raising a happy child

It is a tough topic I wrestle with on and off: How to raise a happy child?

There are tons of literature on it and I have read my share of them...

But, what usually helps me wrap my mind around it is this:

Happiness is not about walking around with a smile always.

This statement, which I encountered in my late teens, made a big impact on me.

Indeed, Happiness is not about smiles and laughs alone...

Happiness is about learning to be well-adjusted, well-rounded, well-equipped to cope with whatever Life throws at you.

That lightbulb moment helped me channel my whinings and complainings towards a positive, action-oriented approach to learning to be happy.

In general, I try to think back on my childhood to find the elements that made me appreciate the world and everything I have been exposed to, and how to apply that to raising a Happy Ana.

Accepting, coping with, and getting past the many things Life usually throws at us is a big lesson to learn, in addition to appreciating all that we love and cherish...

By being there for me, by listening to my angst and helping me get past it, by teaching me that there are not just ups but downs as well that make Life worth living, I think my parents showed me the way to become a better person, a happy person.

I hope I can pass that lesson on to Ana...

postponing happiness

Maybe when I pay off the student loans... maybe when the mortgage is paid up... maybe when Ana goes to school... maybe when I get a better job to afford a better school for Ana... maybe when Ana is old enough and is happily married... maybe when we have put away enough to retire safely...

Quite unwittingly, it seems easier to postpone happiness till some event happens that hopefully will trigger this state of contentment.

It takes a lot of convincing and a fair amount of cerebration to bring myself around to the fact that there is no better time to be happy than Now.

The need for perfection, the need for things to be a certain way before one can feel inner peace, is clearly convoluted, and conflicts with achieving the said inner peace.

If we are striving for something to be better than it currently is, well, therein lies the paradox...

If Practice makes Perfect, then I am a Perfect Worrier. I used to even worry when I can't readily find something to worry about. Thankfully, over the years, Life happened, and small lessons were learnt, one of which is: Being content does not equate to being impassive, or imperfect, for that matter.

That's a hard lesson to learn in today's world, where everything is a race, everything is an emergency, and everything seems worthwhile only because it has been an uphill battle, done right and done now because the end-result seems right.

A complex idea to grasp initially is: One can achieve one's goals (such as they may be) without getting uptight and agitated. And striving towards a goal can be accompanied by a state of equanimity that acts as a catalyst and not a deterrent to achievement.

But how does one measure Achievement? Is it the job title? Is it the hefty paycheck or the bank balance? Is it some perceived productivity? Is it cars and house and kids? Is it the number of letters one can append to one's name?

Rhetorical as they might be, such questions seem like focal points of reality in today's world. Should you strive for what you want, or what you need? As it happens, we get what we are given, and if what we are given happens to be exactly what we needed, we seem grateful, and if we are given what we wanted, we seem happy. Shouldn't they be mutually exclusive?

While there are no easy global answers, I have always had this one piece of prose poem that adorned my room as a teen and traveled with me all the way to hang handily on the nearby wall to help me in times such as this, when Life seems oppressive and cumbersome, and am desperate for some clarity and affirmation:

Desiderata copyrighted by Max Ehrmann:

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

'Twixt the Cosmic Minutiae

One day, Sage Narada was wandering the worlds as usual and decided to stop by Vaikunta to pay respects to Lord Vishnu. Knowing Sage Narada, Vishnu promptly asks, "What is it this time, Narada? What great question do you want me to answer now?"

To which Narada blushingly replies, "But, my Lord, I just came to humbly submit myself before Thee... but, since you are in the mood to answer, I do have a simple question".

Vishnu beams purposefully, divining what's to follow.

Narada asks, "My Lord Narayana, who in all the worlds is your favorite devotee? Who is it that you easily and gladly bestow your favors on?"

Now, Sage Narada in Hindu mythology is not restricted by the space-time and freely travels the different worlds/dimensions, meeting various beings, singing and chanting his favorite Lord's name: Narayana (a.k.a Vishnu). He established the Bhakti Yoga and is considered an ardent and foremost devotee of Lord Vishnu. He spends almost all his time singing Narayana's praises. So, he naturally assumed the answer to be obvious: himself! Of course! And, he was breathless to hear Vishnu pronounce Narada as his favorite devotee.

Little did he know...

