Thoughts Unlimited...

I have been wanting to re-cultivate my reading habit for donkey's years. So, when Laksh announced the idea of Thoughtful Thursdays on her blog, it felt like a golden opportunity to just do that. Let me now cut to the chase - the book assigned for this month's Thoughtful Thursday is Eat, Pray and Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. If you haven't read this memoir, please be cautioned that the following paragraphs will likely contain spoilers.

 

 

Don't let the title of this book mislead you into thinking that it's for tackling child obesity related issues. While it's one of the topics covered, the book is mostly about molding parent's attitude towards eating habits of their offspring.

Food is not one of Atul's favorite subject. He eats well when he is hungry, but there is no guarantee that he would eat every single meal and snack, every single day. There have been days when he had polished his lunch and then there have been days when the very same menu came back untouched. When we raised it as a concern to Atul's pediatrician, she advised that toddlers need just one and a half full meal per day to help them stay healthy and aid their growth. We were told, as long as it averages out, he is in a good place. 

Later, when I was discussing this with a friend, she recommended this book to me and I am so glad I took her advise and checked it out. The underlying theme of the book is the clear division of responsibility between parents and kids when it comes to eating. Parents are responsible for what is presented to eat and the manner in which it is presented. Children are responsible for how much and even whether they eat. 

The book helped us look at Atul's eating habits in a whole new perspective. While we never took to force feeding him, we certainly thought it was our responsibility to monitor how well and how much he ate. We are slowly learning to unlearn this attitude and trust Atul to regulate the quantity of his food intake. We have some simple rules that he is expected to abide by during meal time. No watching TV or reading books while eating. No moving around during meal time. Eat while you eat, play while you play. The only snacks that will be served at home during week days will be fruits. However, he gets to choose anything for his snack time during the weekend, no questions asked. He is required to do three things after meal time - put his plate in the sink, clean himself up, drink some water.

We see a big improvement in Atul's eating behavior after following some of the simple things outlined in the book. But more importantly, the battle of wills at meal time has definitely come down over the past couple of months. 

Thirty years and 12 days. Yes, that's how old I am today and I feel like screaming that from the top of a mountain, mostly out of relief. I think after I turned 27 or 28, the days around my birthday were getting to be a little less mirthful and a little more introspective. I would catch myself making mental tick marks and filling in the blanks – Am I any better as a daughter, sister, wife, mom, daughter-in-law, friend , research analyst, a human being than I was last year? What have I accomplished this year? Am I growing or just aging? Blah, blah. My husband, who started counting his age backwards since he turned 30, would readily empathize and reassure me that it's all in the game. I dreaded turning 30, because in my mind, that number painted the picture of a middle aged woman, who was wise, mature and accomplished. And I feared that I would be middle aged, sans the wisdom, maturity and accomplishment.

So how did it feel when I actually turned 30 a couple of weeks back? Relieved, blessed and aware! Relieved, at the realization that Thirty was just a number, and that I was attaching way too much importance to it. I did not feel a day older than I was a year or two back. Blessed, because of all the things that I may have been without but have been blessed with. I felt like I wanted to treasure my blessings in the palm of my hands. Aware, that I may not live up to the standards I have set for myself, but overall, I am happy with who I am, where I am and what I do, at this point in life.

Moving on to jollier stuff – the celebration. Atul was slightly unwell that weekend, but that only altered our plans not dismiss them. We ordered a Thai take out, went to temple and ended with  the usual cake cutting. We had some nice quiet family time. All the b'day wishes that poured in from friends and family left me with the warm and fuzzy feeling that one would want to have on a b'day. Needless to say, I was grinning ear to ear all through the week.

The celebration continued the following weekend as well with a surprise trip to Nashville to visit my twin and his wife. My sister-in-law and I plotted it a month in advance and we just couldn't wait to see Arun's reaction. Knock, knock, who's that? is literally how the three of us went to their place. That flabbergasted look on Arun's face was the best b'day present I could have asked for!

