The Introverted Parent Trap

Image Source: Presspack

Scenes From An Early Morning School Drop-Off:

[Dark, greyed elevator...something of a quiet place to shut your eyes in for a few seconds.]

I hop—wait, I am merely sliding in —with my four-year old daughter gleefully jumping into it first with her eight-watts smile, disturbing the whole atmosphere without even saying anything. Morning person much? A man and two other women join us, hounding and blocking what I consider my free breathing space. Each of us moves to light up our destination digits, makes brief eye contact and zones out in our individual fortresses.

I pick the dark corner that also lets out a secret vent for my benefit. Saanvi continues to intrusively study everyone, keeping her wide-eyed smile. Of course, she can't stand still even for ten seconds. She notices something and yells at me from another corner, pointing crudely at the only man in the elevator.

 "Mom! Mom! Look at him. He is wearing dad's t-shirt."

Of course, that remark is open to wide interpretations and I'm mortified. But I've learned the hard way that whatever I do in a desperate attempt to salvage is only going to backfire. So I just give her a half-smile and avoid eye-contact in general. I'm counting in my head to get the fuck out of everyone's hair when comes another uninvited remark.

"Uncle, can you give it back? Papa really likes that t-shirt."

Obviously, now I have to dive in head first with apologetic giggles that only get drowned in the roaring laughter coming from the seemingly-polite ladies in the elevator.

Kids say the ballsiest things, don't they? That's cool.

Mostly, they say things that overwhelm you and outnumber you in rapid sentences. And that's OK too I guess.

But if you're an introvert like me, it can get exhausting.

Last year, we went on a holiday to Bintan. Saanvi had just turned three that year. It was her birthday. We had a quiet dinner at an Indian restaurant so she could have her lunch staples—roti and bhindi—as opposed to Ramen and pizza. She picked the table next to a sweet Indian couple. The entire time we were there, our tables were shuffled incredibly close together with her chair facing the Indian couple. I felt sorry for them 'cos they seemed to be newly married. My husband took a picture of us from that day. The couple was downright jubilant to be in our company. Saanvi was in mid-sentence. And me - well, I had this sheepish, awkward smile.

Like I wanted to get out of there as fast I possibly can.

And that is definitive of how I feel when we're out as an introverted mom and extroverted daughter duo. 'Cos here's the thing about being an introvert. You want to be able to control the volume of conversations. So, when I'm talking to people, one-on-ones with people I know are ideal.  Group-conversations are next best cos you get to catch your breaths a lot. Of course, I love my friends! I'd meet them with their kids too, sometimes craving for a cup of coffee with them in the middle of the night, imagining the kids all tucked in with a nice classic, say Wizard of Oz, while we sit outside and indulge in some petty, slanderous gossip about everyone we know.

But the perennial introverted parent trap arises in one form or the other. Like in the following situations:

• When you're amidst strangers in a long journey and you're forced to engage in conversations 'cos your chatty daughter won't have it any other way. And she won't even nap cos that'll get in the way of discovering new people. (New people are over-hyped.)
• When you're in the company of society park moms who're engaging in long conversations with your daughter asking her interesting open-ended questions. And you kind of feel obligated to do the same with their kids.
• When you've had a long, tiring day of relentless conversations with your little jabberer and you're ready to call it a night. And your daughter asks you to cook up a fairy tale from your imagination and narrate it to her. One that does not end with, "And she was tired, miserable and sleepy ever after."

I know what you may be thinking. Am I even remotely implying that my energetic daughter is making me miserable? So what if she talks a lot?

Don't get me wrong. I'm thankful each day for having a little ray of happy, bouncing sunshine in my life. And she's a good conversationalist. Not kidding. She talks like a grown-up. She'll talk about anything from fun science facts to philosophy, sometimes she'll just make up her own trivia for the sake of conversation fillers.

But for me, in order to be a functional mother, who listens to her and  nurtures her with the same sort of love and energy every day, I have some alone-time mandates. Maybe, it is a little selfish. But my me-time refuels me, sometimes more than a good night's sleep, more than my other basic necessities in life.

