who is this alien in my child's body?

32 tries later, i managed to get through to the exchange. i gave my chellam's roll number and dorm number; the call was put through.

we chatted a bit about what was happening in her life and mine. then 'ma, send me my red strapless bra please,' she said.

'why kanna? didn't you take enough underwear with you?'

'ya ma, but i went shopping with atha for clothes for my birthday and got a dress with wide shoulders. i need a strapless bra.'

so we got into a discussion (that's a nice word for what actually happened) about spending money on things she already had (two sets of clothes to wear on her birthday specifically, plus at least a dozen more because the others were 'worn and ratty, and just not the kind of stuff i like anymore'), and protests that she didn't have enough, and finally ended with the darling daughter saying her evening was ruined with this phone call, and did i really have to call and ruin her day.

how do we get from being the rock in our children's lives to being adults who they think are only set to ruin things for them? here on one side, is a child who thinks she is completely misunderstood and hates her parents, and there on the other side are parents who can't understand why they can't ever do anything right, who feel hurt at the insolence and disrespect dished out on a regular basis, and wonder why the children can't see how much they are loved.

i don't understand my daughter any more. nothing works. this will pass, everybody tells me, but will the scars fade? or will both of us look back heavy hearted, with one wishing she was born to different parents, and the other missing out on the togetherness that could have been, the closeness she never had with her own mother?

today most conversations with my chellam leave me in tears; wondering how things got so bad; longing for a child who loves me back the way i love her.

i wonder what she wants.

on the cutting edge

a long exchange of smsses with first born today, he's travelling from san francisco to boston, and because of favourable winds, the 6 hour journey is cut down to 4. a relief normally, but the problem is his flight will now land in boston at 4am, and he has a one hour bus ride to college, in temperatures of -4!

once in boston, he gets completely lost, takes the wrong bus, rides around the city in the cold and dark, and generally has a miserable time. hiding my anxiety, i try to get him to laugh it off. 'look on the bright side raja', i tell him. 'if you survive this with no lasting trauma, at least you have an adventure you can talk about!'

'yup, and i'll be so used to the cold that i'll be walking around kodaikanal in my jetti', he replies (jetti=briefs)

'don't even think about it,' i message back, 'you'll scare away the bison.' we exchange smileys, and sign off.

just last week, he was down with a terrible upper respiratory tract infection and fever, and now he's wandering about in the cold. i don't even want to think about it. oh, well, some years ago, when keeping in touch across continents was not easy, i'm sure children went through these same issues and lived to tell the tale, and parents lived in their own worlds, blissfully unaware. brat will survive.

next is a phone call to my chellam.

'oh ma, i had these ugly tights, and they ripped, and so i ripped them some more and wore them, and they looked so cool, but a bit stripperish,' she tells me. pause for breath, and the words tumble out again, 'and you know what, i tore my jeans, and they look so awful. but you know what, i want totally ripped jeans, with just threads across the knees. they look so cool.'

'errmm... aren't they trashy?' i ask, 'and how come a small rip is uncool and hanging on by a thread is cool?'

she explains that 'sluttish' and 'stripperish' are bit way out, but look cool anyway. and this from a girl who talks about becoming a fashion merchandiser so she can influence global buying patterns. i don't know if i want to be around to see all of that!

and then her voice drops to a whisper; tone is still excited, words still tumble out higgledy-piggledy, but this time in whispers.

'oh ma, oh ma, oh ma...btw, you know what so many people are into in school? cutting!'

she goes on to explain what cutting is in graphic detail, and tells me how this boy in her class was rejected by a girl, so he cut himself, and this other girl took a blade and cut herself in so many places, and went about showing everybody.

i'm horrified that children are doing this, and that my baby is amongst children who are doing this, terrified that she might be tempted to try, just to see what is is all about... well, it's been known to happen... don't a lot of things start simply because a person is curious? but i swallow all of that, and ask what she did when the girls showed her the cuts.

'oh i just said 'whatever' and walked away. i didn't want to give her attention.'

i'm just starting to breathe and thank my lucky stars that my chellam is being so sensible when she adds 'i just hope i don't do it some day!'

every single alarm bell in my body starts to jangle.

