Sonny boy observations.....

While having his bath, Sonny boy lurrrrves to whirl the water in the bucket round and round with his hand, faster and faster, making a mini-whirlpool in the bucket wherein a hapless toy fish chosen for the bath dizzily whirls....
Done with the whirling for the day, the fish was coming to a rest on the surface of the water, when I tried to make Sonny boy apply his swimming lessons to the bathroom as well.

"Sonny boy, see, the fish is floating on top of the water like your instructor tried to make you float in the swimming pool... see... !
And I beamed at him, for he had just been taught to stay afloat a few days earlier.

A delighted Sonny boy beamed back at me.
"Yeah Amma, fish is floating on top of the water! Like I float at bottom of swimming pool!"




Sonny boy finally has a friend in the school bus whose name I know. Aman. Who he looks up to with all his heart. Who is a year older than him and in UKG. And who has a little brother Fayaz who is 3 and in nursery.
Since Aman is 6, it's Sonny boy biggest yearning to be 6 too. That magical age holds mighty possibilities. We tell him that 5 is not too bad. That it is just 1 less than 6. And he mulls it over.
Aman is 6!
I'm 5!
and Fayaz is - ZERO!



Aman's smallest word is law. Recently Aman set forth a big one. One that I wholeheartedly endorse.
About all tallers.
"If I taller than you, you hafto obey me. Aman said all tallers hafto be obeyed."
Long live this friendship!



I try to make Sonny boy not follow in his Acha's footsteps. I try to make him remember where he's left his things, and not go running to me for all things.
So whenever he comes to me saying Amma, I can't find this/that, I firmly tell him that it is his toy/book/whatever and that he should look for it himself and not expect me to find it for him.
The other day I was running late for office and I was running helter skelter, looking for my glasses. I was somebody who always used to search things out for my Mom. So in passing, I panted to Sonny boy-

"Sonny boy, have you seen my glasses?"
He looked at me and then-
"Glasses is your thing. You should know where you kept it. You should look for your things yourself."

Sigh! So much for good karma.

Whodunit?

Today while covering Sonny boy up snugly with the razai, a pretty white one with red and green flowers on it, saw some strokes of blue ink across it.

Frowning sternly at Sonny boy, I asked- Who did this?
Big innocent eyes looked up at me. "What??"

"Who drew THAT?"
Big innocent eyes looked up at me, unwaveringly. "I think I don't know."

"WHEN did you draw that?"
"I think maybe on Wednesday."

Wednesday is just his favourite day to name, he has no clue when which day is.

"When did you draw that - today or yesterday?"
"I think maybe THAT day."

News- the bad and the good.

News bytes over the last few days have left me thinking we were much better off without cable tv and the prolification of news channels. Like I never fail to tell my husband, the news is the news is the news. Just hearing it on 10 different channels doesn't make it any different. But the husband continues to surf news channels, and the very news channels seem determined to prove me wrong and prove the husband right to surf.

Maj. Sandeep Unnikrishnan fell to a terrorist's bullets last week in Mumbai. His loss is something that will affect his loved ones every day of their lives.
But what was media's interest in the same? To glorify a slain martyr, brave to his last breath, or to sensationalise anything and everything to gain that edge over its competitor?

We were shown clippings of his mother at his side as he lay in state. One would think that the media could let a heart broken mother grieve over her son in private, allow her some last few precious minutes alone with her son.. but still, maybe it is the media's job to bring to its viewers the last images of its warriors. Certainly we felt that much sadder for seeing his mother weep over her son.
But what followed was nothing short of a farce.

Firstly, the media reports that the Major's father was upset that while the Karnataka CM had considered the funeral worthy enough to attend, the Kerala CM did not deem it worthy enough. Anyway, later, as Sandeep gained more prominence as a national martyr, the Kerala CM deemed it time to visit the family.
And THEN media reported that Mr.Unikrishnan refused to meet VS Achuthanandan. It went further to take footage of the visit. What interest could we regular citizens have had in knowing whether a CM visited Maj. Sandeep's house or not, and whether his father greeted him or not? But the news channel sensed a "breaking news" and went on to record an ill-advised CM trying to sneak inside Maj. Sandeep's house(!!!), Mr. Unnikrishnan getting livid on being shut out of his own home, and a grief maddened father abusing the CM, and shutting the door on his face.

Enough was enough, one would have thought.
But no! it went on to take the Kerala CM's reaction to being abused and being shown the door..... and then the dear CM goes one step further in sheer insensitivity and thoughtlessness. He reacts, asking whether, if not for Maj.Sandeep, any dog would visit Mr. Unnikrishnan's house. Hurray! The media channel had got its "scoop". This particularly distasteful comment did the rounds on ALL tv channels, and the issue of the day became whether the Kerala CM should resign for his statements.

But apparently, what the initial news channel and ALL subsequent channels conveniently omitted to say was that the CM had made this insensitive comment in reply to a question by the media on what he thought of Mr. Unnikrishnan's remark. Apparently, and this I got to know from a programme on Asianet, the whole sequence of the interview was not telecast- the question was omitted, only the answer went on tv. .

WHY does the media believe in pouring ghee on fire? What was the NEED to ask the Kerala CM what he thought about being called names, and being shut out of a house? Obviously no one would like it, esp when it was in full view and hearing of the entire nation. Especially when the said person was the Chief Minister of a state. And of course the CM played into their hands with that now notorious statement.

The point is that a family instead of mourning the loss of their precious son, now finds itself concerned with making statements that they did not mean to cause any offence/anguish to the CM, that the media has twisted their remarks and so on and so forth... For naturally, they would not like to be held the reason behind a CM's resignation.

Maybe at least now the media can let them mourn in peace?

* * * * * * * * * * *


However there was another bit of news this week, which tho' shocking and unbelievable to the core, was VERY welcome.

This was on Sr. Abhaya's death.
A death which occured 18 yrs ago, and which was reported to be a suicide (by drowning)for reasons unknown. Which was never accepted by Sr. Abhaya's family. A death which has finally been proved to be a murder. And the reason- that the Sister had caught another sister and two priests in a compromising act!

Apparently, Sr. Abhaya had felt thirsty and had gone to the kitchen for a drink of water, when she happened to see the three of them. Caught with their pants down, they struck Sr. Abhaya with the blunt head of an axe behind her ear. And then the three of them shoved an unconscious Sr. Abhaya into the well in the compound. Where she drowned to death.

Makes me wonder- which do these men and woman of God consider a greater sin? Having sex (or whatever it is they were doing!) or killing a fellow human being? Obviously they were in no doubt that they had to save their skins at any cost. Even at the cost of another's life.

Also made me wonder in passing - would those two priests have taken Confessional in these last 18 years? How would they have been able to hear another's misdeeds and thoughts while having committed such a HUGE crime?

Mumbai...

Shock that terrorists could just sail in one fine day and hold a city to ransom.

Disbelief that the siege could go on for 3 days!

Grief at the bloodbath that ensued.

Irritation at the insensitive TV reporting.

Anger at our incompetent leaders.

Through all these, a certain numbness was the overlying emotion. All friends and family were unhurt, that I knew of. Till today.

This morning, in office, was routinely going through agencyfaqs.com, when the heading leaped out at me. Obituary:Rohinton Maloo.

Who was having dinner that night at the Trident.

And then the numbness disappeared. To give way to an overwhelming despair.

Rohinton was my direct boss during one of my assignments with a TV channel. With whom I had worked closely, discussing and strategising... It could so easily have been me at that hotel. Rohinton and I had lunched at similar 5 star hotels at B'lore and Chennai during his visits. Where we had discussed how to bag which client.

Terror has stopped happening to 'them'. It is now 'our' life and security at stake.

Tomorrow what happened to that poor Israeli baby could (God please forbid) happen to Sonny boy.

There is nothing to guarantee that my husband and I return safely from our work tomorrow. Why tomorrow- today!

Why why WHY does God allow these kind of things to happen?

Stories were heart-rending. Each one more than the former.
A young couple who after 7 long years of courtship, were to marry. But now the young man was dead.
A brave, lean young man who tells his friend jokingly that he may finally be gaining some weight. Never again.

Parents who've lost babies.
Men who've lost families.
Families who've lost their father figure.
A country that's lost its heroes.
So much loss.

How do people learn to hate so much? So much that they can cold heartedly pull the trigger on fellow men and have no regrets at snuffing out that life? What kind of sick indoctrination do they follow? Which God do they worship that could possibly condone this kind of gruesomeness? Certainly not Allah who is said to be all Merciful

And knowing that there are such people, having had various examples and modus operandi to learn from, across cities, how do our politicians not learn from their mistakes and lapses? How do they maintain that in a big city such things are small? Why do we even need to have national leaders, I wonder? Just to go about uttering routine statements? And to go about offering money in exchange for lives so that they can claim their share of credit?

And why do we remain a nation of bloodthirsty vultures? WHY do we show ads in the middle of all this carnage? It is so incogruous and SICK. A reporter saying in the middle of an interview with someone- Sir, I'm sorry, but we're running short of time, so we'll just have to take a quick break. running short of time for what? There certainly was nothing worthwhile that she was rushing off to show. Just an advertisement. Which comes after a picture of the flaming Taj.

I seem to remember that during 9/11, none of the foreign channels covering the tragedy aired ANY ads during the time. They have a heart, they do.

Not like The Barkhas and the Rajdeeps of this part of the world.
One even went on to say that there were so many OB vans, so many cameramen, so many reporters gathered to bring the public the news, for over 24 hours now... yeah right.

one man's tragedy is another man's opportunity. To promote his channel. SICK.

God grant solace to all those who've lost loved ones.
And God set right the warped thinking of the terrorists. Teach them that killing doesn't solve anything. Certainly not of innocents.
And God keep us and our loved ones safe from such horrendous tragedies.

Please.

Much loved friends.

Suma tagged me on this long back, and I remember feeling so very tempted to get down to this tag immediately.
But having two bosses, (one is a sweetheart actually) who want two reports on 10 things every day for the last 3 months is not conducive to doing tags! So I had to wait for some breathing space.

