Today was a day when I watched in horror as my sweet two year old morphed into a tantrum throwing, mummy eating monster! And oh my god was it scary! The terrible twos have descended on us unsuspecting, innocent parents.
We've survived a day of countless tantrums, a split lower lip, three bumps on the head and god alone knows how many bruises! I, on the other hand, am somehow holding on to my poor little heart, which has suffered innumerable minor strokes and shocks. I need a drink! No, hang on, I need a bloody barrel full of the stuff!
Neel is finally asleep. You have no idea the amount of relief that goes into saying that! I can sink into bed and breathe....finally!
How long will this last? I asked a wise mother in the park the other day. Oh not long, was the reply. Just till he's about six years old. I smiled while I screamed in my head. Are you frigging crazy? I'm going to be crippled and ready for an asylum by then. Sheesh.....
We have our good days too. Those days are far and few but are a reminder that it really is worth it. The best thing about my two year old is that he is stinking cute! I really can't ever be angry with him for more than 5 seconds, even when I catch him using his toothbrush as a loo brush. Heck, it's part and parcel of being a toddler and how else will he learn that not all brushes are used for cleaning the toilet?
The good thing is that my little one is full of spunk. He tests every boundary, every limit and that's what I love about him. He makes me step out of my comfort zone constantly. He's what makes me tick!
It might sound like my child is out of control but it's with very bump that he'll grow and with every tantrum that he'll learn.
Bring it all on again tomorrow!
Monday, September 5, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
That's what happy mommies are made of!
I've recently started reading a book that lets its readers in on the secrets of being a "Happy Mommy" (oh okay, laugh if you want!). This book is amazingly candid about motherhood and all that it 's made out to be and is often not.
Since becoming a mother I've often felt, in all honesty, that motherhood is terribly overrated. All that talk about instant mother-child bonding, a mother being able to understand every cry, every whimper....I've not felt any of that. But maybe that's just me. Perhaps, I lack a certain sixth sense that women are supposed to have. For me, being a mother has been one heck of a journey and I don't think I've even left the station yet. I'm far too busy tackling potty training, cleaning pee off the floor, diffusing tantrums (that seem to be intensifying in their frequency and strength!) to really bother myself with something as inane as my happiness.
Having now read a few pages of my 'happiness handbook' I've started to question whether I really am happy or not. Was I happier before becoming a mother? I guess that in a way I was. I have friends who are single, independent, 'non mothers' who definitely seem a lot happier than me. My life is no longer mine. It's all about my child. I wake up in the morning for him and everything I do through the day is for him.
Ask me though if I would have it any other way and I'd say a definite no! That's what is so amazing about motherhood. Given the chance to go back in time, nearly every mother will say that she would without doubt become a mother again. Nothing in this world can ever compare to being a mom.
As far as happiness is concerned, is it ever a constant in anyone's life? Like everything, it comes and goes. If there's anything that motherhood has taught me, it's about finding tit bits of happiness in the smallest of things. Trust me, even a dirty diaper can bring a smile to my face. I'm just happy that he did a good poo! Can you then imagine how deliriously happy I am when Neel plants a kiss on my cheek?
So, am I a "Happy Mommy"? I most definitely, positively, without an ounce of a doubt, am!
Since becoming a mother I've often felt, in all honesty, that motherhood is terribly overrated. All that talk about instant mother-child bonding, a mother being able to understand every cry, every whimper....I've not felt any of that. But maybe that's just me. Perhaps, I lack a certain sixth sense that women are supposed to have. For me, being a mother has been one heck of a journey and I don't think I've even left the station yet. I'm far too busy tackling potty training, cleaning pee off the floor, diffusing tantrums (that seem to be intensifying in their frequency and strength!) to really bother myself with something as inane as my happiness.
Having now read a few pages of my 'happiness handbook' I've started to question whether I really am happy or not. Was I happier before becoming a mother? I guess that in a way I was. I have friends who are single, independent, 'non mothers' who definitely seem a lot happier than me. My life is no longer mine. It's all about my child. I wake up in the morning for him and everything I do through the day is for him.