And that's when I knew what I need to do in order to survive motherhood. So that I can over-indulge myself in uninvited conversations. So that I can make it through birthday parties without feeling like a deflated party balloon. So that I don't go looking for a spiritual connect before letting another person into my space. So that I can flit from one group to another without having to feel like an alien. Which is the hardest part for an introvert by the way. When we find a comfortable space, we cling to it with all our might. So chances are, even when I'm out on a social spree, you'll always find me with the one person I started my first cocktail with. That is if said-person hasn't abandoned me. (I do have social abandonment issues.)

So here are some everyday guidelines I've laid down for myself:

1. Tuning out from the world completely: Alone-time is not hard to come by since we're a nuclear family. So, I put my phone on silent, sit with a book/writing pad /mindless television, whatever the need of the hour and stay put for as long as it takes to feel rejuvenated.

2. Starting my day ten minutes earlier than everyone: Sometimes, all it takes is five deep breaths,  a dose of morning fresh air and quiet to get me up and about.  The realization that the world hasn't started needing you yet  is divine energy.

3. Having a job that doesn't necessitate face-time: Because honestly, what good can come of a room full of people trying to fill up air with their own stuck-up ideas and making themselves look important? Fine, maybe greater good that can potentially change governments. But fortunately for me, I'm still trying to get all the way back to jump-starting my career and I realize that with my skills, I could potentially even work from a remote island. As long as it has WI-Fi.

4. Music: Big part of my survival kit. I can absolutely not do any sort of physical activity without my playlist. It is therapeutic. Irrespective of whether you're an introvert or extrovert, it's important to have at least one thing in your life that is meant just for your personal pleasure. My playlist is one of them.

5. Letting it go: You may try to mingle more and be more receptive to others and put yourself out there more often. But you can't change who you are. I try to accept that and not beat myself about it. I fail miserably but I try again.

Of course, it fills me with an inexplicable envy when I see bright, cheerful moms who can fill the room with their positive vibes and radiant energy. But I've come to healthy terms with the fact that I'm just not one of them. I'm happy to spend my alone-time refuelling for random play-dates and spontaneous social events that tend to drain the life out of me.

As long as I'm there in body and spirit, I'm enough.

Beating the Hell Out of a Pause....

"Un ange passe" or "The angels are passing." We've all encountered this meaningless phrase at one time or the other. You know, you're at dinner with someone and you're sparking up a delightful conversation, jiving effortlessly from one topic to another and suddenly you hit a corner. And then somebody who just can't handle more than ten seconds of silence says that. But then let's face it. Nothing exciting can be said after that insufferable phrase hits the floor. Whatever happens next is most probably dull chatter - one that everyone will be bailing out of soon enough. People will start texting, someone will excuse themselves to go to the powder room, others will take a smoke break or worse, call it a night.

Personally I'm more erroneous in filling up conversations than embracing the pause. Which is why one-to-one exchanges are probably not my thing. In a mad dash to fill up the anxiety of silence, I'd probably resort to the highly popular, "Isn't it hot today?" escape route or blurt out something stupid or even wonder out loud without realizing.

But sometimes, it makes me wonder. What is it about silence between conversations that seems so hostile to us? Is it a cultural thing? Isn't it possible to accept the lull in conversation and catch our breaths and maybe let non-verbal communication run its course for a few minutes? But hey, non-verbal cues are tricky to interpret. Think about it. If you're on a date and you hit a pause, sooner or later, you'd either be wondering if you have spinach stuck in your teeth or that your date's a sex offender. If you're in a marriage and you hit a pause, you'd conclude, "Oh, have we become that boring couple who have nothing to say to each other?" If you have kids and you decide to use your moments of isolation to actually talk to each other, when you pause, you'll switch on the TV. Or the other thing. ('Cos there's just no time to lose, right?)