Parenting a pre-schooler can sometimes be a patience-stretching exercise.  Like day before yesterday, when Atul decided that his sole task for the day was testing his boundaries, which meant I was constantly at his back giving him countdowns and threatening to withdraw rewards. He was pushing and pushing his limits and I just couldn't keep up. I gave up. I heaved heavily and closed my eyes. Atul, of course,  immediately knew that I was displeased with him and that's the last thing he wanted (I have to be happy with him, all the time. Period. ). He asadu vazhingified (not sure I can come up with a translation, roughly it means an expression out of guilt,  with the intention to win me back) and said with a sheepish grin, "Mommy, I am a troublesome kid. I am very naughty". All my repressed frustration just vanished into thin air and I was laughing away to glory. Oh, the things that he can be proud of!

When I narrated this to Arvind, my wise husband threw a nugget of wisdom - Atul is like  flowing water. It is better to go with the flow than to resist it.  And for the record, I agree :-)

When I was younger, I used to have this notebook in which I jotted down some of my favorite quotes, sayings and articles that I came across first hand or through friends. It used to be a powerful tool to me back then. If I had a particularly rough day or was struggling with a situation that I couldn't grapple with, I would take comfort in the words hidden in those pages. I would fervently skim through the collection to pick some quotes to include in letters to my pen friends. I would eagerly look forward to the monthly edition of Wisdom (or was it fortnightly, my memory fails me) or the Readers Digest that my dad bought from the old book shops. I remember paying close attention to every word that came out of my very eloquent high school English teacher, so that I could put some of the pearls of wisdom in that notebook. If a friend visited me, I would show it off as my most treasured possession.

Today, when I dusted the notebook and swiftly turned the pages and glanced through the faded handwriting, I re-discovered the strength and inspiration that I drew from these words not so long ago.
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One of the sayings that my very eloquent English teacher often told in the class was on age. He would often say, "For some, wisdom comes with age, and for others, age alone comes",  to  a class that roared with laughter. Even after more than a decade, this saying keeps playing in my brain on and off . I was mulling over this topic last night as I was slurping the Thai take out we had ordered. In my mind I feared that I will get older without becoming any wiser. That I will not learn from my mistakes. That I will not act with a better sense of maturity. So on and so forth. After a while, the mood lightened and I forgot all about it. Once dinner was over, we reached out for our share of fortune cookies, eager to read what "fortune" was in store for us. (Reminds me of the "fortune" that the weighing scales at the railway stations used to predict back home).  Want to take a guess on what mine read? "It is better to be happy than wise". Hehehehe.... I think the universe is trying to tell me something - to chill out and not  take myself so seriously!
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While I am at the topic of words and sayings, why not quote a favorite phrase that I came across through a friend a few years back. Ever heard of the phrase, Throw your hat over the fence? What this means is, once you throw your hat over the other side of the fence, the only option is to go get it.  (The other option is to leave it, but keeping with the spirit of the post I am not going there). I may not know how to get that hat, but it doesn't matter, because once I make a beginning I will figure a way out along the way. It doesn't matter what deficiencies I have because I will learn to overcome them as I get closer to the hat. I love the wild optimism in this phrase. It tells us to blindly believe in ourselves and to just go reach out for our dreams.

Atul's first year at day care was a nightmare. He was sick all the time, and I am not exaggerating when I say that we visited the doctor's office every other week.  He detested the doctor's place and would cling on to me the second we parked our car. You can read about how handful he used to be here. Well, that was two years back and at that time I remember the doctor telling that this would change when he turns three and that he would be the nicest patient ever. I took her words with a grain of salt then. Yesterday, we had to take him to the doctor, as he developed temperature. Nothing major, but serious enough to get him checked up. So when the doctor came in,  the little patient took charge and complained , "I am not feeling well today. I am sick". The doctor started chatting with him, explaining step by step what she was doing and why she was doing what she was doing. He was apprehensive but somehow I could tell that he had developed some trust in her and was slowly getting comfortable with the drill. She then told him that he is sick but not terribly sick and that he was not going to get any shots. I could almost sense Atul saying, "Phew!". Gradually, the conversation moved on to things like school and eating vegetables. When he knew the visit was coming to an end, he asked matter-of-fact, "can I have a lollipop now?", to which the doctor joyfully obliged.  It was as though Atul had found a new best friend!