As soon as Narada blurted out the question, Vishnu said, I will reveal the answer, but, until I do, come with me and do what I ask of you.

And so, Narada willingly went along with Vishnu to a little farm on Earth, where a poor farmer was tilling his field and sweating honest sweat trying to keep his family happy. When Narada and Vishnu arrived (invisible to the farmer, of course), the farmer's wife was calling him for lunch.

So, the farmer joined his wife and kids under a shady tree, smiled reassuringly and got ready for his meal. Right before his meal, he invoked Narayana's name, thanking him for his family, and the food, and dutifully ascribing all the fruits of his labor to Vishnu himself. Then, they ate in relative silence, enjoying every mouthful of the old rice and watered down buttermilk, feeling blessed to be able to quench their hunger thusly. Then, he bid adieu to his family, and went back to work, not thinking about Narayana except once while tilling the soil hard - dedicating the work to Narayana and asking him to help his crops flourish this planting season.

Narada was puzzled. "Could this be my Lord's favorite devotee? How can that be?I am the one singing his name all the time... this farmer barely thought of my Lord twice this day and that too briefly... there can be no greater devotee than me, can there?" he thought...

...and Vishnu, reading his thoughts, smiled benevolently and placed a terra cota pot full of water on Narada's head and said, "My dear Narada, do not worry yourself. Balance this pot on your head and walk around this farm once, taking care not to spill even one drop of water. I will wait here for you to finish the round and then all will be revealed."

So, Narada respectfully balanced the pot on his head and started his walk around the farm concentrating fiercely on not letting even one drop of water from the pot hit the ground. He took his own sweet time while Vishnu waited patiently.

Finally, when Narada came back and triumphantly declared, "My Lord, I completed the task you gave me - very carefully I walked around and you will notice that not even one drop spilled."

Vishnu simply said, "In your walk around the farm how many times did you think of me? How many times did you invoke my name and dedicate the task of not spilling the water to me?"

Narada was dumbfounded. "But, my Lord, I was focused on the task, how could I think of you and sing your praises then?"

Vishnu explained, "Narada, while performing a simple menial task you were unable to think of me, however, this farmer, bowed down by weight of woe, balancing several burdens on his shoulders each day, manages to think of me, even if briefly! To me, such heartfelt devotion, despite being careworn and fulfilling his life's duties of being a father, a husband and a provider, is far superior than any other."

"Now do you understand?", Vishnu added with a meaningful smile.

Narada prostrated and thanked the Lord for opening his eyes to his own foolish pride.

Pardon my lengthy narration, I had to compile and present this story as I have it in my head...

I read this story (or a version of it) in Amar Chitra Katha when I was 10 years old and it made such an indelible impression that I remember it even today, decades later.

Some of the philosophical discussions I have had with my dad involve the underlying moral in this story: Live your life as best as you can, and in the process of living a good life, if you can think of a higher purpose, if you can dedicate all your toils and fruits to this higher purpose, it is a life well-lived.

One of the first few Sanskrit slokas my dad taught me simply states that whatever I do via body, speech, mind, senses, intellect, soul or other innate tendencies, I dedicate it all to Lord Narayana.

Kayena vaacha, manasendriyairva, budhyatmanavah, prakruteh swabhavath, karomi yadhyad sakalam parasmai, Narayanayethi samarpayami

Now, the tricky part that begs to be asked is how about criminals - can't they just do what nasty deed they do and dedicate it to Narayana? Well, sure... that's where Karma comes in...

Why am I rambling on here? Well, I've been sick, Ana has strep throat, and Oggie is having another bad week of teething. Being sick makes me crave for certain comfort things - like rasam and rice, like a good book and a warm comforter, like a hot cup of tea, and of course, a good moral story.

While tending to the kids, praying for their well-being, seeking strength for me so that I can provide them the comfort they need, I seem to always gravitate towards pondering on the Infinite... I am sure it will pass... but for now, I am grateful that my ruminations are far less pedestrian than usual...

who am I am?, why am I here?, what purpose am I serving?, am I happy?, am I raising happy kids?, am I bringing happiness to anybody's life at all?, what is happiness anyway?, is it ok not to be happy?, what is equanimity? why is it not easy to practice detached-attachment? ...

Children's Books: Recent Reads List (Ages 4-8)

We've been reading randomly for the last few months, primarily because the kids have been bringing books home that they fancied on the library shelves during our visits. I did place a few on hold that I wanted to read to them, especially for Og.

