Posh Lady

The Comfy family was out skiing. Buzz and I told the straight fast line down the slope while Bugz and D went through deep snow and trees. Buzz and I got down the hill and were looking up, watching for the other two to ski down.

Buzz in her typical honest style commented –
“Bugz’s form is all wrong. Her hands are behind her which makes her balance off.
Papa looks like he is flying. He is like a barely in control super fast teen.”

I laughed and asked how I skiied?
“You ski daintily, like those posh ladies who wear tight bellbottom ski pants and jackets with fur hoodies.”

“And how do you ski?” I asked.
“I ski perfectly!” she responded.

Little miss perfect at least thinks I am a posh lady even though I don’t dress like one 😀

In the middle

“Mumma why do I not have a middle name?” Buzz asked me one day.

We went on to have a long conversation about how names are chosen in different cultures, why some people choose to have a middle name or a number middle names, why some people choose to have Jr. etc. behind their kids name.

“Mumma some time at school I add a middle name to my name!” she told me then.

Taken by surprise I asked her what she wrote?

“Sugar”, she came back, “because you some times call me cheeni, which means sugar!”

Suddenly, Bugz, who had been listening till then chimed in with utter glee:

“So my middle name will be Pataka!”

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That be that folks! 😀

Strong now

“Life is best lived with minimum effort” – That seems to be Bugz moto. If she can get away with not doing something, she will do her best not to do it. This includes cleaning up after playing, remembering the simplest of things, trying to read, coloring between the lines. The list is endless.

For the past year Bugz has been taking swimming lessons. Progress you ask? None, nada, zilch, zero. The instructor tells her to put her mouth in the water. Bugz follow. The instructor then tells her to mover her arms and legs. Bugz looks up, gives her a huge smile and does nothing. One year of lessons, just because she loves to play in the water. Who needs to learn to swim?

For two people as parents who love to hike, Bugz starts to crib the minute she hits the trail. One day D and I decided to go for a walk with the kids. Bugz did not stop whining about being too tired, about how she hated to walk, about wanting to turn back. 15 minutes of non-stop Bugz whine, we were ready to turn back. And if anyone were to say that the cribbing was because it was too much distance or she is too young for the distance, Bugz proved them all wrong by running all the way back home.

She is one strong girl! Her punch can knock an adult off their feet. She can carry a gallon or two of milk without really thinking about it. She can walk/hike long distances and that too at an adult’s pace, if provided with the right incentive. It is not that she can’t do something, it is that she chooses not to do it. There are no words to state how frustrating this is as a parent.

In any case, given our love for hiking we keep taking her on hikes and as she cribs, there are talks about how hiking is a form of exercise and exercises are important, they keep us health, they make us stronger.

This past weekend, on a super sunny day, we were on a particularly difficult hike with steep incline right from the beginning of the hike and no shade. The kids were both having a hard time (and so were we). After a break for water, we started again and Bugz found her strength. Off she went running up the trail, leaving most adults behind, including us as we ran panting behind her to keep her in sight. Then suddenly she turned, let me catch up and said – “Mumma ab mein strong ho gayi. Ab chalo waapis.” (“Mumma now I am strong. Let’s turn back.”)

My minimum effort kid wins at all times. And don’t forget stronger!!!

Get Milk

D’s trip to a grocery store follows a general pattern –

Me: Can you head to the grocery store? We really need to and I am stuck with xyz right now.
D: Sure, can you make me a cup of tea before I leave?
Me: !!!!
D: OK OK, what do we need to get?
Me: *rattle out a list of things which are everyday grocery list for me* Onions, tomatoes, ginger, garlic, green chilies, eggs, milk..
D: What? I can’t remember all that! Can you write it down for me?
Me: *rather than argue, I quickly find a paper and pen and write it all down*

20 minutes later the phone rings.

D: I lost the list. I kept it in my pocket but can’t find it. Can you tell me what all I need to get?
Me: *goes over things again*
D: Wait, I can’t remember all this. Let me grab things from the veggi section and call you back!
Me: !!!!

Call after 5 mins

D: Do we need Penuts?
Me: No
D: How about juice?
Me: No
D: Oh oh I see yogurt?
Me: No! we make our own. Can you please stick to the list?

2 or 3 calls later, what is required is bought and paid for and I get a message saying, “Done, heading home!”

