Friday, 23 August 2013

I'm happy Having TWO DAUGHTERS- NO,you jerks, I don't have a rapist as a son at least!!

Rapes. Rapes. Rapes.
And I have two daughters.
My 12 year old sometimes asks me how I'm happy with two girls.
I AM HAPPY.
 I remember that scene in Baby on Board when Angela gives a speech to japanese extremists- in labor. That scene was touching and beautiful.

At least I don't have a so with a mid of a rapist- or worse, a rapist.
I have a husband who respects women. And I have two daughters, one who does not know about the dark world....and another who has started  a blog for women Her blog.

I am satisfied. I always will be.

Sunday, 18 August 2013

supermother

WHO IS THE SUPER MOTHER?

The super mother is the one who is always there for her children, whether she is working or not, she is there. She can handle many things at one time, but it is very very normal for her to be frustrated. But, if frustrated also means breaking the house and shouting on the street and throwing lamps outside the window, I'm not that sure...sorry. She is not perfect, she can't be a super mother if she is. It's not important, the fact that she cooks or not. 
But, I think the application will be rejected if she can't convince a child to eat a bite of a pancake by any fictitious way!
And she should be able to grate cheese. Please.
And of course, it is so easy for her to write 1001 ways to make your child get to bed.
She can shout at her kids when and whenever she wants. But not too much, please. She must control her anger when her daughter talks about becoming a princess and she remembers the time she could never be one....
She should improvise. She must, because carrot pie looks like pepperoni pizza.
And takeaway is not an option.
She does not sneak or keep spies for her kids. She trusts them. But staying 5 minutes extra at their school just to see what's happening is not sneaking, don't worry moms.
And it should remain till the world ends.
 --------------------End of part 1- there's more to come-----------------

                           
                                                                      
                          














 That's me! yes! I pass. Do you?

My life- everyday

Ugh! How many times have you felt so bored?? The cycle goes on and on, always!!

1 Do some work, it's early morning, and no daughter switches some noise which she calls music and some baby cries!!
2 Leave- and leave my husband with the four year old
3 Come back and pick them up
4 Work again            
5 Work
6 Work
7 make her eat food!!
8 Try, try and try- again!
9 Die a little
10 Ask my talented daughter to do some work for me
11 Meditate- ah!


12 Hope everything is going well with the kids
13 Finish some deadline
14 Start working on a deadline
15 Hear the bell ringing- the hubby's come
16 Open the door, someone
17 I'll have to open it!
18 Drink tea, yes, tea. tea!
19 Eat dinner
20 make her eat dinner
21 Eat, girl! EAT!
22 Forget about it. Watch TV
23 Close the TV and shush Nandini down
24 Sleep and pray Nandini will sleep
25 And hope Akshita is not listening to music or just- well, just sleep, okay??
 Start over

I am everything- believe it or not

A teacher. A mother. A sister. Luckily not a hated mother-in-law. Not even a mother in law. Wife. Woman. Daughter in law. Sister in law. Philosopher. Reader. Learner. Wanderer. Blah blah blah. Lecturer.  Well, whatever. Chef. Parent. Family gal. TV critic. Yeah, yeah.
So who introduced me to the world of blogging?
My daughter, who blogs herself.
I'm a teacher, as I said before.
I'm also a mother to two annoying great head eaters children, whom I love. They irritate make me realize that there's something new and actually idiotic different in life, even though except for showing me more than 100 ways to get irritated, I never saw anything new.
So I'm everything.
I get into a good mood and a bad one, like the opposite amount of time take to convert water into ice.
I am very wise, and at the same time I am pointless. I talk well, sometimes even without talking.
That's me. I love weekends. I hate them too. I break the house when relatives come. I fix it again.
I work on my diet and I'm very very conscious. One hour later I eat like hell.
I love me. I also wonder who is me.
I hate mountains. I love teaching, but it's not a cliche that teaching is hard, especially with kids who get on your nerves!! give you a hard time.
I work all night. Then I don't get up in the morning.
That's me. Everything.

Working- did I regret it?

