Desicritics

First Day Of School And Anxious Parents

Deepti Lamba — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 05:44:22 EDT

Anxiety is an emotion difficult to counter. About three hundred parents thronged the cafeteria area and the courtyard while their barely three year olds attended their first day at school yesterday morning. Lots of tears were shed by the tots, teachers seemed distracted and the bus drivers were stalked and harassed by irate parents.

The otherwise tranquil school was in chaos. Dealing with parents especially with the newbie ones was tough. The school staff were polite, helpful but authoritative.

Parents strained against the railings, those having gone through similar experience the previous year where more relaxed and chatty. Some complained about the school and others remained mostly quiet.

Most came without eating their breakfast and like little children they strained against each other trying to get their order delivered first at the cafeteria. They hadn't forgotten their socialist upbringing- jump the queue, be rude, shove, push and never mind that you might be bumping into each other for the rest of the children's school years.

For about three hours we parents puttered around. Some of us exchanged numbers and some were seen sitting on the steps working on their laptops, some held work calls, some worried about the little ones left alone with the servants back home and a few were seen nodding off.

When the kids were let off section by section the wave of anxiety intensified. As the tots walked down the stairs parents reached out to clutch their children. A couple of mothers opened up the kids bags, saw the barely touched tiffins and complained, others demanded whether the teachers and aayas would accompany the kids which they were already doing.

Yellow school buses drove up the driveway, parents boarded the buses with their kids to make sure the buses stopped at the right bus stops, some got off to make their kids use the loo before the bus started and some fed their kids their tiffins and went on complaining about the number of kids in the classes, the early commute, the fees etc.

I sat with my kids in the front seat of the bus, eavesdropped but kept my mouth shut. It was exciting to see people out of their element. Some reacting with humor and patience and others getting harried, aggressive and defensive.

The buses drove off with parents, kids, teachers and aayas. Fights happened over the bus- stops, the route, I fell asleep with Parita curled up on my lap, woke up and found we were still trudging down the route no where close to our stop which incidentally happens to be the last stop and first to be picked up from.

The teacher sat next to me. Waves of anxiety from parents, kids, the teacher, aaya and the driver continued to ebb and flow. The cellphones continued to ring between the fathers who were following the bus (yes, there was an entire entourage of cars following the buses) and the mothers sitting in the bus.

It was an event I basked in. Never again will I experience others anxiety at such close quarters or their tender apprehensions for the apple of their eyes while they attended their first day at school.

Fiona MacKeown's Concept Of Freedom

Deepti Lamba — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 10:53:39 EDT

How many times have we heard our parents say to us, "Till the time you are under my roof you do as I say!"?

Frequently, I guess. They invaded our privacy, befriended our friends parents, set up spying networks with other parents , went through our personal diaries and mails, eyed our paramours and despite all our teenage hormonal rampages told us that what they did was for our own good, that they trusted us but not the world.

Those of us who saw love behind their actions forgave them but some did the rebel with a cause routine and further aggravated the situation.

Yes, 15 year olds do push their boundaries, they do get nasty, become head strong and like two year olds going through temper tantrums they refuse to listen to reason.

Do parents then bail out on them? The answer is a definite No!

In the movie Juno, the young teen has sex with her boyfriend and gets pregnant. She has a tough time breaking the news to her father and step mother.

Hard news for the parents to swallow but they were relieved that she was pregnant but not into drugs.

Initially I couldn't comprehend their reaction but as the movie progressed, Juno's father's and step mother's protective attitude towards their daughter, their silent support through her period of turmoil, while all the time respecting her need for privacy were sure signs of good parenting.

Parents know their children and their wild streaks. It is hard to direct them the right way once they are teenagers but one doesn't abandon them or begin to treat them like adults without making sure there is a safety net for them.

Though Juno had sex and then made an adult decision to give the baby up for adoption, but her father knew she was still just a teenager. She was still his child and he was going to make sure she wasn't taken for a ride. Thats what parents do.

Definitely not abandon them with their 25 year old boyfriend and his aged Auntie. Fiona Mackeown admitted she used to do Hashish but gave up when she saw her son doing it. She knew her daughter was sexually active, used to smoke cannabis and drink beer or Bacardi but was never out of control.

Then she proceeded to say that she regretted letting Scarlett return to Anjuna Beach, and like any 15 year old she was pushing her boundaries.

Drugs, sex and the determination to have adult freedom at any cost. No parent would in their right mind let a teenager with such habits out of their sights within their hometown, let alone in a strange country, especially in a place like Goa known for drugs and deviant behavior.

It was like leaving a child in a candy store thinking the tot won't go on a binge.

