All things Sippy

Today while arranging my daughter's toy rack, I found few of her old Sippy cups. Their lids have been missing and they became her toy things long time ago. They reminded me of that day when we bought the first Sippy cup for her.

About an year ago...

It was time for my baby to try a 'Sippy Cup'. After getting the first hint about that from our pediatrician, we went to the local store and what did we see? There was an aisle full of colorful, vibrant, functional and unique cups. They were in so many different sizes. Some had straws and some had really cute handles. I almost heard them whispering... 'Pick me, pick me'.  We scratched our heads, weighed the odds and made our best possible judgment. We finally chose a Sippy cup. But more was yet to come!

The baby sitter informed us that our daughter always prefers a boy’s Sippy cup over hers. We wondered why. So one day we picked up that boy’s cup and carefully investigated. We soon realized our mistake. The boy’s cup had handles and surely it made it very easy for kids to hold it. How could we miss this usability feature earlier? Realizing our parenting slip we rushed to the store again and got a Sippy cup that had handles.

A day later we were told she is still after that boy’s cup. Surprised and challenged, we observed more carefully. My husband came to a conclusion. It is not the handle she really likes. Not the straw or the color of the boy’s cup. It must be the sliding lid which goes on top of the straw that she is crazy for. It appeared true. There was evidence that she tries to bite on it often. So, we went shopping again!

After searching a couple of stores, we finally found the cup with the exact same design. Proud and thrilled with our hard work we waited with crossed fingers. Our daughter accepted the new cup and was observed to be quite satisfied. So that was the ‘End’ for us but for all new parents I just have to say: ‘All things Sippy, can be very Creepy’, so take a deep breath and keep trying until the right cup chooses you:)

To last or to fast

The month of September had me thinking. It was that time of year again when the religious festivities of Hindu society are in full bloom. The month of ‘Sawan’ is considered very auspicious and has festivals spread all over it. It is interesting that most of these festivals are mostly about fasting for women. Be it the fast of ‘Sawan Somwar’ or ‘Vara Lakshmi’ or ‘Teej’ or ‘Ganesh Chaturthi’ and in many places even ‘Janmashtmi’. I’m a believer that festivals enrich and infuse spirit into our lives. But is our perception of these fasting festivals in today’s time still accurate and up to date?

Women fast for the long lives and prosperity of their husbands or sons. That’s how our civilization has always been like. Few centuries ago when there were infinite quests for power and land, men were warriors. Most of their time was spent in battlefields fighting and exploring. Women were confined to households. If I was in such an age I can imagine how dearly I would miss my husband or son. I would be always worried about their safety and pray for their long lives. In the holy month of ‘Sawan’ I would be determined to please the lords. I would fast, spend the day happily in the rituals, sing and pray. Fasting blended most naturally in the lives of women in those times. The fasting festival not only distracted women of their worries, but also gave them strength and joy in the social company.

How very different our modern lives have become? Women are working in almost all areas where men are. Modern families are still learning to evolve around the fact that when a mother or wife becomes a working woman, the expectations need to change. The running of a household needs to be a balancing act.  So that is why, as a working woman myself when I think about ‘Sawan’ approaching, my worries appear. I check the calendar hoping that the fast I intend to keep falls on a weekend. If it does not, I look up my office calendar to see how many meetings and conference calls I have on that day. Do I have any session where I need to host and debate for hours? Do I have any presentations scheduled? Doing all that while fasting is a considerable mental and physical challenge.  Also, when I hear about a grandmother in old age fasting through numerous days just because she has been doing that all her life, it troubles me. Why hasn’t the society realized that surely our men of present times don’t need so much praying for their long lives and safety anymore?

Fasting is a state of abstinence, from food, from worries and from the complex web of daily routines. It is a state of conquer over the demands of our mind and body. So this ‘Sawan’ my prayers included a hope that as a society we loosen up on the finer details on fasting. And next time when an aunty in forties informs a newly-wed that all through her life she hasn’t had a drop of water on ‘Teej’, I hope the newly wed doesn’t bother if she can’t keep up. I hope she fasts till she can willfully last.

You and I, in this beautiful world...

This post is for you my dear husband for turning a year older. And I’m excited for the many more to come, as we continue to grow, discover, quarrel and love each other, even more every single day.

