A mixed bag of feelings

The 1st of May 2013 is going to be a landmark day.

Tomorrow, I shall be leaving on a short trip and for the first time, spending a few days and more importantly, a few nights away from V1 and V2.

For a long, long time, I have been cribbing and complaining and telling anyone who would listen, how desperately I need a holiday on my own, without the kids. A few days of peace, sitting by the sea, reading a few books, getting long massages and sipping wine; without worrying about things like which kid of mine is jumping off into the deep end of the pool the minute I get back to my book, or how to keep the boys entertained during the 2hr flight so they do not end up kicking someone else's seat or making endless trips to the breakfast buffet table to ensure they eat something filling and healthy and then nagging them to finish, thereby ending up having no time to fill my own plate. 

This trip is unfortunately not a holiday, but still it comes pretty close to making my wish come true. 

4 days and 3 nights minus the boys. 

Minus them poking me awake each morning.

Minus them banging on my toilet door every 30 seconds and demanding I come out.

Minus the non stop fights I need to break up or the demand for candy or the TV that I have to nix constantly without hurting any feelings.

Minus the endless running around like Labrador puppies on caffeine, the screaming, the shouting, the whining and the inevitable fuss at the dinner table.

Minus all the threats I have to hand out and all the bribes I have to offer.

And suddenly instead of giving in to the joy and enormity of this moment, I am a jumble of nerves. 

A friend S, once told me that when she travelled for the first time on work, leaving her little son behind, she cried all through the flight. That day I had laughed and made fun of her for being such a softie. Now, while I still won't be shedding any tears, I do feel caught up in this jumble of emotions that make me feel a whole lot of compassion and empathy for those tears she shed that day. Never before in a decade long work life filled with regular travel, had I experienced anything that comes close to the mixed emotions I am faced with now.

A part of me is looking forward to meeting old friends, finishing chores that need done and doing some shopping on my own, in my time and at my pace, without any interruptions and chaos.

A part of me is also wishing fervently that this experience makes Vj realise just how much work I put in to make it all seem so effortless. Here, the irony of Labour day being the day when I start my day off, is also not lost on me! :)

At the same time, I am filled with apprehensions of how the brats will cope without me. 

What will they eat? (I am cooking for all the 4 days and stocking the food in boxes with immaculate labels just in case there is some confusion, but hey, does that stop me from being the tragedy queen?)

Will they listen to Vj and the Nanny and make it to school in time? (Not sure at all about this one at all but I am told they are far less prone to drama when I am not around so we shall see)

What will happen if they hurt themselves or fall sick or wake up in the night looking for me? (Usually it is Vj who wakes up to every tiny whimper or loud bawl in the night, while I sleep through it all, but as I said, where is the fun in rational thinking?)

A teeny tiny part of me  is plagued by the thought that Vj, with his steady stream of ice-cream and cup-cakes and candies flowing and "let-them-watch-tv-whenever-they-want" attitude might actually fare better than I think hope he will. And then he will never let me hear the end of it. And he will be firmly entrenched as the fun parent while I get to hear the same old refrain of "But Daddy lets us do this". 

But most importantly, there is a part of me that is just loathe to admit that they might after all, manage just fine without me. And as much as I want that to happen, as much as I am planning and working towards making sure they manage absolutely fine without me; I have to honestly admit that there is a part of me that doesn't want to let go; that wants to believe and to cling on to the hope that there will be total chaos in my little universe without  me. After all, there is nothing more tormenting than finding out you are not as indispensable as you have made yourself out to be. 

And now, after all that spontaneous overflow of powerful emotions, here comes the reality check.

I asked the boys a few times if they will miss me while I am away. 

V2, as prone to drama as I am, has been making full use of each such moment to get away with murder. He looks at me like a lost puppy and asks "When are you going?". 

When I answer, he gives me a tight hug and a kiss and asks, "I miss you lots Mammy. Now can I have some candy/ Now can I sleep in your bed/ Now can I watch some more TV" knowing fully well it will be impossible to say No to that performance. 

And V1, my strong, silent, down to earth, always-call-a-spade-a-spade child. 

First question he asked me was "What will you bring me back?" 

The second was a long list of things he wanted me to carry back for him.

And finally came the clincher. 

One day as I asked if he was going to miss me, he looked at me and said, "I will watch lots of TV when you away Mammy. You not let me watch TV. Daddy lets me watch TV all the time"

P.S - In case I wasn't convinced about how much fun they are going to have while I am gone, here is the proof.

I had left Vj with the boys at the hair salon while I went to do the weekly grocery shopping. Came back both have ended up with mohawks and are walking around proclaiming "this haircut is so cool". 

Lost and Found Resolutions

"Are we fighting?" asked my 3 and a half yr old.

"Of course we are fighting! I am very, very angry with you" I replied curtly, turning away.

I was furious.

V2 had just vomited out his entire medicine.

And when I asked him why he did that, he laughed. 

Simply Laughed.
In. My. Face.

I knew V2 had thrown up not because he gagged and couldn't help himself, but because this was his way of showing me "this is what will happen if you force me to do what I don't want to do".

There he stood, giving me his trademark roguish grin, like he always did, expecting to charm his way out of trouble. Except at this point, I wasn't up to sharing his sense of humour.

The boys had missed school and were home the entire day. 

Which basically meant I had spent all my day yelling "No" and "Don't" in increasingly frantic tones every 90 seconds; at home, at the doctor's and at the restaurant we had our meal in; everywhere we went, we had a repeat of the same story.

