Truesday Tales 2.1

2 Feb

[First shared in February 2015]

I stand over him, watching him sleep, gushing about the perfect curve of his cheek, loath to go to bed. Daddy is under the covers with his tablet already, rolling his eyes at Mummy for being this besotted. I ignore him and continue to gaze at Mr. Bean, soaking up every centimeter of his babyness.

Until, something occurs to me and I realize that the pater hasn’t been reading at all. He’s been admiring the 3000 pictures he clicks of our son each morning. While the fruit of his loins is 4 feet away.

But I’m the besotted one. Right.

Turning 10: 2006–2016

26 Jan

Truesday Tales is on break this week, for the following reason:

I’m trying to remember whether there was snow on the ground that day. I know it was bitingly cold, the sky was a glorious winter blue, the sun shone like a superstar who couldn’t acknowledge his best days were behind him, and my biggest concern was fitting all my precious shoes into two suitcases as I readied to begin a new chapter in the country of my birth.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, I casually wrote a post called Shoes Blues. I even uploaded a picture, because that’s what you were supposed to do, nobody only read words. All of two people looked at the post, not counting myself. Who knew what this whole blogging thing was, anyway? It was January 26, 2006, and life was about to change big time. Only, I didn’t know back then that it was the blog that would propel the biggest changes of all and remain my steadiest constant over the next decade. A page I goofily christened Wisdom Wears Neon Pajamas, after the bright orange Eddie Bauer pjs I happened to be wearing that very minute. Yes, imagination has always been my strong suit.

It would be interesting to look back at my journey since: the amazing highs, the stressors only a twenty-something can handle without turning grey, the lessons that chiseled away at me, the teachers, nasty and kind. But I’m on a tight clock with a wakeful baby and don’t want to sound like a granny reliving her heyday. I’m a steady sort, a creature of habit. I’ve had the same bestie for 21 years. Ditto favorite authors and hairstyle. I like my coffee exactly the same each morning, and only the Boy’s surprises aren’t stressful for me. So it’s not really a whoa moment for me that this blogaroo baby has lasted a decade, because it’s been such fun! Really, such fun. It married words and community and fresh ideas from some terribly sparkling minds. And gifted me friendships. A solid, warm, sustaining sisterhood. So much gratitude to the universe for it all!

This blog isn’t going to last another decade. I have my doubts about the end of the year. But that’s okay, because everything has its time, and other platforms were bound to shunt out this early form of self-expression. So pardon me if, between the books I race to catch up on and the simmering something on the stove (hey, can’t have a birthday post without an alliteration!) and Herr Toddlemeister’s shenanigans, we don’t exactly party here anymore. But thanks for all the fish. For reading, chiming in, telling me that you exist. For seeing the heart on my sleeve and treating it gently. Funnily enough, only a clutch of folks in my offline life know that I have a blog, and that’s exactly how we’re going to keep it, you and I. ;)

To 10! It’s been a whopper of a journey. See you next week for Truesday Tales?

Bear hugs and neon confetti,

Still in Pyjamas

 

Truesday Tales 1.3

19 Jan

Dear Dr. Martin Luther King,

I’d have a dream too–if I ever got some sleep!

Yours hopefully,

A (still somewhat) new parent

 

#SleepDepYo #MartinLutherKingDay

~

Since Truesday Tales is a collection of snippets from the past year, (and the one above was written today,) here’s one from January 2015:

All this love that’s entered my life, I wish it didn’t come with handles attached. :-|

 

Truesday Tales 1.2

12 Jan

So it’s the second Tuesday of the new year (yes, already!) and I’m being a good girl and sharing a Truesday Tales snippet as promised in this post last week. If you’ve had similar experiences–or even very different ones, please share! And for those of you who haven’t been through the baby maelstrom, I promise it won’t all be about poo and pee. Only 98.479% of the time. :mrgreen:

[Hashtag #ScatalogicalHeaven]

~

“Projectile peeing should be a bonafide sport at the Baby Olympics. Our son would be reigning raining champion every time.”

~Me to the Boy

Seriously, the kid waters his own face with the accuracy of an archer.