Ask me though if I would have it any other way and I'd say a definite no! That's what is so amazing about motherhood. Given the chance to go back in time, nearly every mother will say that she would without doubt become a mother again. Nothing in this world can ever compare to being a mom.
As far as happiness is concerned, is it ever a constant in anyone's life? Like everything, it comes and goes. If there's anything that motherhood has taught me, it's about finding tit bits of happiness in the smallest of things. Trust me, even a dirty diaper can bring a smile to my face. I'm just happy that he did a good poo! Can you then imagine how deliriously happy I am when Neel plants a kiss on my cheek?
So, am I a "Happy Mommy"? I most definitely, positively, without an ounce of a doubt, am!
Friday, July 1, 2011
Page 3 play schools!
When Neel was 18 months old, we applied to a popular South Delhi pre school for admission to a 'mother-child' programme and got rejected. Why? Because apparently we didn't know the right people who would pull the right strings of the right people in this so called right school.
It's been a few months since this happened and although things have worked out for the better, now that Neel is going to start preschool in a far better school by my estimation, I still think back in anger to those days of feeling completely dejected. How on earth can an 18 month old be rejected from anything? How can a baby not fulfill any criteria for a play school or play group. Obviously, it had more to do with us as parents. We just didn't know the right people. Never before had I been exposed to such ridiculousness that is our education system in India. We had been naive. We just didn't think that an 18 month old could become a victim to such a corrupt system so early on in life.
I have since written a letter to the chairman of this school, which my husband won't let me send. I've decided to post it here because I have to vent my anger somehow:
Dear Mr. Chairman,
My 18 month old son's admission application to your pre school was recently rejected. I find it hard to believe how an 18 month old can have any short comings on the basis of which he gets rejected to the first institution he has ever applied to in his life. Yes, I have heard from your
school staff that a fair lucky draw takes place and that the admission procedure is completely transparent. I wasn't invited to any lucky draw event and nor was I witness to any, so I apologise if I don't take your word for it. If the entire procedure is transparent, make it visible and I'm sure us parents would be more than happy to participate.
I live barely 5 minutes away from your preschool and am aware that a couple of children in my neighbourhood have started attending the new session in your school. I have been told that their parents pulled the 'right strings' with the faculty of your school. I obviously was under
the impression that a popular and highly sought after school such as yours would not resort to such 'discriminatory' practices when it came to providing the first step towards a formal education for thousands of innocent young minds. These are just small babies Mr. Chairman. How can a school discriminate one from the other on the basis of what car their parents drive or who they party with on a Friday night?
I was advised by many people to literally stand outside your school everyday and beg for admission for my baby. I do know of many who have done this and they still were rejected. My principles and my self respect would never allow me to grovel for something which is my child's fundamental right. I have been educated in one of the finest boarding schools in India and I sat an admission test at the age of 6 to secure my admission there. I cannot remember seeing my parents bow to such disgracefulness as what is seen in schools such as yours.
Things have however worked out for the better. My child will be starting school in a much better and far more child-centric school. I know that your school's popularity is short lived. No institution built on dishonesty can survive.
Best regards,
It's been a few months since this happened and although things have worked out for the better, now that Neel is going to start preschool in a far better school by my estimation, I still think back in anger to those days of feeling completely dejected. How on earth can an 18 month old be rejected from anything? How can a baby not fulfill any criteria for a play school or play group. Obviously, it had more to do with us as parents. We just didn't know the right people. Never before had I been exposed to such ridiculousness that is our education system in India. We had been naive. We just didn't think that an 18 month old could become a victim to such a corrupt system so early on in life.
I have since written a letter to the chairman of this school, which my husband won't let me send. I've decided to post it here because I have to vent my anger somehow:
Dear Mr. Chairman,
My 18 month old son's admission application to your pre school was recently rejected. I find it hard to believe how an 18 month old can have any short comings on the basis of which he gets rejected to the first institution he has ever applied to in his life. Yes, I have heard from your
school staff that a fair lucky draw takes place and that the admission procedure is completely transparent. I wasn't invited to any lucky draw event and nor was I witness to any, so I apologise if I don't take your word for it. If the entire procedure is transparent, make it visible and I'm sure us parents would be more than happy to participate.
