That Parenting Gig

The child turned eight earlier this month. For days I went around my eyes all saucer-like, at the wonder of it. Eight years old. Gosh. I have nearly forgotten those initial days when she was that tiny lump. She is this strapping girl, in her yellow glasses, and full of opinions now. I look at her though and feel that same familiar lurch I used to feel when she was that lump of a baby.

I was not in the frame of mind to have our 'usual' birthday party. Which, frankly, is not a particularly relevant child's birthday party. We have a large number of friends over and hang out. The friends have a large number of kids who are the child's friends. The kids hang out, watch some videos, the boys invariably get on the child's nerves because they do things like throw lego pieces around.

Last year, I had a 'painting party' which was a bit more relevant. Bunch of kids came over and made some drawings and spilled some paint over the floor upstairs while we parents hung out and drank and ate and laughed downstairs. It was fun, and she did have tons of memories about that, but this year, I was not ready for the 'commitment' of having so many people around.

"I would like to go to the planetarium" she said. That sounded like an awesome idea to me! Especially since the place is like a five minute drive from our house, is open 365 days a year (+1 for leap years), and the ticket costs some 10 Rs. a head. We had been recently, the chairs are a bit broken, the 3-D show sucks big time, the exhibits are all giant posters like we would make for research meetings, and well, the dome show is not spectacular either.

But what the hell! She doesn't know any better. And there is a play area there with swings and slides that she loves despite the oppressive heat and sun. And I knew just the right set of kids who would appreciate this local neighborhood experience and not act all hoity-toity about things or complain about the heat...

So we had 5 kids. Two of them are her absolute 'best friends' They are the main reason she has settled in so well in Chennai. We also love the parents who are the coolest people on earth, and definitely ready for something insane. Then I invited the two kids associated with my home. Kids of my cook and gardener. These girls are the same age as my girl but they rarely hang out with us, I figured this is a good time!

The only thing was, there were 4 girls and 1 boy. RRJ is also a 'manly man' type of boy. At least he tells me he is. But he bore it all bravely. They seemed to enjoy the show (although it was really bad. It was about the telescope and so very very badly made that my husband & I were really squirming in our seats and making mental notes about how to make a movie about telescopes ourselves). They played in the park. I gave them the juice which they consumed in double time.

At home, the girls gravitated towards the kitchen set which annoyed RRJ. Actually my minx is also not a big fan so soon they found the balloon game to play. Its the simplest birthday game ever but something they always seem to enjoy in all the parties. So they did that. And then we cut the cake and the parents (the mommies blog over here and here) came over and we chatted downstairs. It was all awesome and relaxing though the child had tons of tons of fun and was super excited for days...

Which brings me to language. The two prof kids-best friends speak almost exclusively in English. Though one of them speaks Bengali as well, her parents were saying, thanks to her grandmum. The other two girls know English a little bit through school, but converse in Tamil. So my minx of a child was the 'go between' so to speak. Since she can at least make sentences in Tamil, and translate between the languages. To the extent of saying 'lets play with bubbles' or 'lets go downstairs' or 'here is your return gift' (which was a simple set of crayons, sketchpens, and colour pencils for some summer fun.)

Especially since I was thinking about this whole conscious effort of raising multilingual kids (and sort of lamenting the fact that I had failed in that): see my post at SimplyBike: Raising Multilingual Kids; I was particularly happy to see that at 8 years of age, it doesn't really matter. When it comes to playing and having that brand of fun that kids specialise in, language is really no barrier for children...

Hallmark Event

Yes, ladies, gentlemen, and others, the day has come. The monster has turned five. I struggled and struggled to figure out a meaningful birthday plan (why are these things so difficult?). Wait. Meaningful, that is what I was aiming for. Fun, that is what the kid was hoping for. Sometimes I feel sorry for her, for her crazy parents. But at other times, not so much. We deserve each other.

Dora cake happened. A number five cake too. It was a particularly harrowing day. New dress was duly worn, and looked so cute, I felt really like congratulating myself. She disliked it, of course. Not enough bling I suppose. I let her enjoy her cake and lunch with the friends in her play school and then when I went at 1 pm to pick her, she accused me of being late. We returned home and she loped off to the neighbours, to my consternation, to play a secret game with the boy (scary, eh?). We caught a flight later. It was supposed to be Kingfisher Red but turned out to be Kingfisher (and yes, we did see the bird again in one of our walks in Chennai too). Dinner with the father. Jumping and breaking the bed in the guest house. This was thursday. She denies it, but she had a good day, though tiring.

