This Wednesday it will be 4 weeks since I cooked anything at home. My children have been doing all the shopping and cooking.

3 days after I came back from the hospital, Yaya and Toothless took the bus and went to the shop to buy grocery. They bought all that was already in the fridge. ( Mushrooms, tomatoes, beans etc) They learned the lesson that it is better to check the fridge before going to the shop to buy grocery. Apart from that little mishap, they have been doing everything well.

There were two defining moments in my life that influenced the way I treat my children when it comes to food. First was when Yaya was about 3 and I complained to a friend that “Yaya doesn’t like to eat rice and curry” and she replied ” You made her that way. Children should eat what you cook, if they don’t, that is because you allowed them to have that choice” It was such an eye opener for me. Second event happened in Canada. Yaya’s best friend ( grade 2) was cooking a proper dinner every Thursday for her family. She would take the meat out of the freezer before going to school and when she got back home after school, she went straight to the kitchen and cooked dinner. Her mother started making her daughter cook dinner once a week when she was in Kindergarten. ( They also ate uncooked/overcooked/over salted stuff for months without criticising  before the child got a hang of how to cook! She was an incredibly wonderful cook when I knew her in grade 2 )

I expect my children to eat what I cooked. However, I am a  more relaxed now that the kids are all teenagers with that particular rule and do give in if they really wanted to eat something else. But they have to make it themselves)

I also expect my children to know how to cook a decent meal.

I find it appalling that some mothers think it is a badge of honour to say ” My daughter can’t even toast a slice of bread” I think cooking is a life skill every child ought to learn.

There are things that my children do that bother me a lot. I have a set of measuring cups and  they use all of them. My point is, you only need to use 1 cup measure and you can figure out how much half cup is by just looking at the halfway point in the cup. But then I take a deep breath and tell myself, I am not doing the cleaning up and I should just shut up.

They also use all the bowls and pots and pans. I think cooking is a systematic process and if you have a game plan before you start cooking, then you use very few pots and pans. Again I take a deep breath…..

The last in the item of things that bother me..is when they stir vegetables etc in the frying pan..half if it will end up outside  the frying pan. I tell myself, it took me ages to learn to stir things without splashing it around..and breath in and out slowly.

But those are trivial matters.

What matters the most is that my children can cook healthy yummy food.

Diet, I never thought I would write about dieting.

First of all, I don’t believe in the general idea of dieting, where you aim to be skinny, eat all those food that claims to be magical and can burn fat, for few weeks and then loose your way due to lack of will, over eat then stop eating and back to over eating…

I am a firm believer of eat what you want, but in moderation and walk and walk and walk. I like good food and I can’t imagine consuming unpalatable food for the sake of losing weight. I also don’t believe in the idea that you have to be fat because you  gained weight during pregnancy and must keep that weight as a stamp of your journey to motherhood.

My aunt is a famous Paediatrician and when she met my son last year, she kind of coughed a bit and very hesitantly mentioned “Don’t you think your son is a bit over weight?”

Her observations were correct..but I didn’t think I should really worry about it because my son leads a very active lifestyle and like any teenage boy has a very large appetite. I always cook balanced healthy meals, so I didn’t see the need to be overly concerned.

Now that I am a prisoner in my own house, my friends drop in to cheer me up. One of whom is an emergency medicine resident and he too casually mentioned my son’s weight and suggested I do something about it. ( my bad really because I kept cribbing that I have nothing to do and I am bored)

My son is 169 cm tall and weigh 80 kgs. He is 10 kg overweight. That is the truth. It is not healthy and I really had to do something about it. So I talked to him and his response was

“Mom, it is all your fault, you make really good food and I can’t resist going for seconds”

It is not possible for me to cook really bad food, so he agreed that for the next 12 weeks, he will strictly follow portion control ( absolutely no second serve) and will go on the exercise bike and burn 500 calories every day. ( not one shot..100 calories at one time over 5 times).

Today is day 6 and he weighs 78.5 kg. I am happy with his progress..

This happened when I was in the 7th Std. The one and only interesting aspect of my life at that time were the events happening at the CSI church. I practically spent all of my Saturday evening ( Choir and Piano practice) and most of Sunday ( 9AM service choir followed by practice for next week, rush home for lunch and then return to church for the  afternoon Sunday school and every alternate Sunday take my grandmother for the early morning English service and then stay back for the usual 9 AM service choir ) at the church.

Now that it is school holidays a lot of my children’s friends have been coming over to my house. Yaya and her friends had some filming project to do and she wore her usual attire, shorts and a small tee shirt. “How do I look Mom?” She asked.

