Alone Now

These days, I’m re-learning to be alone. I’m re-learning to do things on my own – from going for a quick lunch on my own to just going about life. Or rather, daily life as it comes when you have small children, school, bus stop drops and pick ups, badminton classes, older parents and in laws and a work from home situation.

I’m also re-learning a thing or two about marriage. Or at least the way it is perceived by most around us.

Last October, my husband moved to another city because of work. He travels back home on most weekends and intends to continue the arrangement for at least some time in the near future. It’s an arrangement we are both very comfortable with at the moment. I run a start up along with a friend that is based in the city I live in and our children go to a school here they love. My husband is trying out a new job and city and wishes to see first if it would be long term. We see no reason to upset the apple cart at the moment.

So while I re-learn several things in the ‘husband’ department formerly, such as driving or fixing the kiddo’s bike, what’s been really interesting to see are the reactions of people around us.

It doesn’t matter that my husband is around on weekends and holidays, spending as much time as he can with the kids, helping out with things around the house. What matters is the time he is MIA.

‘Don’t you think your husband is missing out on his children growing up?’ says a concerned neighbor whose parenting advice I did not ask for.

Another lets me know how her husband would never agree to such a thing because their children would be inconsolable.

Yet another tut tuts at how “poor me” is always running around, picking up and dropping the kids, finishing outside chores. “I did that earlier too, when my husband lived here,” I tell her. “It’s still different, at least you had him back at the end of the day,” she replies back, because of course that is the prize all good wives wait for at the end of the day, don’t they?

If that is meant to inject some sadness into my cold cold heart, it doesn’t.

Yes, there are times when you want another adult to have a conversation with at the end of the day. An adult who may speak in monosyllables and stay glued to the TV screen but is a comforting presence anyway.

Yes, there are times when you wish you did not have to discipline the squabbling kids at dinnertime on your own for four nights a week and sometimes more. But there are various devices to keep us all connected more than enough these days and whether it’s a kiddy battle or a much needed conversation, it can be dealt with via that medium. Then there are friends who could be easily arm-twisted for a mid-week beer J Not exactly the end of life, is it?

I may sound irked but I’m not disputing any of the things people have been saying. These are fair points, all of them and there is probably a sense of genuine concern. What amuses and bothers me in equal measure is the sense of incredulity I get behind these questions and conversations. Being comfortably alone in a marriage and admitting it doesn’t seem to be the done thing. If you are in a marriage, at least in India, you need to say and do the right things.

And it isn’t just being alone.

Anything that is different in a marriage is usually questioned, if not openly, then with very thinly veiled interest. A friend works a full time, demanding job. Her husband is the stay at home dad at the moment, working on his nascent venture, with more time on his hand than his wife has. It’s he who is around the kids all the time. It’s he who is the playground dad. Their marriage too gets the same incredulous reactions. Doesn’t he mind the late hours? She is asked.

Doesn’t she miss the kids on her frequent travels? And of course, the inevitable, how long do you plan to continue this? Because life has to be planned to power point precision?

So what do I make out of this? In a marriage, your behavior and beliefs, at least to the world at large, need to be the socially approved ones. Yes, you may be the mother who works but you also need to be the mother who shows up sometimes at the playground. If not, you are possibly without any maternal feelings. You may be the mother who is comfortable playing single parent for a while; the mother who doesn’t mind stepping out for a drink with her friend on a weekday while her husband is in another city but please do not announce it to the world. You may be ‘alone’ but far from lonely but please do not make that public .

That’s not how tried and tested formulas work.

The post from a hole

I'm neither here nor there at the moment.

I was like this eight or maybe seven and half years ago, when Big A was about 8 months old and my new mommy feelings were strong as ever but not enough to survive on them alone. My friends worked. My husband  worked. My mom worked. My neighbour worked, even though she did not really want to. My maid worked. Everyone worked expected me. Oh yes, I worked too. But day and night shifts that are done at home and involve children, high chairs, scattered cereal, splattered sofas, squeaky toys all over the floor, potty seats and wheels of the bus sung for the 25th time to put the tyke to bed are invisible. It's just something you do when you are home 24/7. It's not work because real work requires a smart office chair and desk, a nifty computer where you do other things than check mommy blogs, kids furniture and upload photos on Facebook. And get paid at the end of the month, which is what makes it all real. f

Irrational? Yes. But when you are in a baby induced hole, you tend to have such thoughts, even if you love the hole you're in.

So by the time A hit 8 months, I hit the paranoia button and decided that I had to work. Not full time of course but on a freelance basis. My life depended on it. Yes am quite shallow that way and not exactly ad-material for motherhood.

Now A is about to hit 8 years next month. I have work on hand. Have always had for the last eight years. Small time stuff that's enough to keep me happy, occupied and delusional enough to think that am doing 'real work.' I even have a 'venture' of my own with a friend that is on baby steps but is there, nevertheless.

But the discontent of it all is hitting me back again. Is the work I'm doing really worth it? Where do I stand among everyone else? Has the baby hole sucked me too deep inside? I'm restless and panicky as a friend pointed out today. At least that's how I'm coming across.

Weird? Perhaps to the outside world. Normal? To some mothers-in-a-hole who tread the same line of thought. Abnormal? Certainly not!

