Fearsome Fours

Everybody talks about "Terrible Twos" to prepare the parent for what's in store. And there's no consistency on exact start of this phase. Some say, it's immediately after the first birthday. They've technically begun age 2. Others say, it's after the second birthday. And of-course parents would want to believe the wise person who said, "after the second birthday" in the blinding optimism of postponing the torture on self.

But the weird part is, nobody talks about the "terrifying threes", "fearsome fours", "feisty fives", and so on. My mom says, she's also familiar with the "twisted twenties" and "thought-less thirties". Now I don't know how she came up with that.

So turns out "terrible twos" are just over hyped.Or may-be they'd like to warn you just about the first phase of terrible. And once you've started experiencing it, you won't have the time to stop and realize that the phases are actually changing until the little one gets a spouse. Then that's a whole another phase. But since I want to believe it's too distant in future for me, I am not going to delve on that. 

So where am I? Fearsome Fours. D is so vocal and logical and so insistent it's scary. I mean, I can't get away with "do this, because I said so" anymore. It's like a subdued version of handling a teenager. She's preparing me pretty well for the years ahead. 

Just yesterday, D was up to another mischief, and I decided she was ready for the silent treatment. True enough, she couldn't stand all the silence. She's used to the sound of nagging and suddenly there's this deafening silence, except of course all the stuff she's dropping on the ground, and the chairs she's pulling across the floor. 

She didn't realize I was silent when she was applying all the face paint on her table. She realized it, after all the mess was created. "Mamma, why are you not talking to me?" she was surprised. No response. She tried a couple of times and came closer to me, lifted the hair out of my ears, and tried,"Can you hear me? I made a mess".  No response. It was only then that I realized she was not used to silence. There's always so much sound in the house, that silence is completely unnatural to her. She's not intolerant though, she's seen kids who don't talk much, and she knows the reason. So with her logical deduction, she again came up to my ears and whispered "Are you shy, Mamma?"

And it took a whole lotta will power, just to curtail the burst of laughter. Silent treatment, my @#$%!

Famiversary

We had a very big discussion yesterday. I'm using the word 'discussion' to tone down the entire stream of 'communication'. The conversations these days seem to be super sonic almost tearing the lungs apart for the minion.

She was completely disappointed that we were married. She was even more disappointed that she wasn't. And when she realized that we were also engaged at some point and would celebrate our 'verversary', all hell broke lose.

"When will I get to wear those clothes?" " Why don't I have an engagement?" "When will I get to wear the black chain forever?" "When will I grow up?" "Why is everyone married?" 

She already knows who she wants to get married. The names may change each month, but atleast for the month, she is confident about the person she wants to tie the knot with. 

Her biggest concern is not that she wasn't in the wedding (that we explained). Her biggest concern is that she doesn't get to celebrate her anniversary, while everybody else seems to.

No, birthdays are different and she knows it. Her mom and dad get to celebrate them too, don't they? She wants an anniversary. Now, you see, it's easy to just give her any day and call it an anniversary. But how do you keep track of it? (Yeah, she knows anniversary comes every year). 

And we would want to believe that she will forget the day next year, but when we celebrate our anniversary, we're calling for a loose canon to blow up any minute. Now, we could bank on D maturing with age and all that, but we weren't willing to risk another melt down in about half a year. Instead of waiting for the end of the world, we decided we could be proactive too ala John Cusack in that fateful movie.We'd much rather address it right now, than have a flood of tears and noise control come over at a later stage.

So, our anniversary day (any major milestone we'd like to acknowledge) is the day that we celebrate our family. It's no longer wedding anniversary or engagement day. It's 'famiversary'. That's a quick fix. 

But every wedding, raises so many questions. Why is she not the bride? Why does the bride get to be the bride?

And at the actual big bang wedding this summer - I'm just going to leave the lighted firecracker out in the open. After all, weddings are much better with fire works. 

Why Climbing Mt Everest is Easy

This would have been my third victorious return from Mt Everest. I would've packed my bags in a jiffy, done all the rigorous strength and stamina building exercises, happily kept quiet to preserve my oxygen supply and come had ice-creams to celebrate my conquering of the summit. I would've been the first woman representing the South and North India to ever climb up there – and 3 times.  29029 ft *3 times.

But instead, I utilize all my energy - physical and mental trying to win over my 3 ft  dynamite. I can still pick her up and put her to bed if I am too tired and kiss and distract her with something shiny now, but I feel the shiver down my spine every time I think about her teenage years. If this is just a glimpse into the years to come, my tenure as ‘the mother’ is going to be a long and arduous one replete with hair-pulling and high blood pumping experiences.

It’s not so much the physical endurance. I do like running, so she gives me ample reasons not to go to the gym. And nothing can beat the labor pain. So my threshold of pain has increased leaps and bounds since the last time I had a paper cut and made a big deal about it.

It’s the mental shock that she gives me with her ready replies or as they say ‘haazir jawaabi’ in Hindi that I find a little (I won’t admit defeat beyond this measure) difficult to handle.

Today for example, Ady and Driti were having a discussion on why she should eat her dal and curd. The senior was making a case for eating both of them, the junior, the South-Indian junior – just for the curd.

A: “Driti, dal is very smart. It knows the answers to all the questions. You should eat it. Mix with curd if you like”

D: “No. Curd is smarter. It knows all answers”

A: (acting every smart himself) : “Let’s try” and he asked the curd the following question “Curd, what is the capital of India?”

D:  “New Zealand” (she heard me whisper ‘new’ something. And New Zealand is the only place she knows, starting with ‘new’. Thanks to her uncle who lives there. Her aunts in Delhi, live in India.  And she doesn’t know Delhi is ‘New’)

A:  (looking very satisfied): “No. See, it does not know. Now let me ask the dal” And he looks all very smug as he asks the dal “Dal, what is the capital of India?”

A: "New Delhi" he answers trying ventriloquism.

D:  “No, even curd is smart. See…” and she sets about asking her own question to the curd

D: “Curd, what is the most popular character in India?” If dad can, so can she. “Chota Bheem”  was her ventriloquial reply.

And Ady and I did not have a retort. At this rate, she’d just get what she wants. So we had to use our powers to distract and get her to get some protein in her body.

This was definitely one of the few times that I had to think of a comeback.  I didn’t know if I should be proud of her ready retort or upset at my lack of response.

I just hope this is the extent she’ll go even as a teenager. I know my limitations. I just don’t know how strong my strengths are!!

So you see, Everest is a much easier conquest than actually explaining why food is good to the little monster.