I had always wanted to breastfeed my child, but when my daughter was born, I was just as clueless as any first-time mom would be. I had never given it a serious thought as I had assumed breastfeeding was instinctive – and I couldn’t have been more wrong. After a 12 hour long labour, with a screaming pink-faced infant in my hand, I was in no mood to get initiated immediately. But as the first milk or colostrums – as it is called – is loaded with antibodies that are good for the baby, I was advised to squeeze out a few drops in my baby’s mouth. And then there was my baby refusing to latch-on and suck, a full 24 hours after birth. I was pounded with all sorts of advice that included coating the nipple with honey, and even suggestions that I was just not doing it right. Later, I learnt that it is just this kind of pressure from all around (though done in good earnest) that leaves many young mothers unable to breastfeed their infants!

But my perseverance bore fruit as after periodically squeezing drops of milk into my baby’s mouth, she learnt to suck on her own. Then I learnt that breastfeeding works on reflex. The more your baby sucks, the more milk is produced, as it works on demand and supply. And there is no actual schedule that you need to stick to – you can feed your baby as and whenever she is hungry. But there are challenges along the way as I discovered. Once my baby learned to latch-on, I found that she would frequently fall asleep even as she was feeding. So I had to gently nudge her to keep her awake. Breastfeeding also left me dry-mouthed and thirsty and so I made sure there was water nearby before starting to breastfeed. Every mother bonds with her baby through this breastfeeding phase, I learnt, and no two experiences are the same.

Modern day living is stressful, no doubt, and it is easy to give up on breastfeeding. But whatever the circumstances, breastfeeding has many long term health benefits for the mother that we just can’t ignore. Its nature’s own way of protecting women against breast cancer and bone loss much later in life. Above all, it’s a unique bond that nourishes and protects baby right from birth to well into adulthood. And surely, its worth all the trouble!

Having passed out of higher secondary with good marks (according to the benchmarking then), I was so sure of landing that B.A. English Literature – that I had always wanted to study – at a prestigious women’s college. And the fact that I was the English topper in my school (across all groups) in the plus two public exam, with Advanced English as one of my elective papers further led me to the delusion that if I did not get that seat – who would! Applying for the course in other colleges never occurred to me – and here I was with all my eggs in one basket and about to learn one of life’s most important lessons!

The entrance exam was a cakewalk (or so I thought)! But at the interview, I was met with cold stares instead of the welcoming arms I had so expected. My entrance exam marks were not revealed (I wonder why) but I was told that since a majority of the seats were ‘kind of booked’ for a section of society, my chances of getting into these august portals were rather slim. My desperate attempts to muster courage and ask what my entrance exam marks were, was met with further contempt. My marks weren’t anything to rave about, I was told. And I was asked to look elsewhere – this when all colleges had stopped giving out application!

Now, anyone who has ever been through this can imagine (in picturesque detail) the scenes at home. The next few days were spent in running between colleges, hunting for left-over application forms and last-minute recommendations as there weren’t so many institutes/avenues of learning those days. The only other option for me was to cool my heels at home for a whole year, with hourly reminders of my own stupidity and “didn’t I tell you” lectures from all and sundry.

On the day when the admission list was to be released, my anxiety reached an all time high, as it was suggested that if I did not get in here, I may have to take up a technical course at the Polytechnic for a year. I had always wanted to major in English Literature and get into writing as a profession and wanting me to get a technical education was like cajoling a cat to have a bath!

There was light at the end of the tunnel, at last, as I found my name on the Admission List – and that too among the top 20! It made me wonder what all the fuss was about – but now I know. I guess putting applicants on an emotional roller coaster works like therapy for the college management. And it only gets bigger and better every year. So buckle up and enjoy the ride, no matter which part of the thrill machine you are!

This blog is supposed to be a tribute to all moms on Mother’s Day. But what about all the other wonderful women who never gave birth but nevertheless nurtured and nourished other young lives they took into their comforting hands? Yes, this is about those mothers too, many of who have far exceeded the stereotypes and have made a mark for themselves.

They say motherhood is what completes a woman – and it’s true. Anyone who has gone through the pain of infertility, the battery of tests, the long waits in serpentine queues to see ‘specialists’, the poking, the prodding, hurtful words that pierce through the soul and an insensitive world at large knows the true value of what it takes to become a mother. Which is why, the bond between a mother and an adopted child is truly unique as the child was conceived in her heart, though not in her womb!