'babe, you won't.' i say firmly. 'people who do that sort of thing have problems. either they have emotional issues. they have low self esteem, or are seeking attention. you don't need to get attention or seek validation by doing something so crazy.'

i know it's not that simple. i don't know why children do it, and i have absolutely no idea what i will do if my chellam ever does something like that.

she agrees it is freakish, and really horrid, but i can also hear the morbid fascination in her voice. i remember a girl in my own class, in boarding school who would take a nail cutter and pinch her skin off with it, and pull a blade or compass point through her hands. it was just that one girl though, and yes, we discussed it with shudders, but didn't pay it much attention.

from my conversation with my chellam, it seemed like the problem with teens cutting themselves was a lot more prevalent now, and i cross my fingers and say a prayer she will never harm herself in these ways. those ominous words 'i just hope i don't do it some day!' go round and round in my head.

and to think school sent me an email yesterday, and in extra large sized font that too, asking me counsel and discipline my daughter as she was 'interested in a boy.'

ooh man, what can i say about their priorities!!

ps. if you think you know someone who might be doing themselves harm by cutting, and are not really sure, or are a concerned adult who wants more information, you might want to take a look at this website or this one. i have no answers for you, just know that teen issues like self injury need to be taken seriously and perhaps dealt with with professional help. i wish you never have to address the issue of cutting with a child, but if you do, i wish you strength.

here's where they are today

my chellam, 14, is now in boarding school, and learning to live a whole new life.

my raja, 18, is now in his first year of college in the us, and has slipped so easily into a new, and to me completely alien, life, it is frightening. he of course thinks being a 'major' he can do pretty much as he pleases.

so that's where my brats are today. this new avatar of my blog will be, i hope, my memory keeper.

breakfast in a glass - fullo'fruit smoothie

any high-flying executive who thinks he has a stressful life should try getting a couple of sleep-soaked teens up and out of the house for school, with a healthy breakfast in them, by 7.30am, day after mad-enough-to-pull-hair-out day... i promise you he would go dashing back to his office and it's gentle pressures before you can say 'breakfast darling?'

yesterday my DH called at an hour when my eyes were still gummy with sleep and voice at it's sleepiest, sexiest best. 'did you hear what happened in school?' nope, i hadn't.

apparently the school authorities had tried my cell phone (it's on silent till i can crawl out of the stupor i fall into after the brats leave the house) and couldn't reach me, so called my husband who was conferencing in some exotic land.

shivi had fainted during the assembly, and had to be carried out to the book-room, blissfully unaware of the commotion the little drama was causing.

horrid mother that i am, 'goodness, was she wearing shorts under her skirt?' was my first thought. 'the brat skipped breakfast again!' my second.

woefully short of sympathy, i sent the driver off to school to pick the wilted flower up, and set what was left of breakfast out on the table. a full stomach and six hour's sleep later, shivi was good as new, ready to make calls, find out what classes she had missed, take homework down, and sit down to finishing it all. i don't think she will be skipping breakfast, or fainting in school again, in a hurry.

anyway, if you have children who are anything like mine, you will need a quick drink trick or two (no, i don't mean a frozen vodka!) tucked away in your fridge. here's one of the best i know.

fullo'fruit smoothie

banana - 1 (chopped and thrown in the freezer the previous night)

quaker quick cooking rolled oats - 2 heaped tablespoons

flax seed powder - 1 teaspoons

juice (any flavour) - 1 cup (i make mine with auroville naturellement concentrate)

don't reach for sweetener - the juice gives enough of a sugar kick

throw the oats, along with the flax seed powder, chopped banana and other fruits if any, and a bit of juice into the blender/mixie for a few pulses. add the rest of the juice. blend.

ta-da, breakfast ready.

yep, that's all. i swear. just don't tell the children what's in the glass!

note - i always have frozen bananas sitting quietly in a colourful tupperware dabba in the freezer. this smoothie is great as a quick back from school/office/whatever pick me up too.

if you have any other fruit about the house, a couple of strawberries or an apple - nothing too acidic- get your knife to work, and toss the chopped fruit into the blender too. forget recipes and measurements, just go with your tastes here. remember though to make the smoothie banana based - it adds the right texture and body to your drink

and for those who are wondering, yes, you can have quick cooking rolled oats raw. it's ok. really.

say no, actually ma... say yes

the phone rings in the study. chellam picks it up and one minute later rushes into the dining room where i am, arms waving about frantically.... 'say no, say no..say no...'

'to what?' i ask 

'to the harry potter movie.'  i can't believe my ears! the phone's dead when i reach it, so i sit her down and ask what's happening.

X has been recently moved to her section, is known for being 'seriously weird,' and has no friends. probing doesn't get me details about what qualifies as 'seriously weird,' but plenty of eye-rolling happens. 'ma-aa, she's different, ok?' my daughter concedes. 

'and that's weird?'

'yes!' is the firm reply.

'so X's mother is trying to get a group of girls together to go for the harry potter movie, and you don't want to go?' i clarify.

