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