Save my heart! Save your sanity!

February is Heart Health month. Mr.Monk just told me. So I shall have a cathartic rant session with my blog and hope my heart gets back to feeling all rosy and robust soon.

• Being a good mother, not a great one, just a simple good mother is an extremely tortuous task. More so because you happen to be your worst critic.
  
• I hate the fact my friends/neighbours don't drop in for a cup of tea. It's always me who has to go and meet them unless I call them all for dinner/lunch. Not that I don't want to do it but I'm still trying to manage a toddler who thinks she is on wheels and running a smooth family. I guess I am looking for re-assurance that I can be a mother and entertain friends albeit in a small way.
• I hate it even more that when no one has heard from me in weeks/months it is still upto me to call and update everyone on my life or lack thereof. [Everyone who calls me might feel that way but unless they all start a blog and post so, this shall be the universal truth.]
• Why is it so hard for people to understand that I do not want parenting advice? I carried her for 10 months and 5 days and went through a 55 hour labour to bring her out safe. I think I can manage now. Suggestions are a lot subtler.
• The next person I meet for the first time at a social gathering whose opening line is, "So was yours Cesarean or 'normal' delivery?" will be answered with the equally important query, "So was the sex last night reverse cow-girl or just 'normal' missionary style?" Seriously! Unless we are random strangers sharing a compartment in Southern Railways trying to get through the journey with the secret knowledge we will never meet come morning, I shall not talk about birth stories or my innermost fears at our first meeting. And Cesarean is also frigging NORMAL! I didn't deliver her through my mouth.
• Just because I am a stay-at-home mom doesn't mean I am not stressed. I feel it is too much to expect me to be understanding ALL the time of a working woman/man's stress. Try to differentiate one 'Amma'( I want biscuit) from the next 'Amma' (I need new diaper) to the very next 'Amma'( I just called chumma) and still wake up smiling for the 12 midnight 'Amma'.
• I love you all - my family, my friends, my support group - but at times you all get on my nerves...just like I rub you all on the wrong side any given Sunday! 

Snowy tales of nothing

Sometimes it is just not easy to write...not when you want to tell it all and yet wish all could be said in just a word.

Tired? That's a no brainer.
Happy? Most of the time.
Breathless? Hell yeah!
Hungry? ALL the time
Sleepy? One loses sleep just trying to turn the belly around.
Excited? You betcha! Just 20 more days to go.
Restless? Aaaaargh... 20 LONG bloody days to go!

Why do moms and kids live in diferent timezones? As a kid, I made every working day for Amma tortuous with my extremely slow reflexes and crazy demands. Amma had to go through a minimum of 5 stories to get me from my bed to the gates of the Daycare centre.
Best part : She could not repeat any story.

I've blabbered nonstop to my kid; from fairytales to crime thrillers, sang lullabies and peppy numbers dangerously off-key, recited my entire day, complained about The Mr, even threw in a bribe of a trip to Australia to meet her Aunt ~D. No change in status. Darn it! The little brat refuses to budge. My eviction notice is gathering dust on the coffee table while the trickster keeps kicking and head-butting me from within.
Note to baby: Oh! you are so grounded from the minute you're born!

Anyways, I am off now to spend the next 30 minutes in finding that elusive "Comfortable" position to sleep in. Irony of it is, the minute I find it, I need to use the bathroom :(