India Day

First a public service announcement: I’ve decided to switch Benji’s name on the blog to Nene (pronounced Naynay). It’s what we call him at home, and I keep slipping up on the blog. So the artist-formerly-knowng-as-Benji is now Nene. Okay?

So, kind of by default, I’ve become quite involved in my kids’ kindergarten. Nene is part of a trio of kids whose moms are SAHMs and who are enthu cutlets about any school activity and I get asked to be part of things too, and so I agree. There are some things I would have put my hand up for, and others I wouldn’t have but end up doing thanks to the other two mothers.

Like representing India on International Day. There are quite a few Indian kids in the school and I thought I would take a backseat on this one. But then An’s mum asked me if I’d join her in planning the India activity and I said ok. It turned out as usual noone else was volunteering except the usual suspects (us).

An’s mum seemed to have it under control in terms of what we could do, since she had just done a stall at her older daughter’s school. However, all her ideas were activity based and it turned out we just needed to do a show-and-tell. So I decided to step aside. Another reason was that when they announced the presenters, they only put An’s mom’s name up (though to be fair I had not told the principal I’d be participating too) so I took it as a sign to step aside. Anyway, how hard could a 10 minute show-and-tell be.

Apparently quite hard according to some because An’s mum and Jay’s mum were stressing about their presentation. So much to do, it seems. I thought it was a bit ridiculous. But I offered to help.

In the end, I thought up a bunch of ideas we could do. I expected An’s mum to veto some but she accepted all, and even tried to add more. Frankly, there wasn’t that much ‘prep’ since we only had about 10 minutes to set up before the act. Here’s what we did:

An’s mum brought a flag and some large India maps from her stall. We put those up. I brought some assorted scarves that I unnecessarily draped around just because I had them. An’s mum brought a Rajasthani tapestry and I brought some Indian knick knacks from around the house as decor.

I started off by showing the kids the flag and asking them to name the colours, then pointed to India on the map. The map had landmarks like the Taj Mahal and animals marked, and An’s mum insisted we point these out so I did, though I think it didn’t really register with the kids.

Then An’s mum showed the kids how to say Namaste, and told them about how welcoming is important in India, and showed them a rangoli she had made out of coloured rice and lentils. The kids were itching to touch it.

She also showed the kids examples of Indian clothes that I had brought.

Then, I talked to them about transport. I showed them pictures of a train, bus and taxi in India and a toy auto I had was passed around, which the kids loved. I then passed around examples of Indian money, which again they loved but it made the teachers nervous and was frankly quite distracting.

Then, I showed them Gandhi on the Rs500 note and told them about non-violence and how we shouldn’t hit (because Nene and a few boys had been hitting each other in class).

Then we told them a good way to calm down and be peaceful is by doing yoga, and showed them a few yoga moves. The reverberations when we said Om were amazing and the kids really calmed down. Well, at least Nene’s class. The older kids giggled and Mimi’s class could not master the tree pose at all (frankly, that pose is silly to do with two-and-a-half-year-olds).

And that was it. Easy Peasy. Frankly, it was a bit TMI. Next year, I’ll whittle it down to a maximum of three topics, one of which will be a Bollywood dance. And I’ll wear a sari*. I struggled to find Indian clothes in my wardrobe since I’d left my better outfits in India and only have a couple of kurtis which I wear so often I didn’t think were special enough. You see how I’m assuming I’m going to do this next year right?

The kids drove me mad in the morning, by fussing about their clothes. Nene flat out refused to wear the salwar pants and then started complaining about the kurta. I said he could wear jeans, and my helper ended up putting him in bermuda shorts and I ended up yelling at her because I was so stressed. In the end, we compromised with a kurta (with the neck turned down because that was what was itching) and denim shorts.

I shouted at Nene saying, “You’re an Indian kid.” To which he responded: “I’m not.” Ouff.

Mimi was excited to wear her pavadai but the top part of it turned out to be too loose and wanted her to wear a tighter choli on top. She refused, and threw a tantrum. Finally, our helper put it on her at school and she looked very cute and got a lot of compliments.

The hilarious thing was when I was explaining the India map, I showed them China and said, “Who’s from China here?” And Nene put up his hand. The grandparents are not going to be pleased.

Overall, I don’t think this is something worth stressing madly about like the other mums were. Yes, it is easier if two of us are doing it, but even if were just me, I would have managed. It’s 10 minutes of presentation and India is easy because Indian culture is so visible. Nevertheless, I was angsty the day before and was relieved when it was over fairly successfully.

