She comes up to me after changing into a fresh set of clothes and casually asks, "How do I look?"
She sees me upset about something and says, "Don't cry mamma. Don't worry."
She wakes up Vir in the morning saying, "Bhai, uth jaa. School jaana hai."
I tell her I'm going out for a bit. She tells the maid, "Mamma ko swimming pool jaana hai."
How does she know everything?!
Sent on my BlackBerry® from Vodafone
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
I want it my way!
If I'm playing one of those association games where you have to think of the first word that pops into your mind when you're thinking of someone, I'd say for Tara it's "khud." Everything for Little Miss (too) Independent is KHUD KHUD KHUUUUUD. You just can't help her. She won't let you. For things she knows how to do and for things she doesn't know how to do. Eating? Khud! Wearing a diaper? Khud! Wearing her clothes? Khud! Cutting her nails? Khud! Brushing her teeth? Khud! Opening the car, boarding the car, belting herself into her car seat? Khud! Fixing a snack? Khud! And God forbid if you get impatient with her speed and try to give her a little helping hand without taking her permission, she will get mad at you, shake a finger at you and say no-no-no and proceed to start whatever she's doing all over again. Literally, she takes off her half worn pyjama and starts again just because you touched it and moved it along a little and now she doesn't feel like she's done it all-by-herself. Or she gets off her car seat and gets back on again just so she knows she has owned all the steps.
I admit I'm really proud of her for this trait. It's very cool that she just has this streak of independence. We've done nothing to bring it about in her - she's so small that it comes very naturally to us to just try to do things for her like feed her or dress her. But from the beginning, she's having none of that. Of course, this is not always cute. Of the hundreds of transactions in a day with a child, sometimes you really need to get ahead of your day by doing everything as fast as you can. When I have things to do (ummm - always!), the temptation to just grab her and put that damn dress over her head is so strong! And trust me, there are days when I actually do this. Not that it helps. She gets so upset at not having control that she just takes the dress right off and proceeds to run around naked all over the place leaving me totally defeated. I'm spending my days trying to avoid battles with a two-year old because I know the minute there's a battle, I'm going to lose. In the immediate moment, I complain and yell because of the constant struggles she puts me through. But in the long run, I know she'll be alright because she'll always know what she wants and won't ever wait around for someone else to make things happen for her. Go girl! Just give your poor dad and me a little break once in a while, ok?
I admit I'm really proud of her for this trait. It's very cool that she just has this streak of independence. We've done nothing to bring it about in her - she's so small that it comes very naturally to us to just try to do things for her like feed her or dress her. But from the beginning, she's having none of that. Of course, this is not always cute. Of the hundreds of transactions in a day with a child, sometimes you really need to get ahead of your day by doing everything as fast as you can. When I have things to do (ummm - always!), the temptation to just grab her and put that damn dress over her head is so strong! And trust me, there are days when I actually do this. Not that it helps. She gets so upset at not having control that she just takes the dress right off and proceeds to run around naked all over the place leaving me totally defeated. I'm spending my days trying to avoid battles with a two-year old because I know the minute there's a battle, I'm going to lose. In the immediate moment, I complain and yell because of the constant struggles she puts me through. But in the long run, I know she'll be alright because she'll always know what she wants and won't ever wait around for someone else to make things happen for her. Go girl! Just give your poor dad and me a little break once in a while, ok?
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Back off, real world
So Vir and I were chatting before he fell asleep tonight and this is what he told me:
"Mamma, when I go to school in my bus, there are some boys - they're older boys like maybe 10 years old - they call me Vir Gogi Vir Gogi and one boy calls me Vir Gogi and all of them laugh at me. One day they did that and I started crying but I didn't do waaah waaah - only tears started coming but I stayed quiet because if I cried then they would call me a cry baby. So only tears came and my face was wet. Then one nice boy who was wearing a yellow T-shirt and pants was very nice to me. He didn't call me Vir Gogi. When my home came, he just told me to come with him. He was very nice."
Yep. My heart just about broke. He's so little, why does he have to face mean boys who call him Vir Gogi already? The mom in me just wants to grab that monster in the blue T-shirt who calls my son Vir Gogi and laughs at him and makes him cry quietly and give him a good shake. But the mom in me also knows the only way to do this is to give my son a way to handle this on his own. I wish I knew what the right answer is. For now, I just explained to him what it means to ignore someone when they're trying to finger you and told him to pretend he couldn't be bothered with them and think about his next birthday cake instead. That'll bore the bullies and send them on their way. Let's hope I'm on the right track with the life lessons on the big bad world filled with boys in blue T-shirts.
"Mamma, when I go to school in my bus, there are some boys - they're older boys like maybe 10 years old - they call me Vir Gogi Vir Gogi and one boy calls me Vir Gogi and all of them laugh at me. One day they did that and I started crying but I didn't do waaah waaah - only tears started coming but I stayed quiet because if I cried then they would call me a cry baby. So only tears came and my face was wet. Then one nice boy who was wearing a yellow T-shirt and pants was very nice to me. He didn't call me Vir Gogi. When my home came, he just told me to come with him. He was very nice."
Yep. My heart just about broke. He's so little, why does he have to face mean boys who call him Vir Gogi already? The mom in me just wants to grab that monster in the blue T-shirt who calls my son Vir Gogi and laughs at him and makes him cry quietly and give him a good shake. But the mom in me also knows the only way to do this is to give my son a way to handle this on his own. I wish I knew what the right answer is. For now, I just explained to him what it means to ignore someone when they're trying to finger you and told him to pretend he couldn't be bothered with them and think about his next birthday cake instead. That'll bore the bullies and send them on their way. Let's hope I'm on the right track with the life lessons on the big bad world filled with boys in blue T-shirts.
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