On Fights

Tejas- To whom are you sending message?
Me- To Dadda
Tejas- why?
Me- Because he is my friend
Tejas- Then why do you fight
Me- For fun. Just like how you and Ojas fight.
Tejas- very seriously- We fight for real
(meaning...not for fun)

Now This is What I Call Double Trouble

A Romantic Interlude

The husband makes an unscheduled drop to my office, armed with chocolate cake from Coffee Day.
We romantically eat 1.5 large pieces together.
The husband smirks- Did you go to the gym today?

Does he prefer me fat? I ask. Why is he doing his to me? And I was not even in the mood to eat chocolate cake.

More Paintings by Hubby

The Ganesha that is mounted on the high wall that houses the loft in the kitchen 3 Paintings that cover the wall behind the TV.

My house is truly full.

Perhaps I will encroach the garden and build more walls to hang them paintings

Womens even or Mens yet again?

And old post (22nd June) which I never published wonder why.....
Something like this happened in my household also

I had made samosas at home and the next day the husband made himself a samosa chaat meal.
Me (from office)- did you keep the balance samosas in the fridge

Husband- no. I gave it to the dog and the dog ate it and died.

Puns and Negotiations

Tejas- Mamma कौन corn लाया?


Ojas and Dadda are having a mock quarrel
Ojas- Dadda- stop! I will give you kissie..ok!

Suspicious

Well Sue same pinch.
1. The husband has complimented me on organising the Independence day party and the rangoli we made.
2. The husband had been extremely co operative while I ran around planning for the function
3. He has encouraged me to go and visit the parents in Patna and even encouraged me to spend a few days more than I planned to.
4. He bought me a gold ring on my birthday.
5. He has joined the gym.

You be careful man! I am watching you!

A 5 Minute Date

Is sometimes enough to rejuvenate. Even if it happens for the wrong reasons.
The husband calls me up as I am sitting in office- is my wallet in your bag?
Without even checking I know it is there. And of course he behaves that it is all my fault that his wallet is in my handbag.
He drives to my office to pick his wallet up and I try hard to coax him - since he is here already and it is nearly lunch time, he might as well take me for a date.
But no. Mr Conscientious Worker has to get back to work.
However we sit for 5 minutes in his car, 5 whole minutes of solitude, no disturbances, bitching about common foes like autowallahs, motorcyclists who scratched my car (yes, yet again, just a week after body work and servicing) and of course the kids...how can we not!
It was perfect. Just perfect.
And a colleague spotted us and asked- was it like old days, sitting in the car together.
I said - no, the car was smaller.
But the affection was bigger and today, as the car gets bigger....
I laugh it away, filling in- the affection is still as big, but probably towards the car!!

Bashtid!!!

Seems to be my favourite swear word nowadays- even on my kids.
Ah well- I was provoked- the case was opened, a finger was casually dipped and that finger carried with itself my brand new lens- as I turned for half a minute to pick up the mirror with the other lens in my hand. The lens was recovered by my hubby from the floor next to the dining table, but not before I had uttered several times the word b@st@d for the kid.
Wonder why the husband is so amused... And I am not giving away prizes for guessing.

Life is Unfair

When you are old enough to be able to eat whatever you want to, then you no longer can eat them nor should you be eating them.
Weight management, calorie consciousness, fat free, low sugar.....
And not only that, there are the moral police...
Picture this-

Ojas/ Tejas are about to unwrap their chocolates and Dadda is about to drink from his juice bottle right at dinner time.
Mamma- No body eats anything until they have had dinner- even you Dadda!

Dadda is about to take a swig from a juice bottle in the fridge
Ojas/ Tejas- Dadda, you drinking baby juice? Shall I drink from your juice bottle? (the sugarfree/ sports drink types?)
Dadda sheepishly puts the juice bottle away.

On Why You are a Great Husband

This tag had been doing the rounds and I was waiting to take it up on this day.
So very quickly, these are the nicest things the husband has done for me.
1. Cherish the very things on myself that I hate - my tummy for instance- even go to the extent of saying that he married me for that reason
2. Never ever going for boys only night- even decided to ditch a stag party for us
3. Come with me for every Hindi movie I drag him to and not forcing a "Madrasi" movie on me- and even proactively rent Hindi DVD's
4. Being the Vacuum Manager of the home and never hesitating to clean up the home when the help has vamoosed
5. Being a good Dad (I was shocked that you could wash the kids' bums more expertly than me- I mean, that is not allowed.. Mamma is supposed to be better in all these stuff)
6. Eating what I cook and even better for liking bread, fruits and maggie without any additions.
7. Being my advocate when I do the dinners- for proudly presenting and describing what I cook to the guests
8. Being my "social" support- The success of my social gatherings are largely because you are a good conversationalist- Forget that you may just manage to talk the pants off other people!
9. Coming with me to my blog parties
10. Participating actively in my shopping
11. Getting me correctly fitting jeans & trousers-now that's a feat I must say
12. Coming with me for all doctor appointments
13. Always encouraging me in my work- even when I want to give up
13 good things about you this 13th of August
Happy Birthday Darling... Here's wishing you success in your venture!