Here goes, Suma...
The tag is to list your top ten literary characters. Oh, yummmmyyyyy.....!


Fatty! I loved ' that fat nuisance' as dear Mr. Goon thought of him. He was almost everything I wanted to be- a boy, smart, adored by his friends, liked by his friends' parents, with a cute dog who was his shadow, and excellent in his studies!Sigh! Enid Blyton sure knew to spin a tale, and how to keep a child hooked. Incidentally, I also loved George who was almost me, except that she was so much pluckier, Snubby (I think I loved Loony more), dear old Mamzelle, (what a pity I never had any such like teacher!)and Susie - that pest of a sister of Jack's. She certainly livened up the Secret Seven meetings.

Captain Haddock! The irascible Captain was a delight to read and see. Perpetually harassed by everybody and everything, I especially loved the pictorial representations. Life was a series of accidents where he was concerned. Tough for him, but delightful for his readers.

Jo! I found in her a mirror of myself. More boy than girl. Impetuous, hasty, strong-willed. Who found boys more fun to be friends with than girls. Who couldn't be bothered to 'dress up'. Who loved to write, and was so proud when one of her works got published. Who was the Man of the family in the absence of the father.Whose mother meant the world to her.

Maggie! I absolutely loved high-spirited, fiercely-loyal-to her-friends Maggie. Ah! The Mill on the Floss so effortlessly brought to life the joys and pains of growing up, and of having a sibling who you were very close to. I loved the way she was her father's pet (reminded me of me)and so wished I had a brother like Tom. She was mad enough to get Tom to cut her hair(!!) and jealous enough to push her cousin Lucy into the pond(!) and sweet enough to love a guy with a bad leg and woman enough to feel attracted to another very attractive man... oh, I loved Maggie!

Jennifer. Another woman I absolutely loved, is Jennifer. Sidney Sheldon's muse in Rage of Angels. Strong, smart, sassy and yet vulnerable, I liked her so much I wrote a review on the book a long while back. Read about it here.

Lord Emsworth! ah! that dreamy vague headed peer. Who lived in fear of his sisters. And in mortal fear of his efficient secretary. Who liked nothing better than to stay draped over the garden fence, admiring his pigs! Who is such a contrast to his brother Galahad. Who was such a trial to his sisters. And such a delight to his readers. I think all Wodehouse fans would join me in my liking for Lord Emsworth. I like him much better than Jeeves or Bertie, tho I like them all.

E.R. Braithwaite! I loved the book and I loved the man. Immensely humane, immensely vulnerable, immensely tolerant, immensely winsome. To Sir, with Love, is a novel that I absolutely relished. And it is one of the very few movies that has been made as well as it was written. Sidney Poitier brought to life beautifully the trials and tribulations of a black professsor. And that song was lovely......

Siva the God. Well, I grew up on a steady diet of ACK. Lots of mythology, to be exact. And among all the Gods, I loved Siva the most. All-powerful, yet simple. The one God who remained faithful to his wife, throughout. The Destroyer, and inspite of that, caring and loving. Who was willing to accept even meat from his devotees, provided it was given with devotion. Who came to the rescue of the faithful and saved them even from Yama. Well, I still love him, but somehow, these days, I no longer have an ishtadeivam. There are a whole family of them to whom I turn now.

Dennis the Menace! A menace alright to Mr. Wilson, but a delight to his readers. His antics are so so cute. So essentially slice-of-life cartoons. Tho" I dread to think of Sonny boy emulating him.

M. Poirot! Miss Marple!The famous egg-headed Belgian detective. Waxing moustaches was a passion with him , as much as solving crime and mysteries was. This gallant gent believed that a foot long clue was as important as a mm long clue, unlike Scotland Yard. Cleanliness was a fetish with him, and an unswept corner would be a major clue, leading to that vital breakthrough. Ah! If I had the grey cells of Porot, where would I be? Certainly not in my current profession...
But I still can hope to be a Miss Marple. ;-)That old lady whose deceptively gentle looks hid a razor sharp (wish wish)brain. That reasoned so nimbly that two and two could be 4, or 5 or even 22!! This indomitable lady shows why it is so important to listen to even gossip. I marvelled at the way these two 'detectives' figured out the real perpetrators of crime in the most hopelss, most tangled, most impossible-to-solve cases and remain hooked to them to this day.


Thanks, Suma, I absolutely loved doing this tag, tho' I did have trouble separating the characters from the authors. And now, I pass this on to anybody who loves to read.

Of Sonny boy's school friends.

Its been 4 months now that he's been going to his new school and he's been lovin it!

From his A ma'am,whose name he drops at the drop of a hat, to his V Ma'am whose name gets dropped less frequently; from his school uniform to his school shoes; from the school buses to the school play area; from kiddo X to kiddo Y who he was fascinated with, he's totally enjoying it all. But all these are things that I put together from whatever I manage to coax out of him in disjointed bits and pieces.
For my son still REFUSES to talk about this school and the happenings inside, just like he refused to do so about his previous school. And I don't even know the names of any of his friends, so that I can ask them what they're up to in school.

For instance- this girl Y who fascinated him ..
Every day he used to come home and let drop little snippets about 'Barbie girl'.
Who apparently sat next to him in the bus every day.
Who he said would call him every day to sit beside her ONLY.
Who he said he liked very much.
Achcha was mighty impressed at this fast work from his son.
And I too found it mighty cute and curious that he called her Barbie Girl inspite of never having had a Barbie. But ok, if he wanted to name his friend Barbie Girl, so be it. Until one day, I asked him who his best friend was, expecting the answer to be Barbie Girl!

Not so.
"Jumbobag!"
Huh??
"Who, Sonny boy?" I asked gently, not wanting to hurt his feelings that I thought his friend's name was a little out of this world.
"Jumbobag, Amma! you know.. Jumbobag!"

I didn't know, but I was going to be enlightened.

"I thought it was Barbie Girl, Sonny boy?" I probed, fearing a break-up THIS early.
"Yeah, but now she's not Barbie Girl anymore." Disinterestedly.
Aah! So it was not the little girl, it was my son who was so fickle.

"Sonny boy, why don't you like Barbie girl any more?"
"Because she bringing Redbag now!"
!!!!

So that dear readers are Sonny boy's friends. Barbie Girl, Jumbobag, Redbag, Ben10bag... All school bags of his friends. I wonder what he does when two kids have the same bag?? And when he'll finally let me know the names of his friends?

Thanking 2 good friends.

Blogs are wonderful, yes! No doubt about that. But they can give you totally unexpected punches sometimes. When you're least expecting it.

Refer this post of Kiran's. I laughed so much at Krish in it, and showed the post to my husband, knowing he would immediately identify with the little brat. He did faster than I expected though.

'running through the aisles between display like Raikkonen on fifth.'
He reached here and said,
"Who's this? Sensible woman. Watches F1."
and looked at me challengingly.

I looked squarely back at him, thinking in my mind- " hmphf! Raikkonen I know too. Even if I hate the dratted drone of F1!"

Husband is not my husband of 7 yrs for nothing. He looked at me assessingly and went on reading,
'by the end of the 15th lap, he went in for a pitstop'
and said excitedly, "No fluke here, the woman DOES watch F1. See! And here's a you, who doesn't even like the sound!! He looked at me in utter digust.

Thanks, Kiran.

And then, there was this other post by yet another pal of mine. I agree with everyone that IPL has changed cricket into a toally different ballgame. Made it entertainment and all that jazz. Madam WIAN goes to see the finals of the IPL. And blogs about it in gusto. Read all about it here.
The husband remembered that I was laughing about it the other day.And said-
"another friend of yours goes to see cricket in the stadium. You can't even watch it from your house! She's so enthu about partnering her husband, and you??"
Looked at me in disgust again.

Thanks, WIAN.

Some more reflection by the husband. Then,-
"didn't you have another woman who was in Switzerland or something?"
Yes, I do have a woman in Switzerland,thanks for making me sound like a I-dunno-what. He was referring to good ol' Boo He went on to say with a vicarious gleam of anticipation in his eyes-
"Switzerland's hosting Euro this year. Ask her if she's anywhere near it. She can enjoy some great matches."

Yeah right!
You hearing, Boo? You still have 4 weeks left before li'l Pinocchio makes an appearance. *evil grin here*

Glad at least SOME of my blogger pals will refuse to give ammo to the husband.

PS. Hubby and I did go on to laugh at Krish after all this.

Every man for himself.

Some days back, the Acha was teaching his son all about relationships.

Acha: Sonny boy, who is your Acha?
Sonny boy: You.
Acha: Very good.*Clap clap clap.*

Acha: Sonny boy, who is your Muthash?
Sonny boy: Muthash is at Cochin.
Acha: Very good. *Clap clap clap*.

Acha: Sonny boy, you know, Muthash is Acha's Acha...who is my Acha?
Sonny boy: I know my Acha. You stu know your Acha.
*Gets up and walks off*.

Minutes of the meeting.

If I didn’t write this, dear Bangalore Mom would be like a character in Waiting for Godot- waiting for a post that never seemed to come… I couldn’t do that to her, could I? Besides nearly everyone has already had their version out; agreed I’m late in picking up my tags, but I do DO them finally. Better late than never, so here comes…

Am going on about the Bangalore Bloggers Meet of course.

Date: Fri, 16th May 2008.
Venue: Aargee’s lovely home
Subject: Mama-and-lone Non-Mama Bloggers Meet.
Discussed: well, this post would take a loooooooooooong time if I were to write all we discussed.
(Unanimous) Conclusion: Periodicity of meets to be increased.

Well, after a spate of mails went hither and thither, it was finally decided that some of us bloggers in B'lore would meet. Originally we were eleven, but sadly, Noodlehead had to attend to some work that cropped up suddenly and a certain Agelessbonder had a flight to catch that afternoon. (Good you decided to take a rain check, Usha, the time just FLEW!)

