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.

do 18 year olds need chaperones?

my first born wants to travel half way around the world to spend a week with his friends during spring break, in march 2011.

being the kind of person he is, along with his emailed request to go, he sends his dad and me details of his holiday schedule, his friends' holiday schedules, flight options, ticket costs, cost of hotels and service apartments (weekday and weekend rates) in the country he plans to visit.

impressive, but we gene donors freak out anyway.

me, still the conservative villager under my lipstick and concealer, freaking out at the idea of a teenager flying halfway around the world to spend a week with friends; his dad, who is ok with the half way around the world for a week idea, freaking out over the trouble he might get into- probably having nightmarish recollections of his own college days- something that does not bother me even after it has been pointed out; i know my son... err... at least think i do!

so, 'pa, he lives in a different country for heaven's sake!' i protest. 'you have no idea what he is up to there and you're ok with that. so how is this trip different!' i wonder if i should point the father to first born's facebook page.

anyway dh comes up with this crazy proposal that i go and spend that week skulking about in the same service apartment my brat is likely to stay, just to keep an eye on the boy. i can't think of anything more horrid, for both brat and me.

picking a time that's appropriate, what do you think about it raja, i ask. i take pains to point out that i'm a super cool mom who will not get in his way, or on his case, as long as he wasn't doing dangerous things of course.

'it's simple ma,' he says, quick as a flash. 'nana and you have to realise i'm not 14 anymore. also, my friends and i are not so stupid that we will break laws with no care for consequences. that said, if having a chaperone is the only way i can travel, i'd rather not go. i'll wait till you can trust me to travel to a foreign country on my own.'

then he moved on to something else. no arguments, no tantrums, nothing. he just made his point and moved on!

from past experience, i know that first born's 'oh so reasonable' handling of situations gets people to agree to even the most outrageous of requests, and i can't see this as being any different, but i'd like to see where it goes anyway!

i also think i would have made a nice mom for me. sigh.

first day at work

originally posted in to 'the wind and the trees'

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today is my first born's first day at work. all of 17, he's got 2 months before he gets into his final year of high school and is doing an internship in a local 'star hotel' kitchen to see if he can kick the food bug, or if he cares enough about it to succumb and go to culinary school.

he's working split shifts - 10am - 3pm, and from 7pm to when ever the restaurant kitchen closes - close to midnight, i think. between golf in the morning, and an hour of gym in between his shifts at the hotel, he's got more than his share of things to keep him busy.

today, he came home after shift 1, and gave me a colourful picture of the workings of a hotel kitchen (i'm glad i'm not vegetarian, and even so, i wonder if i will ever eat here again!) 

here's a snippet of conversation between washer-upper and my son - 

washer-upper - dai, entha ooru, coimbatooraa? (where are you from, coimbatore? there's no word that describes the 'dai' accurately. suffice to say it's an extremely disrespectful way of addressing someone)

my son - aamaa, yaen? (yes, why?)

washer-upper - athan, vaaya thoranthale theriyudhu, pattikkaadu! (it shows the minute you open your mouth, bumpkin!)

after i picked myself up from the floor, wiped my eyes, and stopped laughing long enough to speak, i asked him if he minded. after all, he was used to being addressed as 'thambu,'  a form of thambi (younger brother) a term both respectful and affectionate, by the staff.

he shrugged, 'why should i!'

yes, this holiday/ internship would definitely do him good, and if nothing else, it certainly should be interesting!