'yes,' chellam answers again.

'because X is different, and that's weird.'

the 'yes,' slower to come this time, is accompanied by a frown and some lip chewing. then... 'actually ma... say yes,' she says.

my heart's leaping up doing high 5s, but i pretend nonchalance. 'how come you changed your mind, kanna?'

'i feel bad for her ma.' chellam replies, and even as i open my mouth, warns, 'don't ask me anything else ok? and i'm not going to be like her new best friend or anything. she doesn't have any friends, nobody wants to go, and i just feel bad for her, ok? so, say yes.'

i call X's mother, say yes, chellam would be glad to go along for the movie, and feel a heavy choked feeling inside when i hear the relief in her voice. she rushes on to explain that X is new to the section and somehow hasn't made a connection with anybody yet... i can feel her puzzlement, and pain.

i put the phone down and hug my daughter. there's no need for words. 

birthday presents, and how to get what you want!

last night, chellam, raja and i walked into the taj for a late, late dinner, and saw this prominently displayed sign that said 'salvatore ferragamo at the taj coromandel'

after squeals of delight from my daughter who wouldn't know a ferragamo from a frock stitched by the local roadside tailor, sarcastic comments about overpriced italian brands, courtesy my son, and my observations on the psychological differences between paying a couple of hundred dollars vs many thousands of rupees for a tie, we settled in to the usual crazy dinner conversations  the family is known to have!   

the topic of conversation today was chellam and her penchant for everything branded, hyped and overpriced, and how she would soon (in about 11 years :)) have to foot her own bills. 

amidst much hooting and laughter and protests, we figured out this is how she would probably fill her closets with designer junk.  

chellam, from somewhere in europe, calling her brother - haaii annnaa!!! (some polite conversation follows) 

brother, rudely cutting her off - ok, what do you want?

chellam - nothing anna, it's my birthday in a few days, so i was wondering if you were planning to get me a present. (silence on the line, so chellam bravely pushes on) anna, will you get me a pair of jimmy choos?

long silence again, then, brother -  sure... in your dreams! (click of receiver in her ear)

chellam calls her mother next. polite conversation follows, then - ma, its my birthday in a few days...

mother, cutting in- yes, bangaru, i know. i've arranged for a special puja and a homam in your name. i'll send you the prasadam as soon as i get it. put some kumkum on your forehead every night without fail, ok?

chellam rolling her eyes -her mother's a hopeless case- and hanging up. she can always blame it on the connection later!

she calls her father. 

father - yes, what is it? i'm in the middle of a monthly review meeting!

chellam - no nana, it's my birthday in a few days, and i was wondering if i could pick up a present for myself.

father, relieved that that's all it is, and figuring he can get off the phone in less than 2 minutes, is all sweet and indulgent now - sure kanna, get yourself something nice. what do you want?

chellam - nothing much nana. is a pair of shoes or something like that ok with you?

father, glancing at his watch - sure kanna, get yourself a couple of nice pairs. but get something sensible, not something horrible in purple or orange, ok? take care of yourself. are you dressing warmly enough? don't go out in the wind without your thermals. i've got to go now. call me on sunday. love you.

chellam hangs up with a wide grin on her face. 2 pairs! yyyesss!! 

father hangs up with a sigh of relief. shoes!! now back to the meeting.

of course he has no idea what shoes she has in mind or how much they cost, and she's not going to be around when the credit card slip arrives and he bursts a blood vessel!

things that go bump in the night

'stay right where you are,' my darling husband snapped!

considering that it was 4.00am, and that till the moment he had barked his order, i had been fast asleep, there didn't seem any immediate danger of my jumping up and rushing off anywhere.

'what's happening pa?' i asked sleepily.

'nothing,' the man of the house retorted, 'don't move!'

wide awake now, and definitely not ready to take orders lying down (forgive the awful pun!) i struggled up from bed. 'pa, what's going on, did you hear somebody in the house?' i asked, my words bouncing off a closing door around which came a snort that could have meant yes, or no, or anything else. 

my dh had stalked off to see who had invaded his territory.

he, as he had proved years ago, is far braver than he strictly needs to be when woken up by intruders in the middle of the night. such situations usually ended with the bewildered intruder bound with cord yanked off a table lamp, and dumped in the back seat of the car, while my husband prepared to dash off with his booty to the police station, clad in nothing more than boxer shorts!

i peeped out of the bedroom and saw lights snap on rapidly in room after room. 