Atul is going through a I-am-a-big-boy-now phase (remember the Complan ad?). He wants to wear his clothes, from underwear to shoes, all by himself without any assistance from appa or amma. Sometimes it takes multiple attempts and occasionally it leaves him frustrated, with finding his sleeves being the most challenging part of the getting-dressed-up drama. Upset and helpless, he would come to us, "It is so hard, my hand is on the way, I am not able to find it (sleeves)". Although the parental reflex is to go find the sleeves for him, we have learnt not to succumb to it.  Once or twice we committed that mistake, and it only magnified the meltdown. "Why did you help me? I wanted to do it all by myself. Don't do that amma (or appa)". Us helping him somehow seemed to undermine his efforts; it was as though we stole some of the credit due to him. So, we have switched our roles to that of cheer leaders. Maintaining a one-arm-distance, we lavish words of cheer  - Atul, you can do it, just stay calm and be patient with yourself, turn the tshirt all the way around., yaada yaada yaada. By hook or crook, most of the times, as intended, the three and half a year old succeeds in wearing them (that is underwear, pant, undershirt, etc.). The sense of accomplishment from surviving the ordeal and the satisfaction that he did it by himself take the form of a naughty glee and is at its pinnacle, when Arvind and I clap and give a hi-five to him. Joyfully, the kiddo proclaims, "I did it mommy (daddy)". To which the cheer leaders respond, yes kanna, you did it and we are proud of you for not giving up!


Then, there are times when he likes to regress into his babyhood days. He would go searching for his sippy cup or would fancy using his baby spoons and forks for his meals. In role plays, he would declare, "You are the mommy and I am the baby. I will cry because I don't know to use words yet." When he sees a baby with a pacifier, he would express a fleeting desire to use it. I selectively (and carefully) give in to his requests and let him experience babyhood briefly.

Coming to think of it, I go through somewhat similar phases too. There are days when I want to be a grown up - when there is a strong desire to nurture, give and care. And then there are times when I long to relive the carefree days of school and college; re-experience the pleasure of doing nothing. Like Atul, I selectively indulge. A late night movie with the husband. An evening out with a close friend. A long early morning walk. Some quiet time with a book. It's only a phase and after receiving it's share of attention, true to its nature, it passes. And I am ready to enter my world of commitments with renewed energy and focus. 

Parenting often makes you think about the oddest things in life. Of late, I have been fascinated by how the different parts of the human body can handle varying degrees of temperature. When I offer something piping hot to Atul, I like to feed him the first few bites with my hand because I know if my hand can handle the temperature, the tongue, which is more heat tolerant than the hand, can handle it too. The opposite is true for hair wash. If the water is not hot enough for the body, it is good enough for the head. At night, I make it compulsory for Atul to wear his socks because if his feet, which retains the heat in the body, is protected, he should be fine even if the blankie fails to keep him cosy. The one thing that is still a mystery though is how to protect the sensitive nose that  sometimes acts like an immature sibling who turns green with envy when attention is lavished on the brother or sister. As I lay down fully bundled up with a pair of socks, a sweater and two comforters on me, content that nothing can come between me and my sleep, my nose makes it presence felt by getting a tad chillier. A battle pursues between my nose and my comforter for the next few minutes and before I know it, I slip into glorious sleep; only to wake up in the middle of the night when my body declares loud and clear that in my enthusiasm to stay snug, perhaps I went a little too far. Apologetically, I toss out my sweater and socks, before I slip into dreamland again.

Our very own first spring bulbs have started sprouting over the weekend. Yippee, yippee, yipee!!!!! My heart is dancing thinking about all the  flowers and vegetables we could possibly raise in our backyard in the seasons to come.

Also, in today's gardening news, I am thrilled to announce that our  jalapeño plant that successfully adapted  itself to the indoor environment over the winter, has yielded two  jalapeños.  Bravo!

Due thanks to a friend (if you are reading this, you know who you are) who generously gave away her promising plants for our backyard. Many of them did not survive the harsh winter conditions/indoor environment, but the few that did bring me a lot of cheer!

