The illusion of a sibling…

via Illusion

I have always had a sibling.. it’s just that they change every day.  It’s my mom when I play with her, my dad when I fight with him, my friends when we get into mischief.

The constant sibling in my life though, forever, will be Dennis.  He came into my life when I was 9 years old and was with me till I was 19.  I never missed having a sibling after that. (Not that I ever stopped doing other stuff.. especially fighting with Dad.. I enjoyed exasperating him!)

If anybody called him a dog, he would get mad.  He had the illusion of himself as the SON of the house and expected the rights and privileges of the same.  If a rule is established for him, it defaults to moi as well.

He would instigate other dogs for a fight and then hide behind my mom’s skirt for protection.  She would have to end up chasing them away.  So is he an illusion of a dog?

When we took him for walks, he used to get tired and refused to budge.  I would end up carrying him and walking (defeats the whole purpose of walking, don’t ya think?).

I used to put him in a cradle and rock, dressed him in undershirt and underpants, carried him around like a baby (he used to hold onto me for his dear life).  Now y’all know I had a crazy childhood that can account for the crazy adult I am now.

He-Man

He was my faithful sidekick.   I used to ride him like a tiger with an umbrella in my hands yelling SHE MAN and the Masters of the Universe…

Baby Diaries

via Commit

Work from home is best for a mother…

Well..Noooo..It drives me nuts (to say the truth). My 2.5-year-old baby thinks it’s mommy’s holiday because she is at home and asks if mommy really has to work. She expects ‘mommy commitment’…I better take it seriously…who cares about a job right! So she wonders if we can do a bit of shopping, go on a play date and to top it off, a choo choo train ride would definitely be nice.  When mommy says she needs to get work done and how about we go after that in the evening? She takes it upon herself to help me out by walking all over my laptop. 🙂 

Breakfast time is fun…

Not so for mommy.. constant threats, bribes and tears on both sides of the table…then out of nowhere a beautiful hug and a kiss from the baby..… instant diffusing of my ticking time bomb.

Puter and Carter…

My baby likes to emulate me, so she is mommy most of the times and walks around with a laptop which she calls “Puter” and a baby doll which she calls “Carter.” I am surprised I am already a grandmom!! Double commitment!

Puter&Carter

(Don’t ask me why Carter is wearing pink or if she is wearing pink – why she is called “Carter.”)

Bathtime….

Love the bath time with my baby. It’s always fun after I manage to get her into the tub. Getting her in is a struggle (well, let’s not talk about that, that will take 5 blogs!). Amid the bubbles we have Carter in the tub for a washing as well, (thank god I hid Puter in time) of course, as my baby is the Mommy – she is really serious about doing her MOMMY DUTIES right.

Our Maid Stories

via Relieved

maid

My 10 year old and I have our own takes on everything, here is an example of what I wrote in my journal and what he wrote in his:

Motherish:

As a mother of two boys, high blood pressure is a part of life and so is dodging food meteors and stepping into shoes with GI Joe in them. In my case, the MLU (Maids Labor Union), has framed photographs of my family in their corporate headquarters, as the most dreaded family. Only the bravest, most expensive and/or newest maids venture out to work for us. What is it with boys and aiming right into the toilet pot? Their bathrooms are a mess, their closets probably have raccoons living under the piles of clothes. I set about cleaning the house, feel so good, head over to the shower and when I am back out, the house is back to normal and so is my blood pressure. I just wait for the visit from my maids.  On one occasion we were home when the maids came and my little one followed them to every room asking them if they were evil. He even asked them to go away but luckily my maids hardly speak any English. And when the house is clean and smelling like Clorox all I feel is…..RELIEVED!!

Childish:

The house was under a maid attack!!!!

Our lives are ruined boys!!!!!!!THE BEAUTIFUL STINK OF SOCKS!!!!! THE PILE OF SOFT CLOTHES ON THE CARPET!!!!!!! THE BUILDINGS OF SCATTERED TOYS ALL OVER THE GROUND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At least they didn’t touch or move any of my action figures.

2

Minutes

Later

THEY ARE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!OUR COLLECTIBLES ARE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Who takes a collectible off a decent spot (on the floor) and puts them on… get ready………THE SHELF!!!!!!!!!

My little brother to the rescue…he got his little lizard and showed it to one of the maids. She screamed and ran right out of the house…….rammed into mom’s shrubs while backing out (sure reason she is not coming back). And I swear all the boys in the house felt….RELIEVED!!!

Fatherish….Long way to Subway

I had survived a month in this new country. Twenty years, million sitcoms later, I still dread ordering drive through and spelling my name to customer service, thanks to my thick  accent. My kids have a ball when I order french fries and get handed over sprite – EVERY SINGLE TIME.

On our way from Detroit to Chicago. I was tired of pretending to know how to read the map from AAA and all I wanted was some food and a nap. My friend, being a veteran immigrant for 6 months, convinced me to try a healthier option and dragged me to Subway. I rushed to the restroom and by the time I got in line there were a few people between me and my friend. That was my first tactical mistake. New to the country and trying new food begs for help. Specially if you ate curry and rice your entire life.

I see most in the line on the higher side of the scale. In those days the Subway was famous for eating healthy and losing weight. Well…I hardly see any success stories…. wonder where they all eat now.