*My goal is to learn how to tie my own sari by next year.

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A wee heartbreak

Tags

motherhood

One of things that I am slightly paranoid about is my kids making friends at school. By which I mean them having any friends, not being picky about the friends they have. Maybe it’s a vestige of my time at primary school when I had no friends. Yeah, I literally had no friends, and my sister used to take pity on me and walk around the playground with me. I don’t know why I had no friends because I never had a problem after I hit nine years, though I’m not a font of sociability so maybe that was why.

So yeah, I was anxious about my kids having friends because school is tough enough when you’re a toddler without being achingly lonely on top of it. And I think that in his old school Benji didn’t have any close friends, though later he bonded with another Indian girl even though he didn’t really like her.

At the start of this school year though, Benji very quickly made a friend Jay. And then, another mum latched onto us for playdates and so another friend was made. I learnt a trick then, that you can actually force friendships by throwing kids together often enough. I should have known this considering the phenomenon of “family friends” in India. Although I learnt this trick, I did playdates because I was asked to and don’t think I would have gone through the bother of initiating them. Though I do see how it cements friendships.

So when Mimi started school, I was anxious again. And then she started mentioning names of people. And on her sports day, I realised that these were real people, not someone whose name she made up. And one of them was a little boy Dee who seemed totally into her. Mimi got invited to his birthday party and although she was terribly unwell the previous night, I made it a point to take her because I realised Dee was really fond of her.

When I went in for Mimi’s PTA meeting, her class teacher told me Dee was her friend and they were often seen playing magic together. Dee’s mum told me that she motivates Dee to go to school by saying Mimi will miss him.

Then a couple of days ago when I asked her about Dee she said she wasn’t playing with him. I thought nothing of it, until the next day when I dropped her to kindergarten. Dee saw her and ran towards her. She cut him dead. Just said “no” and turned around. Poor Dee, his face fell and he went back to his mum. Then, when the school bell rang, they ran into class and I watched them from the glass window. Mimi usually sits next to Dee but this time she chose a different seat. I could see Dee sitting opposite her, staring at her plaintively.

And my heart broke a little. Okay a lot.

I thought about Dee the whole day. In evening, I badgered Mimi about him and made her promise she would play with him. V has often told me that I should not interfere too much in the kids’ friendships, and maybe it’s a remnant of my own childhood, but I cannot bear to think of a child being rejected, even if it’s not my child. In the past, Nene has mentioned not playing with certain kids and I always encourage him to include them. He tells me, “Jay said not to play with him” and I say: “Will you do anything Jay tells you to?” and he says: “Yes” though I know it’s not true because he’s a ringleader.

Today Dee’s mum mentioned that Dee said Mimi didn’t want to hold his hand. I said I was so sad that Mimi was like that. She laughed and told me not to worry and Dee also changes his allegience, but that Dee did seem more affected this time. We decided to do a few playdates to help them renew their friendship.

It’s still I know, but Dee is a sweet kid. He has an innocence about him, and though initially I wanted Mimi to have a friend, now I just want her to be his friend.

Updates

Nothing significant, just random stuff.

So, remember I mentioned the great haircut that was not going to be great after a hairwash. It wasn’t. I tried to wait it out and tie it up and finally I gave in and after eight years of getting my hair chemically straightened at intervals, I bought a flat iron straightener to use at home. All these years, I’ve maintained that I don’t want the hassle of ironing my hair every day or so, and hence opted for the chemical process, which is easier but the last time I did it, my hair came out rougher (which may be hormonal changes because I’d expect the chemicals to have only gotten better. They’re certainly more expensive than they used to be). So I didn’t intend to straighten again, I only did it the last time as a desperate measure since my “boy”cut seemed to be taking forever to grow out.

My hair is wavy and I want to wear it that way in solidarity with Mimi who has gorgeous curls and who wants to imitate me in everything and is already started talking about how her hair is straight. But then this haircut happened and it’s summer and on top of the haircut not being suited to half-straight, half-curly hair, the humidity makes me look like Raja Ram Mohan Roy. I looked into Brazilian Blowouts, but they were over-budget and I toyed with chemically straightening my hair but that was over my budget too and frankly I was reluctant to subject my hair to that again.