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It’s weekend. I wake up and look by my side. It is so comforting to see you there. Your gentle face is wrapped up in a deep sleep. You look so innocent and refreshing just like the subtle splashes of the cool breeze entering our room slowly. I get up and I'm all smiles. But then - The clock takes a 90 minute leap forward and you are still sleeping! My smile has given way to a 'Cmon get-up now' expression. It's when I’m thinking about my to-do list for the weekend, dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, grocery and rounds of laundry. If looks can kill my eyes just mean to do that. And there you are as naive as ever still dreaming. 

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A pair of dirty socks - I expect to find them every day or night at different places in our house. Sometimes they are stuffed on the sides of sofa or caught unaware beneath the stack of newspapers. Sometimes they rest in the corner of the TV table or just tossed outside the closet. There are days when I think, ‘Finally I'm done with all the cleaning’, and I pick my purse on the table to keep it away, and there they are –‘the dirty ugly socks’! This time I pick them up and throw them away and scold you. ‘What are these socks doing here?’ You look surprised and you pick them up and start scolding the socks, so genuinely without a second thought, ‘What are you socks doing here?’ And we end up laughing.

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You didn’t do it. You said you didn’t. One day when you were putting dishes in the dishwasher, a drinking glass broke. The other day you were transferring the wheat flour to a can and there was a white powdery substance all over the kitchen floor. Your half an hour cooking adventure in kitchen leads to my one hour of putting things where they belonged. But you don’t create mess or spills, you say you don’t. And yet there are things that go wrong in my absence. I believe it is just nature’s way of balancing the peace, quiet and beauty I want around myself in our house. Thank you! For without you, my world would be so imperfectly perfect.

The Play Area

It was the start of a beautiful evening. The sun was flirting with the clouds scattered in the sky and was making them blush away. A lazy breeze had just kicked in. There were many kids in the play area. Few women were chatting here and there watching their kids play. Nuzat sat on one of the benches there. The long day of work had frustrated her and she needed some fresh air to get the annoyance out of her mind. There was a lot of energy and noise around her but her thoughts were drifting away to the long conference calls, unfinished emails and brain storming sessions that had defined her day. Earlier today she had a heated conversation with her manager. He was forcing her to take additional work and putting pressure on her. She didn’t know if it was the respect, fear or just humility that she had not been able to refuse him.

She saw a mother approach the play area with her infant daughter. The little girl was immediately attracted to the wood chips scattered across the play area and started brushing her fingers on that. There were few older girls in the age group of four to five running around the play area in their scooters. One of them saw the little girl arrive and ran towards her calling out her name.

“Manu! You look so cute today”, she exclaimed. “Oh aunty, she is very pretty”, she addressed the mother. She then touched Manu’s cheeks and patted her head gently. She was dressed in a pink top and denim capris. She was in middle of her praises when Nuzat heard another shout of Manu’s name from a distance. She saw a girl in a yellow dress scooting towards them and she too appeared very excited.

“Manu, Oh, you are so cute!”, the girl in yellow dress remarked. But before she could say anything more, the girl in the pink top almost shouted. “I saw Manu first! Look I can even pick her up”, and she grabbed Manu with all her power and picked her up.

Nuzat found this quite amusing. The reaction of the girl in pink was so spontaneous. It was almost a mark of possession, of pride and protection, as if Manu belonged to her. Manu tried to wriggle away from all this. Her mother had a smile and was obviously enjoying the praises. The two girls were still fussing over Manu when Nuzat noticed another one approaching. This one was dressed in a white skirt and red top. It looked like that the girl in white was meeting Manu for the first time. The two girls introduced Manu to her and asserted how cute and pretty Manu was. She agreed. They then boasted of how they can pick Manu up. The girl in white declared that she could also pick Manu up. Then few seconds later, the girls decided to do a race in their scooters and ran away to play.

At that moment Nuzat’s phone rang. It was her manager. She decided not to pick it up. The ring died off and a sound of voice mail beeped in. She decided to hear it later. As she looked up again at the play area, she saw the three girls in the slide in front of her. Something was not right among them this time. The girls in pink and yellow were scowling at the one in white.

“You lied to us. You said you have been to Manu’s house. You don’t even know where it is!”, shouted the girl in pink.

“We are not talking to you, please don’t follow us”, added the girl in yellow.

