gym was packed with folks other than the immediate families of the boys playing. There was a whole lot of cheering and screaming to boost morale, which really as most players and spectators know can do wonders to the spirit of the team. Apart from just one injury when one kid got hit in the groin [I know, the poor chap!] the boys continued on with gusto, cheering and hi-fi’ing on the court.

Sports like music is an all-time leveler. The boys knew each other only for the past 2 weeks as each came from different teams, and despite that the team spirit and the coach’s enthusiasm was palpable. We lost by one point despite making a basket in the last 30 seconds, and the score drew at 46-45, a score that’s actually quite low for the team. Goes to prove that it was a tough game.

Came home tired, hoarse and hungry, but happy.

Rebounds are good. Even in basketball.

 

on loyalties

Recently this word has been circling in my head. It came out of the blue and it’s refusing to leave. One of those times when there’s a bee in your bonnet , and refuses to get thrown out unless you stare it in the face, and listen to it. Not that am huge or low on loyalty, but it just came up. Like a bad penny. More similar words crept up. Faithful, Staunch, Resolute, Conscientious.

Definitions of Loyalties spanned and defined itself as feelings that one has towards a group, affiliation, cause, or product. For some reason I’ve almost always associated Loyalty towards a country. Recently of course, I’ve allowed it to include to the Redskins, Giants, and the Indian Cricket Team. Apart from such huger ideals and significances in our lives, I have also come to realize that Loyalty somehow along the way has become a virtue. Not an essential, but a virtue that some may or may not strive for.

Does it matter, to be loyal to your favorite breakfast cereal, I’d imagine it would be more of a habit than loyalty. Does it matter whom you defend in the elections coz of who they are, and not for what they stand? That’s of larger things we speak.

In normal everyday life, does loyalty matter? As adults, do we make a conscious effort to strive and remain true to what we believe despite the inconveniences it may land us in. Is it something that we have sub-consciously grown out of? Thinking back, as children it didn’t matter how the outcome affected us, we liked something, we loved it, we stood by it. You cheer for it when the goings good, and you mope when it’s down. As versatile the child’s brain is, so it is resilient.

Lofty words, meanings, rationalisations. As adults, we can just about rationalise anything, and any behavior ours or others to make it work for us. It requires a little switch of of the view and a healthy dose of self-preservation. The Id  races ahead of it all.

If someone thought the above was deep, am sorry, but those few lines above is what I mean by classic BS.  Id has nothing to do with Loyalty! At least I don’t think so. It’s a rambling thought process..

On a quest of understanding the whole meaning behind why one would hold onto an idea, a cause despite common sense propelling the person to head towards the exit, I could only chalk it to the feelings of being true, being faithful, being loyal and above all following your inner voice.  

loyalty as the willingness to make an investment or personal sacrifice to strengthen a relationship.

I liked this line. It suits me. Satisfies me and rationalises my behavior, and behaviors of a few others around me.

Like for example this is what happened Sunday morning on our way back from Chinmaya mission.

Family of 5 settled in and driving home. Music starts. Its a collection of recent hindi hits.

Son: Can we change the CD pleeeeaaaaase?
Daughter: No way! I like this song. [Soulful Saawariya songs are her thing now]
Son: No, it’s boring, can we listen to the radio at least? Just switch to CD 3 otherwise. Please mom?
Mom: Ok, wait till this song is over? [am partial to the songs too]
Husband: Son, We are almost home. Can we just let the girls be?
Son: arghhh!

10 seconds later.

Munchkin: Dad, please can we change the CD?
Daughter: O, comon! We are almost home ok?
Munchkin: [higher pitch and with a pout] Pleaaase dad. Change the CD? Please please please?
Husband: [a sucker for the pout and munchkin's please, looks at me] Change it, how can I deny her look, look at her face. [gleaming fatherly pride through the rearview]
Daughter: arghhhhh
Me: Ok fine!

[Music changes]

Munchkin: [Turns her neck around to look at bro] Are you happy now Anna?
Daughter - ohmygod! That is so not fair!!! You don’t even like this music!
Husband and I: [Exchange looks in stupified astonishment and well, for the lack of any better reaction, laugh, grin and pull into the driveway.]

 

“story” of my life:

Place: Family Room
Time and Day: Sunday morning 10 am

I am feverishly searching the net for the perfect recipe to try out the slow-cooker I bought a week ago. I’d stumbled upon this humorous, engaging thread on some hub on slow-cooking experiments gone bad, and was oblivious to the daughter and munchkin’s conversation behind me while they work at the Wii. Until

Daughter: Mom. Mom. MOM!

Me: eh, yea, what?

Daughter: Munchkin wants to play tennis with someone.

Me: Ok, play.

Daughter: Yeah, but she wants to win.

Me: o, that’s nice..[still paying minimal attention]

Daughter: So can you play then?

!?!!