I share a matter-of-fact relationship with cooking.  Eating out on a frequent basis is neither healthy nor economical, which is what motivates me to feed homemade food for my family for the most part.  I do like trying new recipes, but I have an issue when the recipe calls for my undivided attention (eg. kaju barfis) or requires infinite patience (eg. rava dosai). My cooking philosophy is in sharp contrast with that of the more orthodox members of my clan, who consider the kitchen as sacrosanct or that of my grandmas and mom, who made everything, literally everything, vadam, podi, ooruga and bakshnam, from the scratch.

As a child, I have wondered, why, why are they putting themselves through this ordeal? It's only food, the taste lasts for no more than a few minutes and it gets digested in a couple of hours, so why spend hours toiling in the kitchen? It's not like those who consume,  volunteer to take over next time or at the very minimum, are magnanimous with their compliments?

But it started making sense last week, partly prompted by my efforts to make ribbon pakoda and partly inspired by a beautiful post from a fellow blogger. As I was making ribbon pakoda for a dear pregnant friend, I caught myself with the following monologue, "I hope the milaga podi does not give her a heartburn", "I wish I knew which shade of brown she likes her pakoda to be", "I should make another installment in the evening", so on and so forth. Just then I was conscious of the fact that, what I was making for my friend was more than savoury; it was a way of showing I cared. Connecting these dots backwards, I began to realize that that's how my grandmoms showered their affection on us; by making food tailor-made to please our varying taste buds without any expectation in return and by fondly thinking about us while making the delicacies. Sure, food can be an expression of love!

Gone are the days, when a hug and a kiss was enough to make Atul feel special and loved. But life is not as simple anymore for my 3-year old preschooler. The other day, while shopping at Wal*Mart, Atul left us gaping in wonder when he said,  "Amma, buy me something and make me feel special!".

Well, I have myself to blame for this transformation. A few weeks back while shopping for b'day presents for one of his friends, he asked me why do we buy presents for our friends on their b'day? You see in which direction this is headed? I told him, a b'day is a special day and we buy presents to make friends feel special. But little did I know then that he would interpolate the logic and throw it back at me some day. Grrrrrrrr!

Urukkatha vennayum Oradayum veyaithen
Orukalum en kanavar ennai vittu piriyamal irrukka vendum

So goes the prayer offered to Goddesses Kamakashi on the day of Karadaiyan Nombu. Roughly translated, this means, I offer to you butter and an adai, please grant me the boon to never be separated from my husband. The opportunity to offer this prayer could not have come at a more appropriate time for me. Let me explain why.

A dear friend lost her father rather unexpectedly over the past weekend. My heart goes out to the family, most of all to aunty. It just seems so unfair that after living your life day in and day out with someone, you lose him just like that for the rest of your life. No matter how many people she is surrounded with, she must be alone in going through what she is going through. They say time is the best healer, even for a broken heart. I fondly hope so. For the past two days, my thoughts drifted around my own near and dear ones and the anxiety of being separated from them gripped me.

That's why the spirit of Karadaiyan Nombu is so refreshing. It makes me want to appreciate all the special people in my life and thank the Almighty for making my life richer due to their presence. I am greatful and glad that Arvind is such a part and parcel of my life.  A pillar of support, that's what he is to me and no wonder I pray for a lifetime of togetherness. Oh Lord, bless him with good health, long life, a heart full of happiness and peace of mind. Wishing him with all that he wishes for.

I am sure if amma were to read this post, she would chuckle. When I was younger, every single time we observed this festival, I would question  "why should wives pray for husbands amma? why should I pray for someone I haven't even met just because he will become my husband one day. Avan ennakkaga enna pannuvan (what will he do for me?)!".

Life does come to a full circle, what do you say?

The blanket of snow melting away, squirrels and birds sneaking out of their hiding places, men and women shedding their layers... Ha! the temperature over the past two days has got me craving for warmer weather. Not so soon, warns the extended weather forecast. Disappointed, I try not to daydream about the spring bulbs that will start sprouting in our backyard. Seven years in Boston and I am still not immune to the chilly temperatures.

