The Bad Cop.

So Nadi doesnt like school. It’s been almost one month (with wayy too many holidays in the middle) but that magical moment when he realizes how much he loves school over home has, despite  repeated assurances that it will, not happened.

Every morning is a heartbreaking experience of being asked so very politely to “please” take him to Nanna’s instead. Or the park. Or to the toyshop.  Who can say no to a well mannered little boy who says please anyways?

Everyone, and I mean literally every single person assures me this is normal. “He is having such a great time with you, do you blame him for not wanting to go to school, where attention is so divided?” says one very nice mom, who also had a hard time. “He needs to learn to be independent” states another, “he is too attached to you, I think”  One part of me feels like snapping back asking what is wrong with a 2 year old little boy being attached to his mother? And the other part of me is torn- what is she is right? Am I damaging him in some way? what if this is doing more harm than good this whol preschool making them social thing?

I ask k and he says, he will be fine with a confidence I just can’t feel. I am aware of my role- I am forever the Bad Cop. The one who MAKES him do stuff, like put away his toys and goto sleep at an hour he would rather be playing. I am the one who LEAVES him at school, hardening my heart to the quvering pout and the sad eyes, and the very polite, please nanna paas le jao nadi ko. I dont want him to associate me with the sinking feeling of school days. I want to run in and rescure him but I steel myself against it, why I quite don’t know yet. I am waiting it out, holding my breath, for it to click to him that this is just for him that I am doing this. He is a smart little kid, he should figure it out soon , right?

aug09

You first.

All my teen and adult life, if there was one description that people who wanted me to open my eyes to the “real me” gave me it was that I was selfish. I was perenially guilty of putting me first. Post break ups, post fights, the other person involved would say that I didn’t think of how they would feel when I took the decision. Many years of reflection later, I concede that to some measure this has been true. I have usually, been truest, only to myself. If I felt my heart wasn’t staying in something consistently or I wasn’t feeling something with the depth of which I felt it needed to be felt, be it a project with a friend, or a relationship with a significant other, or a subject I had chosen, I did end up walking out. My excuse was always the same. How can I make anything work when I am not in it, when I am not happy? Perhaps it wasn’t the fairest decision t make since it almost always did involve other peoples feelings, but I remained staunchly insistent that if I am not giving it my all, then its not worth it to either person- in moments of drama I might have even believed that I was being almost fair to be so brutally honest about it. Trust me, I have received flak enough for a lifetime  for it- (no major scars though thankfully).

Very recently, someone from my past, one who I value a lot despite all the emotional trauma we dragged each other through, told me, he thought I had the most integrity for someone of our ages back then. I was floored. Seriously? I asked. I thought you absolutely hated my guts. “Well yes I did,”  he replied grinning, “but now that I have grown up, I can see that what you did what right. You cannot do things for others when you aren’t in it yourself. I actually IS very unfair to them. And your stance was right. You should always watch out for yourself before anyone else.”

Said in the cold daylight of msn, these words, even though meant as some kind of affirmation and acknoledgement of yester errors on his part, sounded so calculated, mean- even cruel in their assessment of me. They made me sound like the kind of person who only thought of her own feelings and not that of the situation as it stood, the people and feelings involved. I sat there for a moment, wondering how to reply. Have I changed? Would I do things differently now? If something, or someone, didn’t receive the full force of its deserved spirit, passion, attention and involement from me, would I still stick around just because it would be the right thing to do for commitments sake? And I realized that I wouldn’t. My commitment remains most of all, to myself to be true and honest in what I do with whom I do it- and yes that somwhat conscience-heavy path is definitely paved with a lot more judgement from others, and emotional pulls and pushes and analysis of details, but it is definitely the path I am most me on. Take it or leave it, I guess.

mom-types I just cannot take anymore.

1. Ones who keep talking down at you just because they had a baby first. The YOU dont know what its like. YOU have no idea. YOU wait and see. (Ummm. YOU go jump off a cliff please)

2. Ones who try to out-mom you in every aspect. (If your kid is behaving well, theirs is an angel. But the next day if your kid is being a brat, theirs is the devil incarnate. No winning there.)