Scarlett was to stay with her boyfriend, take a bus to Karnataka every now and then, and meet her mother and siblings.

A 15 year old traveling alone in a country like India? What was the mother thinking?

Scarlett reportedly hooked up with the tour guide she was left with, then he and his aunt threw her out of the villa, she stayed at a guest house, ran out of money, got drunk, drugged, allegedly raped and was left for dead.

Fiona MacKeown returned and found out that her daughter had been raped and murdered and excused her own negligent behavior with "I didn't understand the culture or the mindset of the Goan boys, right up to when she was killed."

Didn't understand the culture? Maybe in her hippie world no one did anyone wrong but in Goa where the seedy underbelly is well known, what was the mother thinking by letting her child return to such a decadent place where in the month of January alone 16 foreigners had reportedly died?

Maybe in the hippie world, Freedom means not being able to say Over my dead body. Maybe it means getting stoned and having free sex and believing in everyone's Buddha nature but it all has consequences. .

Unfortunately for MacKeown, her free lifestyle cost her daughter's life. Yes, Goa should be safe, yes, there are lots of Indians who are racist and criminal in their intent and I agree the government and the Goan police should be pulled up for letting Goa become a sleaze joint, but that does not take away the mother's culpability in this entire tragedy.

She failed in the first rule of parenting - watching your child's back especially in a strange country.

Hoodwinking And YouTubing A Child's Humiliation

Deepti Lamba — Sun, 2 Mar 2008 09:15:08 EST

This video had me fuming. A kid named Jonathan had been 'had' by his insensitive family when they gave him clothes in an XBox carton. The poor kid was heartbroken, his family snickered and his older brother uploaded the video on YouTube to share his younger sibling's humiliation with the world.

Engadget featured the story and were so mad that they decided to send him an XBox and they were flooded with hundreds of emails from readers and from Microsoft wanting to help out the child.

What made me mad was just not the prank but the brother telling his brother- You know we cannot afford an XBox as if that gave legitimacy to the hoodwinking.

We all know that feeling when as kids we wanted something so bad that we could taste it and many a times our parents used our need to teach us the value of money or not to bow down to peer pressure in case we used the excuse that everyone has it and so should we.

But to play such a prank was mean. All they had to do was sit the kid down and tell him that they couldn't afford the console- plain and simple- their family couldn't afford such a novelty.

On digg, the story was dug over four thousand times and most considered the family to be douche bags. To some extent, sure, they completely lacked sense of humor but to say they were the worst parents was taking it too far.

Worst parents are those who leave their baby in car seat for eight days and play their video games causing the baby's death. Now that's neglect and abuse. The family obviously kept him warm, well fed and loved just that they lacked basic human sensitivity.

What happened in this case was an obnoxious prank that should not have been played on a kid. Adults have better coping mechanisms and generally are able to laugh these things off but to do this to a boy no more than eight or nine was just heartbreaking for most of us adults who watched the video.

Childhood Fights - Bonding Or Juvenile Misdemeanors?

Deepti Lamba — Wed, 6 Feb 2008 04:07:51 EST

When I saw this picture I found myself remembering the physical fights I had with my elder sister as kids. We loved each other, watched each others' backs but fought like stray cats.

Neighborhood fights were also common. We were as ferocious as the boys and knew the only way we could command respect was if we were ruthless in our fights with them. I was the nastiest of them all - the dirty tomboy who was particularly nasty to a little boy called Monty.

I used to pick on him always. Beat him up because I had a big crush on him. I was five back then and he a year older. When his family moved, I felt bad but forgot about him pretty soon.

As years passed, we stopped having physical fights. My elder sister and I verbally lashed out at each other or simply stopped speaking to each other for days on end. Our mixed gang of boys and girls broke.

People moved out, a new crowd came in, studies became paramount and we all hid behind our masks of social shyness. We were civilized teenagers who no longer gamboled around.

Once in a while we got to hear of 'cat fights' in the school loo but those too were rare and only a few 'boy' crazy girls had territorial fights over hapless dudes.

Thats how my life was until I was ten years old and was told that girls don't fight nor do they play with boys. I became a proper lady and reserved towards boys.

A couple of years later, Monty returned. His parents were visiting a neighbor and my mother dragged me over to meet them.

I saw Monty sitting in a room alone. He was a scrawny youth all grown up He was sixteen and I was fifteen. I found myself remembering all the nasty things I had done to him.

I felt embarrassed and didn't go over to talk to him. He didn't know I was looking in on him. He was reading a book. I returned home. We both had grown up, our fights were in the past and we were complete strangers towards each other.