'where's s?' the question ricocheted up the stairs. 

where was my son? in his room, i hoped, fast asleep, like he was meant to be. suddenly horror stories about disgruntled domestics sneaking into children's rooms and slitting the throats of the sleeping babes rushed to my mind. 'oh god, let him be safe, please!' i prayed.

it was definitely time to act. i shook my daughter, 'get up,' i snapped at the poor thing. (yes, when you have no idea what you are doing, barking orders feels useful.)

i yanked the mattress up, frantically searching for my 'whacking stick,' a wicked brass tipped bamboo staff i kept hidden there specifically for these situations. 

there was no way i was going to let my man face what i imagined was a mustachioed, knife-wielding, lungi-clad thug, armed with just courage and a sense of outrage, or let my child have his throat slashed in his sleep, so weapon in hand, i crept out of the bedroom, determinded to save the situation.

'check on s!' the command bounced up the stairs again. 

heart beating so loud i could actually hear the pounding, i gripped the bamboo staff tightly in my sweaty hands, and pushed open my son's bedroom door softly... and froze at the sight in front of me...

sitting cross-legged in bed, there he was, my son, plugged into his music, completely oblivious to the galatta his nocturnal wandering had caused, calmly eating some kiwi fruit he had just raided from the fridge!

'pa,' i shouted down, 'i found your intruder!'

why do i love thee, let me list 5 reasons...

first, my apologies to abha for letting this post slide for this long - will your hurt be appeased, my friend, if i say it was because i was romancing my darling husband in the hills somewhere, singing songs, running around a tree, with flowers nodding in the background, etc., in true bollywood style?

what! you don't believe me?

oh just as well, because it wasn't true anyway - at least not the singing part :)

now, on to the tag - 5 things you love about being a mother - that's what abha's tagged me to d0 - check out her list of 5.

i'm going to copy paste her instructions

The tag is: 5 things that you love about being a mom. Next, find someone to link to and tag - someone from your own country, if you like, but definitely someone from another country (let them know that you've tagged them!) - and link back here and HBM (that's where this all started) and leave a comment.

here goes - 

1 - i love seeing the world through my children's eyes -  my 17 yr old, i swear he was born old, is the eternal cynic. i'm amazed at the way his mind works, at how he can take apart an action, a reaction, a conversation, anything at all, and analyse it to death, dragging me into discussions the wildest stretches of my imagination could not otherwise think up! i love the way my 13 year old, a romantic in the truest sense of the word, is ready to believe the best of everything, and secretly pray she never loses this innocence that makes her such a pleasure to be with.

2 - i love the way they keep me young and 'with it' - without them, how would i know how awesome jesse mccartney or the google android was? how would i know that a pottery party was the most 'uncool thing' a mom could think up for her child, and that girls are just as good at football as boys, if not better? it's not just media stars, gadgets, and other things teens are fascinated with, they have such fresh ideas, and think in ways i've forgotten to. they take me back to my own childhood, and remind me what hard work it is to be a child in a grown up's world.

3 - a little give, and a little take - ok, a lot of it! -  i love doing things for the children; covering books with brown paper, giving massages and mini facials, finding the right shade of bangles to match that silk skirt, driving them to an early morning classes, serving them hot lunch when they come home tired from school... there are alternatives, somebody else could do it, why they themselves could do it, but i do it, simply because it makes me feel great to still be able to do little things for them. 

and it's a wicked thing to admit, but children are very handy when it comes to fetch and carry - who else can you get to run around looking for the keys that are in the handbag right next to your elbow, or to fix the computer when the dog has jumped on the wires? who else can you get to give you a foot rub when you're home after a long hard day, or carry back that sandstone sculpture you fell in love with in thailand? 

4 - i love how i can still teach them to look at the world through my eyes - wow, raw fish is not such a bad food, and taking half a day off to go browse through a museum while on holiday is not so boring really. and hey, this ray charles dude can sing, can't he, and bombay jayshree, and begum abida parveen, and vivaldi can make really nice music ma! music, art, indian culture and customs, the list goes on. there's so much they still have to learn, and i love introducing bits of these worlds to them.

5 - i love early morning 'kattis' (our word for hugs) - at one time early morning hugs were things i took for granted. actually with two children, one who fell asleep only if she had my hair twisted in her fingers, and another who kicked me all about the bed, i was glad for space. who needed early morning hugs! now that big bed seems strangely empty without all those bodies filling it up, and i'm glad for times they still feel little enough to sneak in for a cuddle. reminds me of how quickly times flies by, and how soon the small joys we take for granted today are gone. i love you my babies, i've always got room for an early morning hug!

one mother's wishlist

Raja, Chellam,

Let me spare you the worry of thinking up something appropriate to get for me on those days you think are special, and you must get something to mark it; here's my list for you.