The five year old likes to read to herself at nights till lights out, after I've read her a chapter or two from the current chapter book we are reading.

She has been reading simple I-Can-Read/Beginner-Reader Books - something between Picture Books and Chapter Books. Poppleton and Friends, Morris the Moose, The Knee Book, The Ear Book, The Eye Book, Stuck In The Mud (Thomas & Friends), The Tooth Book and such... she didn't care for Poppleton (she claims he is boring), but liked Morris (he is goofy and silly), the others mostly received favorable remarks.

The few I have read to her (or read together with her) range from simple Picture Books for Ages 4-8 to Chapter Books.

We started reading more of the collected tales from around the world to keep up with the Travel The World summer theme. One of the reasons I like to read these stories in the folklore tradition that are short and direct, is to introduce her to a different style of writing than she has been exposed to so far.

Another reason is that the stories, much like Panchatantra and Hitopadesha Tales I grew up with, have the lines blurred between animals and humans as they interact and coexist, sometimes helping each other, sometimes causing problems... teaching and learning from each other.

Questions like "Is that really how the goats came to live with us humans?","Did Haisuni, Talsuni, and Peolsuni really become the Sun, Moon and Star?", "Why did the tiger eat her radishes, but not the old lady?" lead invariably to, "Did this really happen?", at which point, I invoke the Eth-Noh-Tec's answer of, "Well... it was soooo looong ago that no one really knows for sure... maybe it happened and someone told their children who told their children and so on, so I can tell you now."

This again, is by no means a sorted list of favorite reads, just a collection of what we've read recently and enjoyed. I've been restricting myself to maybe one post per week, and it looks like this is leading to much longer posts than I usually write... No matter.

1. The quiltmaker's gift / story by Jeff Brumbeau ; pictures by Gail De Marcken
   
   The watercolor art work as well as the quilt block patterns attracted me to this book that relates a classic tale about the virtues of sharing, caring, and giving. A greedy king who has it all is not happy, not satisfied with all that he has. He covets the beautiful quilts an old quilt-maker painstakingly makes and gives away to those who need it most.
   
   Starting with why did the quilt maker refuse to give king her quilt, to why did she say he must give away all his stuff, to finally wondering why did the king feel happy in the end, Ana had a lot of questions, the answers to which may not have been obvious or easy to understand at five.
   
   She does periodically prune her clothes and toys to give away, so, at some level she must be understanding that there is some joy in giving. Happiness is not in having everything you want, but in not wanting anything - this is not easy for a five year old to comprehend... but, the book was a visual treat, even if a bit busy.
   
   
2. Albidaro and the mischievous dream / Julius Lester ; Jerry Pinkney
   
   The mythical elements mingling with children and parents and the world as she knows it made this fascinating for Ana. She was willing to believe that there is Albidaro (the "Guardian of Children" who lives in the sky) and his sister Olara ("Guardian of Animals") who watch over the kids and animals and make things happen in this world.
   
   The mischievous dream that Albidaro plants in children is that they can do anything they want without consequences, even not listen to their parents... this leads down a path I wasn't sure I wanted to go, but the mild chaos arising from this breakdown in structure and discipline came across well for the five year old when the animals started misbehaving(rather, behaving like humans) and the kids realize they need the parents to make things right... order is re-established and things end well.
   
   As a jaded adult, I was not as taken with this book as the five year old. However, being a fan of Jerry Pinkney, the illustrations were magical, with a dreamlike quality that makes this book visually satisfying.
   
   
3. Stand tall, Molly Lou Melon / written by Patty Lovell ; illustrated by David Catrow
   
   Itty-bitty Molly Lou Melon has a wise and strong grandma who taught her how to stand up for herself.
   
   See, Molly seems to possess some qualities that are generally considered undesirable - she is buck-toothed, with a voice like a bull-frog, and is rather clumsy. But, her grandma teaches her how to turn each of these supposed disadvantage to her benefit by finding her strengths and face the world confidently.
   
   The pencil and watercolor illustrations in rich colors has a rather exaggerated styling which lends a certain comical charm that Ana and I liked a lot. Molly's head is as big as the rest of her body, and most of her face is taken up by her large eyes. How can that not be cute?!
   