Baarah Tareekh ko Baarah Baje.....

He came home travelling the 3 hour distance in the night, timed to arrive at 12 am. He arrived at 11.45 pm. Sat on the doorsteps waiting for the clock (ahem watch, ahem mobile phone) to strike 12.
On the dot, he got up to ring the door bell.
The power...went off.

Not to be deflated, he rang the sleeping wife inside the house.
A groggy, mildly irritated (ahem, very irritated at the power cut) voice answered the call.
Happy Birthday To You......Open the door....
The knight in shining armour (shining because of the mobile phone light) came in armed with a huge chocolate truffle cake (Hot Breads if you need to know)!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sweetest thing he could have done in a not so long time (the last was when he vacuumed the home). Especially because we had discussed that he should not come home as he is busy with the client in Pondy and he would have to rush back in the morning. It was unexpected and very very sweet (now why was it sweet?- because the entire day had been a sweet overload- for those who will ask, I will post about it in a couple of days-for this post- suffice that I had eaten cakes the entire day). I cannot believe that barely 6 hours after eating that last chocolate cake, I would be back in full form hogging the cake as if there is no tomorrow. The kids were (un)ceremoniously woken up with threats of pulling the pajamas down, putting nosy on their mouth and going away ghummi in the car without them.
They woke with a ready (Tejas) & Not-so-ready (Ojas) smile and immediately began poking at the cake, on cue (from each other).
No correction- Ojas woke up and asked for his share of the candles on seeing the cake which Tejas had gleefully opened for him and which I was trying to close just in case Ojas decided to kick in his sleep and leave a footprint on the face of the cake.
The candles were duly lit (3 if u asked) and Tejas fretted for a while as his candle refused to burn as bright as the rest.
The cakes were cut by the kids - the husband had thoughtfully got 2 knifes and the knifes were duly licked.
And then portions of cake were demanded- like I want to eat H, I want to eat B or I want to eat the silver beads (when was the last time I had a birthday cake decorated with silver beads ?-when I was a little girl in school I think) - and what was left behind was a mass of poked and prodded mangled cake - but still it's cake.
So those who come in person to wish me, may get a share of the mangled cake.
Don't mind, just think of the love and affection & excitement with which it has been destroyed!-------------------------------------------
Thanks Darling- You just made my day!

De Clutter

Not exactly decluttering- but just plain old cleaning makes ones life feel much better.
The hubby yesterday vacuumed 2 rooms (thanks baby)- I off course intentionally do not know how to vacuum- just cannot believe the dust and grime we were living in.
I also did my bit of clearing one kitchen cupboard and decided (finally) that half the stuff in there is not needed and ruthlessly threw them away, before that stray thought could creep in that it could be used for something. For instance, the empty Ferrero Rocher boxes, they are too good to be thrown away. And just cries for some re-use.
I could store my jewelry there but then what to do about the multiple jewel boxes I have?
Medicines? That's an idea, I could throw away the Godiva box in which I keep my stash of biochemic medicines currently. Ah, decluttering opportunity.
Envelopes, cards, letters- Nah we email nowadays
Color pencils, sketch pens... ah may be if only they would take lesser space in the cupboard.
Bangles- the box is too slim, takes lots of space and may just open without to much force.
The box is too good and I think I am going to pick it back from the trash bag.

Height of Misunderstanding

When Hubby thinks that the food served for the babies are actually meant for him and he eats it all up especially if the plate the food has been served in, looks like

THIS....................

Victory is Sweet - Rather Not Spicy

So they say that when someone especially a guy has eaten a type of food for nearly 3 decades, they pretty much treat that as a benchmark and more often than not cannot adjust to a new style of food.
That said, for the last half decade, the spice levels have been at level 1 on the scale of 1 to 10.
Where 10 stands for what was normal, eaten with relish and with repeat servings for the last 3 decades.
5 stands for what is not at all tolerable by the one who sticks to level 1 but found too bland by anyone who is used to level 10.
1 stands for tasteless as if chilly powder has not at all been used. (FYI it means quarter teaspoon of chilly powder on a portion that serves 4)

So when the said person is unable to take a repeat serving of spice level 5 is it considered a minor victory for the one who is cooking at spice level 1?
Did they say habits die hard? Talk to me

Is This a Milestone?

Of the Bloggy variety, when your husband calls you by your blog name- Mamma of Twins?

