At the stroke of midnight

I had painted this, a few months ago, for my mom, who seems to think that I'd like nothing better than to sit and paint glass(maybe she's right).

The picture was taken before it was framed, hence the bland white thermocol background. The folks are due in a few days, so things like this will (hopefully) be made on demand , while the kid is babysat by grand folks.

Not quite a flower vase

I follow a few painting blogs, and some time back , got bitten by the watercolour painting bug. So last week, I just decided to let Artim do what he wants, and let the maid deal with him, while I scratched my itch. Here's what came of my interruption filled two hours with watercolours and a few leaves in a flower vase.

I know I have a long way to go, but I just loved the satisfaction that I got from indulging myself . The best part of course was showing the hubby that I could actually "leave the kid to his own devices and clean up later", once in a while. Actually, more than that, because that's exactly what I am doing now while he watches the gardener do his thing, with his nose (and hopefully not his tongue) pressed against the screen door. Of course he would like nothing better than to assist the gardner...

The Arti ONE

Some moments seem endless,and yet a year later, I can scarcely remember the discomfort of the restless nights, the hospital stay , the pre-op room ... When I looked at the clock then, every minute, wondering , praying , hoping to come out of it with some of my old self back, little did I know, that a year later , I wouldn't even care. All that I remember now is that first loud,lusty cry which made me smile and forget all about asking the long suffering anaesthetist for a blow by blow account of "What are they doing now?". All that I see now is my precious sleeping bundle of joy a.k.a the little slave driver, who'll wake up soon and drive us , his devoted slaves nuts, as he has for this last one year.

                                        Happy Birthday Artim

May I have your kind attention please,

My dear friends, readers (if any) , blogging friends and all combinations thereof,

How have you been? Sorry, for the long absence folks, things have been busy and Artim's ma has been lazy-er than usual .Other than that  I've been well , as well as one may deem sitting around  and getting heavier by the day to be.

And now for the Artimator update,

-One tooth has made it's mamma biting appearance.

-The house is yet to be baby proofed, so Artim has taken matters into his own hands

- The garden has been inspected and watered, for which service , the gardener may or may not be thankful.

-One set of grandparents are being visited , with a vengeance. The others are waiting for their turn.

And now her laziness, the Artimater's mater is going back to her book/nap, catching up/storing up her strength for the 15th of July.

love,
Mini/MRC/Monishikha

PS: Piper and Shail, thanks for the tag, will be posting it soonish, as soonish I can think of what to say.

Leo

The children came home from school to find a white ,furry bouncing ball of energy in the courtyard. He defied all attempts to be caught, and bounced ceaselessly up and down, nipping at stray fingers held out to catch him and cuddle him. He was just a foot tall, in all probability, the product of a one night stand. A half bred they called him, and gave him away to their friends when he began to eat his brothers and sisters out of home an hearth.

His indomitable spirit defied all attempts to educate him, and the only time he would sit still, one crooked ear quivering with eagerness, was when the cook put down his bowl of milk, and told him to "STAY".He was not discriminating about his friends, all dogs big and small were challenged equally and he would come zipping down the lane , a few Dobermans and Alsatians snapping at his heels, wriggle his way through the wooden gate and immediately turn around and thank them for seeing him home and ask them to move on.

He didnt ask for much, apart from being fed and allowed to sleep on warm laps ,to chew on a few toes,hide a few ice cubes in the garden, shake a few cabbages to death and to be immediately let in the house after a few barks under the bedroom windows in the wee hours 

of the night  .

The days flew by, and the academic year was almost over . The children spent their days pretending to study , and the house was being packed up for moving soon after the exams. The father went ahead to his new posting and the rest of the family was soon to follow. 

One night, as the mother finished her nightly phone call to the father, she realised something was amiss. Her toes felt soft and the usual pain from being gnawed on by sharp puppy teeth was missing. It was 11 pm, and the dog was missing ! He had failed to realise that with father away, no doors would be opened for him at unearthly hours. Well, since she couldnt abandon him to the chilly winter night, she decided to get him inside the house immediately.

So it was , that late  one moonlit night ,a mother and her teenaged daughter stood in the shadow of a garage wall.They looked around at the empty fields behind the garage, hoping to see some sign of him.After a while they decided to call out his name again,

 

"LEO , LeeeeOOOO ,LeeeeOOOOO , Leo leo leo leo leeOOOOOO "

Ten minutes later, there was still no sign of Leo, and they were resigned to leaving him to his night on the tiles. Just as they decided to go back inside the house, the daughter felt something brush past her shins , heard a squealing  noise and something white and soft hit the garage wall with a thud , rebounded at a tangent  and disappeared inside the house at lightening speed.

