Latest artwork

Ads is obsessed with jungles and wild animals especially the big cats. Every recent drawing of his has been faithful to this theme, with the exception of one he drew yesterday which was from the Ramayana (Lanka burning). His style has changed to reflect the scenery he puts down on paper. I love his use of colours and the way he blends them. He already seems to understand the concept of shading.

One week of summer break

School broke off for the summer last week, so for the last 5 days, Ads has been at home. He finally (fingers crossed!) seems to have entered a phase where he can occupy himself and not whine every 30 minutes about how bored he is. This, if it continues, will be a major milestone indeed. Our stuff from the US has been terribly delayed. We don't expect it to reach us before the end of the first week of June. So the poor fellow has not even had the comfort of playing with familiar toys or flipping through well-loved books.

How has he been occupying the days? He has been doing a lot of drawing, sitting on the floor in his room. He tried to do a paper model construction of the ocean floor using a book someone had gifted him; I have to say the instructions were super hard to follow even for me, so I advised him to give it up! He has had one playdate. He has watched an hour or so of TV everyday and discovered a liking for Tom and Jerry. He spends huge amounts of time everyday screaming and running around the house and fighting with the girl from next door, Aarushi. He gets an hour to 90 minutes of outside playtime in the park, every evening. In the absence of his books, he has been listening to books on Tumblebooks, a truly wonderful resource.
A couple of times, he helped me make my daily ration of lemonade, squeezing the lemons, adding the sugar, salt and water and mixing it all up. Today, for want of anything else to do, I stripped both the kids down to the basics, plonked them in the bathroom with a full bucket of water, a mug, two rags and instructions to clean a stool and some decorative items (unbreakable ones!). They had a blast and in the process managed to clean my stuff too :)
He has developed a keen interest in Indian mythology, thanks to Amar Chitra Katha and movies like Hanuman. He has announced that he is going to request a mace, a bow-and-arrow set, and all the DVDs of Chota Bheem from his grandparents, as an advance gift for his birthday.
It's only been one week of summer break so I haven't needed to think of useful fun activities for Ads to engage in. The novelty of being at home and free from the school routine seems to have been enough for him. In a couple of days, we leave for balmy Chennai where I am going to let the grandparents think of ways to amuse him!

Rituals and fetishes

How important routine is to a child, was evident even when Ads was a baby. At the age of almost-5, he still continues to relish order and predictability in his everyday life. For example, he has a breakfast routine. He finishes breakfast and then orders me - "Wash my hands, wipe my face, give me water, then juice." There is no way I can change the order of any of these tasks. He gets very agitated if I do. Most days, he washes his hands by himself, fetches his own water, pours his own juice; but some days, he is plain lazy or just wants mommy to pamper him, and I oblige :)

Another one is to always ask me whether he is wearing his shoes on the correct foot. Before inserting his feet into them, he places them on the floor, and asks "Is this the correct leg?" Every single day. I don't think he has made the slightest effort to figure out or understand which is the correct foot; he just wants someone else to give the answer every time.

A new fetish is to ensure that he gets more kisses than Y. The fellow really has the sharpest ears -- anytime he hears me kiss Y (which I do very often), pat comes his cry "Did you give Yukta a kissee? Give me a kissee RIGHT NOW!"

Not to be outdone, Y, the attention-seeking Scorpio that she is, likes for her audience to clap enthusiastically every time she does something clever. Nowadays, that signifies anytime that she speaks a new word. She looks around, starts clapping her hands and in case someone is being so boring as to not clap, she will cry out their name "Anna?", "Appa?", "Amma?" as the case may be.

What next? I'm waiting.

