Agendas and winning

When my children were toddlers, I had a quote stuck on my shelf which read, “When we lose our agendas, everybody wins.” At that time I was just beginning to take tiny steps towards gentle parenting and words like ‘triggers’ and ‘childhood wounds’ were unfamiliar to me. But, this quote gave me some direction in my otherwise ambiguous motherhood journey. ‘Stop having set plans and you will not struggle so much with your toddler’ became my go to, to give my children more of a peaceful mummy and less of a yelling and disregulated mum. 

It’s almost eight years later; the paper I wrote the quote on was removed a long time ago. But, this morning, something happened that had me stand up straight and realise that the journey of the gentle parent is always an ongoing one, until we say goodbye to life on Earth. 

I was making chapatis for lunch today. Both my children show curiosity about what lunch I’m sending and after some episodes of ‘Ugh, sambar today’ and ‘eww, why kootu’ they were disciplined (gently, of course, maybe, probably) to not say these mean things about food I was making to nourish them. After that, my little ones (who now reach my shoulders), began wordlessly coming into the kitchen and inspecting the menu for themselves - without the grimace and commentary…haha! 

Anyways, I was in a hurry to finish things on time when my older twin asked me to make a baby chappathi. I was short on time and told her that it would not be possible. She was a little disappointed and walked away. But, after I finished my work, I had a little dough left, so I made two tiny chapatis and began roasting them on the tawa. I wanted to secretly pack it with their lunch and my heart felt contented imagining their surprise and the non-verbal way in which I would have told them that I loved them and that their desires meant so much to me. 

As I was roasting the secret chapatis, my younger twin walked into the kitchen. I was like, ‘oh no’. So I told her about my plan to surprise her and her sister, but now since she knew, she needed to keep it a secret. She agreed and found ways to keep her sister out of the kitchen. A few minutes later, I was outside, packing lunch, when my older twin walked into the kitchen and as she took her breakfast plate, she noticed the tiny, baby chapatis. She immediately asked, “Amma, is that for us?” 

So absorbed in my agenda was I that I completely forgot the whole purpose of me making those baby chapatis - to show my love to my children. Instead, I felt anger that my plan had gone kaput and was annoyed with both my girls for having found out. Thankfully, I’m in a place in my journey where I’m able to control (most times…not all the time) my outbursts and I just sulked quietly. That’s when ‘When we lose our agendas, everybody wins’ surfaced back into my conscious. And suddenly, I saw the quote, the situation, my motherhood and my growing children in a new light. 

The paradigm shift helped and I crawled out of my bad mood and was able to go on with the rest of the morning prep and rush with a cheerful spirit. 

It’s continuous and demands work, but the gentle parenting journey is the most Christ-like, God-like parenting that I can imagine. The grace I receive from my parent - my God, is the inspiration with which I offer grace to my children. 

Of Parents and Children

 

By the way....I've written a collection of short stories called, "Of Parents and Children".  

Here's the link if you're interested:

https://amzn.eu/d/6xvMLAv

It's an ebook and can be downloaded to the free Kindle app via the Amazon website. 

Giggles

Perched at the end of the pool lounge I watched a child wake her snoozing mother and ask, "Mum, are you sleeping?" I couldn't help but grin at this textbook 'child' behaviour. The mother, now woken up, slightly irritated, headed out to the pool. Her second child, younger, maybe two years old, ran behind her asking her to take her along. But the mother said that she wanted a swim (dad was also there, keeping an eye on the girls). The mother went for a swim after which dad and the older child entered the pool as well. The little one, however, annoyed at mom for not taking her along, refused to enter the pool. The dad - from inside the pool, at the edge - spent more than ten minutes convincing his little firecracker to come join them. She had her arms folded across her chest, chin up and her lips pouting in classic, strong, two-year-old adamance. Mum was watching from a little away. Finally, the little girl relented and jumped into her dad's arms into the pool. Mum, waded to where she was and held her. 

In a few seconds, the pool was filled with the tinkling sound of a toddler's giggles. Mummy was tickling baby under water, playing with her and making her laugh. Annoyances evaporated. 

That evening, while at dinner, I noticed a family of three - mum, dad and a pre-teen daughter - sitting at the table beside us. There were some serious conversations, maybe arguments, going on between mother and daughter. While I was busy attacking a pepper crab curry and golden fried prawns, I suddenly heard giggles. What was obviously a disagreement just a few minutes ago was now a full blown laugh attack - for both mom and daughter. It was contagious! I had to restrain myself from laughing with them - to preserve their privacy. Mom's face was pink from laughing and the girl's hair was all over her face as she tried to stop her mom from tickling her. They were in a mirth-ey embrace. And it was beautiful. 