The day dawned bright and clear and the hours at office in the morning were fraught with anticipation. On google chat, BMom and Mama Mia and I couldn’t stop giggling about the pending meet. Worse than kids looking forward to a party, we were. Mama mia was also doing some last minute cramming on the names of the Mommas and kids and connecting them to the blogs.

At about 12.45, B’lore Mom drove up outside my office waiting for the Guide (yours truly) who would lead her to Aargee’s house. I led the way in my car (different cars because we were all going in different directions post Meet) to Forum, where we were to pick up the third blogger Mama Mia who was also lost without the Guide (yours truly). Now this was one feisty lady I’d been interacting with on a networking site for almost 2 years but hadn’t met! Incidentally, she is also the inspiration behind my blog. A big thank you, Mama Mia. If not for you, I wouldn’t have been part of the fun bunch that met up that Friday afternoon.

At Forum, we waited patiently for Mama Mia who turned up soon enough with that gamine smile of hers flashing. Well, we were on our way and reached soon enough, by 1.30. At the gates of Aargee’s apartment complex, we got out and then it was that we realized that in our excitement, none of us had remembered to take Aargee’s block/house number!
We laughed some, then, Mama Mia called up Swati who by the way, had already reached Aargee’s house. We got the necessary numbers and walked up to the respective block. Chattering nineteen to the dozen. Those of you who know BMom, will agree that its impossible to be quiet around her. She’s effervescence personified! Bubbling over with things to talk about and totally enthusiastic with her topics. I wonder how Kuttan will be at the stage when they can’t stop talking you know.... *wink* ok, enough of pulling BMom’s legs.

Inside the block, we met another young lady, who seemed sure she was coming to the right place, but not very certain as to what exactly she’d find there… Had to be another Momma blogger of course, we deduced. Well, we were a bit off the mark. It was a blogger, but not a momma yet. That was CD. We introduced ourselves with smiles, the excitement mounting all the while.. and proceeded up in the lift.

Outside the door, we rang the bell. The door was opened by a lady and then two other ladies stood peeping a little behind, another further behind. Now who to look at??? Who was who??? The ladies all sported warm, welcoming, curious smiles and then, chatter broke out again as introductions were made again. Poppins I already knew, she, BMom and myself having met up in a very very impromptu, very very enjoyable manner some days back..
CoS was old and new, as was Swati. How do you explain the way you know a person so well, and yet you don’t know who she is? You know her family, her views, her thoughts. The only things left were a face and a voice. Well. We got that too that afternoon.

CoS was warm and very very familiar. Didn’t realize it then, but later- of course! She looked so like Krittika!.

Swati looked the youngest of the lot, very pretty in a yellow- ok green if you insist, Swati- kurta.

Poppins Mom didn’t look any more pregnant than she did the first time I met her, but she did look way more hawt! There was no way I fitted into jeans when I was in my 7th month. But then, she lifted her top and showed me the elastic waist, so I was satisfied. As were the others.

Aargee was exceptionally pretty as well, and I fell in love with her skirt and her house- you can take it in whichever order you like. Her little one, the sole male in a house full of ladies was enjoying all the attention, to say nothing of the chips!

Compulsive Dreamer, sweet and thoughtful, gave Aargee our hostess a lovely bunch of flowers. And then, the aftermath of the baby shower clearly continuing, gave another bunch to Poppins Mom as well, the MTB in our midst.

We oohed and aahed at the flowers. And then, we were at it again. Chatting, laughing, nodding, listening, smiling, …. at babies, husbands, in-laws, work, bosses, issues, pregnancies, common blogfriends, MTBs, the baby shower ….In between Aargee would distractedly exclaim/run after lil Aditya who was clearly having none of his Mama’s disciplining. Why! so many ladies were having such fun, and he was to be denied of some of his own fun? No Way, Amma! was what he seemed to be trying to convey.

And then, the bell rang again. It was Kiran. Whose driver didn’t know that she was coming to a Blogmeet, but certainly gave her a darshan of Namma Bengalooru. That he charged her a bomb is another issue. But Kiran certainly looked a bomb, so he can be excused, is my reasoning.

Well, once we were finished with the introductions, we were back to it again…chatting, laughing, nodding, listening, smiling…. In between, Swati and Aargee clicked pictures and we tried to pose prettily, but were too caught up in all the talk to pose. Aditya was looking verrrrrrry sleepy by now, but firmly refused all efforts by his Amma to get him to go to sleep. It was getting time for lunch now, but the food hadn’t arrived yet!

The bell rang one more time- lunch had arrived! The table was laid and we had a delicious fare of parathas, aalu, rajma and salad, topped by a sinfully delicious cake Swati had brought.

And then, sadly, it was time for Mama Mia to leave, Friday being the busiest day of the week for her. But not before she gave out these cute little gifts personally addressed to all our little ones from Cubbyr, her little one (now I knew why she’d been asking me the names of all the little ones earlier that morning) and vibrant little caps as well from a popular radio station, for all of us.

By now Aditya had gone off to sleep in his Amma’s arms, tired out by all the excitement and the running around with his Bomb Aunty and others. And Bmom, Swati, Kiran and myself also decided to call it a day, even though it had been such fun. And BMom decided to call her husband to see if he was on his way yet, and - gave a scream! He was already there! The hapless man had been waiting down, outside the complex, on the road, in the hot sun, for over half an hour. He’d been unable to reach her on her phone. Needless, to say, the goodbyes were super fast after that.

CoS and Poppins Mom giving in to Aargee’s entreaties to stay back some more time, stayed back. And waved the rest of us on our way. We saw Kiran into the car and ensured that the meter was on, and that there would be only one Bomb in the taxi this time. Smiled cheerfully at BMom’s husband who was so politely smiling in front of us inspite of the fuming that must have been going on inside…BMom assured us that sure, she was going to get an earful…
And then, Swati and I made our way to our side of the city.

It was a time well spent and well enjoyed. Four solid hours of bonhomie and bonding that spilled over from the comments section on the blog to real life..
When is the next one coming up, ladies?

For better and for worse..

Whoever wrote the marriage lines sure knew what she was doing. I have my doubts that it was a he. They don't possess that level of sensitivity, you know.

Suma tagged me for 10 things I hate about men some few weeks back. Now how is it, that before marriage, men were so many in the universe, but after marriage, esp when you talk of things you dislike (and obviously would like changed- futile hope, I know, but I still live in hope) all men distil into the one I married?

I do love him to bits tho' I don't show it- not at all in these these past coupla years, my dear husband, but I do love you . LOTS. More probably than when I fell in love with you, for if I'd known then that you had all these, gasp! frailties, I would have run miles away. OUT of earshot.
LOL! Sigh! But you don't know before getting married, do you, that-

- Fella loves his morning cuppa tea more than me? It sure looks like that to me, when sometimes my delay in making that can lead to most Godawful row. Bah! I never liked tea too much, but now I positively HATE it. Not the husband, please note.

- Before getting married, I also never knew that he would leave his shirt/trouser pocket's pickings on the dining table. The tables we dined on prior to mariage had these lovely waiters who cleaned. I find I don't like having become the waiter in our house.

- And oh! how could I relegate this to third place? the b****y TV remote takes pride of place. While we were courting, and even in the first year of our marriage, books reigned. We discussed loads of stuff. with laughter and love. And what TV we watched, we did so together. With no thought to where the remote was, for there was place on that slim diwan only for the two of us.
But now,OOOOOOOOO! yeh kahaaan aa gaye hum..???? If you asked the husband what single thing if lost, would make said husband desperate and lonesome, it wouldn't be me, people, but the darned remote!!!! Gah! I call it my Sout. Anybody know how to throttle the living daylights out of a remote control?

This is common, Suma.
(Matter-of-factly)
Husband- Wife, do you knnow where xyz is????
Wife- Its on/under/beside whatever.
(Lovingly)
Husband- Where? Its not here.
Wife- It is there. Below/above whatever.
(Irritatedly)
Husband- I can't see it anywhere here...
Wife- Look properly, husband.
(Angrily)
Husband- It is NOT here. Why can't you come and help me find it?
Wife- *pulling the damn thing out from exactly where she so clearly told him it was* then WHAT IS THIS????
******* *** *******

- Prior to marriage, I didn't know that I would have to be the one to put his smelly home wear into the laundry, never him.
- Also, be the one picking the many newspapers splayed on the sofa, never him.
- be the one bothered about keeping the house clean.

Another oft repeated scene earlier

Husband- wife, can you massage my neck/shoulders/legs for me, please?
Wife- Ok. sit in front of me *proceeds to give a thorough massage, kneading and straightening all the knots out*
Husband- ah! that was divine, wife. Thank you.
Wife- ignoring, but gratified grunt.
Companionable silence reigns.
***
Wife- Husband, can you massage my neck/shoulders/legs for me, please?
Husband- For you, anything, my darling. *proceeds to do come chop-chop actions which end up giving the wife a bigger, focussed pain instead of earlier vague ache.
Wife- Husband. Do it like I do it for you. Not like this.
Husband- This is how my barber does it for me. But if you say so. *Proceeds to do same chop-chop in a different area, ensuring two focussed areas of pain*.
Wife- Husband. Forget I asked you to do anything. *Moves away and sits fuming that the fellow can emulate the barber, but not his wife, who he also agrees does it so well.*
Husband- *Puts on a good-husband-snubbed-by-never-satisfied-wife-look and- goes back to watching tv!
Ominous silence reigns.
***
Part II

Enter Sonny boy.
I certainly didn't expect to be throwing up 24 hrs, all 8 months while Hubby gorged on all things delicious that were ostensibly brought for me. But he kinda made up for that with the patience with which he would get up a 2 am and make dosas for preggie me. :-)
It was not fair that only I ended up getting sliced up to get Sonny boy out, but the smile on his face when he held Sonny boy first in his arms made up for that too.

Alright. Lets get back to business. We're talking hate here, not love. And this time, its about real issues.