Some new words

I gave Y a small tumbler of apple juice this morning, set her down on the floor to drink it and returned to the kitchen. A minute later, I heard her say something she'd never said before. It took me a couple of seconds to recognize the word. "Kottiduthu" (she actually said "kottitthu"). And sure enough, she had spilled the contents of the tumbler all over the floor, an act for which she (much to her surprise!) received a big hug and kiss from a delighted mommy. It is the longest word she has ever spoken, and the hug and kiss was to reward her not for the  multiple syllables enunciated but the super-cute way in which she said them! Her (still limited) repertoire now includes several Hindi words, thanks to my maid - bas, aao, jaao, hato, beta, chalo, didi, bhaiya are the ones that come instantly to mind.

It's probably safe to say that she will pick up Hindi and Tamil in equal measure over the next few months and year. Once she starts preschool (and I assume we are still here at that time), I predict her Hindi skills will overtake Tamil. Also, by that time a heavy dose of reading and talking to Anna will probably have accelerated her English knowledge. Try as we might, Tamil will fall forlornly by the wayside :( A live example in the form of Ads proves my point. I wish he would show a little more interest in learning Hindi, but so far he has resisted all attempts. Peer pressure has to do it's work.

Surely I should carpool?

I have been driving for 9 years now. 6 years in India and 3 years in the US. Initially, I found it difficult to drive in America. I was used to the kind of defensive, survival-of-the-fittest skill we are used to practising in India, while behind the wheel of a car. The fact that everything (or mostly everything) on the road could be predictable, orderly and rule-based was not only astonishing, but also unnerving. For many days, I would instinctively slow down while approaching a traffic light. My driving instructor, who guided me for three classes, would get irritated and ask me what on earth I thought I was doing? It seemed absurd to explain that in India, I would fully expect someone to come hurtling at me for some other direction at an intersection and so I was just being cautious.

Never mind. I got used to this new strange style of locomotion. I even began to like it. Driving became a pleasure due to it's ease and simplicity. In India too, I had revelled in driving my little cars, not because it was fun, but because I derived a grim satisfaction from navigating our crazy traffic, and coming out alive.

For 2 years in the Bay Area, I was the designated dropper-off at Ads' preschool. The first school he went to, was just 4.5 miles from home. It took me exactly 15 minutes to get there. I don't remember ever having been caught in traffic, or some other bottleneck, and having to re-route, or arriving late at the school. 

Now that I am once again designated dropper-off for Ads, the situation is, as you can imagine, more than slightly different. For starters, we have to take an unscenic byway - the picturesque (not!) village of Bhangel. My car executes what can only be described as a cacophonic motorised twist in between a crazy concoction of motorbikes, cycles, cars, trucks, buses, and random vehicles precariously carrying long steel rods and sheets of glass. 10 minutes of sheer torture later, we emerge, hopefully un-scratched, into the relative peace of the New Dadri Road, as it is called, a nice smooth road marred only by the undisciplined driving. It's after coming to Delhi that I realized that as long as drivers aren't educated on road discipline, as long as any fool can buy himself a driver's license, it matters little whether our roads are good, and whether we have the requisite number of 4 or 8-lane expressways and flyovers; traffic will always be chaotic, and let's not blame our oversized population which forms but a small part of this problem.

Anyway, back to the school route. The Dadri Road is interesting in that the exits from this high-speed road have been constructed in such a way that they are the default choice - if you aren't careful in moving to the left side of the road well in advance, you will find yourself pushed into one of the exits and taking an unintentional U-turn! Having escaped from this particular pitfall, we take a right to take us to Sec 49 where it appears that the entire population of one UP village has congregated right in front of the driveway to Kothari International School. There seems to be a market or something in progress, every single day. Tractors, concrete mixers, rickshaws, jostle for space with Skoda Octavias, Honda Citys and other cars of lesser vintage; pushing past this jam takes nerves of steel and a certain recklessness which I happily seem to possess. Needless to say, constant pressure on the horn and a few choice Punjabi swear words will also help!