Your company – The man who said, ’’The greatest gift is a portion of thyself’’ sure knew his stuff. Talk to me when I call, make time for me when I drop in to see you, even if you think you are too busy to make that time. Maybe I want to see you just for a minute. Maybe I just want to see that smile, maybe I just want to hug you and think of how you used to smell of baby powder, or too much perfume, or sweat, dirt and excitement after a football match. 
Come with me to that hopelessly romantic movie, even if it embarrasses you to be seen with your old mom at a chick flick. You don’t have to jump off the plane with me if I suggest going sky-diving, but drive me to the drop zone. Come out to lunch with me, take me with you when you go shopping for your new gizmo, sit with me a while when I’m unwell, and keep me a part of your life no matter where you are and how old you are, and who else is in your life.

Tell me the truth – Don’t lie to me, ever. I am always firmly on your side. It maybe a hopeless exam result, it maybe a girlfriend or a boyfriend I don’t approve of, it maybe murder you have committed, I don’t care. Tell me the truth. We will find a solution for it and face the world together. 

Hugs and kisses – I will never be too old or too dignified to be hugged and kissed. Hug me, kiss me, tell me you love me; I will make sure I always return these gifts to you, doubled.

Your appreciation – I love doing things for you. Some of them are silly and spontaneous, some take a lot of planning and effort. Show me you appreciate my efforts and my thoughtfulness. Don’t take me for granted. Tell me I am the best mom in the world; pay me for what I do with your words and smiles, with your hugs and kisses. That is what keeps me going.

Your children – You will not always have as much time for me as I want from you. Give me your children to love, to bring up, to tell stories to, to talk to about when you were little, to braid their hair, tuck their shirts in, to kiss their scraped knees and comfort them, to scold, and in them to see you again as you once were, in all your goodness and innocence, before you got all grown up, and independent, and left.

Make me proud of you - Live happy, live your life without regrets, follow your dreams. Life is not just about work or about material success. Be curious, be adventurous, take time off to love and to laugh. Also don’t ever forget that life has been good to you; give back to those who are not as fortunate. Let me see you do all of this, and let me feel the glow of pride that comes in seeing you live well.

Of course this doesn’t mean that you don’t provide your old mom with gifts of the material kind. Surprise me with a party, pamper me with jewellery; give me presents of art, exotic holidays, accounts at my favourite book-store, and melt in the mouth chocolates. If you think there’s something I might like, and if it doesn’t feature in this list, please feel free to go right ahead and get it for me. And you don’t have to wait for an occasion to give me a present. I won’t take offence at the ‘for no reason at all’ gift. 

Love and hugs, Amma

two girls, one history

long ago, a little girl locked herself in a dark store room, threw herself on a stack of old cotton mattresses, and sobbed as if her heart was broken. she had discovered, and there was no doubt about it, that something she had suspected for years, was true - her mother loved her brother best. actually she wasn't even sure her mother loved her at all. 

'i wish i was never born in this family,' she wept, and her tears soaked wet stains into the musty cloth under her, 'i wish i had the guts to run away from home, i wish i was dead.'

and finally, when there were no more tears left, just deep deep pain, she swore that when she had children of her own, she would love them all the same. 

that girl was 11 then, or maybe 12.

back then she had cried for the little girl she was. now the pain is for another girl, just like her... a little girl who cannot see that a mother might not love both her children the same, but that did not mean that she loved one more and the other less.

homework time, 3 vignettes

chellam - ma, is 39 the cube of anything?

me - mmm...13?

chellam, bursting into laughter - ma, you're hopeless with numbers, aren't you?

me, trying to look intimidating  - want to play a game of scrabble with me?

she quickly gets back to her maths

*****

chellam - ma, did that doctor call to thank you after you sent the money?

me - nope

chellam - so it was like throwing the money into a dustbin, right?

*****

chellam - ma, can i have a sip of your wine?

me, glaring at her

chellam - just one teensy weensy sip, please

i hand her the glass. she takes a small sip.

chellam - mmm...nice

takes a bigger gulp and her face twists into indescribably horrible shapes

chellam - slightly sour, no?

i burst into laughter

a perfect day

this is not the kind of post i would normally put up for public consumption, but there was something so beautiful about this day- some sweet, some spice, a little work, a little play, and lots of time with people i love. left me feeling so good, i just had to share it.

5.45 am - wake up, switch the heater on, and wake up daughter for an early morning hug.