Today, most of us, whether men or women, abhor violence but children tend to shove, punch and bite. Bullying is another problem that kids face. Children can be cruel and often they don't tell adults the kind of violence they face from their peer- its an unspoken code of conduct- either you stand up for yourself or be a part of an alpha person's group and with easy access to parent's guns we have tragedies on our hands.

What we used to settle with our fists and split lips has now taken a dangerous turn. Which is why even though I remember my childhood fighting days with nostalgia I now believe in a zero tolerance policy towards fighting in schools, playgrounds and to keep an eye on kids even on playdates.

Those days when we could sit back and say 'let the kids sort it out' are gone. Now the kids too have to play by adult rules for their own well being.

The Secret To Losing Weight

Deepti Lamba — Fri, 7 Dec 2007 10:07:46 EST

Want to lose weight without going on some exotic diet or sweating on a machine? Simple, get rid of your maids! Yes, I do mean your part-timer, your full timers, your nanny, and while you are at it - even your driver. You’d be up at six in the morning packing tiffins, making breakfasts, kissing the family good bye, maybe dropping hubby to work and returning only to clean up your house. Since most of us don’t have wall-to-wall carpets you’d be sweeping the floors on a bended back, wiping the floors on your hunches (if you are chicken like me, probably on your knees), dusting, making the beds, doing the laundry (for your sake I do hope you have a washing machine) Finally realizing that your kitchen wasn’t kept pristine clean by the maid you’d be back to cleaning, scrubbing and maybe redoing the dishes. The DISHES!

No need to do bench presses, your hands will forever be loving and cleaning those dishes, cups and their pretty little saucers, not to mention stuff like those big Pateelas, frying pans etc need I say more?

By the time you’d have time to breathe easy it would be early afternoon and if you have young tots returning all famished by lunch time, it would be back into the kitchen slaving over the stove, cleaning the pots and pans, the kitchen and with you wondering in the middle – Maybe a cup of tea in the middle? No, no – an extra pan! I cannot clean another pan. Suddenly tea would be too much of an effort. Your body will crave caffeine and sugar but your mind will be adamant in its decision that it’s being cruel to be kind.

No Sugar – an awesome way to diet.

Kiddies will come home or maybe you’d have to pick them up at the bus stop, a little cat nap in the car while waiting would probably be a good idea; not that the bus would leave with your kids. After the little nap and kiddies in the back you’d return home.

You’d have to change them, feed them, clean the dishes, referee their fights, try to get them to sleep and if they are balls of relentless energies like mine, you’d probably be babysitting them through the afternoon. Maybe you’d grab a bite if you have the time or maybe if you go as insane as I do, you won’t.

Come evening you’d be doggone tired but by then it would be again kitchen time; milk and sandwiches for the little pumpkins and dinner to be made. Ah, dinner - the one affair that all Stepford Wives are proud of. It wouldn’t seem so appealing but rarely do mothers and wives offer Cheerios for dinner, especially on weekdays.

Your body will complain but the perfectionist in you will egg you on - You are better than those witches you paid hard earned money to. You can do it, make better food, clean your home better and guess what? There is less wastage in the kitchen and you spend more time with your babies.

Our bodies once in a while can be fooled by pep talk and you’d find yourself cooking the best meal ever. It would be a labor of love - palak paneer, dal makhani, rice, paranthas, salad and a cake to end it all with.

Oh yeah! You’d be putting in the whole day instead of the one hour in a pricey gym – working those muscles all the way.

With the evening winding down and the kids too, by eight they will be in bed, with full bellies and your eyelids would be drooping while waiting for the man of the house to return.

But wait a minute - didn’t you forget something? After rigorous exercise hitting the showers is compulsory and with all the strenuous exercise you put in through the day you’d probably forget to take a bath. A warm soak in the tub is ideally recommended, think of it like a sauna but care must be taken not to doze off. Set an alarm, remember you can’t afford to nod off - no one is there to let hubby darling in.

Smelling all nice and limp like a noodle you’d wait for the love of your life to return. Hopefully he’d be home soon, if not let him warm up his meal! Those muscles need rest. After the meal is over, the dishes would have to be done again. It’s a good idea to get your sweet cheeks to exercise those arms along with you to clean the night dishes and clean the kitchen.

Get him to make tea for you but wait a minute - by then you would already be half asleep.

If you carry on this regimen for ten days, I can promise you a weight loss of at least three to four kilos.

However, before taking on this exercise plan, you must know the side effects – your sex life will probably suffer due to excessive tiredness, visits to the salon will become rare, no phone time to gossip with friends, you will look skinnier but with a kind of vacant eyed rumpled appearance and worst of all you may lose your sanity.