The girl in white simply walked away and started rolling in her scooter again. Nuzat was amazed by what she had just heard. When the barriers of experiences are scarce, the flow of expressions becomes a matter of ease. Right and wrong are simplified. She stood up to return to her flat. She knew how to deal with her manager.

Few days later in the play area she saw the three girls chatting and rolling on their scooters again. They appeared happy and looked like their conflicts were resolved. Perhaps there wasn't any to start with. Nuzat felt unsure.

Oh So Chard!

Think Green! that's what I thought when my hubby came home one day from his office with a bag full of green leafy things. It was not spinach or mustard leaves, definitely not coriander. That's what my 6 years in US has done to my world of green vegetables. So I asked him what they were. It took him a second and he said, 'That's Chard'. One of his colleague has a home garden and it had graciously come from there.

Well I had no idea what Chard was, so I wrote this word down first and then next morning when it was time for lunch, I googled. First line in wiki read - 'Chard also known by other common names such as Swiss chard, silverbeet, perpetual spinach, spinach beet, crab beet, bright lights (due to the bright and vivid spring colors when they are cooked or provided as a medley of vegetables), seakale beet, and mangold, is a leafy vegetable.' Then few more minutes into google and I got the impression that it can be cooked similar to spinach. And that's what I did.

I'm not a fan of green vegetables. Right from cleaning to cutting to cooking them appears a cumbersome process. But it was something about the vibrant red, yellow and creamy stems of Chard, that when thinly cut on top of the green cushion of leafs beneath, kept my enthusiasm going. After seasoning of cumin, black mustard and methi seeds with quick stir fry of onions and garlic, I finished it off with some coriander and pepper powder.

The result was a delicious green vegetable (that's the whole reason I'm writing this post). I could relate the taste to the radish leaves that my mom cooked and I absolutely loved. So if you haven't tried Chard yet, bring it home.

Tater Tots

It won't be a blink of an eye, but a trail of many a sigh...

When I set out to cross the oceans, and terrains so high.

Flying over the clouds, life can appear so simplified...

Am I living the dream or just petrified?

- Nov, 2010

It stands by me when there is light,

It stands by me when it is dark.

At time it is real, at times it is not.

Is it my ‘self’ or a lost thought?

- Feb 2011

Lullaby

I bring her face close to my heart,
The tears of the day make my baby cry.
I cover her in my loving embrace
And a mother sings a little lullaby.

Together we sway in a drowsy dream...

It's where stars twinkle down on us,
And black sheep give away their wool.
It's where roses ring-a-ring-a-ring,
And all things silly are very cool.

I look at her eyes now falling asleep...

I think about the days to come.
When she'll be ready for my stories.
Of wolves and camels, of bees and flowers,
And distant lands of knights and fairies.

I sniff her hair and plant a kiss...

It's only time when she will not be baby.
She'll jump out. Stand tall. Run away. Oh Why?
It's a whole life that a mother sees in there,
And we call it a little lullaby!

Maid and her Madam

Hansi was an important part of my mother’s daily activities. She was the maid of the house after all. That winter I was visiting my parents on a vacation after being in US for 3 years. I could hardly remember how it felt like to have a maid in the house. 

On the very first day of my vacation, our family was settling down to chit-chat in the big balcony with tea and sun at its warmth best, when my mother said. “I doubt if Hansi is coming today”. The clock had struck 10 am and she hadn’t arrived yet. My mother’s anxiety was obvious. “How do you know?” I asked. I was informed that as part of Hansi’s daily routine, she does some chores early morning in the Bhatt’s house before coming to our place. Our colony had a circular arrangement of houses with a small park in the middle. Their house is visible from ours. So that’s how my mother caught a view daily of Hansi working there. Today she hadn’t spotter her. 

By afternoon I was fairly acquainted with Hansi. My mother narrated several of her scandals. How my parents got her new pair of slippers after noticing her barefoot one day but how she would never wash the stairs outside the doorway unless pressed a hundred times. How my mother always tried to give her any extra groceries in the house thinking Hansi would save some money but how she would not wipe the living room floor the day she would unwillingly wash the stairs, to balance her workload that is. Also she would always be on leave during holidays, when one can expect extra work due to guests and festivities. And she always expected full salary. Towards the end of these stories I really felt sorry for my mother and Hansi was placed as a devil in my mind.