After hurriedly checking  each other for signs of physical damage, and finding none, the mother and daughter attributed the squealing to it's rightful owner , one scared-out-of-his-non-existant-wits and completely inappropriately named half spitz half mongrel !

Sixteen years and a few (lost) dog fights later, Leo is still alive, and though not kicking,still barking at all dogs big and small through the gate,still dragging himself upstairs with his two working legs, in search of the chicken lunch  that my mother sometimes takes to the bedroom in order to catch her favourite soap on television.

For now.



 




 

A letter to the Artimator

Dear Artimator,

The other day, I was reading an old post on this blog (yes,there was a blue moon that night  ) about you , and I realised that today at TEN months old, you're almost all grown up! So  while you're napping as I try to rock you back to sleep/feed you/make my next word on scrabble/check on the maid/tickle you on demand/watch yet another episode of Frasier/answer the phone(thank you for your help drooly fingers),I would request you to take some time out from dealing with that newspaper and give some consideration to the following points.....

-Now that you're  drunkenly lurching  1,2,3...4 falling and getting up bum first  to do it all over again walking, noisily claiming food from everyone else's plate, how about laying off shoe laces and slippers , licking walls and anything new within reach?

-Mamma's world revolves around you, and if you take a nap longer than 10 mins on surfaces other than her , it will STILL revolve around you. And  your seek-mamma-raise-alarm-if-not-in-reach-out-and-hang-on-to-range  could do with a break too, specially at night.

- Swallowing two spoonfuls of water does NOT automatically convert spoon to toy. Not even if you distract the folks with giggles while you snatch it out of their hands .

- Waving bye ONLY to the one-who-drives-mamma-nuts-with-her-distaste-for-taking-directions and absolutely no one else is so NOT fair.

-Could you please oblige the duck with some offerings other than the liquid kind. Mamma would like to report to the grandfolks that the "Potty has actually depreciated in value..FINALLY" .

-Sometimes we actually ARE sneezing loudly, sometimes the bedcover DOES need to be dusted repeatedly with loud thwacks....what was all that giggling for ?Wait a minute , I think I see some dirt on the bed...

- If you could sleep through watching Baba and his friends taxi off in their aircraft, then pray tell why does the mixie upset you so?

- High chairs and prams are meant for sitting in ,and if you really want to explore those straps,there's no need to turn around and stand up. Your folks will gladly bring all the straps around to meet in that buckle that goes over your belly. 

- See mamma's saying "NO" doesnt mean that you have to shake your head , smile and carry on eating that book or pulling that curtain or eating that shoelace. And  she'll fall for that crying everytime, IF you could just keep a straight face or even produce a tear or not stop crying as soon as you get your way .Keeping your hand on your ear is a dead give away too.And no, the folks arn't laughing , they just need to look at something in the other direction.

-All dangling things and mamma's hair are not meant too be pulled and chewed.You can do that when we serve noodles, or if the hair is your own

-We are doing our best to learn the meaning of "Mamamamamama", "Aenanananannnnnn", "Aaaaeytaitaitai Aaaaeytaitaitai " etc...so how about meeting us mid way and learning the meaning of "Wait, Im coming shona".

- Keep trying, someday you might actually be able to grasp that water coming out of the garden pipe, or the bathroom tap. Or one of these days mamma might let you hold the mug while she gives you a bath.And while we are on the subject of baths, this is not the way to get maximum splashes

-Save the non stop rough housing, or "Jhinga Masti" (as your Baba so eloquently puts it )
for the grandparents .THEY have no need to take a break from you.

Actually if a certain person hadn't caught them just in time, you'd have mysteriously disappeared this Sunday.

-Baba's zillion wrist watches are fair game, mamma's one and only is not.

-See that kid in the mirror, yes the one you're grinning at ? He's mamma's sweetheart.

Monishikha Who?

It had to happen sometime. I'm not unique anymore , or rather my name isn't. Gone are the days when I could confidently open an email account , by just typing in my first name!Before the slightly slow reader rolls those eyes ,let me remind you MRC is an acronym . It's true people know me by many names, and I have no problem with that , but the one name that I thought was unique is no longer so. 

How do I know? Well folks, since Im posting SO regularly (all right all right, you can roll those eyes now), I decided to create a twitter account today. And guess what , there's a Monishikha on twitter, and it's NOT ME!

So,  as soon as I can figure out what to do with that account on twitter,and if anyone's interested, they can look out for boring updates like this one from "MonishikhaRC" .