The contrast between a swank "international" school, complete with swimming pool and lawn tennis ground, and the milling crowd of villagers, farmers and constructions workers just outside this school, is so typical of India. Just like the unintentionally ironic billboard near my apartment, advertising one of the many "global" schools, perched above a whole line of asbestos-roofed huts, where not a single kid would be attending even a Government school. I wonder which outdoor advertising company dreamed up such a location for their board???

I wish I could say that this situation is unique to the NCR region. Sadly, it is a mirror image of what is happening with minor variations in all our metros, and every other small town in India. So I fully expect many more driving (mis?)adventures as I continue to play household chauffeur. The bright side (yes, there is one!) -- I have my fill of several FM radio stations and am staying current with all the latest Bollywood numbers! 

It's spring

Not here in Delhi, of course. Here, it's just plain boiling.

But in Sunnyvale and Santa Clara, and Mountain View and Cupertino, pretty flowers will be in bloom everywhere. California poppies, pansies, forget-me-nots, cow parsnips and scarlet pimpernels will nod their heads in the breeze (yes, even someone as horticulturally-challenged as me knows the name of a few flowers, if only not to appear like a complete ignoramus in front of Ads). The weather will be fantastic (as it always is), I will drag S and kids along on hikes to see wildflowers, we will see pitifully few wildflowers and then we'll realize that the city is chock-full of them and we need have ventured no farther than our own doorstep. Ads will have spring break and as Memorial Day draws near, I will gleefully start planning our trips for the year.
Sigh.
I miss the Bay Area. I miss it with a sickening ache that is not just painful but also astonishing. I have moved cities 12 times, no less, in living memory. In three decades, I have never ever longed to be back in the place which I had just left. I may have missed old friends but I have never missed the sights, sounds and smells of a particular place.
Why am I surprised, though? The Bay Area is such a fantastic place that anybody would miss it. Especially if they had taken the idiotic decision of moving back to Delhi just as summer was rubbing its palms gleefully and getting down to business.
I know my brains are getting a little addled by all this heat. It isn't like me to complain about minor annoyances. Over the years, I have consciously metamorphosed into an optimist. But the heat, the heat.....it's getting me down and sapping me of all my energy. I never thought I'd think this, but honestly the prospect of heading back to Chennai in May (MAY!) is almost appetising :(
No, I don't hate Noida or Delhi. I'm happy we came back. I see Ads has adjusted well and that is such a relief. I know, in time, I will begin to...no, let me rephrase that............I am determined to like living in Delhi.
It's just the darn heat, you know!!! Can you blame me for missing California? :)

Some fun ways of spending hot summer days

Cleaning the verandah with lots of water; pillow fights; and playing dress up!

If I haven't said much about Y lately,

it's not as though there's nothing to say; but my kids are at that stage where Ads says a lot of weird/funny/silly things and those tend to stick with me. Y is still very much a do-er and chronicling her activities takes more effort. She communicates whatever she needs to, reasonably well, through gestures and the limited number of words at her disposal. She is nowhere as verbal as Ads was at the same age (17 months) - probably all her energy goes in running, kicking, shouting and generally being the tomboy of the house. 

So what has Y been upto? She has been growing taller. She seems to have put on some weight after coming to Delhi. I haven't actually measured her but it definitely looks like she is "healthier". She loves to dance. She loves to dress up. She loves to sit down with me when I am massaging cream on my face, and mimic my actions. She has lost most of her stranger anxiety. She loves to be involved in Ads' games, whether or not she understands what is happening. She loves to go down to the playground every evening and never wants to come back home (her brother, on the other hand, is ready to get back inside the house after a mere half-hour of play!) Her favourite seat is on her brother's lap, facing him. Whether on a chair at home or in the car, that's where she loves to be.

She is a vibrant bundle of energy. And oh my, the tantrums already when she doesn't get what she wants!!! I'm pretty sure the terrible twos have started already.

"Amma I don't like you at all...

But I love you soooo much!"

My son says this several times a day, to me, to his father, and to his sister. When my mother was here, he  used to include her also in this cute expression.