There was a time when people used to comment that I was so skinny that I was not capable of adding few grams to my weight. Those were the good old days! Now when I go back to India, the very same friends come up to me and ask in a lighter vein, “enntha kadayila arisi vaangara?”. (a hit song from Tamizh movie Duet that makes fun of the lead character who is overweight). Ha ha ha, not funny, is all I manage to say.

If you are a close friend or family, you must be familiar with my rant. My dear husband thinks I shouldn't worry as much since I am am not all that overweight (now you know why I think love is blind!). He assures me, all I need to do is keep a tab on those treats from the vending machine and late night snacks . My sweet parents, who are excellent role models when it comes to exercising and portion control,  are ever ready to empathize with me and remind me that all the weight loss will happen with time if I continue to put in the efforts.  My dear brother, who somehow is capable of adding weight and losing it with the same speed,  and my friends lend their listening ears when I get into this inconsolable rant mode.

The issue is not that I don't know the secrets of losing weight. I am well aware of the work-out and portion control combination and have had success with it too. But the Achilles' heel for me is my inability to keep up with the momentum. I would steadfastly stick to my goals, but one small break and before you know it, it becomes an extended break and the inertia sets in. So I have realized that I have to fundamentally get better at disciplining myself. But how does one do it?
 
Freakonomics bloggers talk about fear of embarrassment and commitment contracts to help you get disciplined. I don't think fear of embarrassment works for me. I have publicly mentioned at least three times in this blog about my desire to shed those extra pounds and obviously that has not shamed me into doing it. The idea of signing a contract does sound like a workable idea, but I am skeptical considering what a damp squib signing up for a similar challenge was.

Deep in my heart, I think I know the answer. I have to learn to silence the voice that says, “Grab that snack for one last time before you start dieting”  or "It's ok if you don't exercise just for today" and heed to the voice that reminds me, “You know there is never one last time. Stay away from it” or "No, just do it like how Nike would say".

Okie gotta go, my right voice beckons.

A close friend of mine, fondly nicknamed Atul as “Kelvi Nayagan”. Kelvi in Tamizh means question and Nayagan refers to Hero. So roughly translated, Kelvi Nayagan would imply king of questions.

Orkut helped me to get in touch with a couple of my childhood friends last week. My twin brother, Arun, and I studied in the Virugambakkam (in Chennai) branch of Chinmaya Vidyalaya (CV) from first to fifth std. That too in the same section. So the school is special to us in more ways than one.

CV is where I developed some of my very first friendships. S, P & H were cousins. All of us studied in the same section and lived in the same neighborhood. So memories came flooding to mind when I saw profile pictures of S & P on Orkut. Come summer vacation, all of us (S,P, H, Arun, myself and a couple of other friends) would gather at S's house with grand plans to enact a skit, sing songs or play board games. Since her house was on the way to the bus stop, we would throw curious glances at her house whenever we passed by it. In those days, our classrooms in CV had none of the fancy buildings of today and we were pretty much housed in thatched roofs. I remember getting thrilled whenever it rained because the leaky roof was an excuse for us to sit down on the floor next to our friends. Learning at CV was very closely linked to religion. Every Friday, we would have balavihar sessions, wherein we would recite a bunch of slokams in a certain order. On the day of Vijayadasami, kids would do padha-pooja (washing the feet) for their mommy dears. Arun and I would always fight for amma's right leg with me losing the battle most of the times. I would console myself by saying that since heart was on the left side of the body, that must be the better side! Later we moved into a flat of our very own, which opened gateways to other friendships. This post would be incomplete if I don't mention the yummy bread-butter-jam that amma bought for us from a local bakery whenever we missed our evening bus. Good old times!

Since appa was in a bank job, he was transferred when we finished our fifth standard. I remember feeling heart-broken at the thought of losing my friends and wondering if I would make any new ones at the new place. It turned out that we kept in touch on and off for a really long time through letters (I still have every single one of them) and even visited them during our Chennai trips. But somewhere along the way, we were not able to maintain the tempo and we just lost in touch. Thanks to Orkut, I was able to pick up the pieces from where we left after a phone conversation with S this weekend. 