Is it a heavy price to pay? Think of a skinnier you. Isn’t it worth it? Best of all, this entire plan comes free of charge.

Side note: My maid-less condition is not deliberate.

Love, Grief, Pain, and a Kitten

Deepti Lamba — Mon, 17 Sep 2007 02:40:48 EDT

To some, love comes easily. It is as easy as making an eye contact and forming bonds of eternal attachment and for others love takes time. My love for my husband and my two children was love at first sight. It was as if I had loved them forever. Loving them came easy, but loving Zoey took time. She came into our lives incidentally, a kitten picked up from a Pet Shop on my birthday - unwell, as we discovered later. She had snuggled under my heart and purred. My desire for a pet and pleading for her as a birthday gift melted Aaman’s heart and instead of going for my birthday dinner, we found ourselves heading home with a little kitten sleeping on my lap.

Her first night at home was bad. She farted and pooped all over my bedroom. Aaman slept but I could hardly breathe. I wondered late into the night what I had got us into. In the morning, we took her to the vet and she was given oral medications. In between avoiding the sharp nips from her two-month old teeth as we tried to force the medicine down her teeth I wondered if I could still return her to the Pet Shop. They had given us a sick kitten. My heart didn’t bleed for that little furball and I began to brood. Part of me perceived her as an interloper who was trying to make inroads into my home and into the hearts of my family. The feeling was new to me and I didn’t like it.

To make matters worse as she recovered, the neighbor’s Tomcat decided to pay Zoey a visit and they had a silent commune at a window sill where he shared a few fleas with her. Zoey in a matter of days began to lose her fur and I had to take her to the vet again. I worried over her but my heart remained sullen. There was no love and I felt like a heartless woman. Flea meds were taken, litter bought, combs, brushes and even material to make a kitty quilt for Zoey was bought but I went through these motions without any joy.

The family had come to love Zoey. She had improved, the farts had stopped, she had taken to the litter, she played with the kids, snuggled up to Aaman and treated me like her surrogate mother. She’d sit on my fingers or try to grab them when I would type. She’d purr and sleep on my belly as I watched a movie and I would absent mindedly stroke her but instead of love, guilt assailed my heart. Didn’t I have any more love left in my heart to give?

Days passed and I found out I was pregnant again. My world came crashing down. I could not have a third child. My heart broke but there was no way I could evade the truth. Family and friends tried to reassure me that I wasn’t a scumbag for deciding otherwise. They didn’t even want to hear my tearful explanations. They all were there for me. Time had come to a standstill for me.

I went through the motions of taking care of Zoey but felt dead. Dead to everything around me, my heart was grieving for a child I would never know. I had an appointment to be admitted in a hospital for Termination on Monday but on Sunday I woke up with acute pain in my pelvic region and was rushed to the nearby hospital in Electronic City. The OB-GYN there told me I had severe UTI infection and the pregnancy - I cut her off brusquely. I didn’t want to give any more excuses on that front and told her I wanted it terminated.

She patted my hand and told me that being a mother of twins she knew how tough it was bringing children up the right way. I broke down in front of her. Sympathy has a way of breaking down all emotional barriers. I was put on strong medication to get rid of the infection and then a few days later pills to terminate the few weeks old pregnancy.

I returned home grimy and tired. Zoey greeted us at the door. Aaman played with her and the kids. I shut the door of my bedroom and slept. The week passed slowly and the only highlight was Zoey trying to make inroads into my bedroom. She kept trying to sneak in and I threw her out. The times I fell asleep, she would curl up next to me and sleep and then be promptly thrown out of my room once I woke up. I was getting used to the kitten and was coming to admire her persistency.

Things on the family front, however, didn’t look up. Within a few days Parita fell sick and was hospitalized. It broke our hearts watching our little two year old on a drip crying for help constantly. I sat up with her through the nights, cleaned her up when she threw up or had diarrhea. The nurses came in and out, there was no concept of time and we both barely slept. Aaman and Aayan were sent home at night because of Zoey and since the hospital was very stressful for Aayan.

On the third day we returned home with a tired but happy Parita and a numb mother. Zoey was happy to see me. The family was complete. But things didn’t end there. A few days later I woke up with very high fever and shivers. The UTI had not gone but flared up even more. The doctor wanted to admit me in the hospital but I didn’t want to neglect my kids. I was given shots, very strong medications and sent home. The weekend had gone to hell. I shivered and suffered from fever in my room. The medicines took time to work and I had banished everyone from my room but Zoey wouldn’t stay out.

