The Thirties

When I was in my early twenties, I had this dread of the thirties.  I don't remember why, though.

But the thirties have been good to me. 

I'm largely comfortable with who I am. There is no more a great struggle to accept myself, my failings, my looks - now I largely know (or think I know) who I am.  But yet, I'm still searching for myself in some way or the other - wondering why I can't get myself to be better at this thing, or why I cannot seem to persuade myself to go out and do that thing.  But compared to the twenties, I can say that my boat is far steadier now.

I've found a little niche for myself, and I'm no longer floundering about wondering what is happening around me.   I've learnt that there is something I can be good at - at which, with some effort, I can perhaps be better than just good.  Yet, I know that I have such a long way to go that any little progress I make seems insignificant. 

I can see that I am more understanding, more loving, and definitely far more accepting and non-judgmental than I ever was. 

I understand my family, my friends and loved ones better, and am more appreciative of their role in my life.

I've known my spouse long enough to know that behind (what I think are) his idiosyncrasies, there beats a sincere and loving heart.  Yet, I don't know him so well that he doesn't spring a surprise on me from time to time.

I love my child, and I know her well.  So I know where I stand in terms of nurturing her, and yet, there is so much I don't know, making every day a learning process.  Every decision is a fine balance - frightening, yet exciting.  Ultimately, very rewarding. 

Yes, the thirties is definitely a better place than the twenties. 

It happened in Puttachi-land...

Puttachi:  Amma, please draw me.

Grabbing a gel pen and the proffered piece of paper, I make a rough sketch.  I have no experience in sketching portraits, and this sketch looks only vaguely like Puttachi, but decidedly older.

Puttachi is in splits when she sees the drawing.

She: Amma, it doesn't look like me at all, but it looks just like you! 

S comes back from work, and Puttachi shows him the sketch.

S: (Grimacing) Whew, I sure hope Puttachi doesn't look like that when she grows up!

Me: *eyerolling*

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Puttachi has an upset tummy, and I'm warning her not to eat the snacks they give at school.

Me: Please eat only what I have sent in your lunchbox.  Don't eat anything at school, remember, and don't drink milk.

She: *wagging her index finger at me sternly* I hope you'll give me buttermilk when I get home, or how will I get my calcium?

Me: Yes! *pumping fist*

Imparting awareness in nutrition - tick.  And the last part was said in correct English too!
____________

Puttachi:  Amma, am I taller or is X (her friend) taller?

Me: What do you think?

She:  I know I am taller than her.

Me: okay.  (Puttachi is taller, but I don't want to make these things an issue, so I don't offer any comment.)

She:  But X keeps telling me that she is taller.

Me: So do you tell her anything?

She: No, I don't.  I just let her think she is taller.  I know I am taller, so I just keep quiet.

If only she retains this wisdom even in the future...

My tech-savvy Ajji

I am a big fan of my Ajji.  A volleyball player in college, and a BA graduate in those days, she even has a published book to her credit ( a translation from English to Kannada.)  So she's always been that little bit ahead of everybody else.

And now, at 84, she has got herself an iPad, and she surfs and emails.  It is lovely to get her mails. And yes, she reads my blog too.

Quick, quick, quick!

After Puttachi gets back from school at about 1 pm, I have a total of just six hours with her before she goes to bed. In these six hours, we have to fit in two meals, one milk+fruits+junk session, and then of course she wants to play at the park, she wants a bedtime story, she absolutely has to do play-acting, and then - drawing/painting/craft/music - whatever she wants to do.

And these six hours are just not enough for everything.  Of course, sometimes we skip going to the park, and on other days, we end up not doing any activities, but even then, it is too short a time.

And this paucity of time is worsened by the fact that her mealtimes stretch on and on and on... she is a good eater, but she is a dreamer too.  Her mealtimes are full of chatter and dreaming with food in her mouth, and forgetting to eat because she found the edge of the tablecloth far too interesting....

And sometimes, at the end of dinner which has gone beyond her bedtime, she is so sleepy that a bedtime story is not possible.  And many times she has to go to bed with a puzzle unfinished, or a book half-read, or without having spent some of her excess energy running around in the park.

As a result, I have turned into this monstrous machine who goes on saying "bega, bega, bega..." (quick, quick, quick) - I keep urging her to finish, and get on with it... and I get impatient if she dilly-dallies - and at the end of the day, after I have tucked her into bed, I feel exhausted and miserable at the same time.

We do enjoy a lot of spontaneous play, and kidding around, we aren't missing out on that - but I get all worked up when she takes too long at a task, because that means we'll have to cut back on something else, or else the evening tea session will get too close to dinner, for which she might not have an appetite left - it is all a terrible mess.

The poor thing - I hate to hurry her like that.  I hope I find my balance soon.