“beautiful” I replied. ( I must write about telling your children that they are beautiful..that will be tomorrow’s post 🙂  )

As they were leaving, her friend told me ” Sarah, I wish my mom was like you”

I didn’t know why she said that, so when Yaya got back home, I asked her.

Apparently, her friend ( Indian) is not allowed to wear shorts and must wear either skirts that reach below the knee or loose fitting jeans (her mom is  very clear on that rule..no skinnies)

Last year, in my youngest’s school there was a mallu girl who wore leggings under her school uniform. You could always spot her in the crowd because she was the only one who wore black leggings in a school of 600 students who wore the normal uniform..which is a knee length dress. ( you have the option to wear the dress or shorts and school t-shirt. My kids opted for shorts and t-shirts)

There are many issues here that bothers me

1. Weather. Summer months are really hot. I wear outfits made of the lightest fabric at work because of the heat.  When it is cold, you can layer up and keep yourself warm..when it is hot, the reverse is true. It is the same reason kids choose to wear shorts..it is not a fashion statement.

2. Fake modesty. This is one thing that bothers the most. Indian way of thinking..that you are a wonderful, well bred girl if you cover up your body. There is so much wrong in that belief..first and foremost, it is sexualizing a girl by judging her with what she wears. She wears a revealing outfit, she is promiscuous. which is often followed by the rhetoric that  the women wearing revealing clothes are asking to be raped. ( And an elderly nun was raped recently )

3. Rights of an individual. Your children have rights. I know it is easier to say, I gave you life, therefor I choose what you can wear. Shouldn’t that be considered bullying? Def of a bully is someone who use superior strength or influence to intimidate (someone), typically to force them to do something. Your belief system is your own. Surely, you grew up in India, wore ‘proper’ outfits that covered you from head to toe and your entire community gave you the award that you are a good girl. But now you don’t live in India and are raising an Aussie citizen, why must you force your values on your children and make them follow dictates that are irrelevant to them culturally?

One of Yaya’s friend wears full length dresses from home and come to school very early, so she could change in to shorts/ mini skirts. She doesn’t work and doesn’t have any income of her own.. so ask yourself, where is she getting the money to buy the second sets of clothes?

When we were living in Malaysia, Yaya wore dresses. It was a joy to find cute dresses, matching hair ties and shoes for her. ( My oldest sister used to buy her beautiful dresses as well) Within a month after arriving in Canada, she started to wear jeans in winter and shorts in summer. It was so disappointing to me because I loved to see her in a dress. But I understood why she opted for jeans. She could only hang upside down on the monkey bar if she wore jeans/shorts !!!! She rarely wears dresses even now. To this day, I have never told her what she can/cannot wear. I chose to get out of India. It was my choice and I will not force my cultural roots on my children, when it was I who wanted to escape.

I have been nominated for a very prestigious Scholarship in a very prestigious Uni..The chances that I will get it is very remote and that is not the point of today’s post.

Years ago, after I quit work and became a stay at home Mom, there were days I wondered if everything was ok with my mental faculty. This was the time when I, a woman with an IQ of 149 was analysing  systematic way to wash Nappies. ( the best way was to wash off the poop, then soak in strong soap for minimum 6 hours, followed by 6 rinses by hand. Environmentally friendly, one income etc meant I used reusable nappies than diapers!). Meanwhile my medical college classmates were climbing the ladder of success creating their own niche and leaving their kids to be raised by others and my life was like a groundhog day. Taking care of the kids, each day, every day with hardly any rest.

But there was one quote that I believed in

“You can have it all, but not all at the same time”.

When I struggled as an immigrant in Canada with no money, there were days I didn’t believe that I could have anything..

But today I can tell you..” you really can have it all, but remember not all at the same time”

Today, I am glad I took the time off and raised my children. I gave them the best childhood a mother could ever give and they gave me a chest full of good memories that I can carry to the end of my life. I did my job as a mother very well.

Now it is my turn to shine in my career and shine I will.

My son got his first C in a report card. C for IB (HL) Physics. He was with me when I opened his report card. His first question to me was

“Are you disappointed Mom?”

I laughed hearing him ask me that. Why would I be disappointed when I got more Motta than anyone else I ever knew?

I told him ” Son, an alphabet in your report card doesn’t make me disappointed. Getting a C is not the end of the world, but I am a bit surprised as to what happened? that is all”

“Mom, I didn’t think Physics will be this hard” he replied.