~

Any other bebes with emission quirks out there? Adults NEED NOT apply. Thanks in advance.

Truesday Tales: Notes From the Mothership

5 Jan

HAPPY 2016! Here’s the new series I promised and hadn’t delivered on so far.

Like I mentioned in this post, I cheated on this blog last year with a very obscure social media platform that not many of you will have heard of. It rhymes with ‘Thace Puk’ and I got into the habit of sharing my exalted views on baby poo and such like with friends who couldn’t disown me if they tried. Starting with this post, I will share these snippets from the past year on ze blog every Tuesday (or Friday, which is basically the same thing in MummyLand) until I run out of posts (or steam or banana chips). Why Tuesday? Because:

a. It is the farthest day from Monday, and hence the happiest day of the week

b. I was born on a Tuesday, and hence it’s got to be the happiest day of the week

c. Tuesday = Thursday = DontKnowDontCareDay

d. All of the above

 

Feel free to bump me off your reader when the posts get poo much for you! Although you’d really get an education in color and texture if you stuck around. Wait! Come baaaaaack!

~

And then there’s the beaming 4 am smile, right after he’s refused to burp AND peed on you.

You know it’s probably an involuntary muscle at work, but who’s to tell your lurching heart that as you sit there, drenched in urine and marveling at how amazing your life is.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Parenting is the ultimate example of Stockholm Syndrome.

 

The Products That Saved Mummy

31 Dec

a.k.a. When Mummy Took To The Bottle

For a person who has frequently scrambled her Tuesdays and Thursdays this year, even I am aware it is the last few minutes of 2015. So why am I not doing the usual end-of-year review? Because that would be predictable. Because I now dwell on Planet Baby and tomorrow will be the same as two days ago, give or take a few milestones. Because I want to talk to you guys about something other than parenthood, given that I live, breathe and unsleep it every moment of every day. (And also because we’ll be doing that in future posts.) Because I’m excited to share with you the products that made me look human through this first year in bebe wilderness.

At the very beginning of 2015, my skin was a minefield of postpartum hormones with at least one zit the size of Jupiter at any given time, and it took several weeks for everything to calm down. I have combination skin that now veers toward some dryness in the California winters, tends to freckle and burn easily, and will still throw up a zit or few to announce that my period is on its merry way. Brightening, reduction of sun spots, degunking, and deep hydration without greasiness were all primary needs. And, with lots of research, trial, and consistent use of these magic bottles and the odd kitchen aid, I’m very happy to report that at the end of 12 months, my skin looks better than it has for a long while. *GIANT JINX BLOCKER*

Beauty

See my glow? My fabulous cheekbones? My blue eyes and blond hair? What, you don’t believe that’s me?! Man, you guys are so sharp.

 

My hair is typically low maintenance, but when washing it once a week becomes the highlight of my social calendar, you can understand it gets grumpy, greasy and flaky every so often. Okay, more often than not. Which is when three basic products came to my rescue and ensured I didn’t have to don a hijab to avoid recognition.

So, with all disclaimers about not being a dermatologist/trichologist/product expert and knowing one’s allergies, skin/hair type, and lifestyle choices in place, here are the products that were lifesavers, time-savers and face-savers this year.

SKIN:

Cleanser: Shea Terra Organics’ Rose Hips Black Soap Deep Pore Facial Wash

rosehipsblacksoap

Serum: PCA Skin C-Quench Antioxidant Serum

pca

Moisturizer: Boscia Sake Balm

boscia

Night cream: Korres Advanced Brightening Sleeping Facial, Wild Rose

korres

Odd kitchen aid mentioned above: Wedderspoon Raw Manuka Honey Active 16+ (I just spread a thin layer on freshly cleaned skin and washed off after 20 minutes. I probably did this thrice in the whole year, so not sure it counts!)

honey

 

Sunscreen: Coola Mineral Sunscreen Matte Tint (this doubled as a BB cream/any semblance of everyday makeup)

coola

HAIR:

Shampoo: Aveda Scalp Benefits Balancing ShampooAveda_Scalp_Benefits_balancing_shampoo_1000ml