The other day, I went out shopping for groceries, which has become a very gratifying exercise for me over the years. I mean I love everything about it. Making lists, splurging on exotic sauces, strolling up and down aisles fantasizing about perfectly hosted dinners with really tiny, vibrant canapes and multiple hues of curries. So, I usually take Peaches with me as she nearly loves it as much as I do. In fact, she adds her own radiant energy, picking out ripe tomatoes and deciding to put one each on all the shopping carts around her as her personalized gift. But since Peaches has started school, I do it on my own, listening to Imogen Heap on my Ipod. (I do still love her.) Obviously, when my cart starts featuring really cheesy nachos and all the fattening things I don't need in my life right now, I know I'm starved. That's when I stop at a small Italian place for a cup of coffee and croissant. I happened to meet a friend from the building there. Also a mom to a three-year old. We start chatting. About our kids. About the pain in the rear-side that they've become. We reach a point when we're just whining. About everything. And then there comes exhaustion. I feel like I can't do these kind of conversations any more. Merely because they're not productive. I pause. She senses it too, I guess. We sip on our coffee and savor our croissants in silence. And yet, we don't feel driven to fill the silence with something cheerful; to steer the conversation onto happier notes. We finish our coffee in silence, smiling at each other occasionally. (Come to think of it, we were probably coming across as queer.) But even though, we had reached a point when we had nothing to say, it didn't feel awkward. Well, atleast not to me. We thanked each other for keeping company, feeling rejuvenated by that perfectly brewed silence.

So this week I leave you with a thought. What do you do when you encounter an awkward pause in conversation? Except scratching yourself, I'd love to hear all about it :).

The Doggie Ate My Year

"You're late!" If I had a penny for every time I've heard that, well, you know... (Popular idioms are clearly not my thing.)

Let me try again. If life were a school bus, I'd be the girl sprinting after it, gasping and breathless, but somehow,  hmph-ing and tutting my way and catching up to it. (OK, that definitely sounds cooler than the idiom.)

So it's New Year's. Time to chug that can of beer and simper with pride upon the highlights of it. But I got Facebook to do that for me already, like everybody else. Besides, I'm not a great person at recaps. I'd probably not even be able to tell you what I did last week. I'll merely zone out J.D. style for an uncomfortable amount of time and come up with a sad rhetoric like, "What do you think a full-time mom would be doing?"

I mean yes, there was travel, there were celebrations, there were large amounts of calories created and consumed, there were extended periods of boredom...And then there were pictures...Oh thank God for pictures!

So I thought, instead, I'll go down the other, traditional, look-ahead, "forget about yesterday" route. Resolutions. (Excuse my slow-flowing creative juices I guess.) But allow me to explain. You see, as I had mentioned in one of my early posts, I'm all about unfinished projects....well, until I found that one project that constantly nags me, follows me around like a pup, yells at me and goes to the extent of shaking me violently from time to time, so that I'm aware of her indomitable presence in my life. I should add that I've sweetly surrendered to her too.

But then there are some departments in my life that just have to try harder. For those, I need resolutions. Or let's call them goals while we're at being constructive. I mean we all know resolutions are meant to be broken.

So here are some of my 2015 goals that have been lurking somewhere in my insane, self-inflicted, super-mom cum super-wife ideal.

Then again, some are your everyday, face-your-irrational-fear sorts, so let's start with that one:

1. Visit the Dentist:
Say what? Yes, believe it or not, I've managed to dodge that commitment to a flawless smile for a pretty prett-ay, prett-ay long time. Sure, I'm as committed to brushing and flossing as a vicar's committed to church but I'm happy keeping the mouth exploration to a minimum. Unless of course, it can't be avoided.
Anyway, I was going through my recent pictures and I realize that I'm choking all  my crooked smiles to death, almost on the verge of coming across as stiff-lipped. So, I guess for the sake of flashing picture-perfect smiles on social media and for the greater good of coming across as an amiable person, the dentist'll have to come to my rescue.

The almost smile

2. Buy wardrobe basics:

• Vintage floral gown with obi belt: Check
• Poufed-up 50s inspired Parisian striped skirt: Check
• Metallic pants: Check
• Military green jumpsuit with gold embellished shoulders: Check
• Crisp white shirt: ?
• Black formal trousers: ?
• OK, how about a basic grey tee: ?

