My two favorites

Left: NRR, the little monkey who takes centre-stage in life. Before I became a mother and during pregnancy, I had several theories and ideas about parenthood and raising a child. So far, everything has gone exactly not as per plan. And I have quickly realised that this is just the beginning of the challenge-ridden adventure called being a parent. Yet, every moment spent with him is sheer delight, and I can safely say that this is my most favoritest monkey and my most favoritest way of spending my time is monkeying around with him.

Right: The Snail and the Whale, this is an absolute beauty. If you haven't read it, you are seriously missing something. And you don't have to be a 6 month old to appreciate the lyrical loveliness of this poem. I read it to A in the kitchen and we read it over and over again, just standing by the hob, not moving, just listening to the magic unfold. It is a bit of a shame that N isn't taking to it as whole-heartedly as his parents, but I think it's only a matter of time before the snail with the itchy foot charms him into submission.

Mariana

I read it a while back but just didn't get down to writing about it. It made a pleasant, insightful read, another coming-of-age work that stood part from the rest by its sheer compassion and ordinariness. How interesting can a middle-of-the-road life be? Quite, in a quiet sort of way. It's about wrong choices, and growing with, through them, not into a super-human heroine, but into a good-enough person. It's about coming to terms with reality, about realising that imagination is a double-edged sword. Didn't quite like the way the ending was constructed though. Too abrupt, and suddenly lacking the sensitivity that marked the entire book.

Cool as a cat

In defense of imperfection

Lately there has been a lot of lack of perfection around. And I have cheerfully managed to make a comfortable place for it in life, hoping to make smiling acquaintances with it, if not best buddies. And so it came and hit me smack in the face when the last two weeks, now that I look back at them, turned out to be a ruthless search for perfection, badgering perceived shortcomings into guilty submission.

As a friend embarks upon the search for a life partner, the demand for the 'perfect' partner overwhelms my senses. Just as the desire for a perfect body, especially now that we are going swimming. Or the pressure for the baby to sit up/crawl/roll by a certain age. Not to mention, the cooking, cleaning, and keeping a smiling, painted face, ever ready for guests to inspect/comment on.

Why can't we just be? And let others be? Why is it not enough to have a good-enough partner, and not a perfect one? Why is it not enough to have a normal, happy baby, and not a super one? Why is it so difficult to settle for good and not the best?

Rant over. Off to enjoy my imperfect but happy time with N.

Another first

My first birthday as a mum. Hmmmm. The thoughts in my head are as follows:

1. Don't feel very much mum-like

2. Wish I could sleep some more, actually a lot more

3. Can't get over his smile - he is one hell of a charmer

4. The house was cleaned 4 hours ago and it again looks like it was hit by a hurricane

5. How on earth do other parents keep their houses clean?

6. I am hungry

7. There is so much work to do...

8. I think I will sleep

9. Can't sleep, he is up - must entertain him now

10. Come to think of it, I feel very much like a doting, exhausted, trying-to-multi-task-but-failing-miserably mum

Circle of life

What is it about old friends that makes you smile and melt a little inside? Especially the ones you spent your teens with, the ones who share your secret of the first crush, the first heartbreak, the first half-baked plans for life, the little beginnings of the journey of discovering who you are and what all you can become. Those friends remain in the heart always, despite the cold distance of adulthood and the self-centeredness of grown-up life.

So when one of them writes to you, remembering your birthday, or the silly laughs you had in the girls toilet, or the promises you made never ever to lose touch, it plays like a magical game of the heart before your eyes. One such dear, dear friend of the lovely years of life in school wrote today about wanting to see N, about slowly getting used to the idea of being called aunty, and about the hope that the children could now be friends and continue the circle of life. And I can't stop smiling at this miracle called friendship that transcends time, distance and all kinds of differences.

May special friends bring you moments of pure happiness and the circle of life go on and on.

Why...

...is it acceptable to say that you are not a baby/children person, but not to say that you are not a dog/pet/animal person?

And why is it nearly uncool to have children? What's with this unmentioned, unspoken of idea that if you are educated, successful and intelligent, you will, almost by default, choose not to have a baby? Why is a heartwarming welcome extended to a dog when it enters the train but a silent, disapproving turn of the head for a baby? Why do people pretend that they can't see a ready-to-pop pregnant lady standing before them - are we seriously lacking even the basic semblance of compassion towards fellow humans?

How ironic, that the proponents of liberty, of choice, are often the ones who snub others' right to choose their own path. Sometimes, all that is needed is to focus on minding one's own business and quit making value judgements about others, their lives and their decisions.