Conditioner: Beauty Protector Protect and Detangle Spray 

beautyprotector_protect_detangle_new_900x900

Dry shampoo (a new mother’s knight in shining armor, superhero, messiah!): Klorane Dry Shampoo With Oat Milk, Tinted for Brown to Dark Brown Hair

klorane

 

And with that, my sweets, I will love you and leave you to go hug a sniffly, snotty Boy and together stand at the foot of our baby’s crib and welcome in another splendid year in this, our life as a little family.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! *toot toot!*

What A Difference A Year Makes

24 Nov

A year. It’s been a whole 365 days since this happened and I played a cheesy Disney song to announce it.  Clearly, I’m not going easy on the cheese anytime soon, for here’s a letter I wrote my baby today, on his 1st birthday, as I watched him sleep and plotted how to sneak in a few kisses while he couldn’t protest. Thanks for being patient with my absence from this blog and coming along on this journey with me. Things will be more regular around here, fingers crossed, because we have a new series starting on the blog next week!

~

My precious pumpkin, Daddy’s titto tapeto, our babyjaan,
Today is a day I did not dream of. Blame it on your Mummy’s limited imagination. I couldn’t look past my pregnancy beyond the point of your birth. I knew the months that followed would be a whirl, a blur, and require all my resources, so your first birthday wasn’t something I actively thought about. Yet, here we are. And I’m short one infant and tall on a trailblazing toddler.

I have frequently wondered after having you why people (and parents in particular) focus so heavily on the hardest bits of those early months. They go on about sleep deprivation and 360 degree life changes. Nobody actively comes up to you and simply says this:
It will be more wonderful than you ever imagined.

And it has been. It is.
Except for 3 hellish days in the hospital at 9 weeks old, when you smiled at us through a haze of 103 degree fever, every day has been pure joy, every moment a blessing, every smelly diaper as fragrant as Kate Spade’s latest perfume. Okay, I kid about that last one.

From beaming megawatt smiles starting at 6 weeks to calling out to passersby in the park to charming a planeload of passengers, people are your thing. In your universe, there are no strangers, only babies and big people waiting for the immense privilege of showering Your Royal Divaness with attention. First-born much? To steal a line from Plath, you endow the sun with gold, our gleaming California raisin.

Before you arrived, I was convinced you would be your own person, with independent attributes and characteristics. So it came as a surprise (and a burgeoning sense of alarm) to see you were so like me. Not just the shape of my eyes and my poker straight hair and large flat feet, you have a giant dose of your mother’s rather… umm, wilful, voluble personality, and poor Daddy doesn’t know what hit him. Two fire signs in the house are a shade too much roaring for your patient, gentle father, the love of your life and clearly your preferred parent.

I am your dal chawal, your constant, your everyday. You can’t miss someone who won’t go away. But Daddy, he’s your tandoori chicken, the cherry atop the icing atop the butter sponge cake, and my gladdest, most contented moments this past year have been watching the two of you together, mock-wrestling, giggling, grabbing hair and collars and using Daddy’s ears as handles while perched on his shoulders.

You complete us in ways we never thought possible. Physically, Daddy and I are ready to retire and nap for 7 years. As late 30s parents, the relentless exhaustion of it all has taken a toll, to be honest. But we wouldn’t have had you at any other time. Because it is now that we are mature enough to enjoy you without sweating the small stuff, stable enough to be a team and provide well for you, and old enough to know what matters to us without getting into skirmishes with other parents on their opinions and preferences.

With the exception of your refusal to sleep through the night consistently, you’ve been an easy baby, doling out radiant smiles to everything in your path, staying on a schedule like a clockwork mouse, adjusting your own meal and nap times as you grew, and amusing yourself while I tended to chores. You are secure in the knowledge that you can roam free, Mummy is a mere grunt away at any given time, and I love how you look back to check for approval for just half a tick before you hurl yourself into new discoveries or at an unsuspecting person not used to your friendliness.

And this is what I wish for you today, my solitary-candled babe: Fly into this world that so fascinates you, fling your arms around it, I will ardently wish for it to love you back. And when you need the comfort of home, my sweet child, your dal chawal will always be waiting.

Happy birthday, mein Liebling. Mummy’s got the whole world in her hands. <3

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