Where do they come up with these things??

Ad-lib #4

Ads has developed a disease of smelling his fingers. And what's more, I hear a running commentary on what he is smelling. He also quite unnecessarily asks me whether he can do it, after he has done it! Some examples:

I washed my hands and smelt my hand. Can I do it?

I touched Y's face and smelt my hand. Can I do it?

I touched my feet and smelt my hand. Can I do it?

I digged (dug) my nose and smelt my hand. Can I do it?

...............and several more unsavoury instances of having touched other parts of his body and thereafter smelt his hands :(

Both Ads and Y have also developed the habit of hitting themselves. It's a big game with them. One starts by banging his/her head with his/her hand and shouting "Adi!!" (Hit). The other follows suit and each one hits himself or herself, the whole macabre game accompanied by much laughing, mostly at my annoyed expression I suppose.

A random incident

The school allowed me to escort Ads right into his classroom for the first 2 days. On Day 3, the security guy standing at the entrance to the Primary Block accosted me and asked me to leave Ads right there. I said he was a new student. The security guy said "Theek hai, magar kal se aap ise yahin par chhod dena". Okie-dokey, I said. 

The next day, we reach the Primary Block and I say my goodbyes to Ads. He trots off and stands next to the guard. He looks up at him, looks down again, and hesitantly reaches out his hand. It takes the guard a second to figure out what's happening. He takes Ads' hand in his, somewhat bemusedly. Most of the other kids just walk in confidently and I suppose he's rarely ever had to take some kid by the hand and escort them to class.

That instant, when Ads placed his hand in the guard's, trusting him to take him to a safe haven, has been captured as a precious image to be stored forever in my memory. Unexpected tears pricked my eyes and I was glad I was wearing my sunglasses. I don't know why that moment should have moved me so much, but then all the emotions associated with parenthood are a great mystery.

The older I get and the more experiences I have with my children, the more I understand some of the choices and decisions that my parents made, and the things they said and the feelings they felt.

A new beginning in a new school

Butterflies in my stomach. That sinking feeling of wanting to throw up. A dull heavy ache in my heart. These are the uncomfortable sensations I have been carrying around inside me for the last week. All because, come the 5th of April, Ads starts a new school year in a new unfamiliar school. 

I visited the school twice to purchase the regulation uniforms and books. I labelled his backpack, read the circulars several times and kept hammering into Ads' head that his new session was approaching. In the midst of all the hectic unpacking, purchasing and "settling in', I also found the time to sufficiently agitate myself, wondering how Ads would handle the new environment and how I could ease the whole transition process. 

Silly me forgot that a) This is Ads' third school in two years and therefore he should be able to handle the pressure of a new environment b) He is not a 3-year old any more c) Children are far more resilient than we give them credit for, and definitely more so than paranoid mothers think.

It turned out that I had tied myself into knots for...ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! The sense of relief is overwhelming. He woke up this morning, proudly wore his new uniform and marched off to school with me and S. His class teacher seems nice. He only needed to stay for two and a half hours today and for the next two weeks (they increase the school day to four hours after two weeks) and when I went to pick him up, he was happy and well-fed, having gulped down some rice and a glass of milk. His class teacher told me he is a very "good" and "obedient" child.

I suppose mothers have to keep reminding themselves that their children have grown up!   

Here are some snapshots of the little fella in his uniform and in his classroom.

r2i so far

It's been a while since I wrote. So much has been happening in the last two months that time has been at a premium. Updating my blog has been the last thing on my mind. We left the USA on 26th February. The last week was a whirlwind of packing, unpacking and re-packing, cleaning (the apartment), saying goodbyes, attending farewell dinners and ticking off the million other things on our to-do list. I was extremely stressed. We finally ended up with 6 pieces of luggage, a car seat, a stroller, a backpack and a laptop bag - all to be transported with us on Cathay Pacific. S rented a large SUV which took us to the airport. Carting ourselves to the airport and returning the rental car to Hertz was probably the last DIY activity that we performed in that land of the independent individual.