Friday was a busy day, new dress, also very cute, but most hated by monster. I spoke my brahmin tamizh to all sorts of large looming men around our new place. Then it was furniture shopping time, where I spoke in English till one time I called out to the monster. The guy was mildly surprised with that (WHY?). But that was better than the KF flight attendant referring to me as 'the young passenger' - the monster's kangaroo suitcase had been pushed into the back and I could not reach it. I asked her to find someone taller to help. She thought I needed all my bags carried and called reinforcements from the ground staff. Hello? First of all, I am old enough to be your mother. Second, I can carry my backpack and this little suitcase, and my tiny laptop bag easily, please, all those years in the gym are worth something. Oh no dear, I just could not reach the back of the overhead storage place, I can carry them alright, don't worry, I said aloud. I tried to not hate the furniture shopping. I mean considering we did not really buy anything finally, and on Sunday we saw a nice place with antique-ish things which I liked a lot. Plus I had enough time to indulge my(our)self at Landmark. Pippi Longstocking. Aseem Kaul. Ranjit Lal. Presumably I went to get return gifts for the kids.

Dinner party on Saturday, almost difficult to convince her that it was for her birthday (yeah, I know, makes no sense, really). I managed to arrange balloons and a cake and whip up a cohesive set of adults. Children were lovely and I was amazed at how all the other kids have good eating habits in comparison, oh and we went later in the night to another party, and this little girl and my own sat next to me on the futon. Someone was playing a guitar and I was occasionally joining in the singing (softly of course). I mean old old songs. The girls would look up at me expectantly every time a new song started. I don't know, they were so very beautiful together, I thought I would burst though I had a headache and was eager to go home and sleep. The purple barbie shirt with the white skirt with a gigantic silver flower on it was, finally, an acceptable dress, per monster.

Back at the helm here, and yes, I am conscious of my tags, and I will post it next, chox and parul.

Of Birthdays and Beads

What do you gift a guy who has everything? And, on top of it, is picky as hell about his clothes and cuff-links? Clothes - office-wear readymade-s don't work too well. His shoulders are too big, his arms are too long. Unsuspecting guys in stores think they can make a killing and tell him, "Sir we have new suits, very nice, all the way from Italy" (yeah! right!). He says "Okay I will buy them RIGHT AWAY if they fit me." They run to the racks and pull them out. Slurping a bit. The cuffs of the coat stop a little below his elbows. They give up with a morose expression.

I could buy him clothes for the gym. He would like that. But then again, I cannot really tell his size too well, and, we still use the shorts we bought in the US several years ago. The ones he has bought in recent times have all proved small and I get to wear them at home (of course they are huge for me but the waist is snug around my belly so I don't care. They are damn comfy in any case!). He has needs of those gloves and what not for his weights but I have always paid little attention to them so don't know what they are, what brand he prefers, pros and cons, so that is out.

Books are equally difficult since we have such contrasting tastes. I rarely touch books that he picks up. Though per force I have read Freakonomics and a few others of that genre, it is not with any particular fondness. I can never predict which ones he will like and appreciate. It all feels a bit impersonal too since they have some species of book-club at work and he gets a few popular titles from there (and seems mighty happy with it!). CDs of movies are bound to be a hit but I remember the last time I bought him the James Bond one and he got thoroughly pissed off because I refused to see the movie with him when the monster was awake, and somehow she was ALWAYS awake when I was...

I have never spent more than $10 on a gift for him. The $10 was a travel coffee mug from Starbucks. It was not even on sale! Imagine buying a coffee mug in Starbucks when there is no sale! Okay its not a big deal now, but then I was a graduate student so it was pretty much unheard of to buy anything other than an occasional cup of coffee there, except if there was a sale and you picked up one or two small things. At any rate he did not use the mug for several years, I stole it back one time and used it for a bit and found it really useful and tried to tell him that. It sunk in years later and he then used it till things peeled all over. I think I overheard him mutter that it was a real nice mug. (Kachink!)

So this past Wednesday when the birthday rolled around, I was in a fix. I know I should not spend too much money on anything, you know, since he is so picky about things, and will just refuse to use it. Tuesday night after homework and dinner I asked the monster to make a card. She drew a long girl with long arms covered with spiky bangles. Not to mention dangly earrings. Presumably, herself. She wrote the Happy Birthday and Love Monster and all that. I tried to get her to put down the date but she started it as 2/3/7/ which got real confusing so I wrote it on the back. She made two flowers, one pink one red around the girl. Then I put it away in the middle of a bunch of toys that were strewn around, in case he came back early. You know, so it would be a surprise. This would have been a good thing to NOT tell the monster girl. The minute he walked in, she goes, Appa, we have a surprise for you. I tried to gloss over this thing, and say, Oh no its nothing, come on monster girl lets brush our teeth. But no, they barged in and took out the card and she showed it to him, told him its a surprise for his birthday the next day, and that he should put it back in its hiding place! So that, was that.