Whenever Aaman entered to check on me she would be there. She took to sitting at the closed door making a straight bee line towards me when he entered. She was adamant that she wanted to be with me and not the family. Zoey was hard to say no to. In my feverish mind I saw a streak of white fluff scamper into the room and within a few seconds nestle up against me. I would mutter “Out! You little spawn of the devil! Out” but she would bat my face with a tender paw and curl up and sleep up on my twisted waist.

Aaman kept the kids busy, managed the meal times, my meds and tried to make me comfortable in between but it was Zoey who stayed with me or that’s how I remember it for whenever I opened my eyes she was there, my little she-devil. She purred and greeted me when I woke up and watched me silently as I moaned and groaned.

Today I’m on the last leg of the medications and feeling kind of back to my normal self. Looking back at these two months I realize that sometimes love finds us, sometimes we find love and sometimes instead of love it is grief that we have to embrace. But life goes on and we too have to have to go with the flow. Zoey now has a place in my heart and sadly so does the memory of what could have been but was not meant to be.

Visiting the Newborn

Riti Kaunteya — Sun, 15 Jul 2007 01:20:30 EDT

Taking the story forward, it is grand to have visitors coming to bless the newborns. But when it happens at a time when the new parents are inconvenienced, then it is not so welcome.

So there are several types of visitors –

1. The Racers< - They try all possible measures to be among the first few to visit your baby- so that they can boast about beating everyone to the race. They will land up at the hospital moments after your baby is born and try to gain an entry by all possible means. If nothing else, they will visit the baby in the nursery and leave.

Many times this is done out of genuine liking and closeness especially by close friends and relatives but a lot of the time, it is to prove a point. While as people they are generally welcome by the couple, but as new parents, they may find it intrusive.

2. The Runner Ups - These are the type who try to finish the ritual by visiting necessarily while the baby is in the hospital - so that the parents do not feel bad that the close neighbors/ friends never bothered with a visit. They stick to the visiting hours and many times they plan, team up and visit. So it is like one grand outing for the entire crowd but too large a crowd in the tiny hospital room. And since the twins needed an extra crib, there was even less of a space in my room.

They had a great time arguing and discussing the various differences between the facial features of each kid while I had a tough time worrying about the gown being in place and the buttons not popping out and the nurse had her own tense moments when the blood being transfused to me began spilling out like the last few drops of ink from a fountain pen.

These will be usually closest neighbours or office colleagues or (if you or the husband happens to be a boss) the team members who don’t wish to be singled out as the one who never visited. They will come armed with camera and take shots. Many times, people don’t like their kids being photographed by all and sundry before they are old enough. Again done with genuine but slightly forced affection.

3. The Planners - These visitors usually work it out with the mom on as to which is the most convenient time to visit. Frankly there is none, and since the trouble of planning is taken, usually a mutually suitable time is chosen.

Supposedly gives the parents ample time and opportunity to be appropriately dressed and be ready with appropriate refreshments/sweets for the occasion. They come on time, armed with suitable gifts for the baby, talk softly, will not pick up the baby unless offered, and if offered, they will wash their hands and do so, not sit on the baby’s bed for fear of transmitting germs and leave as soon as they feel that the baby has declared that it is feeding time. All in all, the model visitor and most sensitive to the mom’s feelings.

4. The चिपकू /Leech - Will have the grace to come after giving a few hours advance notice but will decide that a good 2 hours time is appropriate to justify all the effort they spent in getting dressed and coming to see the baby. Doesn’t spot the signs of fatigue or restlessness in the parents or the babies.

5. Mother Hen Variety - These behave as though they know what is best for your baby and give you all kinds of advice on how they have been there, done that and that is the best researched way to handle / feed/ pee/ poop/ bath the baby. Many of their tips will be useful but they tend to get too preachy.

Well we all are, when it comes to discuss motherhood / pregnancy but a participative approach would be more welcome. A give and take of views with the new mother - after all she would also be starved for adult/ peer company at this point.

6. Eager Beaver - They will take charge of everything - nappy changing, holding the baby, (top) feed, entertaining the baby etc. Many times it is a relief to hand over the baby to such types as they are usually good at it and comfortable with babies. Sometimes a new mother may not feel like it. Important to read the (non) verbal signals the mother may throw.

7. Just like the old times - Drop Anytime - They drop in without or with a very short notice (barely enough to get your place in order and your baby dressed for the occasion) at anytime, usually evening or mid-morning - just for a few minutes to take a look. Even if your house is in a mess at that time, you always can give the excuse that things are hectic round here with the kids now.