The New Colors of My Home

With the husband unleashing his talent on the walls and thereby saving us good money, we have taken the courage to experiment with the bold and the beautiful so that incase we become bleddyfools with the experiments, we can rectify them at ease, having a painter on hand available for free and all that.. and especially the type who doesn't demand food and refreshments while he is painting and needs no watching.

So this is code red and I bring out my raunchy red bedsheets to match the walls and add to the festive cheer the new colours are spreading.



Mango Yellow and I coincidentally had bedsheets and pillow cases that go with it.

The other side of Mango yellow is a limy green which has not been represented well in the photo though- so this pic comes to just record it.

Brush strokes that made the kids feel that the job is not yet finished or perhaps the walls have been deliberately spoiled by the Dad.

The Festive Foyer. ..

Mommy Tip- If you paint in front of the kids, they will think it is ok to use their paint on the walls...

Ready 1..2..3..Start..

Many years ago and for many years after that, a little girl stood in her playground on sports day looking intently at the audience, especially among the chief guest and other dignitaries, searching for any sight of her parents. In vain.
For they had come a little late and where seated 2 floors above.
She searched hard when the parents' game were getting conducted...again in vain as her Dad was too shy to join or else by the time they reached the ground, the game would have already started.
And many years ago, her sister participated in a toffee picking race. All the kids gathered their toffees and ran whereas she remained at her place and gathered more toffees.
And a few years ago, her brother would cry himself hoarse for getting medals and being the youngest in class would often be at a disadvantage in terms of sheer strength.

Cut to present. The same little girl who is now a Mom drops her kids off at school and returns home to come back back right when her kids' slot is ready to go.
They arrive late thus and cannot manage to get a seat in the front, but could stand right behind where her kids were seated in a group.
Mamma recalls how annoyed she would get at not being able to spot her parents and also remembers the entire point of carrying the camera- to be able to blog about it eloquently.
So she edges past the crowd, round the "arena" and braves being shoved away by the organisers and waits right at the finish line so that she would get a clear shot of the kids in action.
Ojas had to go as an airline pilot with a cap and a picture of an airline hanging round his neck.
So Internet savvy mamma googled for an airpane outline and created her own version of the same using the back page of a brochure and coloured the various parts painstakingly using bright marker pens.

For the cap she asked the Security for a (new) cap from the stores.

And Mamma thought she could pitch in for her sons to win. She stood at the finish line and waved a hi to Ojas so that he would run fast towards her. But he never looked to her side. His was a sprint and well, he didn't even bother to cross the finish line. Lingered on the other side of the ribbon until he was pulled out.

Tejas was the little Santa who had to put his toy into a satchel and run. Trust him to aim for the toy he liked and he changed tracks, Luckily that child was faster and Tejas escaped being out for foul and put his toy into the satchel and managed to be last.

Two horses to bet and both come last!

Proves that they are just like me- shine academically but poor performers in sports-exactly unlike their Dad.

And no, we did not participate in the parent's game- the Dad was not game for it.

In My Day Dreams...

I have always wanted to dance enchantingly with my husband. I would picture candle lights of the home or soft lights of a party or the bright lights of the discotheque and a tall macho husband whirling me easily on the dance floor. Slim waist, happy face, strong arms and lithe body to complete the picture.
Alas, there are strong arms and happy faces but the rest is all missing.
For my dear husband is absolutely embarassed about dancing in public. Even if I manage to drag him to the floor he will look somewhere else and dance while I would be making eyes at him, hinting him to dance with me.
For someone who cannot sit still when music is being played, it is quite a dampner when the partner doesn't share the same sentiment. And more than that the other couples dance romantically with each other and you see what you are missing.
I was very keen that the hubby and I dance on our engagement night. So I suggested that both of us enrol for a formal class and get the basics right so that the onlookers (yes, it's always about onlookers, always about log kya kahenge) could sigh- what a lovely couple, what perfect coordination, what chemistry... I pictured a salsa, or the good old ball dance. Doesn't hurt to be prepared for your engagemnet party like the celebrities do.
But the husband vehementaly refused to make an ass of himself in a dance class and proceeded to make an ass of me everytime we happen to step on the dance floor.
Therefore to my rescue are these safer forms of dancing guaranteed to be non judgemental-
1. with kids- mine or anyone else's will do.
2. with the gang of (girl) friends- matching steps with steps, ho-halla, hangama and generally have a good time expending those calories.

History Repeats Itself

Or rather Genes Manifest Themselves at Odd Places
The students were in a computer lab taking turns at the limited machines. The Girl gets up so that The Guy may take his turn. He sits down on the chair and stands up as if he has been pricked in the butt by a hidden needle saying "Aaa, it's hot"

11 years later, Mamma sits on a chair. The child cries-"Mamma that's my chair"
Mamma gets up and the child proceeds to sit on the chair and cries- 'Mamma garam kar diyaa... thanda karo" (Mamma has made the chair hot, cool it down now)