IB itself is really hard and HL (Higher level) is the hardest level in IB and he has to take HL Maths, Physics and Chemistry. ( also known as the suicide trio) So I guess he is in for a lot of hard work.

Meanwhile Yaya got A for English, which she gets every single time. It was a bit surprising this time because she hasn’t read the books she is supposed to write the essay on. Instead she read Spark notes and wrote her essay based on that and still got A.

Initially I thought perhaps I should really tell her what she is doing is wrong.

But then I remembered walking to the bookshop near CMS college the day before my pre-degree exams started. I was looking to buy the Azizi guidebook and the Appachan wearing a soda kannadi climbed on top of the wooden chair, to grab the last copy he had that was on top of the shelf. He dusted the book with his palm and  told me ” Kochey, the syllabus is changing next year, so don’t buy this book now” and I replied ” Appacha, this is for the exam tomorrow” I think it is nothing but miracle that he didn’t fall off the chair. I didn’t read/study the text book and only read the guide before my exam. So how can I tell my daughter to read her text book?

And so we collect A’s and B’s and C’s..some with hard work and some with no work !

When I was in Singapore in January, as I was walking down the streets in Little India, l saw a familiar head above all the other heads and my first reaction was to duck and hide. Which I did. That familiar head belonged to my youngest sister!

My mother’s modus operandi when she raised us was this ” your grandmother and her sisters were like karakka ( I have never seen it, but apparently the seeds in the same pod face opposite direction), you have to remember always that you only have each other” and then she did all that she can to make us fight with each other. Guilt and anger were the end results and It was a horrible thing to do to your children.

I know my mother is not alone in this. A friend tells me of his recent trip to India. He wanted to do some special Pooja at his family’s ancestral temple and requested his mother to help him pay for the Pooja and even sent her the money. Apparently, the Pooja is done on a special day and he took leave from his job as a senior Consultant and went home. The day of the Pooja arrived and he went with his family to the temple and the Poojari said under whose name the Pooja is booked. My friend’s younger brother’s name. I am not sure what possessed his mother to do this. No, the brothers don’t have similar names and she didn’t get confused as to whom she was booking the Pooja for, she remembered the naal of the younger one and had insisted that he follows the family to temple that morning. Clearly she knew what she was doing because from the time her sons were small, she has been turning them against each other and has always done things like this to ensure that the bothers will fight with each other. My friend is mad because it is not cheap to fly from here to India and the fact that he is the one who wanted to do the Pooja and he is the one who paid for it and his was not the name the Pooja was booked for or done. The end result is that my friend is not taking to anyone in his family and his mother is the cause of all this drama.

I had hoped that one day my sisters and I could overcome my mother’s manipulative games and at least have some sort of connection with each other. But the truth is, it is not going to happen. I refuse to have anything to do with my sisters. There comes a point in life, when it is easier to duck and hide from your sibling than make an effort to say a simple Hi.

History has a way of repeating itself and I worry often how will my children treat each other as they find their own niche in life?

My only consolation is that I never turned my children against each other.

I know I have written about this so many times..and perhaps it is beginning to sound boring, bear with me.. It is not easy for me and writing is the only way I can cope.

My house now has a revolving door like the ones you see in big buildings that lets a constant stream of people in and out..at least I feel that way.

Before, I was at least  like a door (wo)man in control of the door as to who walks in and who walks out and when.  Revolving doors don’t have a door (wo)man

Kids are off school for two weeks term break.

Yaya spent the past few days revising and this morning she left for camping in the bushland with few of her friends. One of her friends is driving. Which means, if she can drive, then she can legally buy booze. I could have said No when she asked me if she could go camping with her friends. If I did, then I would have had to give her my reasons as to why she can’t go. I would sound rather  silly if I told her ” I don’t want you to go, because I think your friend will buy booze and you will drink”

I always believe in being honest with my kids and my excuses didn’t cut.

I know all the kids with who she is going. But I still worry about her safety. I worry she wouldn’t know how to deal if anything goes wrong. I worry if she will have cell phone reception where she is staying so she can call for help if anything goes wrong..

Before she left, she mentioned ” Mom, I can’t wait to swim in the waterfall”

“What waterfall?” I asked. It turns out that there is a waterfall where they are staying. So I told her ” observe the water, if it ever turns muddy, get out of the falls immediately, it means there is a landslide upstream and a huge load of water is coming your way”

“How do you know all these Mom?” She asked

“Life experiences, muthey” I said and I wondered, have I imparted all those knowledge that my children would need to survive in this world?  I know it isn’t possible and they have to go through life just like I did and learn it themselves..and I think that is one of the reasons why most Indian parents are scared to let their children do anything.. I understand that feeling of helplessness where you just want to protect your children from harm. The difference I guess is that, I want my children to fly out of the nest..I want to make their wings stronger, not clip them.