3. Ones who ONLY want to talk about their kids. (Yes I am thrilled to hear about your beloved poop-food-sleep timnings by the minute, but come on, seriously, you have NOTHING else to talk about? Ever?)

4. Ones who give you advice without you asking for it. And then insist on it. You REALLY should try Sudocrem. Vaseline works fine for us, thanks. NO SERIOUSLY, Sudocrem is the best. TRY IT. Want to eat some Sudocrem, lady?

5. Ones who sit there and smile prettily/socialize actively while their child wreaks havoc at a restaurant/play day/get together. Just because you have a maid  doesn’t mean that you can switch off and work your agenda missy, especially if your kid is inclined to be a baby tornado equivalent who refuses to listen.

Rambles of a Preschool Mom

I love Cathy Thorne. Mainly because she says it like it is. If I scrounge around deep enough in my psyche, I suppose I could admit that the though did cross my mind that when Nadi’s world expanded, it could end up meaning that his teacher will be more loved than me. Motherhood is funny complicated suffocating little huge thing isnt it? When they are demanding and want every iota of your attention trained on them, you feel so limited. You want to push them away and scream GIVE MY BRAIN SOME SPACE!!! You want to be an unmommy mommy, one who is capable to conversation beyond the nappy rash creams and preschool malarney. You want to be able to be who you used to be, on some level at least. And when this school time comes, where you see your toddler toddling off into the sunset with his lovely teacher, suddenly you feel this gaping hole of emptiness- and even if for only a second, you feel utterly useless. As if the main purpose of your existence just suddenly vanished.

Now in week 3 (day 9, officially but who’s counting?) of Nadi’s preschooling saga, I am much much better. More than him, I have adjusted to the idea that he will belong to world more expansive than what I was able to give him- naturally. I am able to breathe easier at the thought that for that one hour he is doing other more diverse things than what I was able to provide for him, with more kids than I was able to furnish him with! The butterflies still swoop down at least once every morning as I say a little prayer for the day to be wonderful for him- filled with the wonder of new- but I am learning to control them0 to order them to swoop and swing in formations I like.

I wonder if 2 is the right age for schooling. I am just not an advocate of the academic- I prefer exploration. I liked Nadi sitting and examining something for a long period of time rather than have his day structured into little components- at least for now, I wanted him to know the leisure of time and discover things at a pace that was not set by human clocks. I know its a boho fancy free notion of upbringing but somehow Nadi fits that well; he has from the start. We have followed the more vague adminstrations of nature rather than the more rigid timelines of the man made kind and for both of us, it was a path that worked out well. That said, I am happy with my choice of playschool, bright airy lots of colours, lots of visual stimulation, happy people, pets, grass, outdoor areas- the works. It looks like a place made for mental nurturing- a concept I didnt realize I was so strong upon. And despite the intitial hiccups- and sniffles and wobblies- he is an excited little boy at the idea of school. Atleast the concept makes sense intellectually to him if not emotionally yet. I suppose he must be wondering why his mom is handing him over to a stranger after 2 years of being around. I would, too. All for the best, baby boy, all for the best. There is so much that goes on in my head where these little-big decisions are concerned and in the end, you throw it all up high high into the universe, with all the best intentions and plans and your best prayers and then hope that the pieces fall into the right places, fitting in and completing the picture that you are as yet unable to see…

mom peeve

I am not interested in listening to babble incessantly about your kid unless you are also interested in listening to me babble endlessly about Nadi. That’s the rule, and yes, I made it.

feeling ego-centric.

One of my biggest fears about having a baby was losing touch with things. Its not necessarily a valid fear, I have come to realize, because I am surrounded by some fantastic women who are really inspirational in their lives. But perhaps because of the examples I was surrounded at the time or the system that doesn’t always support a working mom, I felt the task was going to be uphill. Everyone who loves me assured me how my more boho outlook on work- random timings and deadline discipline would actually allow me to adjust to an evolving work ethic where I could call the shots. And being swept along with the faith everyone has in me, I found myself extending beyond my baby comfort zone to take on things and try out different project types and classes- things I had not previously done, but those that with my brand new baby-priority suited my timings and attention spans.