   After the first couple of reads, she wanted to read this book to herself every night for over a week, so I think the book made quite an impression.
   
   
4. Amazing Grace / by Mary Hoffman ; pictures by Caroline Binch
   
   You can't play Peter Pan in class play because... You are a girl... You are black doesn't stop Grace from being all the more determined about giving her best performance as Peter Pan.
   
   With some help from her grandmother, Grace, who loves stories and performance of all kinds, realizes that the outer façade need not hide the inner strength that comes from doing your best and believing in yourself.
   
   She auditions for and wins the lead and plays the best Peter Pan she can. The book seems to have made quite an impression on Ana.
   
   The illustrations are beautiful, and Grace is every bit lovable - so guileless and enthusiastic, full of verve and joy.
   
   
5. Fanny / Holly Hobbie
   
   Fanny does not look like a Disney Princess, but that's just fine. When her friends have a certain store-made coveted Connie doll that all girls want to have, Fanny joins the bandwagon. She yearns for it and puts it on her Christmas wish-list. When Santa refused to get her that doll, she puts it on her birthday wish-list.
   
   When Mom puts her foot down, Fanny, rather than sulking and throwing a fit till she gets what she wants (or not), decides to make a doll of her own - viz., Annabelle.
   
   Annabelle is... different. She is nothing like Connie. Which at first makes Fanny a bit embarrassed to play with her friends who prefer Connie. But, of course, Annabelle earns her spotlight thanks to Fanny.
   
   The simple story is charming and affirming. It seems to have inspired Ana a lot. She loves her cabbage patch doll Enid and understands how much Fanny loves her Annabelle. And at some level, possibly realizes it is OK to be different.
   
   
6. Shanyi goes to China / Sungwan So
   
   This is a re-read, much like Prita Goes To India, that we enjoyed a long time ago. Something about photographic books and the simple presentation of the trip is beginning to make an impression now that Ana is at the age when she can read and write, even if mostly phonetically. She wrote a few lines about her Spring Break trip after seeing the digital pictures I had taken during the trip, which I'd like to think was probably inspired by Shanyi and Prita...
   
   
7. Tracks of a Panda / Nick Dowson ; illustrated by Yu Rong
   
   The illustrations with characteristically elegant brushwork of Chinese painting is beautiful. The text is short and easy to follow, with a few facts on each page to make it educational.
   
   I liked the fact that the story starts off with a tiny baby Panda arriving in this world, with only its mother for support. This immediately appealed to the empathetic nature of the five year old. She felt instinctively protective about it and worried how the Mommy Panda is going to keep it safe and feed it.
   
   While she has been introduced to Pandas as cute and cuddly in baby books, this book provides the much-needed reality, a glimpse into the tough life of these huge yet gentle creatures who are endangered (no) thanks to losing their habitat to progress and development.
   
   
8. A Bear called Paddington / by Michael Bond; illustrated by Peggy Fortnum
   
   How can one not like this little bear from the Darkest Peru, with such a preposterous name? Beloved by children around the world, this almost-classic tale relates the adventures of this genial and courteous bear found at the Paddington station with a sign that said, "Please look after this bear".
   
   We've been reading the 50th Anniversary edition (hardcover), which has a simple full color illustration on each page. Much like Beatrix Potter's The Adventures of Peter Rabbit, I like reading this book to Ana as the style of writing, the language, is a bit different from what she has been exposed to so far in children's books. Not the usual lilt and rhyme, not the usual easy-reader words, but, simple enough to keep it interesting and follow along.
   
   
9. When the stones were soft : East African fireside tales / by Eleanor B. Heady; illustrated by Tom Feelings
   
   No elaborate colorful pictures, but, lots of small stories, each one told by Mama Semamingi when children gather at dusk. Mama Semamingi is so old that she was probably there when the stones were soft on the Earth, she probably saw most of the stories unfold.
   
   There is a story for explaining everything from why the Baobab tree grows so strangely to how the animals have the colors and patterns they now have.
   
   I liked that a few Swahili words are repeated in each story (a pronunciation key is provided), so that by the end, we are using "Jambo" (Hello), "Karibu" (Welcome), "Mzuri"(good) and "Totos" (children") in our daily conversations without thinking about it.
   
   
10. Korean children's favorite stories / retold by Kim So-un ; illustrated by Jeong Kyoung-Sim
    
    The illustrations are lovely and as the back flap states, "she uses traditional colors and painting methods to express a sense of Korean aesthetics".
    
