Conquering Two-dom

If you read my last blog and/or are following me on FB, you know that this is an exciting time of the year for me. (Reason I was MIA.) Apart from the fact that it involved my anniversary and two other birthdays of people really, really special to me all scrunched together into one helluva weekend, my darling daughter, my tiny little vessel of love, turned two!

Two years - seems such an insignificant amount of time, still fresh out of the womb, still so much to accomplish. NOT!!!! For I've lost the count of how many times I've been amazed at how someone so tiny can suddenly seem all grown-up and wise. I sometimes get this strong feeling that she's an old soul just continuing on her journey of another life and in the process, doing some volunteer work and reforming some lost causes, such as me. It's like she occasionally switches from Baby Bambi mode to Old Monk mode, just to get a sneak peak of the other side.

Peaches at 6 days

Two years ago, around this time, I was still trying to wrap my head around the idea of getting my little bundle of wails and cackles from the hospital and wondering what it'd be like when she starts communicating - by not working up a screeching cry, loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. 

And it's been just a few months since she started getting all adorably vocal in her chipmunk-like voice that goes up notches higher in volume when being ignored. How did that happen? And when? Now she gabs on and on about everything and I just can't get her to shut up. Instead of whining out loud or screaming her lungs out, she calls me, "Mummy! Mummieeeee! Oh Mummieee!" Her melodramatic performance goes on in various timbres and if she continues to be ignored, it is followed by a much sterner final call, "Shalineee Mummieeee". Guess there's no way to miss that, huh? It's kinda cute that she's figured out the same pattern for her dad too. "Sumit Papaaaaa".

And she loves to sing. With her infectious energy and the hippy happy in her voice, she's composed a whole medley that starts with a soothing rendition of "Twinkle twinkle little star" and ends with a shake your diapared booty uninhibited version of "If you're happy and you know it." Or as Peaches sings, "Happy new? Clap your hands, Hooray!!!"

Saanvi and Sophia

Meanwhile, she's also extended her warm affection for her hitherto uncherished dolls. Over a year ago, I was internally debating if Peaches will turn out to be a girly, doll-dressing girl or a hot-wheeling, doll dismantling girl. Turns out she's absolutely and inseparably in love with her baby dolls. She even holds them like a lovey-dovey Disney mom figure. She doesn't have any of the skinny, anorexic, pokey models of perfection yet but she's got three of the marshmallowy, cuddly baby ones - Sofia, Bobby and Baby (we're still not sure of Baby's gender). I guess it was when she got Sofia from her Nilesh maama that she truly discovered her maternal potential. She saw her, sniffed her hair and held her in her arms as if she's a prize possession; she started accessorizing her hair (to the point of madness), singing a lullaby and cuddling her at night and feeding all her babies whatever she was having. (I had such a fright one day when she tried feeding Baby, with his/her creepy mouth slightly agape, some spinach. Wasn't a pretty sight.)

I'd have to say. One of the perks of being mommy to a little girl who can gab up a storm is that we get to have full-fledged conversations with her - not just about doing this or doing that or introducing one word at a time to her constrained vocab but a riot of things. And it's funny how nothing's inanimate in an infant's world. She looks at an object and starts by asking me, "Ye kya hai?" (What's this?) And for example, I say, "This is a button." Her next question's "Button kya kar raha hai?" (What's the button up to?) So I've got to summon my inventive hat to come up with a zany answer to that. Every time! And whatever my reply is, she'll either consider it gravely as if it's a subject of national interest or break into a hysterical giggle as if I've suggested something utterly preposterous. Even while she's having a high-voltage meltdown, if I point down at a little dog on her tee and ask her, "Ye kya hai?", she'll go back to being the incredibly curious little thing that she is and reply, "Doggy" in a perfectly calm voice. And then go on to ask me, "Doggy kya kar raha hai?" And just like that, with pools of tears in her eyes, she'll scamper off to discover more of the whole, wide world before her.

And her memory of events, even somewhat in the distant past....That's another marvel. She'll come up to me and narrate about an incident at the mall when she wanted to sit on the carousel, which was inoperable due to a technical fault. She'll say, "Hum mall gaye the. Horsey nahi baitha. Horsey battery nahi tha." (We went to the mall. Didn't sit on the horsey. Cos it was out of battery.) "
And that was three months ago! The days I yell at her for some harmless misadventure of hers, I thought I'd have to reinforce learning through a cute little bedtime story. But, she, with all her snuggles and nuzzles, lying in my arms, summarizes it in a whisper, "Mummu ne daanta. Kyunki kaam nahi chhoona hai." (Translation: Mommy yelled at me. Cos I'm not supposed to touch her laptop.)

These little incidents, touching as they are, probably aren't exactly groundbreaking. Nothing out of the blue. But as far as I can see, my little baby is stepping out of her cosy little cocoon, through her heartwarming victories, gently crossing the threshold and one fine day, I realize she's not a baby any more. She's a little girl.  A girl who loves her dolls and animals. A girl who loves to sing at the top of her voice, even at a crowded restaurant. A girl who has a whole bunch of 12-year old BFFs. A girl who's uncomfortably social - bordering on being obnoxious and intruding on dates once in a while, usually much to the chagrin of the boyfriend. I mean obviously he'd want to be the only one stealing his girl's heart, atleast while they're still in the coffee shop. Not that I'm complaining. Sumit and I get to enjoy our private little date at their expense, even with a watchful eye. (Now that's what I call multi-tasking.)

And as I struggle to recollect what she was like as a baby and while her milky odor, garbled noises, and toothless smiles continue to slip away from my grip, I can't say I have any regrets. I do regret the fact that these memories have been replaced by assorted pictures and videos. But there's an infinite amount of adventure in watching your baby grow into a person everyday and wondering with shock when she teaches her Mum to face her irrational fear of lizards by coolly saying, "Mommy brave girl." Or nudges Mommy and Papa to pray everyday without fail. Or trails off into the room to get a baby wipe after smearing cream all over the TV unit while I'm busy screaming myself hoarse, then cleaning up the mess and remarking, "Ho gaya, simple!" (It's done, simple.) Or mortifies me in public when I wear something like a short dress by reflecting, "Mommy aapne pant nahi pehna." (Translation: Mommy why aren't you wearing pants?")

And I can't help wonder, "Where did she learn that?" "When did she...?" "How...?"

And this is when she turns all of two.