The Old Mess

Once in a  blue moon, when I go for a walk, this is my favourite spot to walk past.Also known as the "Old Mess", it is not quite that. It's the preferred venue for many a  b'day party and station parties(kids allowed) with a movie, tombola, chaat and dinner served on the breezy ,sloping lawns . All in all, a pleasant place to spend an evening, and the second of my fledgling attempts at watercolour paintings. The husband and other critics (related by blood) claim that while I have a way to go before I can actually sell stuff (if I wanted to), it's worth hanging at home. As for me, Im just happy that the folks are visiting, so that I can do something totally unrelated to baby stuff. Speaking of which, the Artimator at 8 and a half months is STANDING ON HIS OWN for a grand total of half a second!

Random Number Seven

A while ago, I got tagged by GM and Noor to do a post with seven random things about me.Sorry for being tardy folks, but real life intrudes at the most inconvenient times !Anyway  in the spirit of "better late than never", here are seven random things about me-

1.I LOVE most sweets, candies, chocolates etc. but have never been able to even approach cotton candy without feeling nauseous.

2.I enjoy swimming, have taught myself how to do it,but circumstances have been such that I haven't been near a swimming pool in the last two years...sigh.

3.As a child, I used to think that old pictures were black and white because of a very simple reason, the WORLD was that way. Don't ask me when colour seeped in.

4.I am not religious, maybe because very early in life , I heard my father say that "If God is everywhere, then he/she/it  doesn't need to be worshipped only in a particular place in a particular way". Yet , I have no objection to accompanying my mother to a puja pandal , she does the idol worship, I do the gastronomic worship.

5.My musical tastes are pretty narrow, mostly western pop from the fifties to the eighties, with a smattering of the new stuff from my teens onwards.

6.I love reading,can't stop till I finish the book  BUT a week after I've finished it, if anyone asked me what I liked about the book, I wouldn't be able to recall anything other than the general story!

7.I know a little about a lot of stuff. I am dangerous.

  

Now the rules for passing on the tag are

           1) You have to tag 7 people.

           2) You have to link their pages in your tag post

           3) You have to leave a comment in their comments section telling them they've  been tagged.

           4) You have to say who tagged you.

Well for me, except for point no.1 , all the rest are possible. I just dont know that many bloggers well enough to tag them(Let this be a warning to lurkers on this blog, delurk and you run the risk of being tagged sometime). So I am going to tag  as many as I can, which is why Shail, Piper,Tara, Trish, and Newmum, you've been tagged ,or retagged as the case may be.

 

When a little boy is imprisoned

by a laundry folding mother

he just has to explore his options.

Incidental Rhymes on Birthday Time

On this blog

 

The regular reader may know

Rhymes are a no show  

and tho she may grieve

on the eve

of  birthday number thirty one,

Blaming , maybe her mum
and  dad,
(she hastens to add)

this blogger went mad

racking her brain

(almost had a migraine)

came up with a rhyme horribly bad

still, before she went to bed

she took the the time

to re read this rhyme

and pressed publish instead

so go on

wish her a happy one

and after you do

read on,wont you

for the tale of a (p)sulker

who was once a lurker

till the one time

incidentally she did rhyme

little did she know

what led her to do it

you know,

show up her inner po it.

Now that it's done

She looks around to tag

who else,but new mum

Come on, show us

open up the bag, 

and dig out a pome

dont be shy,

let fly

even your worst

wont be as bad

or sad

as this verse

Weekend Tales

So people, have I mentioned that the husband had gone out on TD for a few days? Well, he came back, we spent a weekend in Hyderabad, where( for once ) I decreed declared that all this hibernating in teeny tiny small town thing was getting to be too much and that the weekend was to be spent in pursuit of better things, namely shopping and eating out. Despite the meaningful smiles that  were exchanged between father and son at this decree , we managed to spend two and a half days doing exactly that. A high chair and some toys were bought(among other things), loads of overpriced and not so overpriced food was snarfed down by self and spouse with baby on sleep-on-mamma /chew on pram /play peek-a-boo with strangers mode.

So it was that last Sunday night, while getting out of the car on our way to renew our acquaintance with an old favorite haunt for Chinese, when some not-so-chinesey odors were smelt. After some consultation with the hostess at the restaurant, we were graciously given a private dining room to deal with the said odors and their source. That is when Murphy's law struck us , or rather the flimsy end of the last clean diaper tore as I was tugging on the sticky end of it. The husband who in his characteristically cool way had  lightened the baby bag before leaving for the day's mall jaunt,overruling my horror stricken protests with  "two is enough redundancy and we're going to a mall anyway" or words to that effect , just looked a little sheepish while I counted to ten and took deep breaths. Of course, he had no choice but to suggest that one end of the diaper and the elastic waist of the Artimator's shorts would literally keep things high and dry. Since I had no option but to believe him, a chinese meal ensued , with much adjusting of the one eared diaper .Apparently fate thought that we needed to see  the writing on the wall, and since there were only fancy glass walls around, the message was conveyed to us via some fortune cookies at the end of the meal. Here's what was inside Artim's 

"It is up to you to create your own adventures today"

(as in,your work is not done yet, go to sleep on mamma's lap and then keep her awake the rest of the night)

mom's

"You Are in For enlightening experience"

(as in,You DO know better when it comes to packing the baby's day bag and most of the time)

and dad's,

" A new sense of clarity is coming into your life" .