    The stories are sometimes clever, sometimes straightforward, but usually with an underlying 'moral' of sorts, much like in Panchatantra tales. Animals and humans interact and coexist.
    
    Some made sense to Ana, others were a bit beyond her current level of understanding of human nature - the one about the adopted son lying about his father seemed to bother and puzzle her, but, through some questions and answers she managed to get past her discomfort.
    
    Many were quite interesting to read and quite a few were requested repeatedly.
    
    
11. Ivy + Bean / by Annie Barrows ; illustrated by Sophie Blackall
    
    There's something about unlikely alliance leading to lasting friendship that appeals to the young and old alike. Bean has an older sister she doesn't like. Not because the said older sister is necessarily evil, but, Bean seems to think so. And, Ivy, the lonesome girl across the street, who fancies herself a practicing witch, is certainly not Bean's "type", even though her mom is pushing for this friendship.
    
    In Book 1, we learn about how they meet and become friends. There are over half a dozen books in this series. We've only read the first three.
    
    As the author says in her Ivy and Bean website, "And people with great ideas need people who can put those ideas into action. For Ivy and Bean, their differences mean that they have more fun together than they could ever have separately. It also means that, together, they do more wacky things than any one kid could ever dream up. The Ivy and Bean books are about the adventures—and disasters—created by this unlikely team."
    
    
12. Fantastic Mr. Fox / Roald Dahl ; illustrated by Quentin Blake
    
    Possibly considered a children's classic, Fantastic Mr.Fox is well loved around the world. "Why does Mr.Fox steal the farmers' chickens and ducks?" was an inevitable question, which sort of gets answered in the book when Mr.Fox asks something like, "is there any father in the world who would not kill a chicken to feed his hungry family?" His response saved me some trouble.
    
    Boggis, Bunce and Bean,
    One short, one fat, one lean;
    
    seems to have stuck in her head. It also helped that we've been listening to the audio version of this book read by Roald Dahl himself.
    
    

Bye, Bye Magic Mirror...

Appa is Here!


The first ten days or so since our arrival in Madras, D was on webcam from Portland every day, coming up with silly things that would make Ana giggle gleefully. One such silly thing was to claim that he has a goat in his tummy. When Ana challenges this, he would come very close to the webcam with his mouth open as Ana knows that's the way to the tummy, and then, when he was close enough he would quickly thrust a picture of a goat in front of the webcam as he moved out of the way, thus convincing her that there is a goat (more precisely, a goat picture) inside his tummy. Precious!

As Ana was high on travel excitement and associated novelty she didn't really show any signs of separation anguish then.

However, as we hopped from town to town, spending days at a stretch where we couldn't do the webcam, she struggled with uprootment issues and started bawling uncontrollably (sometimes for about an hour at a stretch), repeating the same set of phrases, drawing from the stories we've been reading every night, almost as if afraid to say anything different as it would not convey her exact feelings to me.

"Amma, I am very sad because I miss my Appa"
"Amma, I want to be in Portland with Appa"
"Amma, I want a Magic Mirror like Beast gave Beauty so I could see my Appa"
"Amma, I prayed to Vishnu for one wish to see my Appa now 'coz I miss my Appa"

The heartrending cries every night for the last four of the six weeks here has somehow melted the Divine Planner's heart enough to arrange for D to be with us here!

This was such a remote possibility that I never encouraged any hope. I kept reassuring Ana that we will see Appa when we get back to Portland, and that he misses her terribly too... and I had asked him to call us on the phone as often as he can...

But, every day, I was crumbling internally, cursing myself for traumatizing her so.

I am sure Oggie missed his dad in his own way, but, he seemed to manage fine with all the attention he has been getting everywhere.

When D confirmed his arrival a couple of weeks ago, we decided to keep it a secret as we both were dying to see Ana's surprise and happiness when she came face-to-face with her Appa who is supposed to be waiting in Portland for us to come back.

Ana was speechless!

All she managed was a tremulous "Appa!" filled with disbelief.

She clung to him the whole ride home with the widest dimpled animated smile I have ever seen on her face.

Now, D's arrival has changed the dynamics of our trip a bit. He is on an official visit, so he cannot stay with us or go back with us, and has to work every day. Plus, he won't arrive until a few weeks after we reach Portland.