8. The Laggards - They will turn up one fine day when you feel that you have finished with the entire stream of visitors. They will be some long lost friend who suddenly came to know about the now not so newborns. They come at a time when the parents have begun to feel comfortable handling the baby in various situations and the baby has also set a pattern of sleep/ wakefulness. One may end up welcoming the change of having a visitor to chat up with and this may turn out to one of the better visits.

That was on the visitors. Some cues for the new parents

1. If the visitor has informed beforehand, get the babies neatly dressed and freshly powdered just before they are coming in. Also get ready yourself and if time permits, set the house in order. You don’t want to portray the image of being a sloppy, bedraggled, clumsy parents.

2. Put a diaper/ rubber sheet - it is really not ok if your baby pees/ poops on the visitor. Incase of pee/poop happening, it could be a good idea to get into another room for the diaper change - have some dignity on the baby’s behalf!

3. It’s a happy occasion - keep a stock of sweets/ chocolates handy to celebrate the occasion - make the effort for the person who is coming to visit your baby for the first time. Welcome the visitors with appropriate courtsey and do not make them feel like an intruder.

4. If possible, have a camera handy to record the visit.

5. Many people are not comfortable holding newborns or babies in general - don’t push them to carry your baby.

6. Be positive towards the visits especially if it is planned beforehand - it will give you the much needed break. If you have help at home, do not hesitate to relax at that time and if you don’t, allow the visitor to help if you are certain that the visitor does not mind helping with the baby.

7. Especially with twins, the chances of getting visitors is higher because it is not so normal. Poeple are excited about comparing how similar or different they are. It surprised me when people were apparently surprised seeing my non-identical twins. I had visitors who mentioned that they have come because their kids wanted to see twins (for the first time)! So parents, be prepared for the enthusiasm and be happy about the high numbers your famous kid(s) are clocking.

They have come because they like you and care for you and want to be there for you in your joy. Have a visitor book handy if you feel like recording the thoughts and impressions of your important visitors for posterity.

Playschool - Criteria for Selection

Riti Kaunteya — Fri, 13 Jul 2007 01:35:47 EDT

It is that time of life when one begins to start thinking of playschools for their kids. Neither I nor my hubby or siblings have been to play school. The concept at that time was very rudimentary. We hit kindergarten straight. And we haven't turned out badly at all.

Having said this, I am not closed to the concept of play school for my kids.
Observations that support the view -

1. My kids love to interact with other kids but they are much older to them and hence the interaction is more led by my kids - they say something and the boys laugh or repeat or react. The interaction is not on equal platform

2. They enjoy playing with each other

3. They behaved atrociously with a guest of their age - snatched their toy from her hands

And the observations against-

1. When I see them sleeping peacefully till 9 - 9.30 in the morning, I hate to think that if they have to do a play school they need to wake up early. I really do not have the heart to disturb this easy life of theirs.

2. They have to work hard for the rest of their life. I want them to enjoy this carefree life.

3. I don't want to make things regimental so soon for them - the school, being on time, the works.

Having said this, I still am more pro-pre school.

The school which I finally select should meet the following requirements -

1. Comfortable timing - and not too long a duration. My MIL should get sufficient time to get them ready on time. Can't be too early because we parents really don't have the time in the morning.

2. Outlook - creativity, learning through fun, non-academic, singing, dancing

3. Right Brain activities - clay modeling, building blocks, story telling, drawing, painting, music instruments, puzzles

4. Getting Dirty - playing in the sand, gardening,

5. Interactive Teaching - Skit, puppetry, picture books, models

6. "Live Demo" - Great if there could be pets. Children love animals and what better way to understand animals (rather than touch & feel books).

Brothers in Arms

Aspi — Fri, 11 May 2007 00:20:56 EDT

I was recently watching TMNT with my two sons in a movie theater. And somewhere in the film, two turtle brothers - Leonardo and Raphael - meet on a rooftop, rain pelting on their wet glistening skins. Leonardo is upset that Raphael is defying him. Raphael is struggling with abandonment by his brother. After much arguing, both pull out their weapons and fly at each other in a murderous rage. They desperately want to hurt each other. And while I chomped my smuggled Choxies in the darkness I marveled at what a terrific depiction this was of sibling rivalry.

My sons have a love-hate relationship. When they are getting along - or as they like to call it: "being brothers" - they play together for hours. Hugs are exchanged. Sharing ensues. Motorsandal reads to Youngling. Youngling showers Motorsandal with hugs. They can't love each other enough.

