Grumpy mummy.

Wrote this over the weekend. Have only just managed to post it!


So, fifth straight night of almost no sleep and I'm feeling more than a little bit frazzled. Husband (chirpy and cheerful after his 8 hours in bed) declares, "we should get you a t-shirt with 'GRUMPY" written across the front!". I cannot even begin to describe the amount of self control that goes into not resorting to physical violence. Anyway, he calls me resentful (hell yes! Two and a half years of no sleep, no life apart from baby, and he'd be a whole lot more than just 'resentful'.) Then he says, "Maybe you should blog about it" (Hah! For once, pleasure's all mine dude! Hah!). I call him a nag. I glare. He smirks. From the next room baby yells at the top of his voice, in perfect sync with Barney, "we are a happy family". And I burst out laughing. I must say this weekend's going better than most so far!

Perceptive little thing that he is, every time husband and I are on the verge of a blow-out (about 5 times a day on weekdays, and 50,000 times over the weekends. Of course. You mean that's not normal? Damn.), he will grab our hands and say, "Papa kiss Mamma!", or vice versa. And of course we do. Even as we're given daggers to each other. (Not normal you say? You sure? Double damn.)

You guys have no idea how hard it has been to come so far in to this post and not mention "teething". But of course we have by now established that my self control is of mythical proportions. So, sleepless nights. The "rock me through the night" nights. The "I'm in pain and I will yell" nights. We've had them all in the last two weeks. Everyday I think, this is it, his teething has never been so intense, he's definitely cutting a tooth. Till the next day. the teething just keeps on getting more and more intense and even one of the four molars hasn't cut through yet.

The dentist says, "Molars? They aren't really bothered by the molars. They're used to the pain by now you see". Really? I mean really? Like "dard ka hadd se guzarna hai dawa ho jana" (when pain crosses all limits, it becomes the salve. Or so said Mirza Ghalib.) For my baby? Really? And thats supposed to reassure me? I sure as hell hope my two and a half year old isnt "used to" any kind of pain! Hummmpphh! Dentist! (Yes I will order that GRUMPY t-shirt after all, thank you very much. Hope that makes you happy, husband.)

And I miss my friends. Really really miss them. This whole baby business, rewarding and frustrating and amazing that it is, has left me so cut off and removed from everything and everyone that it doesn't bear thinking about. Take today for instance, this lovely beautiful friend of mine is getting married today, and damn but I'm not there! But I want to be NS, so much. Here's wishing you both a happy happy marriage filled with togetherness and understanding and love. ( What? I'm sure its possible! :D)

And this is for my best friend in the whole wide world, NK. I miss you. And I wish we were at least on the same continent. And that I wasn't so so rubbish at keeping in touch. And thank you my love, for not giving up on me.

Okay, enough shout-outs. I feel like an RJ on a radio station no one listens to!

That reminds me, I'm so sad that I didn't go say goodbye to Bush House one last time. Worked there 7 years. My first (and so far, last!) "proper" job. Learnt so much. About so many things. Ah well. what is it they say about tears and spilt milk?

And I'm back.. (I think)

Hello there! Its been a while, eh. I'm sure you've all missed me (hah!). Its been a hard few months (a hard few years, to be honest), so I haven't really had the time or the inclination to write. I'm not going to bore you guys with all the maudlin, morbid details, but yeah for a while there I wasn't quite sure what was going on. In my life. In my world. And I guess it all just got too much. So my trip back home (yup, a month in March) couldn't have come at a better time. Helped me recoup, refocus, and frankly helped me stay alive. And though things have been better since I got back, its still been quite a struggle trying to keep the darkness at bay. Hang on! Did I just admit to being so low that you could say I've been "depressed"? Well, yes. I did say its been a hard few months/ years, didnt I? 

Anyway so I'm sort of hoping that I've turned some kind of a figurative corner. And things are going to get better. I mean when you're as low as I've been, the only way to go has to be back up, right?

Moving on. Baby's hardly a baby anymore. He's a proper little boy. A regular chatter-box. With wheels on his feet. The only time he actually sits down is to eat (well, most of the time), and read. Not that big on eating. Or sleeping. Huge on running. Jumping. Playing puzzle games. And making up stories. He's figured out that he came "from mamma's tummy", and that he can "kiss everyone", especially "mamma happy". Still working on "who turns the sun on?" and "why are nani, nanoo in Jammu?".

