- Mood:
sleepy
This year is Atul's fifth Halloween. The first year, he was Winnie the Pooh. It was more for us than for him. For the second one, he was a cute little tiger cub. He was hilarious, he would knock on people's doors, would want to play with kids in the house, and would hand over the treats back to them. The third Halloween, he was a Superman. He got into decorating pumpkins and such activities. Last year he was Buzz Lightyear, and we carved our first pumpkin at home. The tradition continued this year. Question of another six or seven years before he outgrows and Halloween will not be what it is now. Until then, here's to more candy looting, pumpkin carving and fancy costumes.
Have a good weekend.
* Thatha in tamizh means grandpa
* The Almighty is addressed affectionately as Ommachis by kids in tamizh
Update: I was pleasantly surprised to see so many updates on face book and twitter from desi friends who were as impressed with google as I was for celebrating Gandhi Jeyanthi.
What all these extra-curricular activities mean is that the quantity of time that he will spend at home will go down, so we have to make sure the quality aspect of the leftover time goes high up in the scale. Easier said than done for a person like me who gets easily lost in the humdrum of life. I am also acutely aware that we should not live our life through him under the guise of exposing and experimenting. Hopefully, with time we will learn to identify when we slip into that mode and correct ourselves. But for now, let the chauffeuring begin!
Even in the age of amazon and internet searches, nothing can beat the word-of-mouth as a marketing strategy! What do you say? Okay, time to move on to my next quest - a good dentist referral. Any suggestions?
Hope all of you had a happening summer and have slipped into a routine now that the school year is upon us. I can already see shades of yellow in our garden. Time to pull out the sweaters and the jackets out of the closet I say, albeit with some reluctance.
You see I am the kind of person that reaches out for a pullover when the air conditioner hums on a hot summer day. I wear fuzzy socks when the temperature hovers around 60s. I go to the beach to get mesmerized by the vastness of the sea and to take pleasure in building sand castles rather than to get drenched by the waves. The days of longing to get soaked are far and between. Perhaps, on a hot and humid day, which is not an everyday occurrence even during summer in a place like Boston. So when I signed up Atul for the parent-child swim lessons, little did I realize what I was getting myself into.
My quandary started when I had to shop for a swim suit that I would be comfortable in and do the underlying preparations. First hurdle crossed, I heaved a sigh of relief when I stepped into the kiddie pool and realized that the water was after all knee-deep. No problem, this much I can do, I said to myself and started having fun with the son. Even that seemed like an effort on evenings that the sun chose to hide behind the grey clouds and deprive us of warmth. "Shake your hands and legs in water, and you will get warm soon", would be the instructors advise while Atul's teeth were chattering. So together Atul and I would splash, walk around, and obediently follow the instructions from the teacher. The real trouble began when she enthusiastically declared one evening, "I am going to spice the class a little bit and take you to the middle pool". The voice in my head screamed, no, don't do this to us, I am more than happy to have a class that's totally bland.
And then the next instant I noticed a pair of peering eyes staring at me. A pair of eyes that is an astute reader of my expressions and body language. A pair of eyes that can figure out when I am being genuine and when I am faking it. A pair of eyes that was eager to explore and have fun in the big boy pool. A pair of eyes that was looking up to me. So that pair of eyes silenced the voice in my head, and, spontaneously, I told Atul, "Yay, I think the big boy pool is going to be more fun. The water will be deeper, but have no fear because amma is here".
Tomorrow will be the last parent-child swim lesson. I am so proud of us - Atul and I. As I write this post, I am not certain if I was the one that nudged him out of his comfort zone or if he was the one that encouraged me to tread new waters.
- Mood:
sleepy
Even if you cannot see and talk, if you believe, Ommachis are powerful - was my half-baked answer. I stood there stumped not knowing how to explain something as abstract and intangible as faith and belief in a language that my four-year-old (or almost-five-year-old, as Atul likes to call himself) would comprehend.
- Mood:busy
Suma watch this, he says. A million times a day. Sometimes to seek my attention, sometimes to share the excitement of having found a lost toy, and at other times to show something that he has discovered. Atul doesn't call me amma these days. Appa has taught him all of amma's pet names, and he has decided to add one to the list.