Often with my own children too, I have observed that playfulness diffuses potentially explosive situations (where usually, I'm the one triggered into an overreaction); I mean, sure, I'd like to remember that every time and not in retrospect, but in the times that I do remember and consciously incorporate playfulness in the dealings with my children, life seems easier and less tedious. 

Yes, there's patience and benevolence and stepping away from the situation and deep breaths (all of these are important and they work beautifully when employed); and then there's giggles.  In the midst of anger, tears, irritation and a triggered mom wanting to practice and model calmness, but really getting ready to yell, giggles and playfulness can be that shower of cool rain on a scorching summer afternoon. 

What's important, again?

 Grammar is important. Spelling is important. The thought behind the words is important. Honesty is important. Integrity is important. Telling it as it is important. Saying it with kindness is important. Staying grounded is important. Giving flight to the imagination is important. Life is important. It need not be seriously important. Can be a little loose. A little messy. A little all over the place. Actually...that is life. 

The Good Ones

A couple of days ago my daughter came back from school with a drawing of the outline of India. I was convinced that it was done using a stencil, but to my utter surprise, she nonchalantly stated that she had drawn it freehand. It was a very good freehand drawing. She's only five.

This got me thinking of the time when I was in the 10th standard studying in Delhi - I must have been fourteen years old - when my geography teacher, Mrs. Jaya, asked someone to volunteer to draw the Indian map on the board. I loved Mrs. Jaya, and in my bid to impress her, I jumped right out of my seat, grabbed the chalk and proceeded to draw the map. I was pretty confident that it was a good one; Mrs. Jaya took the chalk from me, went to the board, drew a circle around the Southern Peninsula and said, "This part is excellent."

Back in my seat and now in a position to clearly see the 'map' in all its entirety, I right away knew that it was a piece of cr*p! But, I couldn't get over how Mrs. Jaya, despite the hideousness and inaccuracy, found something nice to say to me.

Some people are just born to build others up. Imagine them as teachers - healing hearts from broken homes, pumping love into low self-esteems and filling pained minds, ears and heads with kind and uplifting words.

Remembering with love and admiration all my teachers who did all of that for me.

Sprouting

Hello, virtual space traveler,

I last blogged here over four years ago. What? What kept me from blogging all these years? Nothing much; just body altering, life altering, hormones altering, brain cells rearranging, topsy-turvying childbirth/motherhood, that's all.

I've decided to once again force my opinions, experiences, tips and tricks, observations, dry sarcasm, drier humour and pathetic jokes on unsuspecting readers. Pishkew! Pishkew! (That's me shooting air bullets with my finger gun, btw.)

Be back soon with some super dumb ideas.

Two Left Thumbs

Fifa madness began just a couple of weeks ago for most; but, in my world footballs were being kicked and penalties being handed out for over a month and a half now. K’s focus and sincerity at playing the PS4 baffles me. I mean, I call myself a voracious reader, but can’t read more than a few pages at a time (that’s right now. There were times earlier in my life when gripped between the pages of a Forsyth, a Follet, a Sheldon, a Puzo or a Collins, I’ve gone for a whole day without food - ok, two meals….ok fine, one meal). He doesn’t call himself any grandiose names but is able to reach alarmingly high levels and ranks in short spans of time! 

Anyways, the gentleman that he is, he always invites me to play all his PS4 games with him; and though I really, really, really, really do want to, my two left thumbs leave me way behind the start line. Seriously. Behind the ‘start’ line. That’s how bad I am. But this time, when his new FIFA game arrived, I sincerely believed that things will be different.  I’m a fast learner - most of the time - but, this time, much to my feminist dismay, my very muscly footballers ended up doing a strange version of Ringa Ringa Roses on the streets of Brazil. And while they were ‘a-tishoo, a-tishoo’ all falling down, my thumbs, forefingers, index fingers and usually also the rest of my body did a weird mating/rain dance sequence to somehow get them to play football. 

Fine, so I made my peace with my non-sportiness and rejoiced when we bought a new game - a strategy game. Now, this had to be right up my alley, being the thinker/ponderer/mystery girl who also did some vague strategy courses in business school. Right? Right. 

Let me humbly and honestly lay my game controller down (for its own safety) as I admit, that apart from my two left thumbs all my other fingers go comatose during game play. Seriously. My characters just don’t move - no matter the button punching and lever pulling. They just stand there and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk. I mean, at least my footballers did a sort of dance; but my strategising criminals/vigilantes stay put and indulge in small talk - usually in the dining area. Hmmm….!!! 

I am at that point in my gaming life where I’ve accepted who I am - the girl who can’t handle more than two buttons at a time. The thing is, that's okay; because, to shoot a very irritated bird at a gluttonous pig my two left thumbs are almost all I need.