And yet, on a dime, they can turn. Dark clouds roll in. Youngling will scream, Motorsandal will reciprocate and without any apparent reason, they both hate each other. "Our brotherhood is cancelled", they'll say. And then things get worse. They can't stop annoying each other enough. Doors are slammed. Pushing ensues. If they are in the back of the car, they'll fence each other with their feet!

It's maddening for a parent because not only do you want your sons to love each other constantly, but you can't seem to understand how seemingly trivial things can change the landscape so drastically.

"Youngling, does it really matter that his foot is one inch on your side of the car?"

"Motorsandal, why does it upset you so much that Youngling is humming?"

My emotional involvement with my children made me a terrible resolver of disputes. Instead of getting to the core of the problem and helping my sons work out their feelings I kept getting frustrated that they weren't getting along.

"Does it REALLY matter who came down the stairs first?"

After copious practice, I'm wiser now. The first thing I do is detach myself a bit. I ask questions - what happened, what makes you angry, why are you so frustrated at your brother, what else did he do today? That last question is a critical one. Most of my sons' issues with each other have begun well before the explosion occurs. A friend was stolen, a plea ignored, a toy was broken - these are the seeds that sprout the bitter shoots.

All my efforts are now focused on sitting the boys down and giving them equal cycles to describe the dispute. Most of the times I don't try to resolve the dispute at all. I simply give my sons' a hug and tell each how I'm sorry they are in a fight with their brother. While this may seem to be a cop out - it does allow you to calm things down without picking sides. And in the final analysis, identifying the person who "started it" isn't important in a systemic world - in fact it's impossible.

There's another thing I've found really useful. In the past - during those long car rides that you get used to in Chicago - I would switch off the CD player and lecture my sons on being good siblings, on what family meant, what unconditional love involved.

I still do some of that but mostly now I ask my sons about their interactions. I ask them when they love and annoy each other the most and why. And their answers surprise me. I think it surprises them too. When they talk about it in front of one another, they often come up with the band aid themselves.

"I won't tease you anymore"

"I won't steal your friends again"

"Dad, we are brothers again!"

The Concern for Children

The Mad Momma — Wed, 9 May 2007 10:10:18 EDT

The Bean and the Brat are being brought up rather carelessly by the OA and I. I like to call it benign neglect. Which is not to say that I make fun of fussy parents (I sooo do!) but that I see where they are coming from and I have only one thing to say - that I appreciate it, but don't have the temperament for it.

I cannot be bothered with sterilising and re-sterilising something and then starting all over again because a breeze blew some imagined dust or disease on to it. I just don't. BUT, it's not only because I am lazy; it's also because I don't like to fuss. It's just not me.

I ensure a minimum of safety and hygiene by my own standards and then I leave it at that. Barely 4 days old and the Bean was out everywhere: parties, picnics, everything. The Brat has done interviews with me till he was a good 7 months old. So being a stickler for hygiene would not have worked for me.

Which is why when I see another parent making an effort, washing their child's hands clean before giving them a cookie, sterilising their plates and crockery well into toddler hood and darkening the room and shushing the household at bedtime, I make every effort to help them. Because I know what an effort it is. And I respect it. I have never dismissed another parent's safety or hygiene concerns with a careless "Oh don't fuss," or an interfering, pedagogic, "You must allow the child to develop immunity" line.

I leave it at that mutual respect stage. And usually hope for the same courtesy. But I still get absolute strangers coming up to me and advising me on child rearing. Why are people so free with their advice?

Now with two kids, when we go out, the OA or I keep the Bean while the other fruitlessly chases the Brat around the mall/park/shopping area. So people who see the Bean with one of us, assume she is our first baby and immediately take it upon themselves to offer us advice. Which is when we point to the Brat and subtly make the point that we haven't yet damaged or killed the older one so it's unlikely we'll do it to the younger one.

The Beant was 16 days old when we were out at a fair and the OA had her in the Baby Bjorn on his chest. Tiny little thing that she was, she slipped in and had pulled her hands in and was comfortably and fast asleep. She likes to pull her hands under her and sleep on her belly, as does the Brat. I was with the Brat at the swings and the OA was buying some food, when a young couple (with no obvious children around them) decided to counsel him.

They began with a well-intentioned, "Your baby's hands are stuck under her.." The OA nodded and said she liked to keep them there and thanked them kindly for their interest. Now I imagine that they were hoping to point out something that might have slipped the parent's attention. Once the parent has informed you that they are aware of what is going on, and thanked you for your concern, move on and enjoy the fair.

But no. They were having none of it. They stood there and insisted that the OA take her hands out and stick them out of the carrier. Fortunately it was not me but the polite OA who kept his smile fixed on his face and kept assuring them that to change her position would disturb and wake her up and that she was very comfortable.