So I bought a straightener. After looking at the top of the range (i.e. GHD) I got a Philips in case you’re interested, because I remember someone I know saying that’s what they had and then I pinged my friends and one of them had a Philips. It’s reasonably priced and I’ve now been using it for a few weeks and it’s fine. I’m uncoordinated as hell but I manage to do my hair in about 15-20 minutes given that it’s neck length. And the result is nice, probably better than chemical straightening because it doesn’t look so chapta in the beginning. I worry about ruining my hair, but I’m going to keep cutting it, and I use a serum. Not the best serum, but I’m on a budget.

Speaking of the budget, it’s a new experience not just swiping a card. Honestly, considering my income got slashed by half, this should have happened sooner, but I took a long time to twig that we just could not afford the DINK lifestyle because we are not Dinks anymore, not to mention that I quit my job. And it’s not all because of V wanting to save and retire at 40, which does impact things, though in principle I’m ok with saving regardless of when one plans to retire. The way I see it right now my budget has shrunk because I chose to take an income cut and it should reflect in my behaviour somewhere.

So V and I agreed on a personal stuff budget every month, and I’ve been trying to stick to it. Because I’m extreme like that. I work well with targets, though not if they’re too stressful. But although I’m a rebel of sorts, I’m also super disciplined. (hmmm, I’m understanding Mimi better here. She’s such a virago at home but in school her teacher said she’s amazing. Some people need structure, I think, and that might just be Mimi and me. I need to have a dotted line of sorts to follow, even if the picture is of my own making. Is that the hallmark of a control freak? Is this bracket going on too long?)

The interesting thing about being on a budget is that a lot of things just don’t seem worth it. My standards have ironically got higher. So if I spend money on restaurant, I expect it to really deliver. And most fine dining restaurants don’t, given how much they charge. Sure, there are people bowing and scraping but while I don’t appreciate the bang your food down on the table in any order style of cha chaang teng service, I find someone placing your napkin on your lap deeply annoying as well. The food is normally not worth thaaat much money, and the don’t even get me started on alcohol. At least the food, one can justify.

Ok, I have a specific experience in mind with regard to this particular rant. We arranged to meet a friend of V and his very rich girlfriend and we picked Jamie Oliver’s restaurant because we know the food and the price point are decent, but it’s a toss up whether you’ll get a table as you can’t reserve, and unfortunately that day we didn’t. And like a fool, I said okay to another restaurant in the building. I had always been curious about that restaurant but when I took one look at the menu I knew I had made a mistake. It was one of those where everyone orders their own and an appetizer costs 200 bucks and is two small things on a plate. And of course the people we were with went to town, partly because how would it look if they didn’t follow the rigidly defined four course pattern? Plus wine. Of course. I had fish, which was stupid because it was a steak place, and it was a tad dry and this is what I mean by not-worth-it. Pretentiously laid out so-so tasting food for which you pay an arm and a leg. And finally, I came down to V’s point of view which he has been hammering home to me for two years now. Few of these places are worth it really. I felt kind of sorry for the couple we were with, who seem to only go to these kind of restaurants.

The thing I have an itch to do right now is shop. Because my existing clothes are just hanging off me. But I need to pace myself. Which is a strange experience, but not entirely unpleasant. It feels good to have to hold back, and save up for something. Heh. Though the list of things I want  need is growing longer and maybe the whole sparseness thing will get old sooner rather than later. Recently, a friend visited and I went browsing in shops with her, something I never do anymore unless I have a defined purpose, and I identified at least five things I must have and I’ve been dreaming of them ever since. I sense a binge coming on.

My friend’s visit was soooo good. She and I go way back, but she moved to Oz and both of us are not the keep in touch types. Curly and I have had this conversation about how you need to put some effort into friendships to sustain them, and it’s something I’ve realised is true especially when there’s distance involved which in my case there is more often than not. But this friend is one of those with whom no effort is made and still we remain the greatest of friends. And this trip we figured out why. Because – and I’m crediting her with this more than me because she always goes first – when we do meet, even if two years have passed, we let it all hang out. We update each other on the important stuff, the goriest, painfullest details, we do this non-stop for one whole day, and then it’s like the clock has been reset and we’re back to when we were in college. This time, the first day we were to meet, I kept trying to take her somewhere to see something and she refused and said we just had to sit down and had lunch and that’s what we did, because she knew all we would end up doing would be talking non-stop and yeah, that’s what we did. After three days, we both felt like we’d had therapy.

