Of surprises, good and bad

• A valentine's gift when we had clearly agreed there weren't going to be any. And to top it, it was the one that I have been wanting forever, just never getting it, because I would never get it for myself. When I asked A why he did it, his reply was, 'because.' This husband of mine never ceases to surprise me.
• A nasty throat infection that took me by serious surprise. And then started getting complicated so I am on a surprisingly old antibiotic because of other issues. How bizarre.
• Is it a surprise that A has finished his course of antibiotics (yes we are a bit ill as a family) but is still as unwell as he was when he started out?
• N had his 12th month vaccination today and surprised us all by not uttering even the tiniest of squeals when the needle went in. Instead he looked surprisingly at the nurse, she too surprised for words at the boy who didn't cry when poked. A and I were beyond surprise - we had mentally prepared ourselves for a non-stop howling session. What a pleasant surprise!

Back to the grind

As a certain fast food company would say, 'I'm loving it'! Being back at work that is. So far, the balance suits be just fine - three days of getting dressed for work, the train, the underground, the commuters rushing about, the buzz of the city, the research, the policy debates, the happy colleagues, the cheerful office banter, the leaving on the dot to get to the nursery in time, the smile from the little fella as he rushes into my arms, the brisk walk back home and the big cuddles. All very nice indeed.

And then, four days of jeans and sneakers and t-shirts stained with baby food, the rushing to the library to be in time for Rhyme Time, the singing as we play, the peekaboos and the clap,clap,claps, the super fast crawling, the wanting to grab everything that attract's his growing fancy, the new tricks every day, the attempts at yoga that end up in giggly laughter, the cup cakes and the teas, the waiting for daddy to get back home so we can pounce on him. So much fun.

So a bit of a pause in this happy balance, caused by an irritable upper respiratory tract infection, is seriously bringing me down. Can't wait to be back to the routine again.

Connections

While I have been away on baby duty, some very interesting things have happened. And some exciting connections have been made, with people and ideas. It all started, quite benignly, here. And before I knew it, I was a convert.

Many many years ago, a then friend had insightfully suggested that yoga would suit me well. But you know how caught-up with our own mind-blocks we are as we strive to 'discover' ourselves, I never thought twice about it. What a waste of a good many years.

Not to worry. Three decades, two continents and one baby later, I think I am finally beginning to make sense of it all. I have managed a good deal of reading lately (honestly, no clue how) and my 'now reading' list is ancient - serious updates are in order.

Following on from my absolute addiction to the mindfulness cds by Jon Kabat-Zinn, it was only a matter of time before I started devouring his books. And this is how I discovered 'Everyday blessings - the inner work of mindful parenting' by the Kabat-Zinns. If there is one book that I have connected with with all my being, it is this one. The title does it little justice I'm afraid - it is one of the most amazingly warm, kindly written books I have ever read.

Sarah Napthali, here, tries to say the same thing without making much of a point or interesting read. Can be easily avoided if one wants to keep repetition and boredom at bay.

No, I don't meditate regularly though I would love to be able to at some point. However, this book by Pema Chodron makes you want to give up everything to free the clutter in your mind, to open your heart in kindness and to fill your lungs with happiness. Totally life-affirming, gently and brilliantly written.

As you might guess, I have had a million plus questions since mindfulness has woven its charms over me. Many a lazy afternoons have been spent with the babies climbing all over us, us attempting to balance tea and cake with super-inquisitive little ones eager to grab everything, and heart-warming chats about knowing ourselves for who we really our.

New beginnings

Day one of N going full time to nursery. I am struggling to find words to describe how it feels, as I have struggled to say anything for the last few weeks. Children between the age 6-18 months go through varying degrees of separation anxiety. N appears to suffer from a severe form of it. And so do I.

The new year has come and gone a little old already. When did this happen? I was busy battling snow, ice on the roads, a distressed 11 month old and my own feelings of despair at separation from him. The snow has gone, leaving behind a grey, dull fog. The weather seems to mirror my mind for the moment.

Yet, in the spirit of all things new, hope abounds all around, only waiting to be picked up and celebrated. I start work in a few days, A is expanding his team at work and life engulfs us in all its many shapes and forms.

Happy not-so-new year.

P.S. This photograph of the Big Ben was taken on a beautiful summer evening at Westminster in 2009.

Under the weather

N is down with a viral infection. It is a surreal experience tending to a sick child. It takes everything from you, yet you feel incapable of helping. We have had more sleepless nights (I am amazed at my capacity to carry on without the snooze) and painful, tearful days.

Plus I got the swine flu jab. Oh! the nasty aftereffects.

Plus A is off abroad on work.

Plus it is snowing. Sigh.

Letting go

When N was born, I got so busy with getting things right that I forgot to enjoy his presence. A gently but persistently reminded me that it was more important to have a happy baby and a happy initiation into parenthood. Slowly, I got there. And before I knew it, N had become an extension of my self. It felt really, really good.

In the joy that his presence brought into my life, I again forgot to prepare myself for the next stage. Since I am right this minute in the middle of this next stage, I don't think I can do much justice trying to explain it all. The gist of it is that today I left him alone at the nursery for the first time ever, for one hour. He loved it, but that's not the point, is it?

There were many tears. Mostly mine. All mine actually.

I wish it were easier to let go.

Nature vs nurture

I am fighting for some sleep these days. I was told it gets better but to me it's looking worse. N is the most amazing, interactive, happy, demanding of attention baby during the day. Then comes the bedtime routine which he allows us to indulge in fairly happily. But after that, all hell breaks loose.

The boy gets up practically every hour. Will not go back to sleep unless pacified by gentle rocking and breastfeeding. A strange fear begins to build up inside of me as evening approaches. I dread the continuous breakage of sleep, the nagging, dull pain in my head and the overwhelming desire to cry.

So I have been looking around for solutions. There is not one book on baby sleep training that I have not read. There is not one method that I have not followed, although I must admit that I cannot bring myself to wholeheartedly employ the cry-it-out method. Every time I have tried it, I have ended up in tears myself.

Since solutions have left me no better off, I am now looking for solace. And this is where I found it. But more interestingly, the comments left me thinking - it looks like parents of boys generally have a tougher time than those of girls trying to settle, calm down and put their little ones to sleep. Is it a sex thing after all, that no amount of careful and considered nurturing can change?

I write this with a big disclaimer upfront - I am not trying to make any generalised statements, only expressing what I am seeing in my small world.

My mums' group comprises of 6 mums and their gorgeous babies. Three of us have boys and the other three mummies have little girls. All the three boys are frisky, more interested in dashing around from place to place, demanding constant attention and refusing to pacify themselves. All three learnt to crawl first and sitting later, practised only as a necessary means to change positions. The girls on the other hand learnt to sit first and some of them haven't learnt crawling yet - they are happy to sit and observe the world, play with whatever object they have in their hands and explore from far.

The mums with boys are stressed, sleepless and constantly found taking brisk walks by the river in their pajamas in an attempt to lull the brats into slumber.

The mums with girls are well dressed, hair and nails properly done, shopping happily with the little angels cheerfully looking on.

When we all meet once a week, the difference is stark. Could it be that we are after all at the mercy of nature, hopeless mothers-of-sons trying against all odds to achieve the unachievable - that is putting the monkeys to sleep without a fight and getting them to stay there peacefully through the night?