I live barely 5 minutes away from your preschool and am aware that a couple of children in my neighbourhood have started attending the new session in your school. I have been told that their parents pulled the 'right strings' with the faculty of your school. I obviously was under
the impression that a popular and highly sought after school such as yours would not resort to such 'discriminatory' practices when it came to providing the first step towards a formal education for thousands of innocent young minds. These are just small babies Mr. Chairman. How can a school discriminate one from the other on the basis of what car their parents drive or who they party with on a Friday night?
I was advised by many people to literally stand outside your school everyday and beg for admission for my baby. I do know of many who have done this and they still were rejected. My principles and my self respect would never allow me to grovel for something which is my child's fundamental right. I have been educated in one of the finest boarding schools in India and I sat an admission test at the age of 6 to secure my admission there. I cannot remember seeing my parents bow to such disgracefulness as what is seen in schools such as yours.
Things have however worked out for the better. My child will be starting school in a much better and far more child-centric school. I know that your school's popularity is short lived. No institution built on dishonesty can survive.
Best regards,
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Confessions of a budget travelling mum!
Here's what happens when you travel with a baby, a cranky husband and too much luggage on a budget airline:
1. You risk getting deep vein thrombosis while standing for what seems like eternity in the check in queue at the airport. Trust me, doing a prior web check in doesn't help at all. I'm pretty sure that budgeted airlines have a web check in facility just because...just because!
While in the queue, you're seriously amazed at how well behaved your baby is. "The queue is just a minor hiccup", you think oh so innocently, "this journey is going on be a breeze". You ignore your baby's little squirms.
2. You steer dangerously close to having a nervous break down when after a half hour of standing in the queue and another 20 minutes of system failures, you're handed your boarding pass only to notice that you've been given separate seats at two different ends of the plane. Another 10 minutes of arguing ensues followed by 15 minutes of system corrections.
By now Baby wants out of the stroller. A minor tantrum is starting to take place. You hand him a lollipop and he starts to calm down. You STILL keep the faith!
3. You risk broken bones, bruises and some serious physical injury while trying to board the plane in what seems like a stampede. As soon as the boarding announcement is made, hoards of passengers make a beeline for the plane. You nudge your way through in complete horror.
Baby starts to cry. Can you blame him?
4. You risk a burst blood vessel in your head as you try to control your temper while asking the air hostess, for the umpteenth time, for a baby seat belt. Why is this even an option?
Baby is starting to erupt into a massive tantrum. You've now started making some strange, often embarrassing noises in an attempt to shush baby.
5. You risk scalding yourself and baby as you try and feed yourself while rocking the baby to sleep at the same time. Yup, you guessed it, there are no bassinets on a budget airline.
Baby is exhausted. You heave a sigh of relief!
Once you land and are told that your baby's stroller will be handed over to you right at the other end of the airport, you really don't care. You
somehow drag your tired and battered body out of the plane, heaving a pile of luggage, a baby and an even crankier husband in tow.
Next time ( yes, there will be a next because we always live in hope) I'll remember to get us some travel / medical insurance.
Someone once said, "There are three critical states of human life: illness, captivity and travel". Budget airlines sure have mastered the art of making you experience all three states of mind, all in a matter of a few hours.
1. You risk getting deep vein thrombosis while standing for what seems like eternity in the check in queue at the airport. Trust me, doing a prior web check in doesn't help at all. I'm pretty sure that budgeted airlines have a web check in facility just because...just because!
While in the queue, you're seriously amazed at how well behaved your baby is. "The queue is just a minor hiccup", you think oh so innocently, "this journey is going on be a breeze". You ignore your baby's little squirms.
2. You steer dangerously close to having a nervous break down when after a half hour of standing in the queue and another 20 minutes of system failures, you're handed your boarding pass only to notice that you've been given separate seats at two different ends of the plane. Another 10 minutes of arguing ensues followed by 15 minutes of system corrections.