And there are many more women, who have voluntarily or due to circumstances never had any biological children, but have nevertheless been pillars of strength to those in need. They are mothers too – dedicated nuns like Mother Teresa, the mothers in India’s SOS villages, teachers and counselors who have been beacons of knowledge, caring bosses, unmarried or widowed aunts and single women bringing up their children admirably – these are heroic women we need to spare a thought for every Mother’s Day. Remember, they nurture and nourish and it’s their day too!

Though I’m not a fan of forwarded jokes, here’s something that truly had me in splits – and this is the right place and occassion to share it!

A man was SICK and TIRED of going to work every day while his wife stayed home.  And further jealous of her, as she received a lot of Women’s Day wishes and compliments, he wanted her to see what he went through. So he prayed:    

“Dear Lord: I go to work every day and put in 8 hours while my wife merely stays at home. I want her to know what I go through. So, please allow her body to switch with mine for a day. Amen!”    

Poof!!!    

God, in his infinite wisdom, granted the man’s wish.    

The next morning, sure enough, the man awoke as a woman. He arose, cooked breakfast for his mate, awakened the kids, set out their school clothes, fed them breakfast, packed their lunches, drove them to school, came home and picked up the dry cleaning, Took it to the cleaners and stopped at the bank to make a deposit, went grocery shopping, then drove home to put away the groceries, paid the bills and balanced the check book…

He cleaned the cat’s litter box and bathed the dog.    

Then, it was already 1.00pm

And he hurried to make the beds… do the laundry… vacuum, dust and sweep and mop the kitchen floor… Ran to the school to pick up the kids and got into an argument with them on the way home. Set out milk and cookies and… got the kids organized to do their homework. Then,   set up the ironing board and watched TV while he did the ironing.

At 4:30pm, he began peeling potatoes and washing vegetables for salad… rolled meatballs and snapped fresh beans for supper.

After supper, he cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher… folded laundry, bathed the kids, and put them to bed.

At 9.00pm, he was exhausted and, though his daily chores weren’t finished, he went to bed where he was expected to make love, which he managed to get through without complaint.    

The next morning, he awoke and immediately knelt by the bed and said:    

“Lord, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was so wrong to envy my wife’s being able to stay home all day. Please, Oh! Oh! Please, let us trade back. Amen!”   

The Lord, in his infinite wisdom, replied:

“My son, I feel you have learned your lesson and I will be happy to change things back to the way they were. You’ll just have to wait NINE MONTHS, though. You got pregnant last night.”

So here’s my problem. At school they’re getting bombarded with stories about Santa Claus and other such things. My boys are a little older and don’t really care about these stories but my little girl who is 6 seems really drawn to them. She can’t seem to talk about anything but Santa. “Amma if I eat will Santa come to see me?”, “Amma if I clean my room will Santa be happy?” Its starting to irritate me a little bit now!

What do I do? I know its harmless to let her continue to day dream about Santa but I know for a fact that neither my husband nor I will go through some elaborate routine to make her believe in Santa. I’m worried she’ll be heartbroken when Santa doesn’t show up. I’m also worried that she’ll hate me for telling her the truth. I’m in a bit of a dilemma here.. has anyone experienced something like this? HELP!

I particularly recall a time when I was chatting with my boss on gtalk because I had taken work home that day. It was a typical work day – narrow deadline, high pressure, flying tempers, the works. Ki was in the room as I chatted, but unusually well behaved. She was all of two, at that time. I could have sworn I JUST saw her leave my room and switch on the tv in the living room. So I went over to my cupboard to pull out a few things – my back to the laptop. I turned back in what seemed like a few seconds, to find the little rascal typing away furiously on my laptop.

Here’s something like what I found in the chat window:

“wildorchid81 (Me): @#$F$%@$%^$%&!

Boss: what the hell?

Boss is offline. ”

I did not get fired and she DID speak my mind, but that’s besides the point.

So yes, back to what I was saying. She can be in two places at once. Ask Linda Goodman,* if you don’t believe me.

What she can also do, is make me wish at certain times, that the earth would crack open and swallow me up.

We were at our regular coffee place. She was about 2 and a half years old, but talked a lot more than her peers. I was going through a very stressful patch and tended to space out into my parallel universe every now and then. I remember she was sitting by my side and talking nineteen to the dozen in her broken English. The next thing I knew, I had just snapped out of my reverie to find my daughter holding out the sanitary napkins from my bag to a doting audience right opposite.
I THOUGHT it couldn’t have gotten worse. Till she said the magic words:

“This is mamma diaper.”

And that’s the REAL story behind her more recent and toned down “Mamma let’s go to Coffee World. Wear your diaper and come.”

Then of course, there are the bonus ’simply cute’ days.

After a few months of pre-school and after having witnessed three weddings in a row:

Ki: *Drapes a shawl around her head* Mamma, mamma! I got married!