6.00am - the sublime sounds of the venkatesa suprabhatam fill my room. kick daughter out of bed and spend the next hour yelling reminders and instructions over songs in praise of various gods- have you brushed? yes, today! wear clean socks please! look through your lessons! no, one idli isn't enough for breakfast!

7.15am - frantic calls from downstairs. driver hasn't turned up. a phone call reveals he has quit work. result of yesterday's tamasha, i presume, but what a way to break it to me!

7.16am - leap out of bed (yesss, i know... i tend to laze about while barking orders) and hunt for sweats to wear with crumpled t. good enough for school.

7.23am - daughter has decided she wants to go to school in mom's new car, so i sit behind the wheel, trying not to panic, telling myself that driving an automatic for only 3 minutes under the eagle eyed supervision of my darling husband two days earlier qualifies me to drive this monster; not that i have a choice anyway, my daughter has to pick up her car pool buddy and get to school in 17 minutes or less.

7.36am - in school, perfectly smooth drive, and on time. yippee!

8.20am - sms two friends asking for help finding a driver.

8.40am - friend 1 responds saying he would send one of his company drivers over in an hour for me to interview, and hire if i wanted. i love the man!

9.00am - quick look around favourite blogs, post comments, respond to (woefully small number of ) comments on mine. aha, inbox holds an enquiry for a voice over!! dash off emails. 

10.21am - co-ordinate with painters and plumbers to get work done around the house before dh and first born return home. 2 minute calls to akka to check if she's better today, and to friend congratulating her daughter on fab exam results. draw up study plans for a friend's teenaged son who's home for 2 months from boarding school.

11.36am - coffee (ok, tea actually, but somehow meeting over coffee sounds right in a way that meeting over tea doesn't!) with friend i haven't seen in over a month, open up birthday presents - autographed book by jeffrey archer and perfume to die for- with very undignified squeals of delight. panic when i can't put the car in reverse gear, and call friend to come back and rescue me. figure out how to do it for myself :) call again asking him not to bother. 

12.30pm - interview done, new driver hired, old driver returns and apologises for yesterday, and gets a lecture on how he should come to me if he had a problem, not quit without notice, or threaten me by saying he would quit.

1.20pm - lunch at my club, thrilled at the announcement that our bulletin (am godmother to this baby) got the best bulletin award, discuss ways to bring in money for the next fund raiser, bring home the vision committees proposal to edit.

3.00pm - hand driver 2,000 rupees to deliver to greedy doctor.

3.23pm - gorge on red cabbage and gooseberry salad, sip cups of peppermint tea, and play a kick ass game of scrabble with a darling friend while talking about everything from her painful eye, to men (of course!) to indian inheritance laws and the smartest investments to make in this economic climate. argue, successfully, that the word 'liced' doesn't exist except in her imagination.

5.07pm - hug my darling chellam, and chat about her day while she gets ready for a swim. lecture her on need to follow rules, and pack her off, smiling happily, in her new swimsuit.

6.30pm - slip on sneakers, sweats and t, and go for a quick walk. feel very virtuous.

7.13pm - chellam calls, 13 minutes after her curfew is up, asking if she can stay at her friend's till 7.30pm. very calmly i tell her to get her curfew violating ass home immediately!

7.35pm - yummy dinner of oothapam with poondu kuzhambu. discover my daughter hasn't gone for a swim, but to a friend's, 'to pick her up ma,'and then hung out at the friend's house because the girl 'had that thing'  and couldn't swim.

swallow anger and settle instead for a talk on responsibility, rules, penalties for breaking rules etc. explain how it is important for her own safety that i know where she is at any time, and with whom. when will she ever grow up and see these things for herself!

8.30pm - sit down to prepare lesson plans for tomorrow, and edit the vision committee document while chellam does her homework - she laughs at my inability to find the cube of 13! i indulge in a glass of crisp sauvignon blanc (after all, wine in a bottle already opened doesn't wait for weekends to come around before going off) read email from dh, and reply sending hugs and kisses. soul music plays softly in the background. the curtains are drawn, the day is winding to a close, and there's a warm glow in the air. speak to my amma, and she promises to send over ingredients for kashayam (ugh!!) for my persistent cold. i can already feel it clearing up!

9.34pm - bed time. chellam and i do our 'mullum malarum' (thorns and flowers) routine - we discuss good things and not so good things that happened during the day.

9.57pm - lights are out, her fingers are twisted in my hair, her breathing's soft and slow, she's falling asleep.