By now Baby wants out of the stroller. A minor tantrum is starting to take place. You hand him a lollipop and he starts to calm down. You STILL keep the faith!
3. You risk broken bones, bruises and some serious physical injury while trying to board the plane in what seems like a stampede. As soon as the boarding announcement is made, hoards of passengers make a beeline for the plane. You nudge your way through in complete horror.
Baby starts to cry. Can you blame him?
4. You risk a burst blood vessel in your head as you try to control your temper while asking the air hostess, for the umpteenth time, for a baby seat belt. Why is this even an option?
Baby is starting to erupt into a massive tantrum. You've now started making some strange, often embarrassing noises in an attempt to shush baby.
5. You risk scalding yourself and baby as you try and feed yourself while rocking the baby to sleep at the same time. Yup, you guessed it, there are no bassinets on a budget airline.
Baby is exhausted. You heave a sigh of relief!
Once you land and are told that your baby's stroller will be handed over to you right at the other end of the airport, you really don't care. You
somehow drag your tired and battered body out of the plane, heaving a pile of luggage, a baby and an even crankier husband in tow.
Next time ( yes, there will be a next because we always live in hope) I'll remember to get us some travel / medical insurance.
Someone once said, "There are three critical states of human life: illness, captivity and travel". Budget airlines sure have mastered the art of making you experience all three states of mind, all in a matter of a few hours.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Airports and planes
Our little family seems to have caught the travel bug! Since his birth Neel's been on close to twenty flights, 6 different countries and eaten god alone knows how many different cuisines. And he's only two!
Travelling with a baby / toddler is really difficult. They can be irritable, fussy with their food, have constant tantrums at airports (most of these are in the immigration queue) and turn into unrecognisable monsters (well, mine does anyway!).
The biggest nightmare has got to be the packing. Don't ever expect to travel light with a baby. Your case will be bursting at it's seams with diapers, creams, formula, bottled food, snacks, toys and basically everything your baby needs except the kitchen sink (you have the baby wipes for that). On top of all that you'll have to pack a separate baby bag as cabin luggage for the flight. Here's the challenge: you have to pack toys, food, bottles, formula, snacks, diapers, wipes and whatever else you may need for the journey all into one baby bag and get this, it all has to be under seven kilograms! Most airlines will allow ten kilograms for a baby under two (their generosity knows no bounds!). I have however travelled by one airline who didn't allow my baby any baggage weight, not even a cabin bag!!
Airports and planes I feel are the most child unfriendly places. I usually have palpitations days before a flight and make obsessive lists for practically everything. Neel loves the open spaces of an airport and usually runs wild while we're standing in endless queues. He pushes trolleys and bangs it into everyone and everything in his way while nearly getting run over himself. He drags one of our wheelie bags all over the place feeling terribly important. Nik and I have minor heart attacks the whole time before boarding.
Once we've boarded the plane, Neel's excitement starts to peak. He still hasn't got his head around the fact that he's INSIDE a plane. He instead goes completely ballistic about the planes he can see on the Tarmac outside. While Neel does near cartwheels on my lap, Nik and I start frantically preparing formula in a bottle for take off, keep pacifiers handy and somehow stuff a sippy cup in the magazine holder. I also shove some small toys and crayons down the side of my seat or anywhere. Nik prepares his iPhone in it's plane mode so Neel can play some games later.
Recently, Neel has been a little more aware of take offs and landings. His eyes were like plates the last time our plane took off and I'm not sure if he's figured that he's actually up in the sky. An hour after we're airborne and after a few more minor tantrums and heart attacks, Neel finally settles down to sleep. I think that the sound of the engines lull him to sleep plus of course he's exhausted after running riot in the airport.
So if it is such a bother, why do we travel so much with Neel? It's because HE has fun. He loves the change, the freedom, the attention and the chance to see so many different things. Travelling is our way of teaching him and exposing him things he could never see staying at home. And most of all, it's our way of spending special time with our baby.
We've just returned from a holiday in Bali and I can't wait for our next trip along with it's share of anxiety and heart attacks.