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All this is of course when he is going to the grocery store from home. Then there are times when I tell him to get something on his way from work.

6:15 P.M.
Me:  Can you get so and so on your way from work?
D: Sure!
Me: What time are you leaving?
D: 15 mins

6:40 P.M.
Me: Have you left yet?
D: Got stuck. Leaving in 5

7:00 P.M.
D: On my way
Me: Don’t forget to get so and so
D: Yeah!

7:30 P.M.
Garage door opens. The kids run down to greet him. There is general cheer everywhere. And it all comes to a stand still as soon as he sees my face.
D: Oh no! I forgot. I will go now and get it.
Me: Never mind! We will make do without it for today.

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I was out for a run when a car caught my eye. It had something written on the driver side windshield. As it came closer, I looked closely. In bold letters, with a red sharpie, it read – GET MILK!

I had to stop to take in the brilliance of it! It was practical and funny and perfect, all at the same time. Try and forget that one, dear husbands!

 

 

Question and its answer

Buzz has this fascination with family relationships. There are always questions around Bua, Mama, Tau Ji, Nana, Dada – the list goes on. But more importantly there are always questions around how do people come together to get married. Or I should say there were.

The other set of questions she has are – Do I have to *insert question* when I grow up?

Do I have to become famous when I grow up?
Do I have to cook when I grow up?
Do I have to give up milk when I grow up?

Most times my answer is, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” (based on the questions of course. “Do I have to eat my fruits when I grow up?” has only one answer, a resounding yes.) This answer, I almost always follow up with a “Why?” Mostly because I want to understand her thought process and where the question in coming from.

That the two set of questions collided came as no surprise to me. One evening on our drive back from school, she asked “Do I have to marry when I grow up?”

“No you don’t. That is your choice,” I told her, “but why do you ask?”

“Because then you have to kiss and that is just ewww!” she replied.

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Her class was learning about the life of Martin Luther King recently. The kids were really impressed and spoke about it constantly. Ask me, I had impromptu quiz every day and disgusted looks were given because I did not know the year Martin Luther King was born.

Buzz’s teacher wrote the anecdote in one of her class emails – When I spoke about his marriage, a collective ewww went out in the class. They all looked disgusted that such a great man could make a blunder like this.

Buzz came home with another set of questions”

“Do you know who Martin Luther King’s idol was?”
Ahh finally a question I knew. “Mahatma Gandhi” I replied.
“Was Mahatma Gandhi married?”
“Yes he was.”

Before I could show off my knowledge and rattle details about Gandhi, she had walked away shaking her head. Two great men had made the same mistake!

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“I don’t like S. I am not going to talk to her again!” she told me in her angry voice.
“What happened? What did S say?” I asked.
“She said A and I will get married when we grow up.”
“errr”
“I am not getting married to him or anyone else. I don’t want to get married, EVER!”
“Ever?”
“Ever!”
“OK then.”

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Bugz was cribbing about being the younger sibling (story for another day), so we got talking about how Papa was the youngest sibling and how Mumma was also the youngest sibling and how much fun it was to be the youngest in the family.

“Mumma do I have to get married when I grow up?” Buzz asked again.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” came to standard response.
“Because kissing is ewww, right Didi?” asked the youngest one, remembering the conversation in the car.
“Well Bugz, at some point in your life you will have to kiss someone!” She shrugged.

And she has grown and how, that to in less than a month, mom laughs holding her stomach.

Spin a yarn

Baby wolf wanted to play with the bad Papa.. Hansel and Gretel’s bad Papa..

Me: But in Hansel and Gretel, the mom is bad.

Noooo, baby wolf wanted to play with bad Papa!

Me: Ok, then?

Papa said “no!” so baby wolf got sad.. cry cry kiya baby wolf.. Bad Papa ran away. Then baby wolf was all alone 😥

Me: Did Mumma come then?

No, the baby was alone!

Me: OK

Then a baby squirrel came.

Me: Did they play together?

Haan, a little bit. Then the baby squirrel ate the baby wolf’s laptop

Me: Oh no!

Baby wolf shouted “NOOOOO!” Then baby squirrel got a tummy ache and started crying. Then mumma squirrel came, picked up baby squirrel and said “It’s OK!”

Me: Then

Then baby squirrel had to go potty. Then the tummy ache became better.