- I do not like being EXPECTED to do everything for Sonny boy, do all housework and go out and work too. I was not born doing all these things, anymore than he was. I might be doing it, cos we need to do things together, for us to live the kind of life we want and want to give Sonny boy as well. But then, I picked up certain skill sets along the way, and I would love it if he did too. That he dosn't think it a big favour done to me if one day he does certain things for Sonny boy. Friend, he's as much your son as mine, ergo, we need to re-work job profiles and responsibilities.

- I am NOT your mother, nor do I want to be her. In all fairness, I do not expect you to be my father. We have a son to whom we can each be mother and father. I am your wife. And you are my husband. Its an equal partnership. If I stay at home and look after our home and son, then too its equal- bringing up your son oftentimes requires more energy and patience than getting business (and is also more rewarding). if I also work outside the home, then its more equal.

- And my biggest crib of all, my dear husband. I do NOT like our home being demeaned to the likes of a hotel. Where people come in and go as they please. With no accountability whatsoever towards us and our home. With absolutely no love lost between said parties. I would not expect you to put up with such guests from my end for 6 long b****y years. I would either have set the people right, failing which I would have sent them packing. LONG back. Not left sores to fester to a point beyond return. Where they are currently. And you still refuse to see it.

I pass this tag to whosoever would like to take it up.

the V tag

Swati tagged me to write on the first five things I do when I come back home... One of the easiest peasiest tags i have ever done...

1. Dump. Whatever it is I have in my hands. Car keys on top of the TV. Laptop bag on the sofa (this never fails to irritate the husband, btw :-D) Hand bag on the dining table. (this also irritates him sometimes, tho it never occurs to him that he keeps his watch, his wallet, his bills, his mail, his credit card slips, his loose change, ALL!!!!!! on the dining table and he 's not the one who clears it before dinner either. Shopping bags in the bedroom.

2. Then its Sonny boy's turn to ask "What Amma got for me?" and rifle thru my handbag. Or the shopping bags. So Acha and Amma daily try to impress on Sonny boy that he will not get a toy every time Amma or Acha step out of the house. A lesson that's never learnt, for the next time we come back from a trip without him, its back again to "What Amma got for me?" (Interestingly enough, its rarely "What Acha got for me..") Hugs and cuddles follow, unless Tom is chasing Jerry on Cartoowokkok.

3. If it is before 7.30, the husband might ask the wife for a cup of tea, and this MIGHT send the wife off to the kitchen muttering to herself about how SHE is always the one who has to make the tea, tho' BOTH of them have been working the whole day. Sometimes (make that most times for the last year- who will wash the b****y vessels?) she refuses to do so and this is enough to start a cold war that the Chinese could take lessons from. Note that when the husband does make tea those times, it is always microwaved tea bag tea, not the milk and tea leaves and strainer tea.

4. There used to be homework for Sonny boy to be done, tho' now its vacation time, there's no pressure on work as such. I try and make him talk to me about his day, but that's something I've been trying to do from the time he could talk, without much success. We watch TV if the husband will keep from flipping 20 channels in 5 min. Gah! Or I side with Sonny boy in wanting Cartoon Network/Pogo/Hungama TV on TV. Sigh!

5. Get dinner ready.. which is a laborious process.. remember all those things lying on the table..? High time I taught Sonny boy to clear and lay the table for dinner. Dinner just has to be heated up, for I cook lunch (for Sonny boy)and dinner in the morning.. A simple meal mostly of rice, a curry, a varavu, curd and papad. Occasionally I whisk up an an omelette or scramble eggs. I grumble if I have to make chappaties on a working day.

Well, that's it. This is almost the routine I follow on a daily basis. Now that Suma (not Thinking Aloud) is there, things are going to change, I guess, but its not a very welcome change, except for not having to wash up after dinner. And yeah, someone who knows N Indian and S Indian cuisine will surely know to make simple chappaties..?

In turn, I tag,
Suki, HGMom, and Maggie.

Halleluja!

After nearly a year with no regular maid, (after Murugamma left, and I fired her aunt-in-law) and a particularly tough 6 months with no maid at all, when I would
cook
and wash vessels
and sweep and scrub
and child-rear
and husband-rant
and drive 12 km to work one way,
and work,
and go out on calls
and then drive 12 kms again
to return to some more child rearing and thoughts of divorcing the husband (I'm not totally kidding here), finally the Gods have deigned to smile down on poor ol' me. I have finally got a live-in maid! Praise be to God, even if it may be premature.

I am not totally happy with her staying in chez moi. I would have much preferred her to be someone who'd push out after we came in, but.. beggars can't be choosers. No sireee, not at all.
So am stuck with her, for better, I hope.

The name is Sumitra, aka Sumi, aka Suma, and she came to us referred by the husband's friend's friend's friend's friend! So that we're no longer sure from whom she came to us and we don't really have a direct reference at all. Terrible thought, isn't it? The nth friend said that the family she was working with was moving to Kashmir and she didn't want to move, ...

But when we met her, she said she did go to Kashmir, but had to work in a beauty parlour, and apparently the lady she was working for was in some film circles and had clients coming in at all hours, at night too and she wasn't happy with that state of affairs.. Made me and the husband raise our eyebrows and wonder at this beauty parlour business. And then apparently, she came away from there without their consent and so she didn't have any of her clothes with her. Huh?

If her story 's true, she an unfortunate young girl. But if its just a pack of lies, we're the biggest suckers ever. And we're not able to decide which statement is correct. We're paying her 3500/- She said she'd do ANY work, but wanted every penny of the 3500/- cos she and her sister and mother were the earning members of her family which comprised 6. The rest of them sons, whose tuition fees were being met by the income. And yet, when she came to meet us at 8 in the night- a young girl of maybe 24 yrs, she was alone and not one of the said brothers accompanied her. I found that strange.

She was supposed to come last week, and on the appointed day, she called up in the morning to ask if she could come and I said ok. Then in the evening, she just didn't turn up! No call from her the whole night, or the next day, The next evening, again she called and asked if she could come then, and I enquired in my sternest manner, what she meant by not coming or informing us about anything yesterday.. She again gave us a sad story of her granny slipping down the stairs and breaking/dislocating her ankle and having to be taken to the hospital and resting at home with a bandaged foot, which was why she couldn't come or call the previous day....

Hmmm.. Sad? or Suckered?
Still not decided. But anyway, she's with us now. And I'm left wishing that the house were a bit more orderly when she came in. It was clean, but had clothes and newspapers thrown about helter-skelter. Now, she's going to think I'm a lousy housekeeper, which I'm not. I may crib about it, but I do take pride in keeping my house neat and clean. I'm not the husband, you know.

So now, she's installed. And we've found that we've misplaced all the keys of the bedrooms. So that when we went off to work today, she had the the entire house at her disposal. Not very conducive to a productive day in office. Sigh! I HAVE to search out those keys from wherever they're languishing. If only the Google Gods could help!

What the heck!

Had been to Mookambika (Mungabinga in Sonny boy speak) for the aryilezhuthu ceremony of SIL's son. The wonderful train was 2 hours late going to, and 2 hours late coming back from, Mangalore. Dunno why the authorities can't change the timings accordingly. It would at least help people plan their day!!

One good thing was that we were able to sleep in till 8.30 or so- a luxury I have almost forgotten. But, since the whole day started not according to plan, rushed at 10, from the station to home, had a quick bath and reached office in a hurry by 12.30.
The stomach was rumbling inspite of the packet of murukku (the only thing we could find to eat at home) shared between hubby and me in the car. So when 1.30 came, told Housekeeping to get me two plates of curd rice for lunch.

'Erudu plate, madam?" she asked me.
"Oudhu," I replied, not looking up from the laptop, where I was busy reading blogs.

"Alli barthara madam? Illa illiye thagondu barabeka?"
(Are you coming to the canteen, or shall I bring it here to your seat?)
"Illi.." replied me, with a smile. (Here)

A pause.
Bere yaaru madam?
(Who else is joining?)
"Erudum nange. Belege nashtha madilla, athukke.. "replied me with a broader smile.
(Both are for me, I didn't have breakfast in the morning.)

A bigger pause. An embarassed smile. A look around the office.
Madam, onthu naan platalli hakkthini. Mathonthu naan packetliye thagond barthini. Dhristi agathe, athukke.
(Madam, I'll put one onto a plate and bring, the other I'll keep in a packet. People will cast an evil eye.)
And giving me a swift smile, she vanished to bring me the two servings of curd rice.

You should see the said curd rice, people! Quite sad! Dhrishti indeed! !!
But maybe she didn't mean the curd rice, she meant my Kumbakarni stomach? Boo! Hoo! Hoo! Are two plates of curd rice such a big deal? I just finished them both!

Getting to know me- AGAIN!!

Was tagged this bt ~Nm, who thinks the first person to do this tag will be Suki. But I know suki's having exams next week (do well, sweetie) and so, maybe I will do it first...?

Last Movie You Saw In A Theater:
hmm.. hmm.. hmmm... yeah- that far back- Chak De, I think...

What Book Are You Reading:
A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. A long time back, when we were compiling our reading list on Indian Writing, this was one book/author mentioned by many, that I hadn't read. am liking what I have read so far.

Favorite Board Game:
Scrabble. In spite of the fact that every time it ends in an acrimonious name-calling game between me and the husband.

Favourite Magazine:
No particular favourite. I read whatever is bought by others- Vanitha, Good Housekeeping (Mom), Outlook (Hubby), Stardust, Cosmo (my Beauty Parlour), Magic pot (Sonny boy)

Favorite Smells:
That totally unique smell of babies under a year old, the smell of the first raindrops wetting the earth..., fresh jasmine flowers...

Favorite Sound:
A dog's joyous, welcoming bark, Sonny boy calling me Amma..., Genuine uncontrollable laughter- anybody's :-D

Worst Feeling In The World:
The feeling of loss.

What Is The First Thing You Think Of When You Wake?
" Sigh! I wish today was a holiday".

