I was merrily chopping ladiesfingers into inch long pieces and then slicing them through the middle one second, and the next, I had this realisation. I have become my mom. There, I said it. I have become my mom. I know most girls get to this point sometime in middle age and all one needs to do is accept the inevitability of ones genetic make-up and move on. But seriously, people, I have become mom.
Its the small things:
-> The irritation when my milk boiling vessel is used to make rice
-> The tendency to call a random milk boiling vessel as 'my' milk boiling vessel
-> The zen-like peace that descends on me when I enter my Sunday morning cooking task
-> The over-zealous-ness in creating one after the other thing in the kitchen
-> Wiping the counter one billion times
-> Seeking out Rin Bar to wash the wash cloth with
-> Lining the fridge with table mats
(in summary, a kitchen/cooking craze and possessiveness about things involved therein; and an obsessive urge to wipe counters and wash wiping cloths)
I wake up many days with a start at 5:00 am and run pell mell into the kitchen and can, in that half asleep state, make coffee and boil milk and set a pressure cooker (in preparation for the cook, which makes no sense unless, of course you recognise that you are up against some real strong genes that make you do these things). I run out to run. I run back and go up and down the stairs one billion times waking people up, and so on. I am full of energy at 5:03 am. I argue that anything in the nature of work is exercise and therefore good for me. Obviously, I have become my mom.
What a depressing thought - I know! I just have to close my eyes and think of her yelling at me every single day of my growing up years for cutting up paper, to really be depressed that I am turning into her. I used to love cutting up paper (still do, come to think of it, and no, mom does not, she loves to read though, she can read cut paper). I had a big blue drum in which I stored my 'creations' - things such as a clock I had made using ice-cream sticks, innumerable doll houses and chairs made out of toothpaste cartons, and my most favourite thing - a small mirror using the aluminium thing from the top of the Nutramul tin. Anyway, I was totally depressed thinking that I have become her, you know, I used to always get in trouble with her. She wouldn't yell much (not as much as I do, for e.g.) but seriously, dad was the good cop and mom was the bad cop always. And I don't want to be the bad cop, I suck at bad cop, I lose my temper and gain it back and am a total mess.
But then I entered the bedroom. Currently this is what is happening in here:
1. Bunk bed - unused as far as the bed is concerned (I get nightmares amma); shelves and study desk FILLED to the brim with a globe, several stuffed toys, bits and pieces of a kitchen set in plastic, and books in piles. I read Murakami lying up in the bunk bed on Sunday, its nice.
2. Chest of drawers - filled with undies and such. On top: two small wooden cases with cufflinks and generic jewelery(junk) belonging to husband; water bottles, coffee cup; mobile charger
3. Big wooden chest - saris. On top: Unidentified garbage coloured orange and green and books.
4. Study desk - oh forget it.
Every surface in this place is filled with stuff. I don't even know what everything is. The husband will waltz in on Saturday and accuse me of giving birth to this stuff. I personally think they belong to him. And also that they are spontaneously fissioning and making more of themselves. Its out of control! Ack! Something just got me! Gurg! Ack! Save me!
(at least this means I have not become mom. She would not hear of such a life. In her house, the top surfaces are so awesome, I feel like putting my cheek on them just to feel how nice it is. Though she would scold me for getting moisturiser on her wooden surfaces...)
15 comments:
Table mats in the fridge?!
Same story re surfaces. My mom can't come for a while - you know why :(
Better I try and turn into my mom.
Luckily the bunk bed offers a top surface you can escape to.
I had a crib that I would not move for months after the baby had outgrown it. It took up space in a tiny bby house. But I could dump EVERYTHING that had not been designated its proper place. It could be covered with a sheet and disguised as a table top for toys. My mother was not allowed to enter 'that' room.
Why is such a good post becoming a provocation for dark confessions spilling over? I wonder...
Perakath- Yes, seriously. To prevent the shelves from getting too messy. Table mats being removable and washable.
Chox- I have not visited but in my head you have a spectacularly clean house.
WJ- Yes, thats a good way to look at it. Like Sur, I should put it to good use by putting all the orange crap in there, not to mention a little metal box that says ChocoBox and remind me of chox.
kenny: pliss to give me at least 3.5 weeks notice before you arrive okay?
btw next trip to chennai also excludes me. but perhaps in may - will come to check pippi and her bunkbed then.
Entropy happens in most lives. I just manage to conceal most of the junk most of the time.
same question as Perakath. Pls explain...
Sands/Perakath: Why are you guys so surprised?! Lots of folks do that - its very easy to clean - you don't need to pull out the glass/plastic dividers every time.
thanks chox. it was preying on my mind that i did not clarify this point to perakath & sands. and i found another thing this morning - a tendency to move the milk (and other stuff) into smaller and smaller vessels as soon as its volume reduces even a little bit. i used to crib that it increases washing load but now i find myself doing the same thing and seem to have a good justification too!!!
I've never needed to clean the inside of a fridge (although I do have one).
perakath- you serious? i guess you dont cook (that much) and dont shove random left overs pell mell into it. if there was a guess the contents of perakath's fridge contest, I would say: Eggs, Beer, Water, Juice, White Wine (?), Milk, & a dabba from Saravana Bhavan (of dubious content), oh maybe chocolates. As opposed to mine which have all nature of random liquid things of the sambar kind in steel dishes with those plates as lids and a child who climbs up the door shelves to reach the chocolate (and butter) which I store in the top most compartment of the door...So of course yours will be clean and not require cleaning while mine will be a veritable hub of vile smelling glah
Not really. I don't drink juice or eat dabbas from Saravana B. And wine in Chennai probably costs a lakh a bottle. I don't keep chocolates either. (The less calories in the house, the less calories I can eat!) And no beer at the mo'.
I do replenish my water, milk, bread, and eggs in the fridge regularly. The roommate is responsible for all other dabbas with veggies and cooked meats and the like. He's the cook!
ok thats not bad I got some of it right. and the wine, after costing a lakh probably tastes like regurgitated bile if the beer is any indication. chocolates for the ladies perakath, for the ladies, not you!!
ok. makes sense. Thanks for the details. As for the transferring into smaller vessels, am right there with you. Drives my friends crazy when they see me do that :)
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