Me: Oh OK!

Then baby bird came. She said “chirp chirp chirp!” Baby squirrel wanted to play with baby bird but the baby bird flew away. Baby squirrel was sad 😦

Then baby wolf came back again and ate baby squirrel’s laptop. Mumma wolf came and scolded baby wolf.

Me: hmmm

Then baby wolf was sleepy so he went nini. Mumma gave baby wolf his blanket, his stuffed dog, his sippy cup and said “Now sleep! No talking!” Mumma gave a kissy and baby wolf went to sleep.

 

What the..

I have never been much of swearer (is that even a word?) In days of the past “ullo” and “gadha” were my go to words. “Sh*t” and “Holy crap” joined the list somewhere down the line.

With the kids around I started to be very very carefully on the words I used. Additions were made to swearing vocabulary.

“Oooooohhhhhh,” I would go and add “shoot!” to it.

“Holy moly chipotle!” came next.

The kids picked it up, of course!

One day Buzz was trying to read and she made it through a particularly difficult sentence (for her) and I exclaimed “Oh Boy!”. Buzz laughed very hard and that became our go to word from then on.

About a month back she came home very excited.

Mumma, pata hei Ms. A kya boli? Oh My Apply Pie!

Giggles followed and Bugz picked it up as well.

“Oh My Apple Pie!” is now randomly heard around our house. Always followed by laughs, always brings happiness, age no bar.

Happy, innocent times, I hold dear as I go about my day.

High

Yesterday was spend skiing down slopes on a rainy still-winter-but-almost spring day, by Buzz and me, while D mourned this one broken ski, as he kept Bugz entertained through the day.

*digression* He was dressed and ready to go, putting things in the car when his ski broke and I quickly switched my skis with his and took Buzz *end digression*

A full day on the slopes and come nighttime Buzz was sleeping even as she walked up the stairs to her room. Bugz however having had a happy day and an extra-long nap, was bouncing off the walls.

D looked at her and said, “She is ready to ski off a black diamond right now, she is so high.”

“Me high? Me go high?” Bugz asked and then went on to climb the first rung of her crib.

“Look! me high, Papa!” she smiled as Papa laughed out loud looking at the little monkey he has at home.

3rd Law of Motion

Bugz has a mind of her own, a personality so strong that nobody stands a chance in front of her. Which also means that she gets everything her way. Which in turn means that toys are pulled out of Didi’s hand, Didi is pushed, hit, screamed at.. you get the drift, right?

Didi screams:

No!
Stop!
No thank you!
This is not kind!

to no avail! Of course!

Tired of the tears, I told Buzz that she could retaliate in kind. There was a hair pull for a hair pull, water splash for a water splash, lots of tears from Bugz but no sympathy from anyone.

Yesterday night, the two of them were playing and I turned around just in time to see Bugz push Buzz hard and then she ran out of the room like a bullet and in her hurry hit the wall *baam*

As I held the crying Bugz, I was at a loss to scold her or laugh or explain that Newton’s 3rd law came true for her, just in it’s own different way. Equal and opposite reaction indeed 😀

1..2..3..Ski

We took her to a ski resort over the Christmas holidays. She loved playing in the snow, throwing snow balls and skiing with Papa. The next time she got to go to a ski resort was weekend before last. The minute she saw Didi’s skis, she claimed them as her own. It took a lot of persuasion and promise of “we will ski later” for her to let Didi get on the skis.

Soon after she was standing atop my skis, while I was harnessed in the bindings.

Me ski Mumma saath!

A couple of rounds around with her and D took her inside, while I took Buzz up the ‘cliff’, as she calls it. When we were done for the day, she came running again.

Me ski, me ski!

Alas the boots and skis are too big for her and not wanting her to get hurt, we distracted her while we walked back to the car.

This morning, she ran down to wave bye to Didi and Papa but they were gone. Now Bugz in the garage can only mean one thing, EXPLORATION! Paa who is in town went to look after her and called me to come look.

Didi’s skis were on the floor, her boots in her feet (wrong feet of course!), helmet on backwards, as she tried to pull the goggles off its place on the helmet and on to her eyes. I fixed the helmet, perched the goggles on her eyes. She smiled and went off to the skis. The rest of the time was spent, trying to get on them, much to my amusement.

Papa forget the elder one, your younger one is ready to go Ski!