Favorite Fast Food Place:
Because it's Sonny boy's current favourite- Mc Donalds. Tho Sonny boy prefers to call it The Fry Shop. Mac's advertising agency would be scandalised if they heard!

Future Child's Name:
Considering we decided on Sonny boy's name exactly half an hour before the ceremony, think this question is wayyyyyy too premature- we aren't even ANYWHERE near having a baby!

Finish This Statement. "If I Had A Lot Of Money I'd...”
Build myself a house with lots of land around it, and lots of trees, in beautiful unpolluted countryside so I could keep a dog, get 2 maids for the price of one, and have a driver to drive the spare car.

Do You Drive Fast?
My whole family certainly seems to think I do. So maybe yes.

Do You Sleep With A Stuffed Animal?
I wish I did. It certainly wouldn't want things early in the morning when all I want to do is savour the last few minutes of sleep. Sigh!

Storms-Cool Or Scary?
Cool- the ones that make you feel good about God's creations.

What Was Your First Car?
Mine - in my name- the Alto I currently drive.

Favourite drink:
Nothing like a drink of plain water, esp in this scorching summer.

Finish This Statement, "If I Had The Time I Would .....”
Spend it with my son and husband and mother.

Do You Eat The Stems On Broccoli?
If I ate broccoli, I probably would.

If You Could Dye Your Hair Any Color, What Would Be Your Choice?
'Raven black' hair always sounded so good in those fairy tales I read in my childhood. Unfortunately, on us Indian dames, it is just plain black hair! But right now, I'd settle for plain black tresses all over my head, without those ever increasing strands of grey here and there..

Name All The Different Cities/Towns You Have Lived In.
That I remember .. Madurai, Rameswaram, Kannur, Udumalpet, Sivakasi, Thalassery, Kozhikode, Cochin, Bangalore....

Favorite Sports To Watch:
NOTHING!!!!

One Nice Thing About The Person Who Sent This To You:
She's eninently likeable! :-D

What's Under Your Bed?
Sigh! Some toys (courtesy Sonny boy), newpapers (courtesy husband) Dust (courtesy lazy Mom who didn't clean today or yesterday)

Would You Like To Be Born As Yourself Again?
Sure thing. Only- a more assertive, less dumb, more patient, smarter Me.

Morning Person Or Night Owl?
Depends on what's to be done.

Over Easy Or Sunny Side Up?
Neither. Am not particularly fond of eggs 'cept in omelette or scrambled form.

Favorite Place To Relax:
Home.

Favorite Pie:
So long as its tasty, any.

Favorite Ice Cream Flavor:
Butter scotch. But anything, actually.

Of All The People You Tagged This To, Who's Most Likely To Respond First?
I don't know, definitely not WIAN tho :-p

I tag
WIAN
Usha
Thinking Aloud

Happy weekend, folks!

House hunting - part two

My very dear readers,

You are an amazingly sweet lot! I never expected so many of you to respond so fast, tho' I did go popping into a few blogs to request opinions.. Thank you SOOOOO MUCH for the responses, and it helped so in clearing the cobwebs in my mind.

Almost all of you immediately zeroed in in a duplex not being suitable for a toddler. I guess it is a glaringly obvious thing, but it WAS such a cute house Sigh! Maybe for some lovey-dovey newly married couple to play running and catching on those stairs, perhaps.. SIGH! We said No to the brokers of that duplex yesterday.

We decided that we'd not commit to the apartment, so the husband didn't accompany me, but I went alone to the apt to meet the caretaker yesterday. It is precisely 11 km from my office, not too far actually..., but again, while I looked over the place, a vague sense of unrest stole over me. If it was so good, why was it going so cheap? The amenities are all quite nice actually, and it ought to have cost a bomb, but it didn't. Why? Maybe perverse thinking on my part, but really, why ?

Somehow the house didn't give off a good aura from inside. It was a two storey building and this and another on top of this were the only two flats facing south. Ok, so this one was unoccupied, but I was checking the flat above this one and that one's balconies too looked pretty sad. All the other homes in that complex were filled with pots and flowers and clothes hanging out and cycles and general homely messes, but not these two.

I dunno anything about the other flat on top, but regarding this one, the caretaker had told us that there was a bachelor who stayed there for just 6 months, and he went back to Delhi as he was transferred back, and since it was a company rented flat, the company stopped paying rent.

Now- tell me which bachelor takes up a 3 bedroomed HUGE flat? Even if he were planning to get married, he would surely look at a 2 bed place inititally?So he had to be married, but wasn't able to bring his family along. Which was sad.
And somehow, I keep wondering if the Co stopped paying rent because they sacked him and that was why he went back..? to Delhi? I'm not generally so morbid. I'm the eternal optimist, while the husband is the pessimist. But somehow this thought stole in and would get out from the recesses of my mind. The house seemed to have SOME unhappy history to it.

And I was reminded of one of the houses we'd stayed in on rent.
The owners had bought the house from a friend of theirs. These original owners were super rich, with plenty of property in their name. They built this one - a two storied house in a prominent residential area, for their son. But this house somehow proved not so lucky for them. They started losing their riches slowly. The parents passed away. The son lost in everything he invested in and gradually started living on loans. Finally the son went so bankrupt that he was forced to sell the house. To our landlords.

Who were doing quite ok for themselves tho' they weren't particularly well off. When they bought this house, they decided to give the ground floor on rent so they could use the extra income. Both of us were new to the place- them the owners- a family of four and us the tenants. But the lady used to tell me how they were finding it difficult to manage expenses which semed to just keep mounting. She could have been laying the base for a rent hike soon, but somehow I don't think she was, and we maintained the same rent for the whole year . When we moved in, I had just gotten a new job. A good one. The husband got himself an office car. This added to the discontent of the owners, who didn't have a car. I started getting bloody irritated and got increasingly so with the BIL, contributing to a lot of ill -will at times between the husband and me. Our landlord lost his mother while he was in that house. My new company shut shop after 6 months. And my father's kidney took a turn for the worse and I lost him while in that house.

We moved out after a year and a half. I keep thinking I'll go by that house one of these days, but I haven't so far. For while we still maintain extremely cordial relations with our houseowners prior to this house, in this house, our owners used to envy us even a pot we bought! Not a pleasant thing to happen. Though we invited them to our housewarming, they didn't come.

So you see, while I myself feel I'm stupid to believe about unhappy auras for houses, I DO believe in that.

So although I went to the apt last evening, thinking to pay a token advance of a 1000k to the caretaker which wouldn 't be a loss even if we stood to lose it, at the last minute I didn't pay him anything. I told him I would come tomorrow. Outside a swimming coaching class was on in full swing, and I was left thinking how much Sonny boy would have enjoyed staying there..

It was nice & breezy at 5 in the evening, there were children of his age, plenty of place for him to cycle (his current craze), walkways for us to walk, place to park two cars, a gym with enough equipment in it, a tennis court, it was close to his school (and to some 5 IT complexes), near enough to the main road, but yet secluded... quite idyllic, isn't it? But yet, something about it made me not quite happy.

The husband had already told me that if I wasn't happy, not to break my head over it and that there was no mad hurry to settle on a house. And then, last night I read all of your comments. Many of you advising me to wait before I committed in case I wasn't a 100% sure.
So its back to square one again.

Sonny boy says to us when we return late from office sometimes, "I waiting, waiting, waiting, WAITing for you!!" Like wise, we're back to searching, searching, searching, SEARCHing for a house.
Thanks a million for your comments which helped so much.

Awaiting my next home-to-be,
Yours warmly,
JLT.

This or that?

My dear readers,

I am SOOOO confused.
Do help out with your views.

As you know Sonny boy is going to a new school June onwards, and said school is at least 22 kms from our home, so , we decided we had to shift homes.
We were initially looking at buying a new place, but then, everybody has been advising us to not go in for a purchase now, as there is going to be a downward spiral in the real estate market soon. So we put off purchase. Also (more)because the rates of the places we liked were going thru the sky! and with us having to pay emi on our existing flat, going in for another hefty emi just wasn't feasible. So it was down to a rented place.

Things were not simple, because, Sonny boy's school is SouthEast, my office is SouthWest and Hubby's office is out North. However, we started off looking at places within a 10 km distance from his darned school which has a green belt area near it for 8 kms, which means no residential /commercial habitation anywhere in those 8 kms.

We were looking for a 2 bedroomplace, but then, apparently , there are NO decent 2 bed apartments in B'lore anymore- its all min 3 bedrooms! So if you wanted only 2 bedrooms, you had to go in for houses. But we didn't see any decent houses either, finally the house we liked turned out to be a duplex, in a 20x30 site. The owners have done a damn good job of putting together a decent home in that size- if we hadn't had a kid, I would have taken that house without a second thought.
So this duplex has just the living cum-dining area and the kitchen on the ground floor and the other 3 bedrooms are on the first floor, with a terrace on the second floor, where you can dry clothes. It is a cute self contained little house, except-

-for EVERY small thing you have to run up the stairs.
- Sonny boy has no place to run around inside the house.
- and no place outside either, for there is just a garage outside.
-the steps are triangle shaped and easy to trip over for small kids and aged grandparents.
- if my current no-maid situation continues, I shudder to think of climbing 2 floors every day to clean..!!!
- when the grandies come, they will have to traipse up and down even if they want to have a lie-down for some 10 minutes.
- you cannot keep track of what one naughty 4 year old with a keen sense for micshief is upto on whichever floor, when you are not on that particular floor.
- In our current home, we are used to some space in the passage to rooms, in this one, there is just a landing which branches out into 3 rooms. the rooms in themselves are big, but..
- His school bus might drop him off in front of the house, or it might be at the head of the road.
- We are out most weekends, so an independent house poses security issues
The pros are-
- It is CLOSER to both our offices than the other option.
- It is in an established residential locality, close to shopping complexes, hotels and so on..
- You can get autos to the place- if you're lucky enough to get a sane auto guy- without emptying your purse
- independent house- no neighbours to interfere in your decisions- you want light outside your house, you put it;you want water 24 hrs, you put on the motor for yourself..
- this is stupid, but the lady staying there currently gave a good rating for the house. They are currently moving to Dubai after her hubby got shifted there, and they have also bought a new flat after they moved here, so I believe it might be an auspicious house.
- house help might prove cheaper.
And - it is a whole 2000/- cheaper, rentwise, even with the brokerage