Suma, why did Obama win, and not McCain, asked Atul. That's because more people voted for Obama, was my response. Why did more people not vote for McCain, came his follow up question. I told him, more people thought Obama's choices and rules are better than McCain's, so they voted Obama to be our leader. Then he asked, Suma do you think I make good rules and choices. Yes, I do Atul, was my reassurance. When I grow up to be a big boy, I want to be a leader. Do you think more people will vote for me? asked Atul keenly. So my friends, in another 40 years or so, if you happen to hear Atul Hari Venkatesh as a presidential candidate, please remember this post, and do vote for him.
Out of the blue, one day Atul asked me, where did you buy me from? A little startled my spontaneous response was, I did not buy you Atul, I made you. Did you make me at the sensory table? Did you make me with play doh? asked curious little Atul.
Why is my skin brown? The last time he asked me this question, it was matter-of-fact, and I was able to come up with a matter-of-fact response. Atul, do you remember at the farm different horses had different colors. In the same way, different people are made of different colors. But this time around, he was more emotional about it. Why are all kids in my class painted white? Why is nobody painted in brown? I want to be painted in white like my friends. I tried telling him that it doesn't matter how we look or what color we are made of. What matters is how we feel inside. I don't think he was too convinced, which means he will come back again with that question. I better be prepared before that.
Some days I am so tired that I retire to bed earlier than Atul does. So I ask him to tuck me instead of the other way around. On one such night, he tucks me in, kisses me on my cheek, and with a sparkle in his eyes tells, sleep tight sleepy head.
- Mood:
sleepy
The household is getting geared up for Santa's visit tonight. Atul and Arvind have been tracking Santa since this morning here. Atul was worried that if we don't bake cookies, Santa would eat his presents instead. So we fervently baked some oatmeal cookies and have saved a couple for the saint. We huddled by the fireplace, Atul in his sleeping bag, and I in a velux, reading Christmas stories and later listening to Christmas songs. Our little fiber optics Christmas tree adorns the living room and is awaiting to be surrounded by goodies from Santa. Here's wishing that Santa brings all of us the much needed positivity, faith, and cheer. A cashmere sweater, a crockery set or that woolen socks that I have been eying for would not hurt either :-). On that note, Seasons Greetings to one and all.
Raising Atul has made me acutely aware of how a child derives his sense of self-worth from his parents. He is very sensitive to an icy look, a stern tone, a sigh, a blank face, or even disinterested conversations. He probably thinks that it was something that he did that caused the behavior, which could be true sometimes but not necessarily all the time. He would coax, and cajole me, “Don't keep your face like that (imitating me), I want you to smile.” I would respond, “Kanna, amma doesn't feel like smiling. Some days are like that.” Still determined, the kiddo would say, “Smile amma.” Knowing that I do not have a choice, I would fake a smile. He would see through it, “Don't smile like that. Smile properly.” By now, his genuine need to see me smile, to convince himself that all is well in the world, to know that amma is happy so that he can be happy, would wipe the crankiness out of my face and voice, and unintentionally I would smother him with hugs and kisses. In a state of bliss, the kiddo would go skipping and hopping with a 1000 watt smile on his face, and a couple of cars in his hands. (yes, he and his car/trucks are inseparable.)
Slowly I am beginning to realize that like Atul, I tend to measure my sense of self-worth through his actions and responses. The other day , listening to Indian rhymes, he popped a question, “Amma, what does Sundari mean.” I responded, “It means beautiful”. Pat came the response, “Mommy, I think you are Sundari.” Awww....!! needless to say I was flying high in the air, as though I had won the Miss World title. Here is another incident. My face was all loaded with tension while backing the car out of a tight parking spot, and after some trial and error, I manged to pull the car out. Sensing the relief on my face, the kiddo screamed, “You did it mommy.” Who else would be my cheer leader and take pride in my itsy bitsy accomplishments like he does! How about this incident. It was one of those days when my tolerance level was at its lowest , and I kept snapping at Atul at the slightest infraction. The kiddo declared, “You are not my friend any more”, and I retorted, “Ok, good.” After a few minutes, I cooled down but was writhing in guilt for my unreasonable behavior. So I took him on my lap, and confessed that I was wrong and apologized. The kiddo magnanimously said, “I am sorry too. But it's ok, it happens.” He probably picked it up from school or from us, and used it in context. But that day, I needed to hear that to assuage my own guilty consciousness. To know that it's ok to lapse. To be me.