But, for now, Ana's rapturous elation is highly infectious and I am thanking the Gods for hearing her doleful wails and alleviating her distress.

What is, is.

I sit by the gently flowing river,

in the shade of a large pine tree. 

Its exposed tangled roots, caked with mud, 

my temporary abode.

I absently dangle my toe over the icy rush below, 

eyes taking in the mountains on the horizon 

rendered hazy by sun's whimsy.

The kids jostle and squeal as they stand

waist-deep, urging me to embrace this

wet, cool, sublime suspension of Time.

Bucket lists don't matter. 

Doing something, being somewhere doesn't matter. 

Staying put, right here, right now

is me.

I dash full-speed the first 10 miles,

anticipatory warmth charging my innards;

inexplicable screeching halt, snail-like inching,

the next 10 miles an eternity.

I punch the preset radio channels, one, then another;

restless, I reach my destination: home.

Change of plans— no eggplant Parmesan,

no corn bread, no green beans tonight.

A quick burrito and salad would have to do.

Mealtime: the super-glue that binds us together.

Elaborate dinners don't matter.

Unwashed dishes, overflowing hampers don't matter.

Racing home from work, caring, feeding

is me.

I watch the whirring humming bird,

the noisy chickadees, bushtits, and sparrows.

I park myself on the deck; camera 

and steaming coffee my cohorts.

Summer weekend holds the promise of forts and watermelons,

home-made ice-cream, sprinklers, and bubbles.

Young tempers flare, discord escalates,

I feel no urge to jump in and set things right.

A hundred To-Dos ping-pong in my head

longing for prioritization and closure.

Nagging guilt doesn't matter.

Cobwebs and bathtub stains don't matter.

Idling away, willfully slothful, procrastinating

is me.

I flip the omelette, stir the oatmeal,

butter the toast, dish up some yogurt&granola;

the agility of a multi-armed octopus, my asset.

I set the table, pack the lunches, wake up the kids.

"Breakfast!" I champion, skipping mine—

hypocrisy is a parental prerogative.

I let small hands pack a healthy snack, 

fill the water bottle, and assemble the lunch bag—

inculcating responsibility is a parental duty.

I hug and kiss the kids and rush off to tackle

another day filled with deliberate undertaking.

Bucolic mornings don't matter.

How things Ought-To-Be-but-Aren't doesn't matter.

Chugging on, frenzied yet grateful,

is me.

I step outside— spontaneous, disembodied, hovering;  

watching, resisting, struggling, drooping, bracing.

Arrogance of Youth discarded, I welcome 

the promise of an unfaltering march to the Finish:

Wisdom beckons. Such as it may be.

 I do not wish to defer emotion;

I do not dare to entertain remorse.

I hail the hurried days of speeding through the hours;

I grasp and cradle the humdrum days of slow-dripping clocks. 
Time is only a whimsical concept.

Special occasions don't matter.

Achievements and validation don't matter.

Accepting each day, being, existing

is me.

the age-old battle...

A couple of points I have wondered about: 1) Women are biologically primed for child-bearing, child-nurturing/rearing etc. 2) society has defined Man's role as bread-winner/provider.

To be honest, before I had my own baby, I used to dismiss that as hogwash - in this day and age, roles can be reversed - so what if I am biologically birthing the baby, after birth I can hand over the baby to the husband and head out and be the bread-winner, right?

Wrong! At least in my case. The hormones and the surge of maternal biochemistry over which I seemed to have little control made it extremely tough for me to even leave my baby alone in another's care for longer than few hours (even though out of necessity I had to get back to work, leaving Ana in daycare).

Rational thinking flew out the door in a flash under the maternal surges I felt then. I was fiercely possessive, incredibly curious about raising my baby and quite determined to get it all right the first time around.

When Ana wouldn't sleep at night, I stayed up and fed her, rocked her, sang to her - even if it meant doing this every two hours pretty much all night and then heading out to a full-time job the next morning. Obviously within 3-4 months I was a mental wreck, close to nervous breakdown.

When I was not coping well with a new infant and having to get back to work (else we'd be deeper in debt or D would have to find a second job - thanks to the vagaries of IT industry), D quite frankly offered to be a SAHD and let me work full-time if that is the solution I can come up with and agree. I was surprised by my own reaction: I screamed my lungs off saying he wants the "easy way out" and "stay home happily while I slogged and fed the family"!!