And finally, I’m watching The Tudors. Nope Game of Thrones is not for me. I don’t know why because it’s loosely based on British history, and I have read about those periods but somehow because it’s not ‘real’ I can’t get into it. I wish I could but I can’t. Unfortunately, Wolf Hall was over much too fast, so The Tudors it is. Wolf Hall is better, but the Tudors is longer with all kinds of sub-plots. Like Mary Tudor and Charles Brandon. I’m fixated on that romance, partly because the actor playing Brandon is so hot. Jonathon Rhys Myers is a good Henry because he has a slightly crazed look, but overall I prefer the Wolf Hall casting. Natalie Dormer doesn’t work for me somehow. I think the best Anne Boleyn was Natalie Portman in The Other Boleyn Girl. Since then, I believe that Anne shouldn’t have big boobs. This is of course neither here nor there.

End of ramble. How’ve you been?

Fashioning

So I mentioned earlier how I’m on a Project Runway binge. It’s been a long time since I downloaded anything for myself and it’s been a long time since I consumed something frivolous. For months it’s been philosophy and pondering deep thoughts, and it felt amazing to fall into the bucketful of froth that is fashion as it were.

Project Runway is not what it used to be as diehard fans will tell you. For one, Marc Jacobs has gone, and Zac Posen doesn’t seem to have the same sharpness. It also seems like the producers have instructed the judges to the extent that they seem to say the most random things – gushing over mediocrity and saving someone simply because they’re committed to a certain story. I’m referring to Amanda and Char here in Season 13, which was the one I watched. At least the winner wowed us, even if he overused fringe.

Despite the fact that the show has gone downhill, I enjoyed watching it. V watched me watching it in fascination. I’m into fashion, always have been, but I don’t really look the part. I certainly don’t look the part when I’m consuming these shows clad in an old T-shirt that used to belong to V and ill-fitting boxers, my hair standing up in peaks and horns and my face shiny with oil. But I can’t claim to be on the cutting edge even when I make an effort. And nevertheless, I enjoy watching other people putting together ‘a look’ and carrying it off in style. I love the transformation from cloth to clothes, from plain Jane to glamour. This post encapsulates my relationship with fashion.

Switching from an office job to life in academia proper has marked a shift in how I dress. I had acquired a number of chic formal office dresses over the years but frankly, now I would look too neoliberal in them. When I said this to V, he laughed at me for five minutes. But it’s the truth. You cannot look like the worldview you aim to critique. Or maybe you can. I am not ready to give up my tailored jackets, but I need to combine them with something more casual, a melding of the two mes. Which is part of the point, that fashion is a masquerade.

Moreover, being a student, working in an office where one never really has to meet proper adults, with people whose style is eclectic, comes with freedoms that are hard to resist. Like wearing shorts and flip flops to office. Like tying ones hair up in a turban made from an old t-shirt (a colleague, not me). It means high heels are a no-no, but also weirdly, showing one’s toes is not considered de rigueur in graduate seminars. It means that I need to replenish the T-shirt pile in my closet.

So I rely on my tried and tested go-to site for online shopping ZALORA. It’s interesting in these matters, how I’m a creature of habit. I try something and if it works, I don’t want to look elsewhere. But this time, I’ve skipped the shoes and honed in on the casual wear, though I did detour through the bags section before firmly telling myself this is no time for accessorizing. I have my eye on a couple of T-shirts, and since I’ve lost a bit of weight, they just might work.

The weight loss also means I’m in desperate need of new jeans, but being a student on a budget means, I need to slouch around in my accidental baggies for now. A makeover would be great at this moment, but I just don’t have the funds.

For example, this month I had a haircut so good, it could only be too-good-to-be-true. I tried a new shop down the road because it was cheaper than both the other places I regularly go to. The hairdresser didn’t speak a word of English, but I figured my gesticulations to cut just a little (“siu siu” I said theatrically) would do the trick. Then I panicked as he hacked off a great chunk of hair from the back of my head. I ended up with a sleek bob, one of the best haircuts I’ve had in terms of effect, but alas I knew it would only last a day or two because my hair is not sleek and my patience is not up to the task of a daily blowdry. The only other option is to straighten my hair again, but for the first time, I found my hair not standing up to the damage as well as it used to. And considering the cost of applying for a visa, I don’t think I have can afford the more expensive treatments.

So it’s crazy hair and loose pants for now. But at least I have those T-shirts to look forward to.