Tomorrow is Atul's fourth birthday. Four years have gone by in a jiffy, but not without a lot of changes, small and big. Atul is becoming more independent, can stand up for himself, comes up with tricky questions, has learnt to see loopholes in rules, knows to care and express concern, and is more patient with us than we are with him. All these with the innocence that you would expect from a child that's discovering the world.
A Very Happy Birthday to you Atul, our precious. Appa and amma are so proud of the person you are becoming, and are thankful for your presence in our lives. We wish you a truck load of happiness, a wagon load of fun, and good health (I know you would have liked me to add a car filled with presents, but remember how we talked about company is more important than gifts. I know you still have years before you can understand that. No hurry, take your time to grow up!)
- Mood:
happy
The transition is a big change not only for Atul but also for us. Co-sleeping is such fun. To be physically close to Atul, exchanging stories, having our zen moments after a stressful day was something that we have so cherished in spite of all the kicks and body aches that are the side effects when two adults and a pre-schooler sleep on a queen size bed. Yet, deep down I nursed a twinge of guilt that perhaps we were not inculcating good sleeping habits, as it was evident that he woke up the second he was left alone. So all along we took turns to make sure that one of us was by his side. Advocates of co-sleeping would say that he would eventually outgrow that need with time. I know he would, I did when I was a kid and I know a thousand others that did. But still I had to try it out to assuage my guilty consciousness. So when Atul comes back at 2:00 in the night, declaring that he is all done sleeping on his own for the night, we welcome him with open arms! A win-win situation in my mind.
Note: In case you were wondering why Atul referred to carnivores and not monsters, according to his reasoning a monster eats people and animals, so a monster cannot be a herbivore. Thus monster=carnivore.
- Mood:
hungry
I felt a lump in my throat as Arvind and I drove back lost in silence, both of us engrossed in our own world of thoughts . Last Thursday was Atul's last day at his school. The day was filled with all the fun things that he associated with school – Play ball, Show and Tell, pizza for lunch, and his friend A had come too. We handed over the treats we had bought for the kids and the staff, took some class pictures and extended our heartfelt gratitude to the teachers for making him feel at “home”, and for their contribution in molding his personality this past year. The teachers had made a beautiful scrap book for Atul as goodbye gift. It had pictures of Atul with silly faces, playing with his favorite toys, and being pally with A. Knowing Atul's liking (rather obsession) for stickers, they had included a couple of sheets of stickers for him. It was very touching. A treasure that he will cherish in the years to come.
As I pulled into our driveway on Thursday evening, I asked, “Atul are you sad that you will not be going to BH any more?”, to which he said, “I am sad because my teachers and friends will miss me”. I think he was going through mixed emotions that day. Losing the familiarity of his old school and friends made him feel insecure, but by the same token the novelty of the new school, and new toys excited him. I assured him that if he wanted, we could visit his old school to say hi to his teachers and even have play dates with old friends in the weekends.
The day also made me realize how much I counted on his teachers to be there for him - to give an extra nudge during lunch time, to teach him to stand up for himself, to comfort him when he is hurt, and to encourage him to share and care. Some days I have worried that he was missing out on the one to one interaction, but the guilty consciousness almost always vanished the second I entered his classroom in the evening for picking him up, when he would refuse to leave, and would plead for staying for “last 7 minutes”. I consider that as a yardstick to gauge how happy he was spending majority of his day away from parents, at school.
With the shift in schools, Atul will officially exit the day care environment. Bestest of best wishes to my little one. I know you will shine, wherever you are.
- Mood:
tired
Atul: Mommy, can I sleep next to you?
Me: No kanna (no dear)
Atul: Please mommy, just for today.
Me: Illa da kanna. You are a big boy now and you have to sleep on your own in the big boy bed. Go to sleep now kanna, amma is feeling sleepy too.
Atul: But mommy, you are all alone there
Me: It's ok ma. You are here right next to me. I don't feel lonely at all.
Atul: I think you will start crying now.
Me: Illa da raja. I don't feel sad at all. Now go to sleep.
Atul: Can you atleast give me your hand?
Me: No ma kanna. Amma's hands will start aching if I keep my hand on you for a long time.
Atul: Can you keep your hands atleast for two minutes, please please?
It's easier to fight the tantrums than the please. And as I said earlier there are only so many NOs that one is capable of saying, especially at 3:00 in the morning. I succumb, and he wins!
- Mood:
tired
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.
- Mood:
sleepy
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 :-)
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.
- Mood:
happy
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!
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.
- Mood:
blank