Bring em on!
Travelling with a baby / toddler is really difficult. They can be irritable, fussy with their food, have constant tantrums at airports (most of these are in the immigration queue) and turn into unrecognisable monsters (well, mine does anyway!).
The biggest nightmare has got to be the packing. Don't ever expect to travel light with a baby. Your case will be bursting at it's seams with diapers, creams, formula, bottled food, snacks, toys and basically everything your baby needs except the kitchen sink (you have the baby wipes for that). On top of all that you'll have to pack a separate baby bag as cabin luggage for the flight. Here's the challenge: you have to pack toys, food, bottles, formula, snacks, diapers, wipes and whatever else you may need for the journey all into one baby bag and get this, it all has to be under seven kilograms! Most airlines will allow ten kilograms for a baby under two (their generosity knows no bounds!). I have however travelled by one airline who didn't allow my baby any baggage weight, not even a cabin bag!!
Airports and planes I feel are the most child unfriendly places. I usually have palpitations days before a flight and make obsessive lists for practically everything. Neel loves the open spaces of an airport and usually runs wild while we're standing in endless queues. He pushes trolleys and bangs it into everyone and everything in his way while nearly getting run over himself. He drags one of our wheelie bags all over the place feeling terribly important. Nik and I have minor heart attacks the whole time before boarding.
Once we've boarded the plane, Neel's excitement starts to peak. He still hasn't got his head around the fact that he's INSIDE a plane. He instead goes completely ballistic about the planes he can see on the Tarmac outside. While Neel does near cartwheels on my lap, Nik and I start frantically preparing formula in a bottle for take off, keep pacifiers handy and somehow stuff a sippy cup in the magazine holder. I also shove some small toys and crayons down the side of my seat or anywhere. Nik prepares his iPhone in it's plane mode so Neel can play some games later.
Recently, Neel has been a little more aware of take offs and landings. His eyes were like plates the last time our plane took off and I'm not sure if he's figured that he's actually up in the sky. An hour after we're airborne and after a few more minor tantrums and heart attacks, Neel finally settles down to sleep. I think that the sound of the engines lull him to sleep plus of course he's exhausted after running riot in the airport.
So if it is such a bother, why do we travel so much with Neel? It's because HE has fun. He loves the change, the freedom, the attention and the chance to see so many different things. Travelling is our way of teaching him and exposing him things he could never see staying at home. And most of all, it's our way of spending special time with our baby.
We've just returned from a holiday in Bali and I can't wait for our next trip along with it's share of anxiety and heart attacks.
Bring em on!
Friday, April 15, 2011
Battling The Bulge
Karisma Kapoor (or is it Kapur? I'd Google it but can't be bothered!), Jennifer Lopez, Angelina Jolie....what do they have in common? For starters, they're all moms. They also gave birth around about the same time I did. The really annoying part? They all are super thin, probably thinner and fitter than they were before getting pregnant. And if that wasn't enough, J Lo and Jolie (huh, I never really noticed the similarity in their names before!) are mothers to twins!! I mean, is there no justice in this World? Here I am chasing Neel all over the house day in day out. I rarely get to finish a meal at leisure and usually I'm on my feet till the time that most normal people are tucked cosily in their beds...And I'm battling the bulge??? WHERE IS THE JUSTICE?
Never in my life have I had to worry about my weight. I even used to wear 'extra small' at some stores and during my study stint in the UK, I actually shopped in many children's departments. But, that was then and the reality of now is that waist down, I'm one big WOBBLE. That's something I just have to deal with. Forget about the gym or the treadmill. I'd probably drop dead of exhaustion if I did any more physical activity and I'm no glutten for punishment.
I have to confess though, it did cross my mind that perhaps this mid-rift bulge has its worth. Neel often uses it as a pillow. I guess god just made me cuddly enough for him! And a big hug to Nik for suggesting that I'm not fat, I just have some 'curves'. Beat that Jolie!