Me: To whom, princess?

Ki: Vyas (her classmate). Vyas shared with me his juice today. Vyas loves me.

Should I be worried!? :)

And, the latest. This happened this afternoon. She’s into make-believe right now, so here goes:

Ki: *Prancing from the loo* I’m only mamma. You are only Kiara.

Me: *Playing along* Mamma!! Come and play puzzle with me!!!

Ki: Wait princess. I’ll wear my panty and come.

I haven’t found the right word for this moment.

More coming up. Stay tuned. For the next 18 years.

*I am not propogating Linda Goodman. Her description just happened to be spot on!

I was christened Judy Pavithra Balan (I mean, just WHAT were my parents thinking!?). I grew up hating it. First of all, because Balan is NOT a last name. It’s my dad’s first name! It’s a curious little Tamilian tradition to use your dad/husband’s first name as your last! Those who didn’t wish to put themselves through this farce, took initials. And this again, could be the dad’s first, middle or (nonexistent) last name. So yeah, I got dad’s middle name as my last and my bro took dad’s first name as an initial.

My sibling and I, do not share last names. True story.

I have to say it in here, that an aunt of mine did something ultra novel back in her days. As tradition would have it, she came with a long, hideous last (dad’s first) name. All her classmates were Anglo-Indians which meant last names such as Greenwood, D’cruz, Cunnigham, Fernandez etc. One day, the most dreaded topic of last names came up and everyone wanted to know each other’s names. My aunt whose full name (name changed ’cause I don’t think she’ll be sportive about me telling this story) was Christina Preethi Adaikalaswamy, quickly said she was just C. Preethi. And to this day, it’s how she signs her name.

Judy Pavithra. The delightful combination of East and West…NOT! This is fairly commonplace among Christian families down south – combining a western sounding name with an Indian one. In my case, Sanskrit. The argument is to get one to identify with both his/her religious as well as cultural roots. I was Judy in school and several distorted (supposedly endearing) versions of Pavithra, at home and among relatives.

Now you see why I was a confused, angsty teenager who learnt carnatic music every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, rapped Snow’s ‘Informer’ better than anyone I knew at the time, did my salangai puja in Bharathanatiyam (hideous, hideous video that is still being used to blackmail me) in four months, and wore my hair really short (mushroom cut!), skull ear rings and Anthrax t-shirts on outings with the family. Oh I forgot. I also played Dr. Zhivago and Fur Elise on my Victorian piano on Thursdays.

Judy. Judy Garland. Judy Blume. ‘Judy’s got the lips I love to kiss.’ Could it BE any more 70s /80s?! In all fairness, I WAS born in the 8os. But hell. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you picture a Judy? Really, close your eyes. Try not to think of the sassy me that you see in the photograph. Yeah. I see a skinny, old, blond-haired woman in a pink dress with white polka dots. Or even worse, same woman in decent clothes with fishnet stockings underneath. No wait. She exists! Judy Geller – Monica and Ross’ mom. Ugh.
My friend M, had pictured me to be black as a raven, with frizzy hair, red lipstick and a mini-skirt, when my ex-boss had first mentioned me to her. You can imagine HOW PLEASANTLY surprised she was when she finally met me But then, when I asked her later what name would actually be appropriate for me, she said ‘Maggie’ without blinking. Errr.

Phew. So anyway, I had finally made my peace with Judy Balan, when I met my ex-husband. He was half Goan and half Manglorean. And his last name? Prabhu! Can you believe my luck? Goans and Mangloreans have some of the coolest last names in India, and here I was walking away with the ‘ most obnoxious full name’ title all over again. And I really don’t know what I was thinking, but for a while I called myself Judy Balan – Prabhu (with hyphen and everything). Maybe it sounded like Angelina Jolie – Pitt to me The things I do when I’m in love!

So now, it’s back to Judy Balan again. It’s even grown on my audience. What with my natural raw talent, magnetism and scintillating wit, it’s only understandable. BUT it hasn’t grown on ME. So yes, I’m looking for a cool, new last name again. Forgot to mention this in my ‘Letter to ‘the One’ post. I particularly like names that end with a ’ski’ or ’sky’. Think Shabatsky (Robin Shabatsky). Judy Shabatski. How awesome does THAT sound eh? Or anything else that ends with those letters. Except of course, Lewinski And yes, I am very open minded and will consider other names as well. If the last name is uber cool, I might even decide to make Judy an initial, lose Pavithra for something else (something in R) and retain the last name- J.R.Shabatski.

J.K Rowling. J.R.R Tolkien. In case you missed my heavy drift.

Anyone out there?