(as in , Don't mess with the boss wife, or if you do , make sure you're helping her clean up and looking suitably sheepish while doing so in order to escape the  looks that can kill gentle remonstration coming your way when the s hits the f or the d )

And if you thought THAT was an exciting weekend, well , you're wrong folks. Read on to find out why.

Well, the husband came home yesterday

 and has left again just now......at almost lightening speed. Guess, why I STILL didn't get any rest in the afternoon, even though Artim very graciously slept for two hours....

Before you let your imagination run away with you

An entirely pointless tale of woe

Well, the husband is out on tour ,for  this  (among other things ) for a few days and this time the grandson magnet hasn't been switched on  has met it's match in the grandparents own commitments. WHY do grandparents have to have a life of their own!!

Anyway, so here I am , looking after baby all by myself for the last few days . Going to bed at night has become an exercise in obsessive door locking,barricading with chair,hiding something sharp in the bedroom  ,struggling with a tired but reluctant to sleep baby and self. Sure enough, things began unravelling the day after the husband left. The land line (and internet) went on a break(repaired after 48 hours and long distance telephonic intervention from the spouse, the baby had his first fall from the pram( and thankfully had nothing broken ), then the only tubelight in the computer room literally went on the blink!The icing on the cake was of course one night or rather at 4 am that morning, when I was lying in bed petrified because there was

The Mother-In-Law

I have been tagged by Shail, so here's my entry for Indusladies International Women's Day Blog Contest 

Last Night,

high on commentencouragement from this post, and one tall glass of cold coffee,the  new mom  was up till the wee hours , trying to get it right! She's not going to show you ALL her half filled pages, but she IS willing to take a chance on showing off 

Fruits of a really late night

Question: What do you get when there is

• One wide awake ,new mom lying in bed at night having had
• One strong cup of coffee the evening and also
• One tall glass of cold coffee a little later in the evening, next to
• One milk fed ,sleeping baby,lying on her left side with
• One ball pen in her right hand and holding
• One writing pad in the other hand, at an almost impossible angle,in a room lit by
• One dim bedside lamp

Some Memories of The Fourteenth Day of The Second Month of Years Past

Well, it's the 14th of Feb, and whether you're the cheesy ,mushy romantic type or not, greeting card companies and the so called "protectors of Indian tradition" have made sure that it's not a date day to be ignored. So in the spirit of not ignoring the day, these are my memories of the fourteenth day of the second month of some of the past six years.

In which an idea is imprisoned

In this day and age, what with the computer taking over all our correspondence, many of us, who are not in school or college anymore, have forgotten the pleasure of writing down  our ideas,using a pen and a piece of paper.

I began writing this (heavily edited) post on a small writing pad, because I was lying next to my sleeping baby and I couldn't go and sit in front of the computer to indulge my latest addiction (blogging , what else !). Why? Because as I mentioned in my last post , at bedtime,my baby's seek-milk-source alarm is activated, and should said milk source not be found at all times within the first few eyes-closed-pats of areas-within-podgy-arms reach, the wail-for-mom siren is activated at full-wake-up-the-neighbours-and-birds level.

I see from what I've written that I've digressed, just a little bit, so let me get back to the square one, the pleasure of seeing one's bird marks beautiful handwriting on paper. So tell me, how many of you, the addicted-to-blogging blog hoppers , carry a pen and writing pad with you, on a bus, car, in bed , to the throne...you get my drift .

Well, until recently I didnt, because it never occured to me (yes, yes Im slow) and the only other blogger I've seen in action, namely my father ,just has to sit in front of the Computer, for poetry and prose to come traipsing down his brains, via his fingers and the keyboard to  obligingly climb on to his blog. I know I am not in the same league as him, but I do like to express myself , and it would be nice if atleast the prose would be half as obliging!

For The Artimator

Dear Artim, 

The following are somethings we, your not-so-humble,bumbling slaves wish you would consider-

• Mamma's giving you what you like best, so please ,while she's giving it to you, would you please not look at the phone behind you...it hurts mamma more than you'll ever know!  And that zonked out ,high on a belly full of milk look is for mamma only, baba can have the messy food smeared smiles when HE feeds you that-horrible-gloop-that-he-wouldnt-touch-with-a-barge-pole-otherwise.