THE GUILT TRIP

I sent a quick glance at the clock on my laptop. 4:09p.m.
I had 20 more minutes to finish all the work to meet the deadline for the 6:00 p.m client meeting.
10 minutes later...its suddenly 4:29! (#@!k)
I decide I can probably squeeze in another 10 minutes of work and make for the later train. C. Bear and Tigerlily can wait at their respective childminders for 20 more min! they would hate to be the last ones to be picked up..but will forgive me with a bribe of extra cuddles.

Ten more minutes later, I was still only just halfway done! Very guiltily I asked the rest of the members of the team, if they could manage to finish off the report by themsleves. Which means - COULD THEY FINISH WHAT I STARTED?! Bless them - they said, they would manage it.
I explained them where things where on the network, as I started packing up and running half way out the door.

I sprinted to the station and wondered with increasing guilt, who from the team would have to stay late to finish things up.

C.Bear had been sick over the weekend. And although he looked better by sunday evening, I felt extremely guilty of sending him off to nursery on Monday morning. But I simply could not take any days off. And I spent the entire day soaking in the guilt of sending an unwell child to daycare, (SO THAT) I could go to work!
So I sent an unwilling (ofcourse) child to daycare (guilt alert!)  . Arrive late at work (guilt alert!!).
Ate lunch at desk as i ploughed through all the work that needed to be finished. Not able to focus, cause thinking about C. Bear (guilt alert!!!). Had to leave to pick up kids beafore I could finish stuff (guilt alert!!!). Late to pick up kids anyways (GUILT ALERT!!!!).

And it was pizza for dinner!!!!! GUILT!!! GUILT!!! GUILT!!!

After we put the kids to bed, I asked DH if his day was as conflicting as mine? Was he thinking and worrying about C.Bear like I was? Does he ever have those moments that he is not home tending to or hugging his sick child?
Without skipping a beat, he replied, '' Mmm...No!''. And carried on filling his dinner plate.

And it really stumped me. How was he able to detach himself from the situation and give his 100% at work? He is equally involved with kids as I am , if not more.
Is worrying and this guilt only a mum's prerogative?!

YOU KNOW ITS TRUE LOVE WHEN.....

…you ask your husband to get fish from a take-away, and he brings fried chicken instead! Because he knows that's what you really want to eat. I mean seriously, what was I even thinking! Never have liked Fish. Thank god for a partner who knows me better than I know myself.  Who needs stupid flowers and candle light dinners, when you can stuff your face with a bucket of fried chicken under bright lights, with a partner who doesn’t judge.

NURSING MUM DIARIES

I was devouring a chocolate doughnut with rainbow sprinkles at the coffee shop inside the mall, while wantonly eyeing the hazelnut glazed doughnut placed at the next table, wondering if I should have ordered that instead. Maybe I will, after I polish off this one! Nyomm nyomm…

My attention eventually shifted to the fortunate people who were eating that blessed doughnut. It was a small family, a baby no more than a couple months old and her proud parents. The mother had just whipped out a handy bottle with separate compartments for formula powder and water to ready the feed for her baby. The baby happily latched on to the bottle while her content parents continued to enjoy their cups of hot coffee.

It was the sale season, and the mall, perhaps one of biggest ones in the city, was brimming with people making a last ditch attempt to avail the unbelievable discounts. The offers were so good that they were able to entice the, otherwise reclusive, species of ‘new’ mothers to flock the mall in numbers larger than I had ever seen in that mall. I noticed a lot many of these parents sitting in various Coffee shops and random benches across the mall, feeding their babies with a bottle, and then continuing with their shopping spree while their baby was still gulping hungrily.

Like a typical Indian parent, I was instantly jealous and thought to myself. Look at sharmaji’s baby, he drinks milk from a bottle, why can’t my child do that. These people are seizing the best of the deals while I am spending half the time sprinting back and forth to my car parked in the basement to feed my hungry little caterpillar.

My caterpillar was 4 months old and exclusively breast fed until then. I had decided to give my kid the best gift a mother can give to her child. No, not an iPad. Mother’s milk. At first, I took pride in the fact that I was lucky to be able to nurse my child and didn’t have to take help of any formula milk. But then, after the initial sappy feeling subsided, I realized I had hardly ever stepped out of my home, except for the occasional visit to the pediatrician for vaccinations.  