In my lines of work- both teaching and designing,  its always a new day. Always a new project , always a new thought and you move on faster than you think you will to the next best thing. Its exciting and you stay away for a bit, and you can actually feel like youre being left behind. It has been important to me to know that I have kept up with the times, so to speak. I love Nadi really, but I know I need this other stuff for me to feel fuilfilled enough to BE the mother that I am. So one plods on and does ones best- grabbing opportunities, doing your mostest and hoping that youre making the mark where you wanted to.

Which is why when the fun things happen, you realize that all the effort was for some reason- that somebody out there does notice that extra mile you go to make sure your work is on time and good, that the baby is doing well and that things generally look like they are where they belong. This summer was great. Not only did Nadir and I make it in my sisters book Raw Life as one of the ten creatives who are happily doing their own thing, but I also got asked to be a summer brand ambassador for Ego, along with some other very dynamic women I know. You know you have got to be doing something right na when a hip up and coming brand asks you to wear their outfits out and about to create interests amongst people. “Wear it to your classes,” urged the PR person. “Wear it to the bday party or the get together. Wear it on the weekend- just wear it and look like who you are doing what you do best. Trust me people will notice.” Initially I was a little reluctant- I am NOT the model type, I told her, really not trying to be modest, just honest. “It isnt about models, it’s about role models. We want people who are personality driven to be associated with this brand”. Put like that, come on, I could not refuse, especially not since the little voice in my head kept prodding me and asking, but isnt this what you mean when you said that you wanted to stay in touch with whats happening?

To be honest, I don’t think I know what I meant when I promised myself I would stay ” in the loop”. I just knoew that I did not want to be one of those moms who, after they have had a lengthy discussion about their kids allergies and preschool, fall awkwardly silent. I love doing the baby talk sure, but the me that extends beyiond that needed to be kept alive, and I was lucky enough to be in an evironment surrounded by people who let me grow alongside, wihtout stifling my desire for individuality.

We are part of a culture where motherhood is all consuming. The thing is…motherhood IS all consuming. It takes over our air and space and we are never able to truly breathe on our own again- but we need to sometimes snatch in those breaths of air that are solely our own. So when something – a person, a brand, an opprtunity, a gift comes along that celebrates what you are doing, it should be applauded because to be told you are a role model for others because of the way we do things, to be told that you make a difference to the place your backside off for, now thats where the difference begins, not only in the way people see you, but in the way you are and one day, will be.

23/07/09

As Paul Sweeney said, and S reminded me in her wish to me this year, “A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity. And the order varies for any given year.”  Of course that led me to thinking what the varying order has been for me and k  over the last 4 years.

Year one, I think was love and tolerance at top- in the first year of the marriage bubble was actually a bubble. I felt all new and smiley – hopefully not to the point of ickness though (I think it was all the new stuff- new makeup/new furnture/clothes and oh yes life).  Life was at a restart point and it felt all possibility-ful and can-go anywhere-y. At the same time, no matter how happy and best friends you are with your hub, the living together is a bit of a shocker. If you have gotten used to the personal space in 28 yrs, it aint gonna go away just because you fell in love. Words of wisdom- and a few fights.

Year two I think the focus moved more to the partnership part of things. When the home stuff started feeling routine. The bills, the living expenses, the trips, the decisions that used to be all mine, were now someone else’s also. I wish I could say that it was  a relief, which maybe in hindsight it was, but it was also weird to have to ask someones opinion on things, or listen to their take, or worse yet, follow their advice. It gets easy to be on our own, to do things the way you want to, with no one to really confer with. As M tells it, we are the ones who walk in front, with the passports in hand, taking charge of how we want to do things, wanting to sit in the aisle seat, and we never expected husbands to want to do the same. For us year two also meant Nadi. Does it  get more partnership than that?