When I was expecting Nandini, there was a time I had to quit work.
That was obvious. And there was no other alternative.
So I did quit and I spent my time in the house, write diary entries to myself, talking to her (or him, at that time), cleaning, cooking, sleeping.
I wondered if that was the reason many women are known as unprofessional. They have a kid, maybe lose their job, their work gets slowed down, they stop working.
I did not want to be that woman actually, no offence.

 I wanted to do something great, something that would put me on top. But, in this condition, it would be more like:


                               
Sometimes, even if you work, it's taken in another way


After 9 months and a lot of time taking care of my little one, I got back to work. I was very very back, and still the same old efficient lady who never says no.
And I'm glad I did that.

Movies for mothers

Here are  movies I recommend, for mothers:

- Baby on Board

- The Turning Point

- Mrs. Doubtfire 


- The Parent Trap

- Freaky Friday (my daughter and I liked the 2003 one much better)

-Mamma Mia

-One true Thing
A cliche? No, both the lives are hard
                                          
-Anywhere but here (I'm not exactly old- fashioned  but....)

-Monster- in- law

-Mr. Mom

8th March? - It's just my daughter's birthday

Sometimes I wonder what my job is regarding me, my liberty, my country and my equality. ‘Women’s day’ has never really meant anything at all to me. If the world changes it’s thoughts for even a day on 8th March, I would pray and thank god each night. But, if we think properly, nothing changes after this day. We know, with grief and pain that women will still not be even considered as humans. We write poems, create protests, barricade places...and then forget the very thought of it. But I think I know what we’re supposed to do this women’s day. We’re supposed to STAND UP. We won’t ignore them. We won’t complain. Just one look from our bloodshot eyes. And then....BOOM. I remember I never said as a kid, that ‘girls rule’. Instead, I admired the very fact that guys were just so great. They could do anything they wanted. While I was getting into fights at school, I was taught it was not lady-like. When I rebelled my way on cutting my hair and wearing Bermudas like other guys I was told to respect my gender. But why should I, if no one else does? So I cut my hair. And I still don’t look like a guy. I shook my head at people saying women should not wear short dresses and skirts. I clenched my fists whenever I DID NOT hear a mother telling her son to respect women and when they did tell their daughters to not try to show their faces or be seen or heard or found attractive. I wish people understood. I wish they could do what we can. Because, you know what? I’ve stopped caring. It’s nothing but a tough game. My ancient computer has this bike game (which I like playing) where my bike is always placed last. But then, I still come first. It’s not based on a stupid bike game, it is life. (Okay, okay, huge problem, there is that board game called life) but we can always call it GG(girl game) or WW(wow woman).
Here we go.
1.    Born in a village that has more orthodox and stereotypical ideas than crops. MISSION 1: LIVE the hatred. Or rather, just survive.
2.    How’s it going?
3.    Go to school (Remember, you’re in a village and you’re a good girl so you’re still staying with your sick family, no offence, imaginary parents...)
4.    Clean the home, cook the utensils...just do what Rapunzel did, okay?
5.    GET THE BAD GIRL in you. Leave your home, fled for the city. How do you go? It’s so impossible. You run.
6.    Find work as a maid.
7.    Where do you live? In a remote room in a construction house.
8.     Get into the proper city. Get amazed. How do the girls wear this stuff? So many talks about women power, but where is it??
9.    You don’t like it. Ignore the men making cheap dialogues.
10.           You don’t like it this way either. Punch the men hard.
11.           Oops.
12.           The men belong to the typical ‘gunda gang’. You fool!!
13.           The men are ready to teach you a lesson.
14.           NOW WHAT???? What are those two legs you have for? RUN!!
15.           Shout out loud, “Jai mata di”. Get saved.
16.           Get educated in some way or the other (now don’t ask me how, I’m not always having awesome imagination!)
17.           Get a loan and start any type of business.
18.           Get rich. You own a BMW, you wear the attire you once asked, “How do women wear this stuff”?
19.           Now you’re the woman. Live every girl’s life. Go to the metro and experience those goggling eyes, get winked by those nonsensical-could have done the earth much good without-being-born-people.
20.           Just survive.
21.           Question. And live without getting the answer.
THE END.
HOPE + PATIENCE + PROTESTING + STANDING UP+ DESIRE+ HUNGER = ANSWER?
Or am I missing something?