Mom is the name…CHAOS is the game

Welcome to my world! Guided reading with my 4.5 year old!!!! Sometimes I want to curl up in a corner, weep and drink Vodka. But unfortunately such activities are frowned upon when you are a Mom!!!!

This is Mom.

Mom is helping Anika to learn to read.

This is Anika.

Anika has no intention whatsoever of learning to read.

Mom sits down on the sofa and tells Anika to come and sit next to her with her book.

Anika leaps onto Mom’s lap, elbows her roughly in the groin and knocks half a cup of cold tea over her.

Mom wipes cold tea out of her cleavages and asks Anika to open the book.

Anika tells Mom that she is “thirsty, so thirsty that I think I might DIE”.

Mom gets Anika a drink.

Mom asks Anika to open the book.

Anika tells Mom that she is going to wet herself, “if I don’t go to the toilet right NOW”.

Anika goes to the toilet.

Anika comes back.

Mom asks Anika if she washed her hands.

Anika goes back to the toilet.

Mom asks Anika if she washed her hands with soap.

Anika goes back to the toilet.

Mom and Anika sit down to read the book.

Mom reads the title of the book.

Anika loses her shit because she didn’t get to read the title of the book.

Mom tells Anika to calm the fuck down and asks her to read the first word on the page.

Anika stares at the page for roughly half an eternity.

Mom checks that Anika has not gone into some kind of hypnotic trance and suggests she tries reading the first letter instead.

“D,” says Anika.

Mom wildly applauds and tells Anika to read the next letters.

“D…O…G,” said Anika.

Mom inwardly rejoices at the child prodigy she is clearly raising.

“And what does that say?” asks Mom.

“D…O…G…spells……………….. APPLE!” shouts Anika.

“Fuck my life,” says Mom.

There are two sentences and six words on the first page of Anika’s book.

It takes forty-two minutes to get to the end of the first page.

Anika is yet to sound out a single word with even the vaguest modicum of accuracy.

Mom’s soul was leached from her body and systematically shredded into tiny confetti-sized pieces approximately forty-one minutes and fifty-five seconds ago.

Ashita Didi comes home and sees Mom and Anika on the sofa.

“Reading together!” exclaims Didi rejoicing. “What fun! Aren’t you lucky, having time to do that!”

Mom explains to Didi where she plans on keeping Anika’s reading book the next time she makes a foolish statement like that.

Mom leaves Didi and Anika with the reading book and goes into the kitchen.

“W…I…N….E,” sounds out Mom.

 

Anika is not ready for reading yet.

Unfortunately, as schools are forced to test small children at every opportunity they can’t possibly allow her to develop in her own time!

As a parent of a 4.5 and a 10 year old it’s acceptable to have 2 glasses as I enter the school grounds. I deserve it!

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I choose HAPPINESS!

If I had quit every time someone told me I shouldn’t or couldn’t, I wouldn’t get to do what I do and make a difference in my small corner of the world.

Will their opinions matter when I’m 70???

Brave means different things to different people at different times. Be brave today, even if all you do is breathe.

This is so true. I was in a real rut the last few years and hit rock bottom 2017. Decided to take control back. I’m still eating well, clean, healthy and started keeping myself fit. It’s amazing how much all that has changed my life and my self worth. I am worth it. We all are.

Sometimes I’ve had to restart over and over…it’s okay you just begin again………

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Honestly, the best tip is to go do something. Go for a walk and focus on deep breathing. Motivation is a daily habit. Start making new daily micro-decisions and build from there. You can do this but it takes work and you are so worth that effort.

 

Imagine this : If you had $86, 400 in your account and someone stole $10 from you, would you be upset and throw all of the remaining $86,390 away, in hopes of getting back at the person who took your $10? OR move on and live?

Move On and LIVE!

See, we all have 86,400 seconds each day. Don’t let someone’s negative 10 seconds ruin the remaining 86,390 seconds. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Life is bigger than that.

I started feeling happy and contented when I started leaving small fights for small fighters.

  • I stopped fighting those who gossiped about me…
  • I stopped fighting with my in laws…
  • I stopped fighting for attention…
  • I stopped fighting to meet public expectation of me…
  • I stopped fighting for my rights with stupid people..

I left such fights for those who have nothing else to fight…

And I started fighting for
my vision,
my dreams,
my ideas and
my destiny.

The day I gave up on small fights is the day I started becoming ME. Loved myself more.

Some fights are not worth your time.

People give up on life so often because of the troubles they have lived through. I get it, life is hard in many cases but giving up won’t make it any easier.

At the end of the day, you can decide to live a full life, or you can choose to make excuses.

Your choice. Choose what you fight for wisely!