Never in my life have I had to worry about my weight. I even used to wear 'extra small' at some stores and during my study stint in the UK, I actually shopped in many children's departments. But, that was then and the reality of now is that waist down, I'm one big WOBBLE. That's something I just have to deal with. Forget about the gym or the treadmill. I'd probably drop dead of exhaustion if I did any more physical activity and I'm no glutten for punishment.
I have to confess though, it did cross my mind that perhaps this mid-rift bulge has its worth. Neel often uses it as a pillow. I guess god just made me cuddly enough for him! And a big hug to Nik for suggesting that I'm not fat, I just have some 'curves'. Beat that Jolie!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
When it was 'Bump and I'
I can never understand why women love being pregnant. I was a real grouch all through my pregnancy and frankly, I was so glad when it was all over with. I had plenty of time to kill during those months, which in hindsight seem perfectly blissful now. My weight gain was out of control,my hormones were all over the place and just about every human being who interacted with me got on my bloody nerves! So, in order to rant a bit I wrote about my pet peeves. Reading it now makes me smile and really puts in to perspective how life has changed so much since then.
PERSONAL PILE OF PREGGIE PEEVES
“Relax honey, it’s the one and only time you can kick your feet up and enjoy letting yourself go completely”. That’s what I usually hear every time I moan about my nine-month odyssey to motherhood. Yes, I am pregnant and although I feel very fortunate most of the time, I do have to confess that I have moments when I could tear my hair out in exasperation. Nobody ever tells you that apart from being the most ‘wonderful’ experience in your life, pregnancy brings with it an unimaginable amount of annoying and anxious moments. Below is my personal pile of pregnancy peeves, a small way of venting my frustrations. It’s better than thumping my husband! Just kidding!
Preggie Peeve (PP) Number 1 – Belly Touching
As soon as it was obvious that I was pregnant, my belly instantly became public property. I sometimes wonder whether I have a ‘rub my belly’ sticker stuck to me. I’ve had people rub my belly without any warning. Most of these people aren’t even good friends. Maybe it’s an act of affection and concern, but I’d rather people didn’t encroach my space boundaries and understood that touching or rubbing any part of my body, pregnancy or not, is completely off limits! So next time someone rubs my bulging bump, I’ve decided to rub their wobbly bellies in response. I can’t wait to see their reactions!
PP Number 2 – Losing every ounce of dignity
Since becoming pregnant, I’ve been poked, prodded and probed in the most embarrassing of places. Ever since my first visit to the doctor, when I had to drop my pants nearly four times within the span of a day, I’ve been mooning non stop to nurses, radiologists and of course my doctor. Although I’ve had it more often then most, it is inevitable for pregnant women to be ‘exposed’ to some moments of unabashed mortification. By the end of it, you stop being shy and moon away and hope that the ordeal will be over soon.
PP Number 3 – Lets not go there
Why is it okay to suddenly pry in to my private life? Now that I am pregnant, I am suddenly being bombarded with the most personal questions that either leave me completely dumbfounded or leave me stumbling desperately for some sort of a response. Here are the most annoying ones:
Usual question: Were you trying?
My usual response: errrm…I don’t know..heh heh!
What my response should be: Trying what?
Usual question: How long were you trying for?
My usual response: errrm…I don’t know..heh heh!
What my response should be: None of your bleedin’ beeswax, you nosy busybody!
Usual question: Why are you always anxious? You know, the more anxious you feel, the worse for the baby.
My usual response: I know, I can’t really help it.
What my response should be: Thank you, Miss Know it all! I’m becoming more anxious just by you saying that.
Usual question: So, how’s the baby doing?
My usual response: Fine thanks!
What my response should be: I have absolutely no idea. I’m not carrying a portable ultrasound machine in my handbag so your guess is as good as mine.
PP Number 4 – Stares
Its nice being smiled at and being greeted by people who can’t really be bothered saying hi to me in normal circumstances. It is however a little disconcerting that all the “hellos” and “good mornings” are being directed at my tummy instead. People stare at my belly everyday scrutinizing its size, secretly contemplating whether it has grown since the previous day and wondering in awe whether there is any space left in it at all. I sometimes feel like the first and the only pregnant woman in the world. It’s bad enough looking (and feeling) like a sack of potatoes in my oversized maternity pants, so go stick your eye balls somewhere else!
