Go on, lil one....

They turn around, and walk on.. holding their future in their hands..
We stand still, watching.
Will they be ok? 
We ask our hearts..
We spend our children’s growing years, imagining what their future will be like.
Will they be happy
Will they be successful
Will they be at peace.
We run our lives around them
Only so they will be what you want them to be. Loved. And happy.
It never matters that we put aside our needs.. just so we see them happy.
That one smile from our child, sparks a million lil peaceful smiles within us.
We live for that smile. For that hug. For that ‘I love you, ma’
We know that their ‘You don’t know, anything’ just means ‘Leave me alone’ but we watch from the sidelines.
Our prayers will always be that they’re happy.
And when finally they fly.. spreading their wings, that we helped nurture, a piece of us cries.
We let go.
We let that tear fall.
We want to go back and hug.
We watch quietly from afar.
And when their eyes light up with joy..
We turn around and walk on..
Full with the joy that our lil one
Is happy...

Can 18 get any better?

       The books said, that the feeling is so amazing.. That once a baby is born, your world is brighter, it changes.. I didn't feel any of that. All I could remember was that I was done with the push and the scream and the pain.. I smiled at the boy baby they showed me and I promptly went kaput. It took me a couple of hours to get to being the 'Mother'... The first hold, the gentleness that I felt when I saw the most adorable face (that was the only part I could see) can never be described. And to hold those feelings precious, that only I can treasure. He was mine.

He made me his, when he followed me around holding my fingers...refusing to let go. When he refused to go to others I felt a sense of victory. (Later I wished, he'd go to someone, anyone ,so that I could at least use the bathroom when needed)

A child whose eyes twinkled when he laughed, taught me to hope. To live, to be happy for no reason at all. Each time there was a dip in my life, all I had to do was watch him look at his world and mine would be alright. He was my boy. He was my first born. He became my existence.
Time travels..and with it, it teaches experience.

Experience to know that the one who held your fingers, will glare at you if you get extraloving in school. No mom, you can't hug me...'I'm not a baby'...
But dear one, I need to hug you for myself.
His questions  became fewer, and his friends became more.

One day when he comes back from his cricket practice all by himself, I had no idea I'd be overwhelmed. I was learning to let go.. No more did I think that every auto guy would kidnap him nor was I worried he would take the left turn at the first sight of a HDFC bank.

For the mother in me, I didn't need big things to make me proud and happy for him. He was my Doberman... Moody ,snappy and silent at one, and then chattering away n happy the next, wanting me to hug him and pamper him.
I have truly and properly handed him my OCD genes.. And when I whine, my husband rolls his eyes at the madness we bring in.
The boy grew up and a young man soon followed. The young man closed his room door, spent more time inside, listened to songs the mother hadn't heard of even...
And refused to watch the absolute 'junk' (in his words) tv shows with me anymore..
I grew from being his 'sweetypie', 'loveyooo', to 'chill', 'nerd' to 'weird' mother. I've lived it all. But through it all,one thing was constant. 'You don't know anything, MA'...of course we moms don't know anything at all..but to watch their babies grow wings and fly away while we swallow that lump in our throats, for fear of being weird again.
I am the mother who will tear up, seeing her son bring home medals and praises from school. I will also tear up when I see him being generous with his affection to his friends who've gone through bad times. We understand and we just love.

Today as he turns 18 years.. I let go. I let go of my need to think of him as a baby. I let go, of my need to fear the worst for him. I know he will survive, I've taught him well. I let go of my fears for him...I let go of my boy. Go on son, dream on, live your dreams, make mistakes, learn from them, have the strength to accept your faults and forgive. Be a good human being..and just live your life.

In 18 years that baby I was holding is a young man now. That protectivenes I feel is still there, but I have been forced to slowly let him go.  This might be the hardest part, watching him step out into his own life and make mistakes, guiding him without nagging, balancing his need to be autonomous with my need to cling to him.. I will want to shout at him as he walks out the door, “I have kept you alive and well for 18 years, don’t mess this up for me now!"

But always remember, your 'weird' mom will forever love you and will continue to wait up, till you get back home to ask you 'Have you eaten anything?'

Here's wishing my big boy all of 18 the very best he can ever dream of... Sigh!! Even that bike that he always wanted.. Yes..

At 18, everything is possible and tomorrow looks friendly. - Jim Bishop

"So let's make this a memorable occasion
In every single way
And I'll be there to help you
Ensure it's a wonderful day. -

The love of friends and family
Will be with you today
So enjoy the many wishes
Which are bound to come your way"

Happy birthday my son 

As weird as we can get!

“Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did - that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”
― Debra Ginsberg

Last night my teenage son announced that he was going out for dinner with his friends. I had just come away from my kitchen, after making the rotis, that he loved so much, and the dal, the younger sunny boy loved. There was peas pullav too, if he wanted rice, which invariably he would want if I hadn't made it. I had just settled down feeling smug, that I had just about managed to understand my boy and today I had succeeded. And then his 'matter of fact' announcement happened. My heart was angry. I did the first thing i'm sure any mom would do, I asked him 'WHY'. His answer was simple and just that. He wanted to go out and eat with his friends and there was nothing else to it. 

We mothers are weird like my boys say. I want them to be independent, I want them to have friends, because, these are going to be their lifelines when they grow older. The boys see us, surrounded by friends. I have a treasure trove of them and want the same for my boys too. That's a small thing to want. But then, why did I react the way I did? Because I convince myself that i'm just normal.
Took me back to my childhood when we would sulk, when the dish made for dinner was not to our 'exciting' standards. (The same food is my comfort food now). We would walk across to my neighbour's house and eat what she had cooked. It didn't hurt then. It hurts now. Now when I think of what we put our moms through. We are our mother's daughters. 

I see the same rebellious spark in both my sons. I see the same emotions and the same 'groan'. They are my sons after all. At times, I am the paranoid parent. I can imagine all sorts of nonsense that can happen in their lives if i'm not around. I feel I am a superwoman who can prevent them if i'm around. I have my friends who hold me back. Who tell me to let go. I am learning. It hurts. It slowly dries up the tears that flow inside. And one day I see my boy standing tall, confident, happier and with that spark still in his eyes. I know I did the right thing.

Teenagers can be difficult. For themselves and for their parents. But inside they are just small lil boys waiting to be hugged and told that we still love them. 
My mother was not an expressive lady, like most of them of that generation. She loved us nevertheless, in her own way and we knew it. In every single movement of hers. Each time I stand at the door to say a 'bye' to my older son as he steps out for his college, I know i'm carrying on a tradition that my mother followed, which then didn't mean much, but its in my bank of memories that I love. I know my son loves it too. And i'm hoping that one day both the boys will turn back and think of their childhood with as much love as I do. 
My mother saw me through and i'm forever thankful. 

I am 'the weird, crazy' mom to my 17 and 12 year old boys. I get angry and scream and sulk. I hug them and smother them with love too. But I let go too. I see them grow and I am proud of what they are.

I am a mother. These 2 boys gave me that right. And i'm forever thankful too.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO EVERY MOTHER. And continue to be weird, that is our exclusive right :)

my eyes!

What do you do, when you feel crawlies all over you???

Well I for one, havent done anything...I know it wont work, cos some other bigger crawlie will creep over you, making you feel like a complete idiot.

Ranting I am, yes!!! reasons are so many...but I dont want to get into the mode of whining all the time..( looks like i've done enough, and not many would want to hear that all the time :( )

All these years, (yes, I've had quite a few adding up on the abacus!) I thought I had some sense, common or rare, it didn't matter. It was there and I walked around head held high, nose down though...I had thought if you wanted something really bad...it would just come to you, you only had to work hard. It had been working pretty well till a few years ago...when suddenly the dream machine that dished out solution to sens(ers) like me, went kaput!!!!

More than a decade old of parenting , put me under a false sense of security that if people around me say "You have such a wonderful son, he's so endearing" means that he is one and I needn't think much. I had done a great job. But my balloon blew out of proportion...and yes, its on the verge of bursting!!!

My son, who's so into cricket and his sports and stuff...has all things going for him. He's a good student, gets good grades. A mom, who is there all the time for him...trying her best to juggle an overly active younger son, endless activities all in one...and getting him to live his dreams un-hurdled (is there a word like that?? )

When his coach told me this one day " He's such a lovely boy, something about him touches me...so hardworking and caring" I looked around ...surely he wasn't talking to me. But he was. That got me thinking....where was I going wrong then??