10.00pm - thank you god. i couldn't have asked for a better day.

sweet child o' mine

me, at dinner, trying to educate my daughter on the delights of my  music, 80's rock.

chellam, cutting into my rapturous speech on the boss - oh i know rock. it's your pink floyd and guns n' roses and *andha kaalam bands like that.

me - (ignoring the andha kaalam reference, and quite impressed that she's actually knows some names) yes kanna, when we get home ill give you some of their music to put on your ipod.

chellam - sure ma. by the way, this guns n' roses thingy, are they like, as good as...mmmm.........  justin timberlake?

me, lost for words. completely.

now to find a wall and bang my head on it till pain takes the sound of those words away! 

* andha kaalam -literal translation:- those days. 

implication:- stuff you like to think fondly of, which has no relevance to my life in any way.

and some days, they are perfectly horrid!

4.45am - "BITCH GET IN MY CAR" i jerk upright and flail around blindly. damn, there's somebody in my room, and from the sound of it the foulmouthed idiot is trying to kidnap me or something!!

chellam says sleepily, 'ma, can you shut that alarm off, i want 5 minutes more please!' 

what the hot place downstairs??? that is her morning alarm? and what's it doing going off at 4.45 am anyway?

5.45am - jerk upright and flail around blindly. please god don't tell me i overslept. first born had to be at the golf course at 6.00. damn, i overslept. dash madly into his room, apologising profusely, only to find him under the covers. 'don't worry ma, coach smssed saying it was ok if i was there at 7.00' 

oh, and you never thought to let me know?

walk back to room with mood meter inching toward 'annoyed' 

discover chellam is still sprawled across the bed asleep. so much for that 4.45 alarm. wake her up, get under the covers and try to grab some sleep. nope, not happening. too much adrenalin rushing around for that. remain under the covers, eyes closed, forcing myself to breathe slow and deep. not working.

7.00am - back from the golf course, pick up breakfast for chellam from the kitchen, and take it up to her. 

chellam 'maaa, whydyu get TWO idlis!!' 

whiney tone actually triggers a sharp shooting pain that goes all the way from the back of my teeth through my eyeballs, and right into my brain! i mutter something about ungrateful children and a mother's stupidity, slam the plate down on the bed, and lock myself in the bathroom.

mood meter is firmly lodged at 'pissed off' and the day hasn't even got to it's feet yet.

8.15am - driver calls. he's not coming in to work, his wife's sick.

8.45am - maid calls. she's not coming in to work, her father's sick.

mood meter points to 'ohh myyy gorrdddd' hopelessness

wash down my morning's handful of antibiotics, steroids, tummy protectors and decongestants with a glass of hot water, and throw in some paracetamol for good luck. that flushed feeling could be the onset of insanity or the fever coming back.

the day passes in a daze of phone calls, instructions to the other maid who at best functions like she checked her brain in at the gate before walking in through my door, a meeting with a dear friend. we spend more time gossiping and less working. thank god for small mercies.

mood meter tentatively hovers around 'happy'

5.15pm - turn into my lane and find chellam running out onto the road bare footed, in her school uniform shirt and the thin knit shorts she wears under her uniform skirt - she might as well have run out on the road in her panties! yell and scream that she might have the body of a lumbering 16 year old but her brain is still stuck at 10.

the handful of leering drivers and watchmen looking on have their entertainment quota for the day filled. barely manage to stop myself from turning around and screaming 'and whatreyou looking at? yeah, you, and you, and you!'

8.30pm - get my ass kicked in scrabble, but the company is worth every point i lose, and then some, so it's ok.

9.30pm - come home to find that brat female offspring of mine has been on the computer, on facebook and some stupid thing called 'restaurant city,' knowing perfectly well that the computer is out of bounds on weekdays, and especially so now because exams are going on. sms records show message activity. do i even need to say that we have a 'phone turned in before dinner' rule?

lose it. completely. mood meter zooms to 'insane woman yelling madly, loud enough to be heard down three streets, arms flailing about, spraying spittle all over the room, and eyeballs in serious danger of falling out of her head'  

'ok, if all you do is break every rule i set,' i yell, 'fine, no rules. but don't expect me to do anything for you either. you can't have EVERY BLESSED THING your way!'

she throws a tantrum back, and stalks off, fat tears streaming down her face, saying she needed some peace and quiet to study in. 

right, and i was the one getting in the way of her mugging up her math equations!

mood meter quietly gives up trying. there's nothing in it's experience to describe this.