Finally the Brat and I bounded up and the couple turned to me in palpable relief. Ready to complain. Ah, here was the mother who would obviously know better than the father and set him right in his obstinacy. They were horrified when I firmly and not-so-politely told them that she was fine and we knew what we were doing. I really wasn't concerned with their feelings at that point, but more for the OA's. He changes a diaper and burps the babies better and faster than I can ever hope to. For his parenting skills or judgment to be doubted merely because he is the father and not the mother, is the biggest insult one can give him and very unfair.

A week ago we were in a shopping mall and I was in the changing room. I came out to see a lady advising the OA on how to keep the Bean in the stroller. Now again, the Bean loves to sleep on her stomach (probably due to gas) and so we make up a little bed for her in the stroller and she sleeps for hours on end on her belly, allowing us to eat or shop or run errands in peace.

This kind middle-aged lady came up to the OA and said, "I think your baby is uncomfortable." Again, I appreciate someone noticing the child in what they imagine is discomfort and pointing it out to us. We're only human and cannot be expected to watch the child every minute unblinkingly and ensure she is in no danger. It's always nice if someone draws your attention to something that they think is wrong because accidents do happen.

So the OA looked down at the stroller and saw the Bean peacefully lying on her tummy, burying her nose into the sheet. Now that is her way - we turn her head to one side, but she brings it back to the middle - and with her short stub of an excuse for a nose (inherited from me), she really is in no major danger of burying it anywhere!

"Thank you, but she likes to sleep that way," he smiled brightly at the lady. But she didn't stop. She took it upon herself to save the poor innocent from her obviously careless parents who didn't deserve her. And she kept insisting that the child was uncomfortable. Finally I, who had been hearing all this in the changing room, stepped out and she looked relieved. That immediately irritated me. Why would you assume a father is incompetent or careless? So when she began again, I firmly assured her that the child's father knows best and she is very comfortable. She began again, and I turned my back on her before I lost my temper.

I understand people are concerned about kids. But you have to draw the line at offending the person concerned. There is plenty that happens in India that others will find dangerous or unhygienic; you have to let the parents judge for themselves.

The last straw was a few days ago in a food court. The Brat is now in the throes of terrible two tantrums and each day ends with him tap dancing on my last remaining nerve - at the end of which he gets a smack and goes to bed... seriously. Time outs don't work. He just wriggles and struggles for hours and by the end of it we feel more punished than him and a good smack on the butt or offending part of the body sets him right. And then off to bed before his parents commit suicide and orphan him.

So the Bean was in her stroller by my side, a mosquito net covering her and the OA was in charge of his son who was in high spirits and draining us. A Bengali family came and sat down next to us. And I think that they had nothing to talk about except us. One of the advantages of a cultural mishmash like the OA and me is that between us we understand most Indian languages. He knows or understands Bengali, English, Hindi, Konkani, Kannada, Tulu, Marathi and Gujarati. I speak or understand Tamil, English, Bengali, all dialects of Hindi spoken across UP, MP and Bihar, Malayalam, Sindhi and Punjabi. So people who bitch about us in our presence, need to find a language not on that list.

So they began by talking about the Brat who was by that time driving us up the wall. Refusing to eat, blowing bubbles into the glass with the straw and spilling the OA's drink, running away... but despite all his misbehaviour, he wasn't loud and he did not trouble anybody else at the other tables. They kept talking about how naughty he was, which truth be told, he was. So nothing to complain about. In fact, they were very amused by the dance he was leading the OA.

Then they got started on poor Beanie. About how it was terrible to bring out such a small child. And they kept looking at us and defiantly talking about us, secure in the knowledge that we didn't understand a word so couldn't object to them looking at us and pointing and talking.

Now she was perfectly comfortable, fast asleep, safe: what exactly was their problem? I looked at the OA who beseeched me with his eyes not to say anything. They argued about whether she is one month old or two. I was about to chip in and settle the argument when the OA bribed me with some food to shut up. And they just went on dissing us and talking about what they imagined was our negligence. Yes, you idiots, I wanted to say. I tortured myself through pregnancy and childbirth, just to bring her out and slowly torture and kill her. And I am right on plan.

But I let them talk about us while I simmered on a low flame, and then we paid our bill and got up to leave. The OA chased the Brat who figured we were done and shot off towards the exit. I slowly bundled up our belongings, the Bean in the stroller and my bag and followed. And as I passed their table, I stopped and sweetly smiled and offered in Bengali, "She's 6 weeks old and she's very comfortable" and walked on.

Strategy forbade me from turning around to see their expressions.