That evening my mother set out to inquire after Hansi. When she returned, she didn’t look angry anymore. Hansi’s 4 year old son had fallen sick. That’s the reason she couldn’t come. She had promised my mother that she would come to clean the utensils (and nothing else) from tomorrow. But a few tomorrows passed and there was no sign of Hansi. On the fourth day, my mother went to visit some neighbors to look for a new maid. And the next day Sarda started working for us.
 

After her first day of work, my mother was very pleased. I was still skeptical having heard such horrid stories about Hansi. But my mother pointed out how the marble floors had a distinct shine that day after the mop and so did the utensils, which was always missing from Hansi’s work she said. The next day Sarda surprised us further. She was spotted washing the stairs without anybody asking her to do that. They looked dirty she simply said and my mother was speechless.

In the next few days while Sarda worked around the house, I came to realize that she was really fun to speak to and enjoyed her work. My mother would make sure Sarda eats lunch at our place before she left after completing the work. I asked my mother if this pampering would not spoil her. She told me she always gave lunch to Hansi as well, and it was only natural that Sarda has lunch when we did at the same time. I would often find them chatting about different subjects, of upcoming marriages in neighborhood or visiting guests or other local events. With my father out for work, I could see how natural it was for my mother, a housewife, to find a company in Sarda. I realized. It’s a bond, it is, the maid and her madam. Whether it’s the wait, the anxiety, the anger or the friendship, the happiness of a household can depend on the maid arriving to work in time. 

I was back in US after a month. I called my mother one morning and asked her what she was doing. “I’m waiting for Sarda to come, I don't think she is coming today”, she said. I smiled.

Hasta la Pasta

It's something about my perspective as a mother that I always feel my baby is not eating well. Every once in a while I try to treat her with something that would excite her appetite and make her go ga-ga about it. So one fine day I decided to make pasta in tomato sauce for her. She was about 15 months then, and though she had tasted pasta earlier but tomato sauce was going to be her first.

As good understanding parents, my hubby and I agreed that we would not rush her to eat it, rather let her 'explore' it and 'enjoy' the taste..."the most prescribed feeding style' on the web. So there we were. Riya sitting on her high chair, with a tasty pasta before her in a bowl. And we waited and waited. She played and smeared. She laughed and shouted. Smashed the spoon on the pasta. Picked it up with her fingers and tried to get it off. She did all things a baby can do with a bowl of pasta except she didn't put a single tiny bite in her mouth.

I finally gave up and tried to put it forcefully but NO! she won't open her mouth. She was very resolute. After playing for several minutes, she got bored and started crying. I picked her up from her high chair to change her clothes. The pasta was falling down from all sides. I felt a little sad. But I was determined to be a good parent. I rather focused on enjoying the moment. She did look very cute  with all the red sauce spread around her face. I managed a smile and a laugh. 'Remember', I told myself..'The good books instruct to try and try, and never give up'. I felt better. I just need to be patient, I was telling myself.

I decided to give her a bath. As I opened her diaper, reality struck. There are unexpected things that can come out of a baby's diaper! Chunks of poop fell out on the floor. Nooooo! I didn't see it coming. Help! I called out for daddy dear. All my smiles and sweet reflections gave way to a new emergency. By this time, Riya was not in a good mood at all and was crying loudly. The next few minutes were spent in damage control. Bathe her. Clear the mess. Calm her down and also calm ourselves. Finally a bottle of warm milk did the trick and she fell asleep. As I was holding her in my arms and it was so quiet, I closed my eyes and embraced the silence.

I'm yet to try feeding her pasta again...but I've 'not' given up yet. As one can say, its just 'until next time', so 'Hasta la Pasta'.

Riya Turns One!!

So Riya turns 1 today! And I want to think all day about all things light and colorful. Balloons. Flowers. Sweet memories of becoming a Mom....As I wake up to welcome the day today, it is natural to get a little emotional. So I start thinking about the day when Riya arrived. I tell Sandeep, "You have no idea what giving Birth is like!!". I expect a hug and perhaps an understanding nod. He replies, "And you have no idea what giving her a Bath is like!!" :) Something to reflect about, Huh? All the mothers out there. Well not today. Happy Birthday my dear baby !!