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Ask me the Time

I have been disciplining my kids too much, I think. What goes in, comes back. The way I’ve been instructing them, my girls are learning well, especially the younger one. Many times in a day I am telling them the right time to do things pointing the watch and what it says, like “It’s eating time”, “It’s sleeping time”’, “It’s playing time” and blah blah blah. Today the little one was wearing her watch and here is our conversation :

ANIKA : Ask me what the time is.

Me : What time is it, ANIKA?

ANIKA : my watch says it’s ICE CREAM time. It says we have to eat the ICE CREAM right now. Can we?

Me : Uh..

ANIKA :

Me :

ANIKA :

Me :

ASHITA : (whispers) Say yes.

ME : (sisters conspiracy I’m sure) Hmmmm

One thing – always – leads to another.

The problem is always the same.

I am looking at Mark from across the glass pane and I’m thinking about the fact that he asked me out – kind of – a few months ago. I loved – Kevin with everything I have to give, but when he storms out of the apartment and disappears without warning for days on end, it’s impossible to not feel left behind. He is nowhere seen, no messages, no calls. I try to stop myself and my mind from spiraling out of control and thinking he’s left me for someone smarter, safer, a wench or a bitch. There’s this worry that he’ll get sick of me. I’ll stop being enough.

And I’m just looking at Mark from across the glass pane but that’s the thing. That’s the one thing that always leads to another. I’ll look at him and he’ll smile, and then I’ll smile, and then he’ll ask if I want to go for a walk. He always know that I need way to clear my head and I always need a reason to avoid the apartment when it is empty.

Then a walk turns into drinks. Neither of us ever drink too much but somehow we always drink enough to feel comfortable saying whatever comes to our mind. Sometimes I tell him how charming he looks when he’s not dressed up for a war and he’ll say how jealous he is that I already have someone to love, and it feels innocent until I’m walking with him back to his car at the parking lot. I linger at his door and from the outside it looks innocent but it feels anything but…..

“Kevin is very lucky,” he’ll say to me every single time. We’ll stare at each other really long and I know that I do that sideways grin that Mark laughs at and I’ll hear him laugh in the back of my head. I’ll feel sick to my stomach, then stumble down the stairs, and then just wave at him. I know he has to go, I want to stop him, stay with me longer than before.

“I think he probably feels the same,” and when I’m walking away from him he says in a flat voice that he thinks I don’t hear: “Probably isn’t the answer you deserve.” I know I should feel more confident in Kevin’s love for me but I think I doubt it because I doubt myself. I doubt if we still miss each other, if he still thinks of me, the missing communication says it all.

And here I am, just looking at him from across the pane wishing that he were Kevin instead of Mark. I know I don’t love him the way he wants me to, and I know that Kevin would dump me if he ever thought I was being anything but a good friend to someone that I trusted with my life, but I don’t stop myself.

One day the real problem won’t be that one thing lead to another but that I let one thing become many things. 

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Mark whispers. I didn’t even see him come up to me. Everything in my head wants to decline, I promise it. I try to recreate that laugh so much. I try to imagine him cooking with me in my kitchen or repairing the iron in his shorts while trying to read his notes from some big conference. I swear I try it all.

For now, though, what’s the harm in one thing? “Sure thing, Mark!”

When my reckoning comes, I hope I get the hell that I deserve.

Happiness is Temporary

I don’t know  why, but on a few occasions I start crying, I think about all the bad things in my life and…..I just get so depressed.

I am not better at all. Everything is shit.

But for you I am just a girl smiling as she passes by.

Sometimes I wish I was a SOCIOPATH. Honestly.

Life would be so much easier without feelings and compassion.

Like sure, if someone you have feelings or feels the same way it can be great, but then they have the opportunity to hurt you so badly. Or just anyone who means a lot to you.

Funny how I start writing, as soon as I feel sad. And it terrifies me how easily I get upset and my whole night can turn bad. I feel like I’m getting into that “I just want to sleep all the time habit”.

I just want to be happy, to be genuinely happy, for a long time. But this sadness keeps coming back. On few days I feel so happy… but now I feel terrible.

Why can’t things just get better permanently for once ???

All things have endings, sometimes happy ones, sometimes bittersweet and sometimes saddest of all.

 

My writing has taken two simultaneous purposes. One to figure out my weaknesses and other to figure out my strength.

Except, If I look close enough, it’s neither that makes me what I am inside. Nor does it compromise a single aspect of my existence. Not when I have a BRAVE HEART.

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And then comes LOVE: “although science could pinpoint the exact spot in the brain that ignites rage, they had yet to identify the location that produces love.”

I’m doing good, as I always say. Because maybe I am. Despite monotone and turbulence, somehow, I am doing okay. On a scale of chirpy to exhausted, I’m dangling right in the middle, but a little bent to the brighter side.