PP Number 5 – Planning Number 2
“Keep all the baby furniture and the clothes for your second baby.” I’m beginning to hear that piece of unsolicited advice more often everyday and I’m still to pop baby number one. Frankly, I’m too caught up with worry about issues with weight gain, fear of labor pain, swollen feet, back pain, etc to actually consider doing all this all over again. Maybe someday I will plan bump number two but for now I’d rather just get through each day without you planning my entire life for me. By the way, while you’re at it, plan my baby’s college education as well. That’ll really help!
PPP Number 6 – Everyone knows better
I must be the biggest pregnant nitwit ever! Every woman I know, who has previously been pregnant, always seems to know my problems better than me and obviously claims she never had those problems in the first place. The next time anyone says, “some women give birth in the fields and then go back to work immediately afterwards”, I am going to scream! I really don’t want to hear the heroic birthing stories of women working in paddy fields and I certainly don’t want to hear another synopsis of your perfect nine month glory.
PPP Number 7 – CLOTHES!
You’d think that with a population as large as ours and with maternity hospitals bursting at their seams, there would be no dearth of proper maternity wear in India. Far from it! Those that are available are either terribly over priced or look like shapeless tents. Having now tried desperately to fit in to my old pre-preggie clothes and risking looking like an elephant in a tutu, I’ve now reconciled to the fact that I will have to wear extra large salwar kameezes and look like a floating ship for the next few months. Emotionally though it is terribly draining to remind myself constantly by chanting “I am sexy. I feel sexy. I am beautiful”. Here’s to me being forever optimistic!
PPP Number 8 – It’s always the hormones!
Even a sigh doesn’t go unnoticed nowadays. It’s always my hormones! Ah yes, the dreaded hormones are on the loose and are having somewhat of a nine month shindig inside me, but that doesn’t mean that every time I scowl or pout it’s because of my bouncing hormones. Okay so I sniffled my way constantly through ‘Marley & Me’, but give me a break, you’ve got to be made of stone to not cry when the dog dies in the movie.
I know this will all be worth it when my little mini-me finally makes an appearance. Just looking at the ultrasound pictures makes me gush with emotions. So now that I’ve got my pile of peeves off my chest, I’m going to sit back and enjoy my chocolate cake while I swat those pesky and interfering loud mouths with my new electric fly swatter. I bought it for this very purpose. Blitz!
PERSONAL PILE OF PREGGIE PEEVES
“Relax honey, it’s the one and only time you can kick your feet up and enjoy letting yourself go completely”. That’s what I usually hear every time I moan about my nine-month odyssey to motherhood. Yes, I am pregnant and although I feel very fortunate most of the time, I do have to confess that I have moments when I could tear my hair out in exasperation. Nobody ever tells you that apart from being the most ‘wonderful’ experience in your life, pregnancy brings with it an unimaginable amount of annoying and anxious moments. Below is my personal pile of pregnancy peeves, a small way of venting my frustrations. It’s better than thumping my husband! Just kidding!
Preggie Peeve (PP) Number 1 – Belly Touching
As soon as it was obvious that I was pregnant, my belly instantly became public property. I sometimes wonder whether I have a ‘rub my belly’ sticker stuck to me. I’ve had people rub my belly without any warning. Most of these people aren’t even good friends. Maybe it’s an act of affection and concern, but I’d rather people didn’t encroach my space boundaries and understood that touching or rubbing any part of my body, pregnancy or not, is completely off limits! So next time someone rubs my bulging bump, I’ve decided to rub their wobbly bellies in response. I can’t wait to see their reactions!
PP Number 2 – Losing every ounce of dignity
Since becoming pregnant, I’ve been poked, prodded and probed in the most embarrassing of places. Ever since my first visit to the doctor, when I had to drop my pants nearly four times within the span of a day, I’ve been mooning non stop to nurses, radiologists and of course my doctor. Although I’ve had it more often then most, it is inevitable for pregnant women to be ‘exposed’ to some moments of unabashed mortification. By the end of it, you stop being shy and moon away and hope that the ordeal will be over soon.