Till Yaya gets back, I will chew my nails and worry about all the things that can go wrong.. and the door of my house will continue to be a revolving door..where my children learn the art of  leaving the nest  and hopefully  one day they will return..

I am sure I wrote this story before, but I felt like telling it again. 🙂

My grandfather ( maternal) was a man of few words, but come  April 1st, everyone at home, including the maids woke up with a paper pinned on their clothes that said “April fool” and every year he told his family the best April fool prank that was every played on him.

He loved going for early morning walks and one day as he was walking, he saw a large crowd near a bridge. Curiosity got better of him and he went to check it out. There near the bridge was a cashew tree with a branch over the bridge and on that branch was a young man who threatened every few seconds “Njan ippol chadum” ( I am going to jump off) and the crowd would plead “Chadalley” ( Please don’t). Police came, collector came, every one who is anyone came..all pleading with the man please don’t jump. After a while the man grinned and told the onlookers..”Happy April fool’s day” and climbed down the tree.

Day before night, I heard my son tell his sister “guys watch out for tomorrow, mom is sure to prank us”

In the morning, they checked their clothes first, to see if I pinned a note. They gingerly took a sip of the juice. ( I salted it once). They opened their cupboard carefully. ( I hung a plastic snake once). They checked their lunch box. ( My first successful prank was to send a maggi mee noodles packet uncooked as Yaya’s lunch. I send hot lunch to office separately. Yaya still talks about the shock she had when she opened her lunch box. I also sent empty lunch container for all three with a note ‘gotcha’, but organized tuckshop for them). Before their left, they checked each other’s clothes, just to make sure that I hadn’t stuck a note on the back. ( I  stuck a note on my son’s jacket that said “please tell Toothless that the secret code for today’s mission is Sky is blue”. Everyone including his teacher told him that and he had no idea why everyone was telling him that.

“Guys, I am not well, I am not playing any pranks today” I told them.

“We don’t believe you” they said in unison.

“too bad” I replied.

When they came back, they checked their room etc again..and then they went to wash their hands and screamed..( toothless got home first, then a bit later my youngest and Yaya was the last to arrive, so they all got fooled)

I had partially closed the tap with tape, so when they opened the tap, they were sprayed with water..

The look on their face.. Priceless.

Happy April fool’s day.

As I mentioned yesterday, I agreed to the surgery on 25th very reluctantly.

First of all I was sure that something was going to go terribly wrong and I was going to die. 25th is few days before my son’s birthday and I worried that for the rest of his life his birthday will be over shadowed by my death. ( Yes, I have a very fertile imagination and enjoy worrying about the most trivial things)

I didn’t want to scare my children with my worries.. so I had to pretend that it is a minor surgery and absolutely no big deal. So I didn’t talk anything much about the surgery to anyone. On 24th I told my classmates ” Oh btw, I am away the next 6 weeks”. Most of my classmates are doctors/health professionals and they looked stunned when I told them the reason for my absence. “You are pretty calm” They said. ( if only they could see inside of me..)

And then I wanted to speak to my mother. Last time I tried to phone her, she didn’t pick up the phone. ( She obviously was mad at me). There was no guarantee that she would answer the phone this time. Plus the fact that I chose this solo journey myself and really ought to stand on my own two feet. So, I didn’t talk to my mother.

I baked my son’s birthday cake on 24 th evening, after he went to bed. He loves cheesecake and I baked him a red velvet cheesecake with macadamia topping. I wondered if I would get to see my son cut the cake!

I had requested to be the first patient to undergo surgery and had to be at the hospital by 7 am. Children had to go to school. So I got breakfast ready a bit early. Yaya came to the kitchen, looking visibly upset and asked

“Mom, what are the chances that you would die?”

“None, not even a microscopic chance. You know your mother won’t take any unnecessary risks” I told her. She hugged me and I wondered if it is still possible to weasel out of the surgery. But I also knew that each month my dysmenorrhoea ( painful periods) was only going to get worst. I regretted not doing the surgery when the doctor suggested it last year..Yaya was only in grade 11 then..and now that she is in grade 12, she already has enough stress on her, without having to worry about her mother.

So, I said Bye to my children, promising them to let them know as soon the surgery is over, wondering if I would ever get to see them again..