The other option we have on hand is an apartment complex,
- it comes with the works- swimming pool, gym, clubhouse, tennis club, blah blah..
- no brokerage involved. We came upon it by sheer luck- we barged into a lot of complexes asking if they had a place availalable for rent, and this one had!
- It is again a 3 bedroom place, but at least all on the same floor...
- Has security 24 hrs, which is a big draw for me where Sonny boy is concerned.
- Sonny boy will have more friends here than in an independent house.
- Lots of space inside the house as well as inside the complex.
- It is closer (10 kms from) to his school.
But the cons are
- It is 2000/- more than the duplex
- It is FAR for both of us parents, from our offices.
- It is far from everywhere else we go to, too.
- We MAY have to get a second car, if we move in there, which means more money outflow from already dried up banks!!!
- Inside the complex, it is nice and plush, but outside it is not so nice. The area is just developing, and there is only 1 super market close by
- Autos may well be just a dream, in every which way. Cititaxis are the only option, if guests need to go someplace when we are not around.
- Maids will automatically be more expensive, I guess.
- And ah! this is stupid, but you already know I'm stupid that way- the flat has a south facing door, it is considered auspicious by some, inauspicious by some. I'm in the latter slot. but... hubby very rationally , like a guy, asks me what earth shattering good fortune we've had in our north facing house currently and I 've no answer for that.

We have to tell either place whether we're interested or not before the weekend at least.
I am so confused, I can't decide which option would be better. There is no tenant currently staying at the apartment, so I could not ask them how their experience of 'home' was.

The husband has very 'considerately' and conveniently left it to me to decide, although I can sense that he has a slight bias in favour of the facilities of the apt.
Do let me know what you think gals, before the weekend.

Utterly obliged,
JLT.

Edited to add:

We have to move in by May 2nd week so that we get settled into a routine before school starts. And we have to decide on the house now, as we have to give out our own house on rent.. and we can only show the place while we are still staying there as, once we've moved, it would be madness to commute all the way to just show the house to a probable tenant.

Happy happy...

Was tagged by Asha for the things that make me happy. Now this is an easy tag, and a very happy tag too..

-Sonny boy can make my heart brim with happiness - every single day. Like I said, he's our biggest blessing from God.

-Not too long back, children I met while going about work /life didn't really register. But now, an uneven totter of a baby, an exasperated interchange between a toddler and his/her parent all make me smile.

- Dogs, any kind , anywhere can make me happy. Especially if I get a wag and a lick from them.

- Procrastination sometimes does make me happy too. Like when I forget to claim my conveyance for more than 3 months and then get a windfall the 4th month :-D

- A good book can make me happy, even if it makes me sad. You understand, right?

- Ditto for good movies/songs, tho' not to the same extent.

- Going to my home in Kerala makes me happy, even tho' it does not make the husband particularly ecstatic.

- Driving makes me happy too, in pleasant weather.... especially if there's a nice song on FM.

- Its very very rarely that I take up something like painting/drawing, stitching etc now, but when I do manage to complete it, I feel very happy.

- Cooking a simple, homely, tasty meal makes me happy, yes. Especially if I don't have to clean up afterwards.

-Blogging in peace without the husband nagging or work intruding - both make me feel guilty- makes me very happy indeed

-A weekend can make me very happy indeed, in the middle of this busy balancing act between home and work.

-And chocolate is my all time favourite- anybody wanting to make me happy can just give me a chocolate!

Tagging- Kodi's Mom, DotMom, Dipali, Moppet's-Candyfloss-Mom

Come on, what's your happiness quotient?

The eight wait

Moppet's Mom (Oops, Candyfloss! Blech! that name is such a paradox to your posts, MM!!) tagged me for this ages ago and every time I opened my blog, I was reminded guiltily of this tag. And Sonny boy was no better, reminding me each time he did something bloggable, of that eight tag..
Well, as they say, there's a time for everything, and this tag's time is now. Over to Sonny boy

8 things I'm passionate about.
1. TV-CartooWokkkok/Pogo/Tom n' Jerry.. (Amma says nastily that I have my father's genes for sure)
2. Toys.
3. Wheels on my toys.
4. Night-time story.
5. Friends- having them over.
6. Friends- going over to their homes.
7.. Shopping. (Acha wonders how/why on earth I got THIS particular gene from my Amma. I don't understand my folks. Children inherit their parent's genes, right??!
8. Sleeping with Amma.


8 things I do that drive Amma crazy
1. Not drinking milk.
2. Not eating my food.
3. Not chewing my food.
4. Not swallowing my food.
5. Running off in the middle of a meal.
6. Keeping food in my mouth for more than 5 minutes.
7. Asking to do susu in the middle of my meal.
8. Throwing up cos I keep food in my mouth for too long.
Gee! Its all about food with her, isn't it? I think she has a problem. Poor thing!


8 things I say often.
1. Ille? Its my turn, ille? I want to go ille?
2. You stu. You stu buy me toy, ille? You stu tell me story ille?
3. I not happy to you.
4. Then I not your friend. (when my friends don't share their toys with me. Works like magic this does. Only thing- they say it too..!)And incidentally, this doesn't work with the parents.
5. Amma, after you finish your work on comptutor, you give me Garfield cd, ok?
6. Monekku- means -carry 'mon', which is an endearment for son in mallu.
7. Acha, can you give me build-engine on lattop?
8. Eni mathi. (Amma wonders why I have such a short attention span- be it eating, drinking, playing, reading, blogging... but my motto is- life is short, and there are so many things to see/do, so do it all when you can...what say, folks?

Books I've read recently.
1. Count on Clifford-Norman Bridwell.
2. The Woman and the Crow- by Shankar (from CBT)
3. The Ant and the Pigeon- Popular Stories series by Rhythm Publishing Co
4. Prop and Prep on the Trail- Marion Kemp and Sheila Lane
5. Magic Pot- Chotu and Motu is my favourite in this. I also like Lootappi and Mavaya.
6. The Jungle Book- Disney's Silver Screen Classics
7. Storytime for 3 year olds- Ladybird. This reminds me- time to get 4 year old stories
8. Lady and the Tramp- Grolier Book Club edition.

8 songs I can listen to over and over.
1. Bum bum bole- Taare Zameen Par
2. Hare Krishna Hare Ram- Bhool Bhulaiyya
3. Cheeni Kum- Cheeni Kum
4. Nagada Nagada- Jab We Met
5. Crazy Frog. This one can mesmerise me. Amma was scandalised when during one school interview, a pretty lady asked me my favourite rhyme and I ting tinged this.
6. Mauja e Mauja- Jab We Met
7. Ente Kalbile vennilaavu nee- Classmates
8. Sutrum Vizhi- Ghajini

8 things that make me me.
1. A fetching grin. I wish Acha would let Amma upload the pics and let you see for yourselves. :)
2. Chattering nineteen to the dozen. I have seen Acha and Amma give each other looks and put their hands to their heads sometimes in the middle of my chatter. But a kid's got to talk!
3. Disarming friendliness to one and all, esp of the feminine gender.
4. Tears that can well up in a second when called for. Most useful this. Acha still gets conned, but not Amma. Sigh!
5. Clambering onto laps like a little kitten. Amma falls for this one most times.
6. Mispronunciation of words. This makes Acha and Amma and everybody else crack up every time. They should remember they were also small kids once.
7. Love for stories and books.
8. Not practising what I preach. I learn the preaching from the folks, but there's no one practising it, whom I can copy!

See you later alligator!

His first farewell.

Sonny boy had his first farewell yesterday. It was the last working day of his first school.
And it set me walking down memory lane, for Sonny boy is too young to do that.

We started looking at a playschool for Sonny boy when I was planning to start work again. We looked at around 4 or 5 schools that were in the vicinity, but Sonny boy wasn't majorly interested. As we stepped out of each school, we'd ask him:
Sonny boy, is this school nice? Shall we go to this school?
And he would reply with a sometimes mulling, sometimes emphatic NO.
To be quite honest, we were quite disappointed too.

School A had a mallu lady, which we thought might be helpful, as she would be able to understand the Mallu-English jumble that he spoke. But that she lived on the second floor and had her playschool on the third totally put me off. I didn't want to spend my time in office having nightmares of him falling down the stairs like Jack, and breaking his crown.
School B was Montessori, these were the persons who actually got me interested in Montessori, but the place was a little cramped. Besides, I didn't like the ayahs there.
School C was the playschool of a regular school, but they seemed a little too eager to get Sonny boy admitted immediately. They seemed to think that they didn't need to tell me anything about their school and their values, except that we had to pay X amount as admission fees. While I did want Sonny boy to value money, I didn't want him to think money was the beginning and end. so it was NO to that school too.
School D was nice actually, it was a biggish house, with a garden and trees and all that, as a playschool for a kid who lived in a flat, I thought it quite ideal. But- it was closed, and there wasn't any telephone number for us to call and check either. And Sonny boy was getting cranky by now.

The Acha and I had had enough. We decided to turn for home. It was then that we made an impulsive decision to take a look at M Montessori School. It was a two storey building, but here, the school as such was in the basement and on the ground floor. They had a garden, which was predominantly potted, but still quite pretty. A nice lawn, with a sliding board on it, and also a duck see-saw. We went inside and were met by the Director of the school. She told me rather distantly that she normally met parents only by appointment, and when we apologized for butting in just like that, she unbent and said it was ok and that she'd show us aound. She took us personally around.