Dandelions and daisies, turned into dried rose petals behind huge glass walls. Numbers are dreadful, but I now know how to complement substitutes and figures with piano tiles; playing my favorite Bollywood song, sometimes I feel all I’ve written has already been written down, told days ago, I feel I say the same things over and over, and YOU listen anyway.

People are beautiful, with their sleep poses and weird expressions and slightly nasal voices when irritated, they undeniably are. I had all the time I wanted and yet I never knew how I suddenly was in a relationship with YOU and how you can literally spend all your time with someone for days and still not know their favorite color , hahahaha.

Friendships are a little like sex, intimate but concealing. Stress has gotten to my head and every time I try to spit words like venom out of my system, my eyes smile a little less than they did the last time.

But I would say Happiness is still temporary!!

I wonder what life would have been, If you were here

I think about you constantly.

I wonder what life would be like if you were still here. I imagine all of the things you’d say. I imagine all of the different adventures we would have gone on.

I wonder who I would be if you were here. I wonder what we would all be like. I think about all of the different ways things would’ve turned out with you in our lives.

I miss you all the time. I miss you so much that my heart hurts. My heart literally clenches tightly when I think of you, as though it’s trying to hold itself together while my thoughts try and tear it apart.

Time is supposed to heal all wounds but, it seems as though time just provided me with a band-aid that gets old and falls off more often than not.

I know you’d hate it, but I still cry for you. I still sit up at night and wish that you were here. I still talk to you and ask you for advice.

I can’t help but want you here. Life has moved on but my heart and emotions haven’t. I can’t move on.

I have your picture everywhere. I think it’s because I’m afraid that one day I’ll forget your face.

God… I hope that never happens.

I don’t remember your voice anymore. I remember things you said, but it’s been so long that your voice has faded from memory.

I refuse to let you fade completely.

I won’t do that to myself. You are the memory that I cling to when things get bad. You are the hope I hold onto when things get dark.

I need you, and your memory is all I have left. So, I’ll keep it alive for you.

I will carry you in my heart wherever I go in life. I will petition God to have you as my guardian angel if that’s what it takes to keep you with me.

I know that you are up there watching me. I know you look down and keep guard over me.

I can only hope that I’m making you proud. I can only hope that I’m what you imagined I’d be in life. I can only hope that you’re smiling at me and not up there shaking your head.

I won’t hope that you miss me as much as I miss you, because missing you is painful. Missing someone is too painful for Heaven to allow inside its gates. It’s too painful for me to wish on anyone, especially you.

I love you.

And I miss you more than you’ll ever realize.

I miss my DAD

My younger one was 3.5 months when she lost her father. She holds no memories of her daddy and never asks questions or brings him up. She is a happy, well-adjusted, smart, and lovable four years old. She just also happens to be a kid who’s dad died way too young. Truth be told, I don’t worry about my younger one nearly as much as I do my older daughter, because she was a little older and seems to have a harder time with her loss.

This all changed recently.

As we drove to a trip to Pondicherry my little lady piped up from playing on the beach and said:

“Mommy, I miss my daddy.”

Just like that, out of the random blue, and like a sword, through my heart, she uttered those words that rendered me utterly speechless. Through quiet tears and a cracked-voiced, I just responded…

“I know buddy, and I miss him too.”

We continued to talk about HIM, and as the questions poured out of her, I could see by the expression on her little face that it was all soaking in. She continued to probe until she was done and the subject changed just as quickly as it had come up in the first place.

 

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I dropped my happy go lucky little girl from my hand, and she ran off laughing and smiling like she always does. However, I was left reeling and feeling a pain that has become all too familiar in the past four years. Through quiet reflection and lots of deep breaths, I came to a straightforward conclusion.

I can’t fix this.

There is nothing I can do to give my children their father back. There is nothing I can do to give them their innocence lost or security they may have had in their invincible parents back. Death stole these things from them, and I am incapable of fixing that reality.

My kids know loss.

My kids know death.

My kids miss their dad. Period.

End of story. End of discussion.

Or is it?

What my children also know is resiliency.

They know that life is made up of choices and that when all seems lost, we can still make the choices in this life to be and do more. They know from a tender age that bad things happen, but that buoyancy can help to carry them through very dark days. They have learned that why we may never move ON, we can move forward in a new and different path.

My children know love.

They know that people die, but even in death we still can love them beyond this world. They know that the people who remain in their present life love them deeply and care for their happiness. They know that community matters, choices matter, LIFE matters.

My children know joy.

We practice happiness in our house because we have known the worst sadness possible. We grasp at the good and practice counting the blessing that surrounds us daily.

I can’t fix what has happened in our lives.

All I can do is continue to live, answer the hard questions when they come up, and show my babies why we all deserve to live a beautiful life.