I hadn't had the time to stress about how the kids would behave on the looong flight to India, but they surpassed my wildest expectations. Truly, they were good as gold. They slept a lot on the flight and the whining and grumbling and crying was at the absolute minimum. So when we landed at Chennai airport, we were tired (who wouldn't be?), but in a decent mood. The body clock adjusted to IST in just one day and two days later, we had embarked on the mandatory temple visits to Tiruverkaadu and Tirupathi.

Tirupathi, where we went to get Y's head shaved, was a torment, as it always is. Every time I go there, the only praying I do is to wish that this is the last time I visit, and perhaps my prayer will come true this time. 

A week after we landed, S's parents organized a large get-together of the extended family, so that everyone could meet the kids. It was held on the ground floor of the apartments where they live, and it was a blast. 

Three days later, we were off to Delhi to hunt for schools and apartments. Ads will go to K.G in Kothari International School (Noida) and after a lot of hunting, we found a lovely 3-bedroom apartment in a large community in Noida. Everything is great except that the school is a 20 minute drive (one-way) from home, a slightly longer commute than we would have liked. The mistake was mine, I did not extensively research a couple of schools that would have been closer to this apartment. We shoould have interviewed with them too. Oh well.

S joined work a week ago and we flew back to Chennai, only to leave for Bangalore a few days later where I had hired packers and movers to empty our apartment and ship the furniture and kitchen stuff to Noida.

Back in Chennai now and we leave for Delhi in a week. My mom will accompany us to help us settle down, 

Whew.

The physical exhaustion is a given. The mental exhaustion, caused mainly by the horrifying realization that we have accumulated SO MUCH STUFF in the last ten years, is greater. The thought of shopping, or adding more stuff, is annoying, even disgusting. I've always enjoyed packing. The process of deciding what to keep and what to throw has always been mildly therapeutic. Unpacking, however, is a lot like opening Pandora's box! And I am not looking forward to doing this once we reach Delhi.
To sum up,  the relocation so far has been incredibly smooth. For this I am very thankful. Hopefully Ads will adjust well in the new school and S will also enjoy his new job. It will take time but we will get there.

Farewell to our minivan

So our beloved Mazda5 gets sold tomorrow and I am feeling uncharacteristically low about it. I really don't care much about cars, and know even less about their mysterious workings, but our lovely minivan has been a favourite. Is it any wonder considering that I have spent so much time driving around in it? We had a nice sedan earlier - a Hyundai Sonata. It got totalled in a crash and we upgraded to a minivan. We didn't want anything as large as a SUV (ugly and harder to maneuvre) but the Mazda struck the perfect balance between looks and comfort, convenience and aesthetics. Before anybody thinks I am moonlighting in a Mazda dealership, let me tell you what a cousin of S's told me a month ago when he peeked into my car. This is what he saw:

1. A stroller

2. A child's scooter and helmet

3. A bag of sand-toys

4. A rug for spreading on the sand/grass

5. A case of mineral water

6. Several bottles of Gatorade

7. A jar of hand and face disinfecting wipes

8. A box of tissues

9. A clear plastic case containing complete change of clothes for each kid, including spare shoes, jackets and caps.

10. 2 umbrellas

So clearly we are always well-prepared to sit out an earthquake or thunderstorm in the car. The only things missing are snacks and diapers, of which I always have a stock in my baby bag (which I always carry with me:))

Is it then surprising that I love the car -- I spend so much time in it that it's practically my second home!

S's cousin commented that I am well on my way to becoming the quintessential suburban soccer mom, which is exactly the thought that had been crossing my mind as well!

Horror of horrors!! Definitely time to leave this country :)

The best age to have children

I chanced upon this article in the New York Times and it ties in with the conversation I have had with friends about the best age to have children. I always tell them that if they want to have two kids, then they need to work backward and see how old they want to be when they have their second. Not only do eggs not work as well the older you get, the fact is child-rearing is an energy-intensive activity and it’s a far more pleasant experience the younger and fitter you are.