I liked what I saw. The classrooms were basically large rectangular halls, with work benches lining the walls. It was airy, bright, spacious, uncluttered, CLEAN. No garish posters adorning the walls. No bright colours either, which was a marked difference from every other school we had seen. Instead of blue/ yellow/ red/ green, the walls were a muted cream, and everything seemed to kind of blend in. Later I was told that this was a montessori prionciple of not letting too many things distract the child from the work he/she had to do. The toilet was very clean too. But what had me hooked was the equipment they had. I was clean zapped with the beauty of the Montessori system of education.

Everything seemed to facilitate the child learning lucidly and with delight. Practical experiments rather than just bookish learning by rote. Basic concepts were made so simple with those materials and seemed to pave the way automatically for further enthusiastic learning...

Matters were helped not a little by the fact that the Director was passionate about the Montessori system. That passion was infectious. Even before we finished going over everything, I was quite decided that I would love my son to have his first taste of learning there. But the deciding authority had to be consulted. We looked for Sonny boy. He had been taken by one of the ayahs to play on the slide which had in the meantime been brought indoors and was delightedly occupied. On our way out, we asked him :
Sonny boy, shall we go to this school?
Pat came the reply. Yes.
There was no need for any further mulling by either us or him, we were both unanimous in that we liked the school.

The first days were not easy. Sonny boy cried heartbreakingly the first day, when he saw that I was going away leaving him behind. But Ms. R (the Director) told me sensibly that the more he saw us, the more he would cry, and so she asked us to be brave for him , and leave him. We left him crying in her arms. (not in an ayah's). I noticed that she did this with each new child. The end of that first week saw Sonny boy going to school happily.

There were regular observation days, where parents were called in to observe what work their child was up-to-date with. And these were the times when I was amazed with how organised and systematic Sonny boy was at school. A place for everthing and everything in its place was something that was ingrained from day 1. (sadly I have not been able to incorporate the same at home)

And this was also where I noticed and admired how much smarter the little girls were, compared to the little boys. They talked better, grasped better, worked more efficiently and were cuter than the boys. Before I could start feeling that my son was a dud, Ms. R told me laughingly that the girls were always ahead of the boys in the younger years.

There were sessions with the child's teachers too, where we were given an idea of how they behaved at school and what they liked doing and what they did not like- workwise. His first teacher told me that Sonny boy loved songs and loved the outdoors. The first was nice- she often got ideas from him as to how to enact a rhyme, but the latter was difficult- he would always be running off outside to play on the lawn...

Two very busy years were spent in that school. Sonny boy learnt his sounds and his numbers and his vowels and his alphabets. He learnt how to put his shoes on, and how to remove his buttons and how to put them on. He drove me mad with the way he would roll up the door mats at home like he would the work mats at school. He made friends and had his first crushes. (oh yeah! he's his father's son alright) Addition and subtraction and spellings are currently what he's on. And Hindi too.

But, he had to move anyway, since M Montessori School has classes only up to M3 level. Which meant that if he moved after M3, Sonny boy would have to join UKG when he moved to a regular school, where he could be till his 10th or 12th. Which was a dicey thing, definitely more difficult than getting in through LKG. So we looked at other schooling options for Sonny boy commencing for this academic year. The school Sonny boy will be going to come June is not a Montessori school. And I am utterly sad about it. But the only option we have that has Montessori up to the higher classes is in a totally different direction from both our offices as well as home. Not a workable option at all.

But I do have one thing to console me. While looking at schools this time round too, we had looked at a few. This time too, Sonny boy was very clear. The minute he saw X school, he said: "I go this school!" He has been very clear about this through all the other school interviews he's been through. (I was actually scared he'd blurt out - I don't like you. I only like X school! ) He went around telling everybody and their aunt that he was going to go to X school. This when we had only just bought the application forms. When it came to a last choice between schools, he started crying, saying he only wanted X school, he didn't want any other. Made the decision easier for us. Because this time, his Amma is not so confident. And a school is a big thing in your life.

God grant that you be as happy- happier if possible- in your new school as you were in your old one, dear Sonny boy.

Why , why, WHY, dear God..?

Some time back, on an impulse, I bought The Kite Runner from my roadside book guy. I have never regretted that impulse which introduced me to one of the humanest writers I have ever come across. I was utterly moved (after a long time) by the story, the protagonists (to me more than Amir, innocent, vulnerable loyal Hassan was the soul of the book) and the stark reality of the horror that was life in Afghanistan under the Taliban. Khaled Hosseini wove a story of dark bestial deeds by an inhuman people, but in between, he deftly wove in some strands of human kindness and gentleness and love that came back to haunt you....

After that, when I got to know of his second book- A Thousand Splendid Sons- I was not at all eager to buy it. I was yet to get over The Kite Runner, and I did not want to be so disturbed again. But then, like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to it against my will, and I bought it...and once again, I was burnt.
Mariam's life seemed to be one long endurance ... In spite of enduring so much, that she has it in her to be the saviour of her husband's second wife brings out the beauty of human nature. The novel simultaneously makes you wonder at the weakness and strength of womankind in the face of male bestiality.

I would recommend both these novels to anybody for , if nothing, they make you count your blessings which seem to be NUMEROUS when compared to Hassan or Laila or Mariam or Sohrab. Hassan's son almost made me cry.
Both those novels were behind me, and while I felt deeply for the women and children of Afghanistan, there is not much you or I can do, except read and hope that the writer was taking some liberties with reality and pray that God does something for these distraught people....

And then, I read a post by a friend of mine, which brought to mind afresh the torment that it is to be born a woman in Afghanistan. Do read through this post about a little girl in Afghanistan, whose life is worse than fiction.....


It would be better to be born anything in Afghanistan than a woman - a rat, a dog, an insect...anything! After reading it, all I could hope was that the mullah would be some person like the Director of the Orphanage in The Kite Runner. Not able to outwit the sytem, but doing what he could to make things at least somewhat better...The poor poor girl.

cat dog and mouse tale.

I love dogs, I do. But this morning's conversation had me wondering...

Sonny boy was as usual playing up while drinking milk. That boy of mine can make me mad like nothing else over his glass of milk! Delegated the make-him-drink-milk chore to Acha, while I focussed on the comparatively almost delightful job of making veg pulao.

The Acha (TA): "Sonny boy, come here, drink your milk."
Sonny boy(SB), prancing about: "I Coming, Acha!"

TA: "Sonny boy, BIG gulps now."
SB: taking a small sip: "Acha, come, let's play."
His feet are dancing again. This boy CANNOT keep still while drinking and eating. It gets my goat, it does!

TA: Ok, what shall we play?
Amma rolled her eyes at this from the kitchen, and almost shouted at them both, but maintained peace remembering that Sonny boy was not keeping quite well, what with cough and cold...

SB: Acha, we play Tom and Jerry.
Acha:OK. How do we play..?

SB : In a tone brimming with mischief,
"Acha, I be Tom.
You be Jerry.
Amma be Dog!"

I, me, myself, mine...

Choxbox tagged me, Parul tagged me, Moppet's Mom tagged me,... I thought I'd wait till 5 bloggers tagged me;-) but the spate seems to have trickled down. Thing is I don't really go back to my old posts. I hardly have time to read all of your posts, why would I go back to mine??(The blog is for me to read when ALL the hairs on my head are grey.. I still have a few black ones left on my head)

But then again, a tag is a tag is a tag is a tag. Here goes...

The rules first: Post 5 links to 5 of your prevously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 key words given (family, friend, yourself, your love, anything you like) Tag 5 other friends to do this meme. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know them each a little better. Now don't forget to read the archived posts and leave comments.

Family. I've chosen to include my Dad and Mom under this head.
... the pains she takes to get Sonny boy to do things happily, I wouldn't even think of.
...I think of him in all the happy times- and I think of him in all the unhappy times.

Friend. How can I post just one under this? Two posts to keep each other company of course...
...we were such good friends that I have no idea what any of them are doing now
... once outside, the tension seeped out and we rolled on the floor with relieved laughter literally.

My love- the husband? I fell in love once before too..

...every step of those walks on that sprawling campus, she followed faithfully
...and while I did call up my Mom to tell her I reached safely in one piece, I did NOT call the mean husband

Me. This blog seems to be peppered with stuff about me. How come? Ah! those blessed tags...
my quirks
my fetishes
I'm judgemental about
had enough? ;-)

Anything at all. I quite liked going back in time actually. And these really made me smile.
...he was even more zapped. There was this presentable girl with a name like Bien Merci??

... on second thoughts, he isn't just his Acha' s son. He is his Ammamma's grandson to the core

Hmmm.. that wasn't quite so bad, except for the painful part of linking to all those posts. Now I tag- (I don't think there's anyone left to be tagged. If any of you've already done this tag, pliss to excuse.
Thinking Aloud
Dipali
Dame
Rohini
Random Vignettes

Edited to add: Fuzzy and Usha, you guys are sweethearts!! Hey Presto! here's my tag appropriately posted. :-D

and Fuzz, since Dipali's already done this tag, pliss to take it up instead of her.:-)

The infuriatingly unmanageable 5 tag.

this tag came at me from all corners of blogdom, so I set down to do it in right earnest, .. I actually posted it in my hurry, then realised I hadn't linked up to all those posts. So I took it back and saved it in drafts to add all those links.
Links added, now when I post it, it stubbornly goes to the date originally published!!???
No matter what I do, I CAN'T post it in today's date. The little &^%$#@#!!!!
Now you know I really am technologically challenged. So please all of you- this is my NEW POST ON THE 5 POINTED TAG.

Why Sonny boy goes to school.

Yesterday afternoon, a peaceful weekend afternoon, Sonny boy and his Amma were cuddled together on the bed, for the afternoon nap.
Sonny boy's story had been related, and he had his leg over Amma, and his hand on Amma's ear, and he was all set to sleep. Amma was peacefully re-reading and smiling over Gerald Durrel's My Family and Other Animals..
I LOVE that guy's descriptions...its is so evocative..
...cypress trees were whipped like dark pendulums against the sky..
...the island was drenched with dew, radiant with early morning sun, full of stirring life...
I compare Gerry's life with Sonny boy's, and find it so lacking, even tho' I am glad my son doesn't make friends with scorpions!