9.45pm - mom calls, and makes the mistake of asking about the children. she gets an earful. and then she actually says 'don't be too harsh with her, poor thing, it's that age! children are so sensitive these days.' and goes on to tell me about an 8 year old who was accused by her teacher, in front of the class, of stealing a classmate's pencils, and the child, feeling humiliated, went home, poured kerosene over herself, and set herself on fire!

thank you ma, that makes me feel so reassured, and hello, where was all this understanding about 'that age' when i was growing up? i mean, i remember dad actually taking a belt to me, and you watched without saying a word. didn't i go through 'that age' too?

but what's the point. i can't say all of that, and she's only trying to help. i don't even bother to check the mood meter.

10.30pm. talk with mom done, i turn the radio on to 'quiet storm' put my head down on the dining table, and wish i could cry. my eyes burn. i don't know if it's from the fever coming back, or the emotions roiling inside. the voices of barry white, and sade, and seal flow over me in songs of love, and slowly lead my reluctant emotions to a place where it's still dark, but not an acid in the gut dark. this is a more bearable curtains drawn in a cool room dark.

11.15pm - first born calls, asking to be picked up from work. 'i'm hungry ma,' he says, 'can i have some dinner as soon as i get home?' i heat up some quiche, fill a bottle with vegetable juice, and leave. the car's sun roof is open, the warm night air flows through the windows rolled halfway down, soft rock plays on the radio. the road's blessedly empty.

12.30am- dinner's done with. everything's put away for the night. the children are both in bed. 

i look at my handful of medication, the steroids, the antibiotics, and everything else, and feel like throwing all of it away. the prickling behind my eyelids comes back again.

i want my darling husband here. i want a sane, sympathetic adult to talk to. a warm body to hold. somebody to stroke my back, and smooth my hair and ask if i need something. i need to put my head on his shoulder, and have him drape his leg over my hip; to hug him close and fall asleep not knowing where he begins and i end. 

but he's hundreds of miles away, and i won't see him for 3 weeks, wishing we were a 'normal family' with mother and father and two children sitting down to breakfast every morning, and discussing the day's events every evening before children are tucked in under the covers in their rooms, and mom and dad curl up in each others arms to sleep, is not going to help. heck those kind of families probably don't even exist!

like that old eagles song says, i need to 'get over it' if not now, by tomorrow morning at least, when the alarm will go off again at some unearthly hour, to some awful noise that passes off as music, by some ass whose mother should have washed his mouth out with industrial strength floor cleaner years ago.

dear god, tomorrow's a new day. please, let it be a better one.

so, what does she want to do?

first born's back from college visits, so 'has he decided what he wants to do?' is the question of the month. since i really can't say 'he wants to laze about and make lots of money' -it reflects poorly on my parenting skills- i smile beatifically and say 'culinary school, or business, but i think he's leaning towards business.'

sometimes the follow up question is 'and what does chellam want to do.'

usually i'm sane enough to respond with the polite and vague '13 is a little early to know, isn't it?' even though i'm actually thinking, 'heck you're 40 something and it's obvious you still have no clue about what you are doing!'

anyway, back to the question. blame it on 

1 - the late hour - 11.30 at night, 

2 - the 'setting' - we were at elliot's beach sitting on the wall, listening to the waves, enjoying the cool breeze and talking about everything and nothing at all, 

3 - the mood - mellow, relaxed, dreaming about owning a beach house and having access to the wind and the waves any time i wanted, and 

4 - the person who did the asking - my sister, 

that prompted me to blurt out, with more honesty than was strictly needed-

'oh she wants to travel around the world and shop, and fill her cupboards with jimmy choos!'

oops... what happened to the 'plastic surgeon/chef/IFS/fashion designer' and even 'global retail merchandiser' i had rehearsed just for this moment??

the cast, crew, and the reasons why

why this blog? for three reasons

one - to maintain some semblance of sanity in my life by giving me much needed child related rant space,

two - to keep the 3.5 readers of my other blog to the wind and the trees from running away, as they surely will if i inflict this upon them, and

three - i promised my chellam i would one day write a book called 'growing up with shivi,' and this is my memory jogger/record keeper/witness of truth

the cast and characters

heroine - shivi, 13yr old girl teen, referred to as chellam in happy times, overly fond of shopping, and of the colour pink, fitting neatly into almost every cliched slot there is for 13yr old girl teens overly fond of shopping and of the colour pink

everybody else qualifies as sidekick, or as it is so beautifully said in tamizh - jaalra. in order of importance

brother - referred to as first-born or raja, exists solely to make her life miserable (according to shivi), also serves as a life raft in the stormy sea that shivi's mother is tossed about on

mother - me

father - referred to as nana, long suffering provider of gadgets and funds for shivi's other mad escapades

assorted characters playing the roles of friends, foes, teachers, and sundry relatives make sporadic appearances.

this drama is set in the lovely south indian city of chennai.

read on.