Why does he get so aggressive when he's with me? I know he's entering the teens next year, but is it so bad? I'm more like a villain in his life. And when you're at the receiving end it sure doesn't look too entertaining, like in the movies...It hurts like hell, knowing that you have not succeeded in making your own happy.
Where do I draw a line between taking care of both with equal ernest and being unfair to either?
The lines blur, cos there isn't one. Any parent who has more than one child knows there are no favourites...they are like 'your eyes', no one is better than the other.
It gets exhausting searching in all directions for answers. Hopefully the answers will fall into my lap like a pack of cards....one after the other...

All I want is to be a good mom, supermom I needn't be..but someone who will not have to think twice before she talks to her son or does something for him..unfettered and fearless.

She sells ,sea shells ,on the sea shore!!

I was just going through a website looking for sea shells for some school project reference. It amazed me to see such wonderful creatures...and all I did these years were collect them from beaches , wash them and kept them in strategic places...showed them off to the kids who gazed at them so lovingly...

They were the ones who actually saw them for what they were...I did see the colors but they saw the changing patterns, those beautiful streaks of light passing through...and then this year it came back
On our visit to Goa we stayed on this beach which was filled with shells....starfishes..which I had conveniently relegated to the encyclopedia. God!! they are such amazing beauties.

Now my 'show off' collection has tripled and so has my need to know more about them. Like my lil one repeats a definition from his school..'teacher helps us to gain knowledge' but no I gained from these glittering eyes, that of our lil children...

They could spend hours just looking for that little crab that would crawl out unsuspectingly out of the small nooks and shells, and the sand..Can we as adults devote an entire day just looking at shells and searching all over the bare sand for them?? I wonder??

His hands can turn around fully...look!!

Just a few seconds ago she heard a nerve racking scream.....it came from the play area...the same direction from where she had heard cackling of laughter, arguments coming out of small sweet voices....half of them just being parrotted, just because the older kids use them....sweet, melodious chatter,it was like the early morning chirping of the green parrots that keep flitting about from one tree to another,amidst the noise and din of the traffic...It was all so normal....the noise was needed, to assure her, that everything was going on just fine...

The scene out of the balcony seemed so beautiful., so blissfully joyous, sandcastles being made, small ginger hands digging into the sandpit, making long tunnels to let the water from the tap,filled in the bisleri bottle , taken from some generous ground floor apartment lady. All bringing a smile to her face.

She went about getting things ready for the evening meal, put aside the toys still running around on its tracks or spinning in the board all by its loneself...
Pulled on her shoes...she had decided to go for a walk...the weather was so brilliant, it made you want to feel the breeze..she had just finished tying the laces, still smiling, thinking of how it felt to feel free, and happy...

And then she heard it!!

Her blood froze!!...It always did, at such sounds...her house was sitting right there like some mother hen watching over her brood...and she did just that....kept an eye for all the other mothers....She rose from her chair, to go in the direction of the sound, when the frantic ringing of the phone, brought her back. She half ran, half walked, she wanted to get back to see what the scream was all about.
She answered the phone.., and stood transfixed., her heart beating faster than before and her mind running in all directions..but it was just a fraction of a second. She needed to act fast. She knew in her heart, what was wrong...she just felt it.
And then she ran...as fast as she could...and looked down into the area, where she was told he was...Her heart did a somersault..
He was sitting there, so tiny and so lost.., his friends, just a year older maybe, surrounding him. One took his hand and held it up for others to see..."hey, look, da!! His hand can do one full round!" Her tears were streaming down her cheeks!!
And then she found her voice! "Stop that!! Don't touch him!!" she screamed her lungs out!! It must have been the fear in her voice or the agony, will never know...all the kids were rooted to their places....the older brother looked up, and went about his game ( for that age, his game was important, how could he know what was wrong!!and how bad?? )

She bounded down the steps...couldnt wait for the elevator to take her down, she ran, like a mad bull was chasing her!!! 3 steps at a time..and reached 4 floors in record time of 10 secs...never know how she did that!!

Looked at the little face looking up at her...never had she seen a more serene face, eyes so trusting and hands held out!!
She went forward arms outstretched!! Glad that she had reached him...glad that she could see for herself what was wrong!
She looked down then...and what she saw, broke her heart!! The hand was hanging limp from the wrist, a small portion of the wrist at a varying angle from the forearm....she swallowed hard...she couldn't afford to cry..couldn't afford to show fear...couldn't even ask what had happened???


Just lifted the little bundle all of five, in her arms, and then she felt the shiver, and felt the tremble....his face was burrowed in her neck, ....and then she knew he was feeling safe, safe in his mother's arms, safe in his mother's cooing!!!

But then will this image ever go away from her mind???