And in a fit of madness, to cheer myself up, I had gobbled up an entire pizza at lunch. Even though it was my first pizza in 6 months, I was unable to shake off the guilt; and after the initial carb-cheese induced euphoria had died down, I had begun feeling miserable. Just when I thought matters couldn't get any worse, on entering the word pizza on a mobile app that calculates calories consumed, I had discovered that one meal mistake alone had cost me around 1200 calories; about 200 calories more than what I consume in all my meals added together each day.

Needless to say, at this point, I wasn't feeling very amenable to sharing V2's sense of humour about vomiting out his medicine.

Also I was worried.

Unlike India, most medicines here are not over the counter.

The thought of having to go back to the doctor and wait another 2hrs just to get a replacement, was not adding any sunshine to my already grim day.

"We cannot fight." V2 insisted, wiping away his tears.

"Why? Why we cannot fight?" I asked, unyielding.

At this point, I was so mad, I wasn't even paying attention to my grammar.

"We cannot fight because it is not nice. YOU said fighting not nice." he said.

"Oh" I said, as it slowly started dawning on me that I was having a heated argument with a boy who wasn't even 4!

V2 saw me soften and went for the kill.

"You said not to call people 'silly' and then you called me a silly boy. I am not a silly boy. You saying rude things to me. You cannot talk like this to me."

V2 has always been far more articulate than most kids his age. 

He is also far more articulate than his twin brother.

But I didn't expect to have a 3yr old point out that my behaviour was inappropriate. 

And hurtful to his self esteem.

"What is this new generation coming to?" was my first reaction.
After all, in all these years, I never had the presence of mind, nor the spunk to inform my parents how they should speak to me. I still don't, but that is a different debate altogether which we shall leave for another day.

But no matter what way I looked at it, the chap had a valid point. 

In my anger, I had overlooked the fact that the person speaking to me, is a little individual in his own right. Who has (almost) exactly the same feelings I do. And who expects exactly the same courtesy I expect from him/ her. 

I felt as if someone had poured a jug of ice cold water over my head.
So there was nothing I could do except say I was sorry. 

After he went to bed, I sat there for a long time, pondering over what he said.

Like every parent, I knew when I started, that I will be the first role model in my child's life.
And like most, I began with loads of resolutions and good intentions. 

The first being a strict "do unto them as I would have them do unto me" code; which means no smacking, no shouting, no snatching things from their hands and no high-handedly saying "Because I say so" when they demand to know the reason why I wish them to do things they find particularly unpleasant or unnecessary.

And the second, to never let my fears and prejudices get in the way of them enjoying their childhood; whether it means letting them climb the highest rungs of the monkey bars on their own even when my heart is in my mouth or letting go each time they want to do things on their own or allowing them to be who they are and do things in their own time without judgement, pressure or comparison.

But somewhere along the way, in the day to day struggle of running behind the kids; begging, pleading and trying to manage not one, but two opinionated toddlers, sometimes it is easy to make small slips and let reality cloud over your good intentions. 

Sometimes, is just easier to snatch that glass away from your kid when he refuses to hand it over to you after you have asked for it thrice; or when he has spent his entire dinner blowing spit bubbles into it. 

Sometimes, in spite of your best intentions to be the mother who encourages creativity and imagination, you end up sending the kid crying off to bed, without the bed time story that he loves so much, because he has been trying your patience all evening by stuffing his carrots in his mouth at the dinner table, while pretending to be the walrus he has been reading about. 

Sometimes, when you are in a supermarket and your kids are running around, laughing, having fun; all you can think of is how to stop your worst nightmare of them crashing into the aisle with the ketchup bottles, from coming true. So you start handing out threats of future punishments without stopping to even check if they are touching anything. And you end up never appreciating the fact that each time you say No to something they ask for, they simply nod their head and tell each other, "it must be expensive", instead of throwing a tantrum. 

Sometimes you are just so caught up with bringing sense and order into your life; that you don't realise that of late, "No" and "Don't" precede almost every sentence that comes out of your mouth. And "I shall take away your dinosaur/ bicycle/ scooter/ jeep" has come to replace most attempts at reasoning/ negotiation. You forget that the person you are admonishing for "behaving like a baby" is actually not much older than a baby! And that instead of holding on to and enjoying his childhood while it lasts, you treat it with exasperation and wish he behaved more like a grown up. 

And much as I hated admitting it to myself, I had to acknowledge that I was so caught up in demanding obedience; with laying my word as the law; that I had forgotten that it is normal for a 3 yr old to vomit out a medicine he doesn't like. 

And that I cannot say "you silly boy" to child when I have specifically informed him the word "silly" is rude and unacceptable. 

It had slipped my mind that as a parent, you need to first be real, be indulgent, be fair and be forgiving.... 

That you need to measure up to the same standards you expect from your kids.

That you cannot stray away from the code you have set for them to follow.

I had to concede that somewhere along the way, I had drifted off-course.

And that it took the good sense of a 3yr old to remind me of what was amiss. 

'If I had my child to raise all over again' ~  Diane Loomans

If I had my child to raise all over again,

I'd build self esteem first, and the house later.

I'd finger paint more, and point the finger less.

I would do less correcting and more connecting.

I'd take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.

I would care to know less and know to care more.

I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.

I'd stop playing serious, and seriously play.

I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.

I'd do more hugging and less tugging.

I'd see the oak tree in the acorn more often.

I would be firm less often, and affirm much more.

I'd model less about the love of power,

And more about the power of love.