PP Number 3 – Lets not go there
Why is it okay to suddenly pry in to my private life? Now that I am pregnant, I am suddenly being bombarded with the most personal questions that either leave me completely dumbfounded or leave me stumbling desperately for some sort of a response. Here are the most annoying ones:
Usual question: Were you trying?
My usual response: errrm…I don’t know..heh heh!
What my response should be: Trying what?
Usual question: How long were you trying for?
My usual response: errrm…I don’t know..heh heh!
What my response should be: None of your bleedin’ beeswax, you nosy busybody!
Usual question: Why are you always anxious? You know, the more anxious you feel, the worse for the baby.
My usual response: I know, I can’t really help it.
What my response should be: Thank you, Miss Know it all! I’m becoming more anxious just by you saying that.
Usual question: So, how’s the baby doing?
My usual response: Fine thanks!
What my response should be: I have absolutely no idea. I’m not carrying a portable ultrasound machine in my handbag so your guess is as good as mine.
PP Number 4 – Stares
Its nice being smiled at and being greeted by people who can’t really be bothered saying hi to me in normal circumstances. It is however a little disconcerting that all the “hellos” and “good mornings” are being directed at my tummy instead. People stare at my belly everyday scrutinizing its size, secretly contemplating whether it has grown since the previous day and wondering in awe whether there is any space left in it at all. I sometimes feel like the first and the only pregnant woman in the world. It’s bad enough looking (and feeling) like a sack of potatoes in my oversized maternity pants, so go stick your eye balls somewhere else!
PP Number 5 – Planning Number 2
“Keep all the baby furniture and the clothes for your second baby.” I’m beginning to hear that piece of unsolicited advice more often everyday and I’m still to pop baby number one. Frankly, I’m too caught up with worry about issues with weight gain, fear of labor pain, swollen feet, back pain, etc to actually consider doing all this all over again. Maybe someday I will plan bump number two but for now I’d rather just get through each day without you planning my entire life for me. By the way, while you’re at it, plan my baby’s college education as well. That’ll really help!
PPP Number 6 – Everyone knows better
I must be the biggest pregnant nitwit ever! Every woman I know, who has previously been pregnant, always seems to know my problems better than me and obviously claims she never had those problems in the first place. The next time anyone says, “some women give birth in the fields and then go back to work immediately afterwards”, I am going to scream! I really don’t want to hear the heroic birthing stories of women working in paddy fields and I certainly don’t want to hear another synopsis of your perfect nine month glory.
PPP Number 7 – CLOTHES!
You’d think that with a population as large as ours and with maternity hospitals bursting at their seams, there would be no dearth of proper maternity wear in India. Far from it! Those that are available are either terribly over priced or look like shapeless tents. Having now tried desperately to fit in to my old pre-preggie clothes and risking looking like an elephant in a tutu, I’ve now reconciled to the fact that I will have to wear extra large salwar kameezes and look like a floating ship for the next few months. Emotionally though it is terribly draining to remind myself constantly by chanting “I am sexy. I feel sexy. I am beautiful”. Here’s to me being forever optimistic!
PPP Number 8 – It’s always the hormones!
Even a sigh doesn’t go unnoticed nowadays. It’s always my hormones! Ah yes, the dreaded hormones are on the loose and are having somewhat of a nine month shindig inside me, but that doesn’t mean that every time I scowl or pout it’s because of my bouncing hormones. Okay so I sniffled my way constantly through ‘Marley & Me’, but give me a break, you’ve got to be made of stone to not cry when the dog dies in the movie.
I know this will all be worth it when my little mini-me finally makes an appearance. Just looking at the ultrasound pictures makes me gush with emotions. So now that I’ve got my pile of peeves off my chest, I’m going to sit back and enjoy my chocolate cake while I swat those pesky and interfering loud mouths with my new electric fly swatter. I bought it for this very purpose. Blitz!
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