...in 80 clicks.
A tag started by Her Bad Mother
With a blog name like that I'd be happy to go on the ride- around the world, maybe even just around the playground with 80 noise producing kids.
This witty writer who has completed a book on mommyhood (and it will be anything but sugar and spice and all that is nice) has tagged me.
And so has this gorgeous lady who started a blog when she was pregnant making me want to rush to find her and actually begin that elusive film on pregnancy that I have been making.
Guys, you need to post 5 things that you love about being a mom/dad) and find someone to link to and tag - someone from your own country, if you like, but definitely someone from another country ..and to leave a link to the post at HBM, who started this tag.
I would have liked this to be a well thought out, warm, mushy post.
But circumstances dont allow it.
You see, while I attempt to write this, before dashing off to complete 100 other thing, I am being subjected to a 3.8 year old who insists on wearing woollen gloves, socks, pants with a thick lining and matching jacket. I am sitting in Bombay, its probably 40 degrees outside my window. Maybe 39 degrees at my desk. And she is standing between the desk and my window.
Awfully hard to be sentimental while I try and convince the child that if she wants to pretend to be in London she does not actually have to wear the clothes she did wear in London when we visited in November.
Yet I love parenthood!
A pair of tiny pink woollen gloved hands can beam me away to any land. With the requisite warm clothes.
I do the moon walk on a road teaming with cars and pedestrians because a child who is tired keeping pace with me commands me to slow down and match her step for a change. It probably is the only sensible way to negotiate the busy road. And the slower you go the whizzing cars and the busy bodies become a colourful blur.
Multiple time zones inhabit my body now. The zen, meditative mode when she will not let me help her dress up. The futuristic space age when I have to materialise next to her after she has finished her job at the potty, so that I can do my job. The Bombay traffic jam mode when we spar on any and ever issue - you have to be very still and wait in this jam. The lazy seal mode when we are lolling on the cool floor making up nonsense rhymes.
I have become a giant half done jigsaw puzzle sprawled across the floor. It took me years to neatly arrange the pieces into a complete sense of self. She came and undid it all and added a million more pieces that jiggle defiantly as I try to fit them back into place. I forgot to add, I absolutely love jigsaw puzzles.
I get to fraternise with the most exciting set of people. Honest, rude and really helpful.
At the park the other day, a little pal came upto me with a scowl.
"Hey," he said, "whats with your hair?"
"Its hot, I have had no time for a hair cut, so I tried to pin it and push it away from my face," I answered.
"Lousy. Looks funny. You look funny."
"Oh dear, then I should really get a hair cut."
"No, leave it. Looks ok they way it is."
NO ONE has ever had anything complimentary to say about my hair. This child is a pal. A rude one, but a pal alright.
And there was the little girl who called up the sun on her stone phone to bring down the heat because I was uncomfortable. Hell, she was so firm with the sun I thought she might chuck the stone phone at him if he did not comply. He was threatened enough to set soon enough.
And I tag some parents around the world whom I have never met but whose blogs feel like regularly visited homes around the neighbourhood.
India: Slogan Murugan :I trust you will do this with pictures.
UK: Where I am calling from
US: The Last Byte