I turned 30 one and a half weeks after Ads was born. I was more or less on the median age for women of my generation, a little older by Indian standards and exactly on par with the rest of my friends, who all had their first child when they were 30 or very close to it. (I only have one solitary friend who had her first when she was 26 and even that was an accident!)

If I had to do it all over again, would I change my timing? I highly doubt it. I had 5 carefree years of marriage before getting buried deep in diaper duty, I had the time to figure out what I wanted to do with my career and I had more than 3 years to establish my credibility in my chosen field, after bowing out of the corporate sector.

It’s old-fashioned to ask a woman to have her kids early; but in this case old IS gold. And well, isn’t 30 the new 20 and all that jazz??

Why are you going back?

The immediate comeback question when I inform other desis (and unfortunately, many friends and family living in India) that we are r2i is "Why?". WHY? WHY? This has to be the second most irritating question after "What do you do all day?" (which also I encounter more frequently than I care for).

No, I am not a jingoistic flag-waving type who thinks all Indians should stay in India. In fact, I think that nationalism, and religion are both outdated concepts. (Hmm...I should do a post about this). But it amuses me that when we told people that we are moving to the USA, not one single person asked me "Why?". It's assumed that the westward movement must be for the good, but the eastward movement is somehow more suspect. Why would someone want to come back to the dust and grime and potholes of India, leaving behind the oasis of America, right?

I find we have created a certain amount of dissonance in some Indians who are straddling the fence, emotionally attached to India and longing to go back but not mustering the initiative to take the plunge. In many cases, it's too hard, and justifiably so. As one of our friends put it, he is "terrified of sinking back into a middle-class lifestyle in India". In many cases, one spouse is desperate to move back, but the other isn't -- so of course they never do. I completely get that everyone has their reasons for staying, even if that reason is intertia! But the constant questioning of our decision to go back is not something I enjoy.
So, whether in India or USA, we are resigned to smilingly (not) answer the "Why" question with; "We never intended to stay here long-term"!

Ads' update (2 of ?)

Ads' obsession with drawing and Buzz Lightyear continues. He got to hear about the Power Rangers from somewhere and asked me what they were. I pulled up some videos on Youtube but they were violent and not something I wanted him to see. He didn't insist on watching them but seemed to understand that they were some variety of superheroes, and therefore, legitimate fodder for his over-active imagination. As I write this, he is jumping about on the couch simulating some Power Ranger moves!
He still goes to school for 6 hours (9 am to 3 pm) and seems to be the better for it. Sheets of phonics are regularly brought back home. They have been learning about the Americas in school (Montessori has a strong emphasis on geography) and he stumped me the other day by telling me he knew where French Guyana was. The only other place where I have heard this country mentioned is in the pages of The Economist! The day before that, we were talking about fruits and how they could be grown someplace else and consumed someplace else. I picked up the clementines we had bought that week and told him "Now, see, these oranges come from a country called Ecuador. Ecuador is in..." and he completed the sentence for me - South America!! IMPRESSED :)

The other habit he has picked up of late is to chide me when I repeat something a tad too often. "Amma, I already KNOW that!" he will whine. And sometimes add "Can you please not say that again and again?" It has conveniently escaped his notice that he never does anything if told only once, and that it requires sustained nagging to get him to perform any task!
He is mostly very good with little sister too, including her in a lot of his games and reading voluntarily to her. His biggest irritant is that she makes fun of him (yes, it's true -- the 4-year old is upset because the 1-year old teases him!) by mimicking his crying bouts. Whenever he is even a little bit whiny or cranky, off she goes, parodying his whining tone. Instantly he retaliates "STOP THAT!! I am NOT crying!" The more he protests, the more delighted Y gets, setting in chain a vicious cycle of protests and more whining. I have asked him to ignore her when she does this, but not giving his sibling the gratification of annoying him is a concept he is unable to grasp.