Year 3 was about tolerance. I dont know how many moms feel this- but having a kid is HUGE. It means having a perpetual conversation a la psycho style, with yourself at all times, weighing the good of one decision versus the bad of another. I think I left k out so many times that he would get left behind in this mad race I was on to keep the juggling on. Work, Nadi, Old Life, New Life, Mom, Friend, Sister, Daughter etc etc etc. It was always one more thing to do, and although i love checklists, especially the part where I get to cross out what I have accimplished, this was one list that was simply not getting resolved. Poor k, yes but of course its not as easy asa that. Annoyance- why arent you more into the New Babied Life? Resentment- why hasnt YOUR life changed as much as mine? Hormones- I want to feel special, not fat. Babies are adorable and much more worth it than one can ever really imagine but the process, let me tell you, there are time when it just aint pretty. And for those of us who have made it to year two, please take a bow right now.

The last year- Year 4- has been amazing (Allah ka Shukar). We have gotten our mojo back in all senses of the word and I would put love right back up at there at the top (with tolerance). Its always an uphill task to get two people to start living together- reagrdless of how badly they want to- and its even harder still when th changes that happen to both are not equal or perfect. Throw in a baby or two and the whole thing can just blow up in your face. I think thats where tenacity comes in. You have to hold on to that initial feeling of belonging together, of knowing that you got into this to ride the waves together. I think it comes in when despite the fact that jobs get harder, rains get messier, moods get swingier, and babies get more expensive, you are still, on some level, having the time of your life roughing it out with the person you wanted to do this whole life thing with. And in the end maybe it is just as simple as that.

photo by kay

bits and bobs

These days I am working on  biggish project with someone who is quite entertaining. At the end of our weekly meetings,  he wraps up, promising to send all the missing bits and bobs my way. I imagine little pieces of information, images, text floating towards me in a jiggety jingle kinda way. Trite as though the statment might be, but life has gotten so blurry in all that needs to be said about it, keps getting archived into thought boxes and the scary thing with thought boxes are that over time, they fade until only certain situations force them up. And since I dont want that to happen, since there are stories about Nadi I want to remember to tell him one day (when he will be embarrassed by me- and not want to hear them), I will cover the bits and bobs of the last few weeks in short form.

Ratatouille is on its way out and Maaki-Makeen (Lightning McQueen) is on its way in.  Now that I know the entire dialgue backwards of the Pixar movie with accents and subtitles, Nadi has decided he only has 3 very favourite parts  he wants to watch. Looks like the seasons finally over. God, I think I am actually going to miss it.

The baby accent is amazing- and since you havent been a repeater from the start, I am loving this phase right now of parroting everything I say, especially the more emphatic words right down to the tonal variation. Sadly the baby accent is also refnining itself and I was most upset to hear you call  Haji Dawood (our  grocery store of choice) by its actual correct pronounciation over your recent Haaouud. I still prefer Haouud.

By the way, when you can say the harder words so clearly why cant you say Finger Family? Why are they still Fitin Shaapy? Hmmm.

I dont know many kids your age- and the ones I do know maybe I never really paid attention to growth wise- but I am most impressed with what two year olds nowadays know if you are anything to go by. You know how to slide open to the menu of an Iphone. You guys know what youtube is. You can turn the TV, laptop and amp on by yourself if you are sure no ones watching. And you, Nadi, can recognize logo brands better than some grown ups can. You know the difference between OPTP and McD fries, even when I switch them into different boxes. I suppose most of you peeps know how to count to ten and can tell colours- but I honestly didnt think that happened till 4 or 5. You just turned 2- so pardon me for being super impressed. I love how you know your mind so well from what you want to eat to what you want to watch to what you want to do. I suppose by giving you the freedom to choose I am pretty setting a precedent I will one day regret, but for now watching a 2 yr old make up his mind is way funner than imagining a 16 yr old inform me of his intentions.

I like how despite knowing everyone real names and titles, you have your own special nickname for them that you use when you want to get your way. It works and its adorable but Iforesee you abusing that in the near future. I must warn the others.

Your cooking phase stays strong- you know most of the spices by name, although why you insist on adding haldi and cinnamon to eggs I cant understand. You still find the kitchen the best place to be in the house, and I know one day your wife will be thankful for that.