Do I envy the SAHM? Not at all! It is hard-work, and best suited for people who have made that choice and stuck to it.

Am I proud to be a WOHM? Not at all! I have made a choice and am trying my best to stick to it and make things work.

Is one inherently better than the other? Clearly not, or we wouldn't be having this age-old battle in our minds.

While I wanted to bring in the income we sorely needed to keep up the middle-class lifestyle, I also wanted to be everything to my baby, caring and nurturing and raising her happy, basking in her development.

As I had written earlier, many women don't come to this decision - of being a WOHM - lightly or easily.

The dance with the numbers is a tough one. We calculated and re-calculated the budget to see if there was any way we could make it meager-er:
--We don't have cable or DirecTV or any such additional expense;
--we have basic land-line phone with no extras like call-waiting, call-forwarding or even voicemail, as we have a good cell phone deal and have relied on it for all our telephonic needs;
--we buy in bulk from Costco and buy our groceries from local farms getting mostly seasonal produce and maybe some other fancy stuff from one of the eclectic places nearby, plus growing our own as much as possible (season-permitting);
--we are very careful about electricity - unplug wall outlets when not in use (except TV, of course), turn off lights as soon as we exit the area, energy-star rated dishwasher/fridge/oven/water-heater etc.,;
--we decided to use only one car for all our needs (keeping the second one only for emergencies) and plan the shopping trips and commute to work/daycare and such to minimize waste...

Now, if only just recovering the daycare expense by being an SAHM would have made our budget balance better...

Circumstances arranged themselves to make it a necessity for me to supplement D's income. I try to look upon it as a partnership where the sole burden of providing for the family should not rest on his shoulders. By the same token, D looks at raising Ana as a partnership and has helped a lot in taking care of her say two or three evenings a week to give me a couple of hours off to take care of myself and my needs.

A lot of Life is about compromise, planning and doing what seems best under the given constraints.

Either I can complain about it, or, find a good work around to establish some semblance of balance in my world.

My solution was to look at a job as just a job, not a career path, not something that would define me in the long run, but something that helps me raise my family in a comfortable way.

Also, my mom is my role-model in that sense - she worked as a teacher all her life, and raised us, and is a great cook and does wonderful crafts and sewing and such. So, naturally, I consider myself a failure if I can't do at least as much as she showed me it was possible to do.

Besides, we kids turned out fine despite my mom being a WOHM, so, I am possibly not depriving Ana of a well-rounded childhood by not being an SAHM...

But, the day and age in which my mom worked is different from my work situation. At least as far as IT goes, when projects need to be delivered on a deadline, one cannot excuse oneself and work only from 9-5 and head home and forget all about it until the next day.

That aside, my mom had neighbors and family around to walk us kids to school, bring us back, feed us, play with us and know we are safe even if my mom (and dad) had to work late some days. Such resources are hard to come by here, unless one is very lucky indeed!

Also, who doesn't want to be one's own boss, and command one's time as one wishes, instead of pretty much being a bonded laborer on someone else's clock and payroll? Alas! Not many of us really have that luxury, except sincerely wish for circumstances that let us make such a decision and abide by it - for better or worse...

But, would I be happier as an SAHM? I'll never know... but, all I know is happiness is a state of mind that comes from accepting the situation one is given and making the best of it, drawing a sense of contentment about the way things are instead of constantly trying to make the current situation better.

As I had written in another post, the need for perfection, the need for things to be a certain way before one can feel inner peace, is clearly convoluted, and conflicts with achieving the said inner peace.

If we are striving for something to be better than it currently is, well, therein lies the paradox...

Somehow, despite all the Feminism and Equal Rights, it irks me when D suggests that it is not fair for him to bear the sole burden of providing for the family. Especially when "providing for the family" involves more than the basic Food, Clothing and Shelter.

Why have I subconsciously come to accept that the Man should not have a choice? Why am I worked up about making my choice, knowing that I have the luxury to make a choice, whereas upset when the roles are reversed?

Rhetorical as these questions may be, sometimes, there are no easy answers to our brooding. Hopefully, I am making the choice that is right for my situation, just as other women have done over generations and will continue to do way past my lifetime...

An edited version of this post also up at DMC...