How Did You Know?

When I give D some milk, I also give her a Kitchen roll. When she's using her scooter in the house, I keep all the kitchen cabinet doors closed and keep an ice pack in the fridge. Because, "It happened by accident." is what D will say when the milk spills, she bangs into the cabinet door, drops all her markers on the floor and bumps herself on the head at the kitchen counter for the one hundredth time getting up too quickly after picking up the markers.

In the 2 years we've lived in this house, she's never once used the stairs. She'll slide through the railing, like Spidergirl, slide through the carpet, use the hand rail to hang on and get off the stairs lest she trigger those laser beams aka James Bond, in her case, Janice Bond. (She hates being compared to a boy).

A big part of being a mother, I think is to have super awesome reflexes. Like when she's flying through the stairs, you automatically sense that she's going to step on to the scooter she's left on the floor and will fall and bump her head. You don't have to look to see if the scooter's there. You know it is and you get rid of it because it's like your second nature.

While dropping her at school, for picture day, you know she's not going to wear her jacket, because, well, she wants everybody to see her dress, but you know she will be cold. So when she's freezing as she enters the playground, you automatically pull out her jacket from thin air (her backpack) and she'll smile at you, "How did you know?"

The more I am a mother to D, the more I realize what my mother was to me. I get up only at 7, cook very little (D has limited choices to work with) for D and her dad (he mostly gets what I make for her), then drop her off before heading home to work on my laptop. My mom used to get up at 4 in the morning, everyday, make separate lunches for me and my sister (like in everything else, we had mutually exclusive tastes in food too), made breakfast and lunch for my grandparents, prepared Appa's Puja plate for offering obeisance to God, made beautiful rangoli patterns at the entrance to the house and always had time for her morning prayers. She too, knew what we wanted without us ever telling her. "How did you know?"

So when D asks me how do I know, I really don't know the answer. I guess I just do - because I know - her. Because, all moms - just have that super power - they know their kids. It feels extra great to be the reason for the smile.

Pic Source: HedbonStudios

First In, Almost Out

Ady and I are usually the first ones to arrive at a party, or at least try to be. Life comes in between in many cases, (read, daughter) and we're then forced to be late. 
But if we were on our own, sans child, we would probably call the hosts ahead, to check who'd be coming and how long before we get back home. Simply put, we're typically the first ones to arrive, the first ones to leave. We're crazy party animals that way, too cool to stay on. (ya, rrrright!)

Ever since the little one arrived, things have drastically changed. We still try to be among the first ones to arrive, because well, she wants us to "get there faster" and she likes to socialize with everyone. Everyone. It's like we're just her chauffeurs taking her to her destination. As soon as she sees people, she'll go talk to them - young, old, small, big - she doesn't discriminate that way. Unless of course, there is a little girl, in which case, she will try and devote a chunk of her time to play with her.  She can ignore all boys as if they didn't exist, if there's a girl around. 

And DD will play, perform (she loves to sing and dance), do gymnastics, till it's time to go. Who decides when it's time to go you ask? Well, it's the mother of the second- last child leaving, because obviously, our child is the last. 

That's probably the only 'punishment' that works for DD. "You will not get to meet people or play with your friends."

Even so, with her power to negotiate and will to never take 'No'  for an answer, she will try to convince us or melt our hearts with her cute little smile,  and innocent eye-batting (they still look innocent).

We dread parties, she lives for them. Today, the only way I could get her out of a serious discussion with her school teacher about the age of her car, was to tell her that we were going to a party and were getting late. "Bye Ms Laura" she immediately replied. "Mamma, I want to change first."
"Yes, your highness!"

While Her Majesty is getting ready, I try to connect with my mom. "We're going out today, 'Ma."
"That's nice. Where are you going?" 
"There's a get-together in her school."
"When will you be back?Your father may want to talk to you. He's not here right now."
"When DD feels like." I say.
"Ha ha. No, seriously." Amma laughs.
I wish I were joking.