But I am digressing. Sonny was half asleep, when he felt me shaking with laughter at the scorpion episode. His eyes flew wide open again, and he looked curiously at the book for a clue to the merriment. Finding none, he looked at me. Amma knew better than to meet his eyes and invite a barrage of questions that would send the sleepy mood flying. So she kept on reading, ignoring the eyes fixed on her.
But the questions were on their way.

"Amma, when I am big...bigger than you.. bigger than Acha, I will be able to shake my eyes?"

Amma registered the question, and in her turn, searched for clues to the meaning behind 'shaking the eyes'. Nope. Not a clue. But now this looked like more fun than Gerald Durrel.

"What, Sonny boy?" when you grow big.., what?
"When I grow beeeeeeg, I will also be able to shake my eyes? Like Amma?"
Now this was getting interestinger and interestinger. Amma had been shaking her eyes?

A totally blank Amma looked at Sonny boy, and regarded Sonny boy...
Sonny boy raised his hand and gently fingered my eye. "
Amma.., when I grow bigger than you.., I will be able to shake my eyes..? For story?

The obscuring clouds moved and revealed light.
Sonny boy was referring to my pupils moving as I read. Shaking my eyes indeed.

"Yes, Sonny boy," a laughing Amma hugged him close. "That is what you will learn in school. To shake your eyes and read your own stories."

Ah! to have the mind of a 4 year old.

Aaaarghhh!.

Today, was Sonny boy's close friend's B'day. He stays in our flat and the Mom and I used to compare notes on kicks and bulges and pukes and everything associated with pregnancy, so we're rather close. This time Sonny boy insisted that he wanted to decide on the B'day gift for HIS friend, so we were not able to buy a gift in advance, with the result that this evening, I returned early from office and made a dash to the newly opened neighbourhood store with Sonny boy at 5.30 pm (the party was at 6).

We spent a half hour at the store and chose toys for the B'day boy and the B'day boy's friend, yours truly as well (yeah, the 7 day good behaviour rule got cut down to 3 days). Sonny boy as usual tried to get this and that and that too, but all requests and hopeful looks were to no avail, as Amma said we ONLY had time to get the B'day gifts and nothing else.. Rushing to pay the bill, I spotted a pack of Whisper and since I was running out, and my period was overdue, I pulled in one pack hastily.

Immediately, an offended Sonny boy said loud enough for all the men in the store to hear,
"Amma, why you want that? Keep it back!"

The Amma kept on walking, as if she hadn't heard anything.
Sonny boy, most upset at the different set of rules for mother and son, was determined to make himself heard.
"Amma, you don't want that. Keep it back".

And he took it from the bag and went back to the rack. By now she could feel all eyes on them. It was a new store, and was only just beginning to be patronised and the many young salesmen were most eager to be of assistance.
"Soony boy!" hissed an embarassed Amma. "I want that. Keep it back!"

But Sonny boy was determined to follow it through to the very end. He turned to Amma and asked chidingly, "Amma, are you a baby? Only babies want that. You're not a baby. Keep it back"

I am NOT returning to that shop in a long time.

Unrealistic targets, and unachievable too.

Sigh! The school Sonny boy HAS gotten admission to seemed to us on second and third thoughts to be VERY far, esp. taking into consideration the fact that we didn't find any suitable alternate housing arrangements nearby. So when another school called us for the interview, we decided to give it a shot, esp. since the said school was right in the middle of civilisation and quite accessible from both home as well as both our offices.

At the school, Sonny boy found himself a friend who was more than willing to acquiesce to his demanding frolic, and the two had a rollicking time running up the corridors and playing run-and-jump-and-sit-on-chairs while we parents waited impatiently.
The husband wisely kept glowering at and ordering Sonny boy to sit beside him, but Sonny boy paid no heed, and the Amma, for once, thought it the lesser of two evils to have the son jumping around quietly from a distance, rather than fidgeting in a chair adjacent. Alas! It was her undoing.

The trio got called to the Principal's room in their turn. The room was as big as a Princi's room ought to be, and Sonny boy was delighted. He sat in the chair between Acha and Amma, and took in his surroundings with interest.And then, while Acha was responding to something the Princi had asked, Sonny boy espied a row of chairs near the window.

AHA!!!!
Chairs! puhlenty of them! Run-and-jump-and-sittable ones...!!!!

I really don't know how it happened, but the next second, Sonny boy was out of the chair between us and onto the chair near the window.
The Acha and I gaped, then were horrified. The Amma went after him and brought him back to his chair. To his credit (?) the Princi didn't bat an eyelid, he continued looking at his -or rather our- file before him.
And then while the Amma was tackling a question on who would look after Sonny boy while both of us were at work, Sonny boy tried sidling out on my side of the chairs. He had spied the many shields on top of the shelves. Quite worth a a second look, they were. Sonny boy certainly thought so too. Luckily, the Amma was not as absent minded as the Acha and caught him before more damage was done.

"I only want to look... "plaintively began Sonny boy.
"NO looking," sternly stated Amma.
"But..."
Glare from the Amma.

The Princi cleared his throat and said that would be quite fine, and thanked us.
The Acha and I, given our marching orders, gathered up Sonny boy and marched out of the room.
I do not think that school is going to call us. Sigh! Unruly, disruptive, distracted kid with inept parents who have no sense of discipline.....you think he would have written any worse?

The Acha berated Sonny boy soundly on the way to the car and told him that he was a very bad boy. The Amma added her two bits. Out came the lower lip and trembled for a few seconds... Sonny boy looked suitably chastened for a few minutes, then he was back to normal again.

On seeing a nearby toyshop,
"Acha you'll buy me toy?"
"NO," thundered the Acha. "You have not been a good boy. NO toy!"
"I be good boy, Acha."
"No. I am very angry. You be a good boy, listening to what Acha and Amma tell you for a whole week, and then, we'll think about a toy."
"One week?"
"7 days, Sonny boy, till Saturday."
"7 days?"
"7 days."
"Ok, Acha, I be good boy for 7 days."

After 5 minutes of sitting quietly in the back seat.
" Acha, 7 days over? "

My Happy Burttey

Today is Sonny boy's b'day.
Four years ago, it was on this morn, that he was handed into my arms. And I looked down at him. And felt the love welling up inside...
Sonny boy, may the good God above (with whom you hold long conversations at times) bless you with all the things that matter, my sweetheart- to you and to us.
May you continue to be a cheerful, delightful, lovable little darling, my son.

The blessing tag.

I have been feeling very lethargic the whole of this week and the last. Its not that there has been a lull, at work or at home. On the contrary, professionally as well as personally, there has never been so much work piling up on the horizon. Which could probably explain why lazy me is feeling the inertia so much. Once I start moving, there seems to be no probability of stopping, so better not to move, right? *wink*

In the middle of all this a hundred blog ideas/situations came hopping my way, but, I just had to desist, because there were hundreds of more MUST-DO things that I had to do. And then came along my dear bloggie pals, one after the other, after the other, after the other, after the other... with those things called tags. That are seemingly light and pleasant, but when ignored, take on the proportions of an avalanche ... !

So I decided to let the absolutely important things (like making 5 calls per day(WTF!!)), and the absolutely essential things (like cooking food for my son (Sigh!)) and absolutely routine things (like picking a fight with the husband(Grrr!)) wait, while I dealt with some 'lighter' things.

The blessing tag was passed on to me by Lavs, and I was touched that she had remembered me and my 'penury'. A very unique tag, this one, making me feel very benevolent and all that. .. but seriously, there are plenty of people to whom I wish to pass on the goodwill which originally started thus...
While it is my wish to bless all who read this blog, for the purposes of starting this little endeavour it is necessary that I ‘bless’ 3 blogfriends, who may in turn ‘bless’ 3 blogfriends.Let’s use a simple format, and let’s make it even simpler by suggesting that the recipient simply copies and pastes above picture when they become the recipient of a bloggin blessing themselves.The idea… it’s a game of tag with a difference, rather than looking inwardly, we look outside ourselves and bless, praise and pray for one blog friend. By participating in this endeavour we not only make the recipient of the blessing feel valued and appreciated, but we are having some fun too. We’re going to see how far the bloggin’ blessings can travel around the world and how many people can be blessed! Recipients of a bloggin’ blessing may upload the above image to their sidebar if they choose to. If you recieve a bloggin’ blessin’ please leave a comment on this thread here so that we can rejoice in just how many blessings have been sent around the world.

Well.

Firstly, people are in need of extra good wishes and blessings during times of distress and the one person I thought of when I read bout her was HGMom's SIL.
HGmom, I hope and pray that your sister in law becomes hale and hearty again, and that the two of you share many many more moments of love. It is rare to find a gem of a sister-in-law, and those that do have them are absolutely right to treasure them.

Secondly- a slight aberration here.. its not to one person, but to 4, that I pass on the good wishes and blessings to. Blogdom is filling up with many to-be-mommas, first-timers and second-timers, and... many other timers..? Lavs, Moppet's (and M...???'s)Mom, Poppin's Mom, Kodi's Mom are some of the ladies getting ready to roll out their bundles of joy, I wish these gentle ladies days of good health and happiness and contentment. May your respective bundles tumble out healthily and painlessly, and enrich your lives all the more...

Thirdly, hmm.. very difficult to pick out just one person, when you'd like to really spread the goodwill around, but yeah, there are (again a slight aberration here) two persons whom I'd love to hear any news of. STS and Fuzzy, both used to delight me with their posts, and I miss them much, also Sonny and Ina. Wherever they may be and however tied up in whatever they might be, I pass on a whole truckload of good will to them, and wish that they'd come back and regale us once more.. You listening, gals? I really miss you two and I hope that things are alright with you in your separate worlds. Come back soon, please.

Well so now I'm feeling all nice and good deedy... and all set to tackle the next avalanche looming up.. Haalppp!