You see, in my enthusiasm to keep my munchkin on the nutritious diet of mother’s milk, I had never thought of introducing her to the bottle. And so naturally, my entire day revolved around nursing her in the way that God had intended. By the time I tried to persuade my baby to feed on my expressed milk, from the bottle, she had already made up her mind that she preferred the nipple over the teat.

I cursed myself for having taken the advice of my pediatrician so ardently. For now, I had to suffer the not-so-subtle unapproving looks given by people, while I tried to soothe my child into nursing. The concept of a ‘baby care room’ or a ‘baby feeding room’ is yet to find an audience in this country, which considers bottle feeding as ‘westernization’, but ironically is not considerate towards breast feeding mothers either.  Maybe the society expects women with nursing babies to just stay home and out of sight!

Anyways, I needed to get some shopping done and so I went to this mall. And sure as hell, kiddo woke up and refused to calm down. I knew what I had to do. I sat, sweating and uncomfortable, in a desolate corner of a shop, while careful to cover up myself decently. That’s right, I am nursing my baby. Stare all you want, You, lady in the leopard print salwar kameez and the creepy guy passing by me the third time, eyes always directed at my little baby squirming under layers of covers. It’s the most natural response to the cry of a hungry child. At least it’s a better choice than your leopard prints! Ugh!

On another occasion, a flight attendant on a domestic carrier walked up to me and politely instructed me to NOT nurse the baby during take-off and landing! But! Everything I have read about flying with an infant, suggests that nursing helps. It helps calm the anxious baby as much as it helps prevent ear aches during pressure changes in the cabin. I was alarmed when I realized that I had been given this instruction not for the well-being of my infant but rather to keep my fellow passengers from the embarrassment of being under the same roof as an innocent babe suckling at her mother’s chest! The nerve of some people!

Maybe these ignorant fools don’t know about the governments initiative to promote and encourage breast feeding for the first 6 months of a baby’s life, but I am going to let my child exercise her right to nutritious food. That thing is not just about mid-day meals in schools you know.

Here’s hoping that our society will be a little more mature by the time my next one arrives. Heck, I don’t want to miss out on any fabulous deals, while I am shuttling between my parked car and the shops, for lack of feeding rooms. But more than that, I wish that women won’t have to choose formula over breast milk for their babies, just so they can buy a pair of shoes.

Share your own nursing experiences in the comments section!

THE GOOGLE MOM

I have been the most ardent fan of Google since forever, but more so when I discovered I was going to have a baby. Oh. My. God!!! I remember constantly googling stuff about pregnancy and child birth. I read and researched a lot on the internet and I thought Bring it on baby, for I am soooo ready. Oh! I was soooooo wrong. But more about that later.

Coming back to Google. As my daughter kept achieving one milestone after another, I always found myself going back to google to find answers to general concerns about parenting. You know, topics like ‘how to do massage’, ‘what to feed my fussy toddler’, and even ‘how to do toilet training’. After my daughter started school, my google searches became more generic. ‘Dora themed birthday party ideas.’, ‘Best out of waste projects’, ‘polka dot pink dresses’ (because that’s what Minnie mouse wears). You get the drift, right?

Whenever my daughter had a doubt, I was always the one with the answers (much thanks to Google of course). But that was to change, much too soon. This one time, I was helping my daughter pick out clothes that she would wear that day. And the conversation went something like this.

Me : “Do you want to wear this yellow shirt with these pink slacks?”

DD : “This is not pink Mamma, this is Fuchsia”

Me : !!!!!!!!!!! Say what ?!!!!! (quickly fishes out smartphone to google ‘what is Fuchsia’)

Oh My GOD!!!! She is right! These blasted slacks are Fuchsia coloured.

How do you know this!!

DD : I saw it on YouTube.

1-0

I felt amazed at the cleverness of the child and gushed with pride. And then it struck me. The tables had turned. The next day I wanted to display my newfound knowledge, and so this happened.

Me : “Do you want to wear this fuchsia coloured frock today?”

DD : “That’s not Fuchsia Mamma, that’s Hot Pink.”

2-0

Damn it YouTube. I am not ready yet!