Having lived in US for a month now, being naive and single, fast food was the undisputed choice. I was trying to find the numbers in the menu. ‘Number 5, medium with Coke’ was easy. But here in subway I don’t see any numbers. With my thick accent I knew I was in for a long conversation with the lady in gloves.

To play it safe I asked for ‘Veggie delight’. Sandwich maker asks me  ‘6 inch or footlong’. Thinking that she was getting too personal, I gawked at her awkwardly. Seeing my clueless expression, she explains, ‘Would you like a 6 inch sandwich or footlong?’. I never thought food could be measured in inches. Anyway, I said ‘foot long’. She asks me ‘What kind of bread?’ I thought to myself, now there were kinds of bread? The only kind I knew was the one in slices.

Then she asks me ‘Cheese?’ This is sounding like a multiple choice test.

Now comes the real food assembly part. She asks me “what would you like on your sandwich?”. I don’t even recognize half the veggies in those bins. Seeing my confusion, she decided to be kind. She pointed to each vegetable and asked me if I wanted it. I said ‘No’ to most, No being the easiest thing to say. She wraps the sandwich.

I pay for the sandwich for which I gave the recipe…..a little disappointed that I was eating something that was neither steaming or smelling. I can actually take apart everything in the sandwich ingredient by ingredient. Human civilization is going backwards I guess.

I grabbed the coke and sat with my friend. Took a bite, choked and reached for the coke to drain it down my throat.

When I reach home, mom calls and surely enough asks what I ate for lunch? I decide to dazzle her with the names of American Subs and what goes into them and what doesn’t…..

After all these years I can’t believe subway is my first choice if I have to grab something real quick. I guess the ‘Eat Fresh’ has caught up with me…

 

Thoughts and Visions

via Photo Challenge: Focus

9

She peeks through the crimson of my lonely thoughts, with mischief yet shy,

Like a diffident bride holding on with bloodless knuckles to peeling garments on wedding night.

I wonder at her wavering emotions, at times a foaming sea, at times a passive bay.

And if I held her fire in an embrace, she’d likely turn me to ashes,

Though winning her, is all I wished, I’d gladly die without a fight.

Secrets are good as long as no one knows there’s one….

Motherish…

That has to be true because we all have a tendency to go secret hunting as soon as we smell one….If husbands won’t share their iPhone pin, the wives got to check what he’s upto. If Santa refuses to show himself, the kids got to stay up till midnight setting up a trap. Remember the Pokemon Go craze last year…when every kid was outside spying for those little critters and some people (me) walking right into gutters. I think I was better off not knowing my kids had a secret. Going after it sure gave me post-traumatic amnesia.

Neil, my 6 year old just loves to read the Red Riding Hood. The librarian got so tired of me paying overdues on that book that she literally presented it to my family one day.

Avi, my 9 year old reads a math book….every night! Am not really sure how one reads a math text…. “ = 8 × 8 = 64. 82 could be called “8 to the power 2”, or simply “8 squared”.

Well, I was always a little numerically challenged and cannot for the love of God understand his inclination. But surely some people (like his dad) might find it interesting I guess. Who reads a book where someone did not get murdered anyway?

Naive that we poor moms are, I would probably never have guessed my kids were being all sneaky if not for the upside down book Neil was holding. So I ask my little fellow if he could tell me the story. He says, “It is too scary for you mom….you are too young for this.”

“Hmm” but I’m not giving up so easy either, am I? So I insist. He relents and tells me the story, “A little girl called Red Riding Hood went to a ball dance with handsome prince Spiderman and at the strike of 12, she ran so fast, she lost her glasses. On her way home, she got so hungry she ate a poor little fox with the hair on its chinny, chin, chin.”

Not really sure how to react at first, I suggested we should walk our dog perhaps? But what do I see, she is busy reading a book too.

20130210_194431

Well, I gave up and went back to sleep in my tower after kissing my two little dragons good night.

 

Childish…..

Oh my gosh, this is the hardest thing I’ve encountered other than the final level of Mortal Combat X.

I have tried so hard to teach my brother this mom-proof way of getting away with watching minecraft videos on mom’s phone, but he keeps on messing it up! When we sneak away with mom’s phone, she comes around at night to check on us. Our spidey-sense tingles and we hide mom’s phone….pull out the closest book….. and pretend reading. I’ve been reading ….pretend reading that is….a thick math book that is always under my bed. But Neil keeps pretend reading Little Red Riding Hood….and that’s like 4 pages. Of all the toddler books he still loves…..Little Red Riding Hood? Seriously? I mean it when I say toddler books, his favorite is “Once Upon a Potty”.

I mean I can’t really understand what I’m reading, what does (a+b) (a-b) even mean? Since when was the alphabet part of math.

And to add to our misery, he always reads the book upside down. I swear my mom is so smart, she actually asked him what his book was about…after all he read it like a bajillion times. He obviously doesn’t even know the story, so he just told her a story that gave her a stomach ache I think. I was waiting to punch him as soon as she turned her back and he looked so proud of himself.

Mom figured out our top secret and that got me grounded for a month. Now I have to think of a completely new method…..well, there’s always homework…