Your favourite song is Right Round by Flo Rida and you will dance to it endlessly any time anywhere. Next fave is Boom boom pow and then Bongo Bong- and even though today you did ask for Maa ka Ladla by name, it very clear to me that the dominant gene in this case is not mine. I can almost hear k do a happy jig at this.

As I am learning on this project- and with you-n the bits and bobs are endless, and as they keep coming, you keep adjusting and readjusting to make space for them, learning to fit them in and accepting them, sometimes with difficulty and sometimes as easily as peasy.

see the rainbows not the rain

I remember I was 7 or 8 and it was 1980-something when mad rains hit Karachi. Of course they hit in 1992 and in 2006 also, and a couple fo other years also, but this years monsoon rains reminded me of that rain in the 80’s.

This past weekend in Karachi was what people would term nightmarish on many levels. After a hugely muggy summer, with heat levels reaching a new claustrophobic high, the heavens literally poured their hearts out, and despite the fact that rain in Karachi almost always means a celebratory air – atleasts initially- it also usually doesnt take much for disaster to strike. Predictably, amidst the thankfully dropping temperatures and madly sluicing rain sheets, the light went. Right across the city, everything was dark and people scurried faster trying to get to their homes, fearing the storm would pick up and the roads would be a mess. Rightly so. The last few years of rains have proved that each year we come to the same conclusion about the city being unable to handle rain,and somehow the relevant authorities havent understood that that mean ssomething needs to be done about it now. Saturdays are busy as it is, with families out and about doing their weekly chores because its the prelude to a weekend, hence multiplying the numbers of people who got caught in the sudden showers.

Back then we lived in phase one, and our house was nestled amidst other houses and manymany other plots, all ready to be built upon. That meant that when the rains hit, these plots would get transformed into huge pools of stagnant water, which sounds disgusting but to me, summering in karachi after the clean sterile environment of abu dhabi, it was fascinating. I loved the pools filled with the mossy green water that would just stand for weeks and weeks. That summer when the rains hit, we were all sleeping, tired out from our daily cousin fun. I remember being jolted awake by my mom, who was frantically throwing some outfits on the bed. I sat up blearily and was amazed to see water surrounding the bed. Atleast 2 feet of water gently lapping the sides of my bed. I still remember being half delighted when my dad waded into the room and told me to get on his back. Leaving the room we saw that several feet of water invaded most of what was a fashionably deep set house- further bringing in more ater from the street. Waving to other cousins on other grownups backs, we made our way to our neighbours house. Haji Sahab of the opulent house fame, was more than happy to give us several of his many many rooms and we all sat yapping excitedly about how much fun it was to be up so late and spending the night together in such circumstances. I still remember the musty musty smell of books a couple of days later when my grandfathers prized library was laid out to dry on the roof, painstakingly carried by everyone along with the heavy wet carpets. Some of the pages are still curled up today, a testament to that flood. It took many weeks to get everything dry and back to normal- and the wet hairy odour hung in the air for long- despite air freshners candles and what not. I suppose for the grown ups it couldnt have been much fun to find their belonging floating past them while they tried to save the kids but for us kids, potining out random floating bins and baskets was an exercise in fun fun fun.

I had forgotten about that flood really, pushed it to some archives in my head, but Nadi’s thorough excitement and joy at all the chaos of the last 2 days of rain brought it all back and made the whole process of having to mop up buckets of water and plug up windows with towels a lot more bearable. As he ran around shouting “Allah mian pani basss, Allah mian basss pani baasss” we couldnt help but laugh at his utter delight at being allowed to splash in the “yucky pani” and his joy at having to trudge around like nomads to different houses staying for the night, waiting for our electricity to come back and the rainwater in our room to dry up. For him, it was like an endless bout of holiday magic starring all his favourite people in the best possible situation- one involving water! It brought back in technicolour how liberating it can be to be  powerless to do anything really but manage ourselves for that moment and really no one lives in the moment more than children. Yes this last weekend was a bit of a nightmare for us Karachiites, bijlee-less, rain-ful, displaced, floating and then coming back to an upside down house, but somehow, thankfully, something in the way Nadi saw this whole thing, and made us see this whole thing, kept the perspective in its right place.