One of the things that I have learnt from Arvind is, nothing can beat the thrill of receiving a hand-made gift ; the time, the effort and the creativity that goes into it is just so heart warming.

If you care, it just has a way of showing up! Happy Valentine's Day to one and all.

Whenever I go out of town, my set of guidelines for Arvind:

• Please don't hold a donut party while I am gone

• Focus your attention on him when he is having his breakfast, or else he would dodge
  

• I have told him that he can take only one stuffed toy for nap time
  

When Arvind goes out of town, his advise for me:

• Pavam, give him treats once in a while. If you don't give him the snacks he likes, he will feel deprived
  

• It's ok if he doesn't eat every meal. He will make up for it.

• May be you can watch a movie with him during the weekends

Talk about differences in parenting style. I wouldn't be surprised if Atul grows up thinking that appa is cool as a cucumber and amma is hot as a pepper!

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If you have been following this blog, you must be familiar with my addiction to hug and kiss Atul. All that will have to change now because my son has made it loud and clear that only he is in control of his body. A few weeks back when I gave my routine hug and kiss to him, he broke down and proclaimed, “Mommy don't touch my body. I don't want a kiss”. The first time I heard it, it made me want to cry, as if I had committed an unpardonable crime. But you see, with time I have developed immunity to this statement and am slowly learning to work my way around it by saying things like,  “Hey you, how about giving a magic kiss to amma” and later add, "would you like a magic kiss from me". 

Innovation is a trait that every parent should learn to imbibe, what do you say?

 

In Atul's class, the topic of discussion this week was Fairytales. The inference from the discussion was that fairytales begin with "once upon a time" and concluded with "they lived happily ever after". With this premise in mind, the kiddies decided to give a shot at writing a fairytale of their own.

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting to you,  A Preschool Two Fairytale , by the budding fairytale writers of Preshool 2 in BH, - "Once upon a time, there was a unicorn and a fairy. They lived in Concord in a hotel. They liked to take naps. One day, while eating lunch, they played and took a nap. And then the blue guy came and stole their kite. The blue guy was playing a board game while the unicorn and fairy took their kite back. And they lived happily ever after! The End"

Hans Christian Anderson would have had a tough time keeping up with their creative juices! Don't you think? :-)
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Although not regularly as I would like to, I do read or narrate episodes from the Ramayana or Ganesha and other religious books to Atul whenever I get a chance. When he was younger, Atu's interest was in the breadth of the story. His interest was in naming the different characters and familiarizing himself with the story from beginning to end. But now the focus has turned to the depth of the story with volley of why and what questions, which, a lot of times, leaves me searching for answers. Here are some sample questions from curious Atul:

- Why did Shiva cut the Boy's (Ganesha's) head? Was He a rude person?
- Why did Ravana take away Sita? Why was Jadayu sad?
- What will happen if I don't do Ommachi Kapathu ? (pray)
- How will Ommachi (God) make my boo-boo better?
- Recently he asked me about his paternal grandpa, who passed away over a year back.
Atul: Where is Kanna thata?
Amma: With Ommachi (God)
Atul: In which temple can I find him?

My task is to come up with answers that do not contradict explanations I have given in the past and will be consistent with the likely answers I will give in the future, because while I am answering him, at the back of his mind, he is connecting the dots and writing a tale of his own!

A few months back, Atu and I included what we call, “Let's Talk” session as a part of our bed time routine. After reading Atu's quota of bed time stories and having fun with daddy dear, I would turn the lights off and we would declare, Let's Talk. I would normally inaugurate the session by asking him, “How was your day?”, to which he would cheerfully respond “My day was good” every single night and would shoot back the same question at me. Sometimes the session is confined to mundane details of our day's happenings and at other times, it would lead us to 


When I explain things to Atul, I re-learn some of life's lessons with him. “never be rude to anyone because it makes that person feel sad”, “when we are upset with someone, we should use words and tell them why we are upset”, “if you share something with someone, then that person will have that too”.  So easy to forget some of life's simplest rules somewhere along the way.