Made payesh (Bengali for rice pudding) the other day. Here it is:

Nothing monumental about it except that I'm now officially my mother. Growing up, payesh was the answer to everything in our house. Birthdays? Anniversary? Overnight guests? Is-there-anything-sweet-at-home cravings? Payesh it was. To be fair to mom, she also baked cakes, made fish in white sauce, malpuas and various other things but payesh was and still is her signature offering. Post marriage, when I started calling up mom to get recipes in my usual loving manner (but why do I beat the butter and sugar together? Why not everything? Why do you make everything so complicated?) I would steer clear of payesh. Or for that matter macher jhol (Bengali fish curry) and anything standardly mundane that I scoffed at as a kid/teen. It's different now of course. Age has taken over and is fast turning me into my mom as I keep repeating stuck record like. Macher jhol is made at home at least twice a week. The only difference with mom's is that hers is more regularly made and tastes a hundred times better. And now there's the payesh. It's a good thing I thought while stirring it that day. Stays in the fridge long enough to keep the hungry husband happy and doesn't look too bad when served in a nice bowl if there are guests. Now let's see what else is there in the mother's repertory of the mundane that I haven't tried yet....ummm...aloo bhaja? Is there something your mom made that you scoffed at as a kid for being too regular but found yourself cooking later in life? Am I the only one?

Rambling mommy post

Sometime early this evening, as I was climbing up the stairs to an electronics store, I tripped and dropped my sleeping son on the ground. He fell with a thud, rudely awake and crying his guts out. P scooped him up and there we stood for the next two minutes, rubbing the poor child's head and trying to soothe him and angry with each other. P with me for I wasn't exactly looking where I was going. Me at myself for doing what I'd just done. The fall was a nasty one, the sound of it even nastier. Mercifully there were no bruises or cuts, except a minor scratch on his arm. Back home, after a small hospital check up (I bet the emergency guy logged us as Paranoid Parents mentally), we couldn't get it out of our minds that it had been a close shave. He could have fallen further down the stairs and it could have been worse. Predictably, in true mother mode, I've been feeling horrible, despite everything getting back to normal. A's even done his Rock On routine for us before bedtime and proudly shown off the Band-aid on his arm. It's me who's in jitters. The klutziest mother on earth. Of course that isn't true. I may not have Angelina Jolie's ability to balance babies on various parts of her body but I do usually manage to walk in a straight line. Though to be honest, this isn't the first time I've dropped my son. The last instance was unavoidable but when he was a jiggly necked baby, my hands would almost turn to jelly every time I had to pick him up, which was practically all the time. Do other mothers feel like this? Perhaps they don't. Look at Meghna my friend. She can balance a clutch and her pretty daughter while walking in high heels. And another friend goes rock climbing with her son. I'd rather be turned into stone that do that! Why am I finding it difficult to move on after something so small? Do fathers have it easier? P came back to normal once we knew nothing was wrong. I'd have shouted at him too had he dropped A instead of me but would he have been feeling as weirdly horrid as I am? I'm indulging in self pity? Absolutely. What else do I have a blog for! Need to have this written and off my chest. Motherhood is such a fucking complicated box of emotions. You can go from happy, sad, warm, angry, frustrated, guilty, elated, proud, thrilled, envious, foolish, sheepish, bitter...all in a matter of seconds and I've actually run out of adjectives. There are many more. You can beat yourself to death mentally for having dropped your son and then feel frustrated later when he refuses to even touch his dinner. You start shouting/trying to make him eat and then that one drop of tear silences you because today of all the days, you should go easy, shouldn't you? The child being the cunning monkey that he is, knows just which buttons to press and when. Which makes me wonder if I am pressing the right ones. Of being able to take care, take charge, do all the right mother type things and blah blah. There was some Cher movie (forgot name) where she says to her kids 'It's not as if you guys came with some instruction manual. Well at times you do wish they did. Dropped child today? a) Allow him to play with his food b) Gently, but firmly remind him that food is meant to be eaten and there are no alternatives available c) Run to loo and cry. Scroll down to see answer.

Diary of a harried mom

Get up late as a result of last night's impromptu dinner at home with friends. Rue fact that no longer wake up late because of hangover but because of non-cooperating body parts despite the lack of alcohol.

Start morning on frenzied note as son's playschool has 'Hygiene' as the in-house dress-up theme. Try cutting shape resembling toothpaste and toothbrush out of chart paper and silently vow to become super organized mum with special drawer+desk for school tasks done five days in advance. Also vow never to have impromptu parties.

Child refuses to wear toothbrush. Tears toothpaste cap.

Reach school. Happily dump child in hands of enthusiastic young teacher (EYT). Who also looks mildly surprised. Must be the bad brush cutout. Watch in utter envy as EYT makes child wear both brush and paste WITHOUT A WHIMPER and shows him off to everyone. Resists urge to do a 'Why Me why me why me' dance on the spot and head home.

Start work. Continue for five minutes.

Answer doorbell. Has 10 minute mime show with presswala who speaks only Telugu. Finally realize he wants last week's balance. Try to remember what balance was and why it isn't paid but cannot. Finally hand over the obscene amount of money demanded. Vow to become organized homemaker with meticulous expense diary keeping skills.

Work for 15 minutes.

Answer doorbell. Maid's sister gleefully informs that didi won't be coming today. Sprints for the lift before being asked to work.

Shut laptop and head to kitchen. Stare blankly at pile of vessels. Spend eternity scrubbing. Also do jhadoo though for an insane moment think of saving that for the child. After all, he's always chasing the maid for the damn thing isn't he?

Leave home to collect child. Get lectured by child's class teacher for not sending cap and school T-shirt, required necessities for field trip. Erm...what field trip? Wasn't it the fancy dress?

Frantically hunt child's bag for clues. The toothbrush is for tomorrow. The field trip was today.

Hide forever.

You know senility is fast catching up when...

Your random thoughts during the day include...

Oh I hope the curd has set properly

Wow I didn't need to take him to the toilet even once during his afternoon nap (in fact, this is the high point of the day)

Must order more jelly

Don't I have a single new book to read? Oh wait...there's that M&B I got free with Good Housekeeping somewhere..ah here is is with Pepper Learns to Share...something to read at last.

That was the cutest Tom & Jerry cartoon ever.