Oh and by the way, we're still teething. Yup. One of the many banes of my existence. Makes me want to break something. Now its the last four. The big ones. We've been up since 3 almost three nights in a row now. He deals with the pain and discomfort quite well, but cant seem to sleep through it. So as soon as the bedtime dose of paracetamol wears off, its the old "rise and shine!". I swear the day he gets his full set I'll turn uncharacteristically religious and ask my mum to do whatever it is they do when a prayer has been answered. Within reason of course. Cant have poor unsuspecting lambs slaughtered just because I decide to act out of character!

And the other day baby was looking through this book, and right there on the page was this big fat M (loves the alphabet!). So what does baby boy do? Twists his little body so his head is level with his knees, then twists his little neck so he's looking up at the book which he had propped up against a cushion on the couch, and says "Its a W". Simple, uncomplicated, straight forward little guy, my little boy eh? I feel for his poor girl friend(s) already!

Snow magic

Snow! Snow! Snow! The lovely White stuff is still everywhere. I woke up to such dazzling brilliance a couple of nights ago that for a while I actually forgot that it wasn't strictly speaking "morning" (2AM for godssake!) and baby momentarily forgot why he was up and so grumpy. Everything was white and serene and beautiful and bright, right in the middle of the night.

I love snow. I have always loved snow. It's like a blessing, a benediction that transforms even the dreariest and most desperate of landscapes into something magical and splendid. Much like memory, like remembering, like nostalgia.

For a while there at 2 AM with a sleepy, dazzled, quiet baby in my arms, I forgot where I was, what time it was and what place. For a while there, I was 12 again, looking out at the snow from my little window.

Middle of the winter. In Srinagar. And as far as my sleepy, dazzled eyes can see, the earth is covered in magic.

How time flies!

So we've just got back from our visit to the husbands parents. Three weeks of relative relaxation, the operative word being "relative" of course (no pun intended). Still it's good to be back. After a certain point you miss the comfort that familiarity offers. Your own bed, your pillow that's slightly wonky in it's own special way, your favourite mug, and coffee just the way you like it.

Having said that (I'm now going to say this! - I love Seinfeld, obviously!), Wales was a lot of fun. Baby was thrilled to be there. His grandparents were overjoyed to have him and it was very special and beautiful to watch them bond. And even though the weather was atrocious almost all the time we were there, and we couldn't do half the things we'd planned to do, it was still great.

And now we're back. Baby was actually pleased to be back. We said elaborate "hellos' and "we missed yous" to almost all our favourite toys. Even then it took longer than a week to get back into some semblance of a routine. And what do you know it's already the end of January! Christmas has come and gone, hell the new years come and gone it seems, and I'm as usual struggling to make my peace with how quickly time passes. Baby is all set to turn two in a few days. Imagine that! My little new born baby! Two years old! A proper little boy!  It's enough to make me laugh and cry (and misuse the poor old exclamation marks!!).

The other day at his play-group, this lady who's son is about a year younger said to me, "I always worry about the older kids crashing into him"; and I said, "yeah so do I". She looked at me for a while and then said, "You do realise that your boy is one of the older kids?" My turn to look at her for a while, and then smile and shrug. I can't believe how quickly the time has gone. (Though of course if you'd asked me at 3 in the morning today, after days and nights of no sleep, I'd tell you I've felt every single second of the last two years!).

The last two years have been great. And so hard. I don't think I've ever felt more than I have in the last two years. I've never felt such joy, such despair. My relationship with husband has never felt more meaningful, problematic, more tender, more fraught. It's so easy to underestimate the effect having a baby has on your relationship. To be fair, our relationship has never been placid. We are both too passionate for that to happen. Baby just added another layer of complexity to already complicated dynamics. But I digress.

So to sum up,  baby turns two soon. A far as I can tell 2012 is almost over, and before I know it he'll be off to university, screening my calls. In other words, I'm old and wondering where my life went. Okay, maybe that's a bit extreme, but you get what I'm saying, right?


Today is the first day in over a month that I've been able to get a couple of hours just to myself. That's another thing I missed about London when we were away, the ability to just take off.

Oh and did I mention that we're still teething? (Hah. Bet you thought you'd escaped my constant moaning about teeth this time. Gotcha!). Canines now. The worst so far. The way I look at it, it can only get better from here. The other day, after a long hard teething day (would not let me out of his sight and cried at the smallest things, and all this after paracetamol), I looked at him and said, "Your teeth!", before I could finish he chimed in, "Teeth! Naughty little monkeys!"

But hey I think we're on the home stretch now. 12 out, 2 canines have cut through, two more are imminent. Then there's just the four big molars. Almost done!

Wonder what the next big thing will be.