I have been very lax in getting him to speak Tamil at home. I used to be very diligent about this earlier but for the last several months, I have slipped; and it shows. Where he used to be very fluent in Tamil, increasingly English is the only tongue he speaks. I console myself with the thought that the next couple of months in Chennai and onward to Delhi will remedy this situation and soon he will be speaking Hindi as well as Tamil and English.

Ads and r2i

There is a sense of relief now the the r2i decision has been made and we are moving to Delhi in a month or so. The uncertainity of the last few months has come to an end and I am even looking forward to experiencing a new city. As we make humungous to-do lists, sort and dispose of our stuff, call up Delhi brokers and schools, and explore shipping options, there is at the back of my mind an unease and anxiety which I know is only going to intensify over the next couple of months. You know that uncomfortable and nasty feeling that wells up from the pit of your stomach before an important exam or interview that you haven't prepared for, a feeling that makes you almost nauseous? There is only one person who can make me feel that way nowadays, and that is Ads. I am deeply anxious about how he will adjust in India, to a new school, friends and lifestyle. He knows we are moving but I'm not sure it has sunk in yet.

Maybe I'm over-protective about him because he is my first-born. Maybe I got so used to being anxious about him and his well-being, right from the time I saw those two dark-blue lines on the home pregnancy test, all through those not-so-pleasant months of my pregnancy where I prayed incessantly that my baby should be full-term and healthy. Maybe because he hates change, and disruption to routine. Maybe because he is so gentle and I fear he can't handle a big school and a strange environment.

So even though I am a logical reasonable person and I know that children are far more resilient that we give them credit for, I worry about him. I worry about this conscious decision of ours to uproot him from the loved and the familiar. I hate the thought of his first day in the new school, when he will cling to me and cry and beg me not to leave.

As a mother, I know that is a burden you have to carry all your life. A few years ago, I would scold my mother for worrying about me and my brother; but now all I feel is empathy.

As we move to yet another stage in our lives, I have my fingers crossed that it will be an easy journey for Ads.

Naughtiness thy name is Yukta

Highlights from a typical day of dealing with Y's naughtiness -

8 am: Y methodically plucks sundry keys from S's laptop keyboard. Rare yelling session by S occurs.

9.30 am: Y drops S's cellphone into a mug of hot tea, which I was holding in my hand. Another yelling session by S.

11.30 am: Ads is watching TV and she keeps fiddling with the DVD player. Manages to pull open DVD tray and Ads is in tears when the cartoon stops playing.

3.00 pm: Bites Ads in his stomach, leaving behind red puncture marks. Poor Ads reels and cries from the unexpected pain.

5.00 pm: I find the trash can in the bathroom emptied all over the floor (WHICH FOOL LEFT THE LOO DOOR OPEN??? Oops it was me!)

Every 5-10 minutes: Climb onto dining table chair and bang on my laptop keyboard randomly. I'm surprised it's still working.

She needs a contructive outlet for all that energy. Oh for the rains to stop and sunny park-weather days to be here again!

Of brothers and sisters

The three of us, kids and I are alone in the apartment. I'm in the bedroom folding and sorting laundry, making the bed or some other random and mundane chore. From the living room, I hear giggles and snatches of conversation. My mommy antenna pops up. I sneak to the door and slowly extend my head to peek into the living room. Two dark heads are bent over a book. One with black, straight, closely-cropped hair; the other with dark brown curls tumbling in an unruly mass over forehead and neck. Unasked by me, of his own volition, he is reading to his sister. He points out objects and calls out their name. Car. Bus. Apple. Baby. She repeats the words after him. He puts down one book and picks up another. And then another. She is engaged and amused. Every now and then he says something that both find acutely funny.

The sheer beauty of the bond between brother and sister is second only to the bond tethering parent and child.