Monday, March 23, 2009

Missing the obvious

Have you ever felt that most of life is about realizing the obvious? Do you struggle for years with something till one day the solution comes to you in a swift a-ha moment? And do you, when you sit down to think about it come to realize that your a-ha moment is the stuff they hawk in self-help books on M.G Road for fifteen rupees? If you answered yes to the questions above let me assure you that you are not alone. It happens to me all the time too.

Taking care of an infant without familial support is an all-consuming task - an obvious fact that never registered with me although I've heard it said several times. When people spoke about parental sacrifices I did not realize that they meant basic things like not being able to read a book, soak in the tub or have an uninterrupted conversation with your mother on the telephone. It was with shock that I realized that the most basic of activities require detailed planning, something I can't say I’m very good at. I've had one real vacation since Feb of 2008 in which I spent 70% of my time in a hotel room, read two books in twelve months and probably watched the same number of movies. I was doing nothing yet time was slipping through my hands. I was beginning to feel a little bit trapped in my life.

And then R suggested that I try to attack the day 15 minutes at a time. How about I try to play the violin 15 mins a day when Sanjay is napping, get a 15 min afternoon snooze over the weekend, spend 15 mins cleaning the kitchen etc? How about I look at the day as 15 mins times 96? I began doing this in earnest and sure enough it made a difference. After a year i actually wrote a blog post. I was able to practice the violin at least 2-3 times a week. I even get to read a few pages of a book every once in a while. Minutes add up to hours, hours to days and days to months. I always knew that but it took thirty two years to internalize it.

Fourteen minutes down, one to go. Perhaps I can fill my timesheet with the spare.

Friday, March 06, 2009

The year in passing



When you meet a close friend after a long time what do you say after the pleasantries are exchanged? Where do you begin? I suppose you give them bullet points on what happened over the days, months and years you have not been in touch. And then if the momentum continues and you meet him/her regularly for a fashion, slowly a pattern emerges, the minor details are pulled out one incident at a time and the dots are slowly joined.

That is how i feel right now. More that a year has passed since I wrote anything on this blog. What do I say now? What do i write about? Does it even matter?

Still, the year that has passed has been the most significant one in my life. I had a son, battled post partum depression, juggled work and motherhood sometimes successfully, most of the times by the thread of a hair. All my life I've tended towards cynicism, towards the glass-half-empty-point-of-view. Having Sanjay put some pink fluff on my somewhat jaundiced eyes. Not that I’ve been transformed overnight to the new Miss Sunshine but I don't pass my life under the microscope every opportunity I get as I used to either.

How did what was obviously the most stressful year of my life turn out to be the most significant? I don't know. Maybe its hormonal. Maybe its that fact that I have a whole new opportunity with a whole new person who believes, at least for now, that I’m rather hunky.

Here are some other ways I’ve changed (the bullet points):

I take the color and texture of my son's poop seriously and have serious discussions with other mothers about it.

babble.com has supplanted New Yorker as my favorite reads.

I think about him several times at work.

I do not correct my mother when she suggests that he is a musical genius.

I feel tenderly towards the people who remembered his birthday.

I call strangers to discuss my concerns about my son.

I send flowers to his pediatrician.

Names like Dr Spock, Dr Sears, Gina Ford, and Richard Ferber are integral part of my vocabulary, although I follow nothing and have no method to my parenting madness.

I 've started writing mushy posts.