He left early in the morning for Delhi so I just wished him and went back to sleep. At lunch-time I had a brainwave and went to the photo-shop with a picture from my camera on the memory-stick. The guy printed it out with a background thingy and wrote Happy Birthday on it. I picked a frame from the same store. The photo is one of monster and me. He loves to keep such things on his office desk. Then to the Monginis run by the brother of the photo-shop owner. The smallest cake they could find. The one with fruits on it. Some chips, since he likes Monginis chips so much. We are, of course, on a diet and not eating junk generally, but then, its a birthday, and its a weekday and I am not in a position to cook, really. Then I ran back to my office & meetings.

At home in the evening we got through homework quickly (the OO in Hindi), and as I ran around eating rotis and getting ready, I gave up and let the monster watch some TV that she was on my case about (which it turned out was a bad idea cause now she is constantly after me about TV so much that I have decided to unplug the cable). We were invited to someone's house for dinner, a someone that we could not refuse. I was quite cool about it. It is rare that we get to eat dinner together. So what if its at someone else's house? I half thought that as befits my status as wife, I should throw a fit about this. "What? Eat Dinner At Their House Instead Of A Romantic Dinner At Home?" But then, I was supposed to go to Ahmedabad for work that day (which I canceled finally citing various reasons such as (a) Monster has a cold (b) Its my husband's birthday (c) He is out of town till 7 pm which is past the creche closing time and (d) My brain aches thinking of the flight at 11 pm. So after this and that, and the other, I managed to behave and not throw tantrums. Got us ready by the time he returned from the airport. We cut the cake (minus candles) and ate a teeny-weeny little bit of it. I packed the monster's dinner in a box and off we went on a LONG ride in the car. At least we were together in the car! And we had a drink and dinner together! So what if there were other work-people around? It was our little secret! How cool!

The dinner was great. The single malt was superlative. The monster had some company though they all managed to use the shrewd techniques kids use these days to watch TV. "Mamma, she wants to watch TV" said the boy to his mum. "Oh no! She just watched at home" I said, desperately. "Amma, Bhaiyya NEEDS to watch TV" said mine. "Oh no! They have been watching TV this entire summer vacation. I have banned them" said his mum. I suspect the oldest of them, an innocent looking girl sitting quietly in the bedroom, engineered the whole thing. I did not want to act up too much. The other mum, likewise. The host, who is secure in the knowledge that his girls are all grown up (and married) and he never has to feel guilty about them watching the idiot box, was goading them on, and asking us to relax and drink some more of his single malt. So, that was that, but at least, they were completely out of our hair, the view was great, the dinner fantastic (my tires have grown of course, I had already eaten my dinner at 6:30 at home, but how to tell them that? plus it all looked lovely so I dug in. It was 11 pm at any rate).

We returned home, catching a nap in the car. And the birthday ended. Miraculously, we were on time for school the next day, and I retained my sanity somewhat despite the less sleep.

And in other events, the school conducted a bead-threading competition. My words of advice were concentrate, enjoy yourself, if you get a prize, great, if not, no big deal as long as you enjoyed your time there. She came back and insisted that she neither won nor enjoyed herself. Then I gave her several anecdotes from my school years and somehow at the end she declared that it was fun. Which I am sure it was. Especially since we bought ourselves a beading kit and made two bracelets and a necklace, thanks to the competition. She threads beautifully and skillfully (if not faster than Eena Meena and Deeka!) and loves the dolphin necklace. Her perception of prizes, competitions, and so on are not entirely clear, for example, she thinks she won a running race with a friend of hers although she was slower, because, Slow And Steady Wins The Race! The school was good last year in that they gave prizes to EVERYBODY in the school. Whether they won anything or not. Which is kind of nice because the children genuinely feel sad otherwise, and it is not easy to explain to them that such material things are not important. At least not at that point, during the function.

And now its pouring cats and dogs, and I am concerned for the 12 km race next Sunday. But at least, I am through with the first 'competition' in school, emerged unscathed and still enthu about it, and he really liked his gifts, especially since I made the monster wear a T-shirt that said 'My Daddy Rocks' when we cut the cake!!