You get the drift. I can't stop myself from getting lured into chasing that soppy, Vogue fashion files worthy wardrobe. Unfortunately, normal people clothes just look too blah in comparison. And that's why, ladies, I'm always short of clothes. But this year's going to be about getting the basics right.

3. Learn how to bake (like chef-quality stuff):
I've sort of been following (and stalking) this amazing bake maestro and I happen to have put to test two of her delectable recipes (Corn pancakes and Peach tartines) that are now a family favorite. And now, she is holding classes. Here in Mumbai! I missed her previous sessions but it's time to unmask my inner Nigella and step up my game, especially for holiday food.

4. Commit to finishing stories:
Not to brag, but I've been getting epiphanies of these gripping, nail-biting story ideas. And I may have started them all at the same time to follow the trail to their deeply dark conclusions. And now, they're lying abandoned in a secluded well of drafts, like a bunch of frogs. So, starting this January, I'm going to see them through their fated ending and who knows, I may actually have a book some day? (Writer Beware: Long Daydream Sequence ahead.)

For those of you who like reading random, unfinished stories, here's a small excerpt from one of them:

"You know that feeling when you look at something and you just know it's going to be the hallmark event of your life, one that blurs everything that happened before it? When I first saw her face, she was in her bare-naked skin - every line, every scar, every pool of darkness, all the little details that women flutter to conceal, was mine to take stock of. She seemed to me a little broken, rather strange and somewhat lost. And I was transfixed by her.

That was then...But now, she was towering above me in all her glory and magnificence, with her skin radiating like a goddess in the mellow tint of the pink sun falling down on her , its light dispersing from her angular frame into a million luminescent crystals. It was near twilight and the window behind her, which let the sun in for a brief stop before it sank into oblivion, appeared to me now like the light at the end of a tunnel."

5. Start a fun, mommy-daughter, girls-only activity:
Kids are such vessels of learning. And one thing that I want to be able to learn from mine is her ability to dance her tutus off! Alone. On any f-ing song!

As it happens, I'm a total Elaine as far as dancing's concerned and it looks almost pointless for me to even step on the dance floor. So I thought, wouldn't it be fun if I could shed my inhibitions (and that not-so-cute, post-baby fat) and learn how to laugh at myself while swinging away those tightly-wound hips. I don't care if we have to follow one of those embarrassing dance-cardio workout videos with exotic names but time to shake that biscuit baby.
Eww...

6. Cook up a mouth-watering storm  every week:
2014 had me going experimental with flavours. I wanted to bring the aroma of cuisines from around the world to my kitchen. I can only thank my better half for inspiring me to go on. Some of the efforts made it successfully on Instagram, while others were sneakily shoved away into trash, all evidence leading up to them destroyed. But I realized I love experimental cooking and I want to continue finding my muse in other herbs, and not just parsley and basil. Maybe I'll do a food diary on Instagram this year to keep me going. (Oh, the things we do for public approval.)

7. Fix the laundry when it arrives:
Well, if you read this post, you know how freshly laundered clothes and I meet just once every week to tackle the overwhelming jigsaw puzzle of what goes where. But my heightened image of super-wife and the mountains of laundry to be sorted just don't add up. I mean would Samantha Stevens have to hike up a mound of clothes to get to her delicious husband? I think not. (Where can I learn magic?)

8. Buy more shoes (Sorry Sumit): I never gave shoes much of a thought, nothing beyond sneakers and thongs. But my two-year old, blossoming fashionista's shoe fetish got me caved in to the undying lust for shoes of all shapes and sizes - strange, bunion-rendering, impractical shoes. All we need is a bigger closet now.

9. Exercise: Every time, I open the wardrobe, this is the first thing I see.

Naturally, it stops me short in my tracks, to suck my doughy midriff in.
But then, I say to myself, who am I kidding? I'll just give it away. I happen to have won this dress from MissMalini. and I really want to able to wear this some day.
So, this year is about fitting my boot-ay into this dress and every bodycon dress that I have...And rocking it! Guess I just have to take my lumpy ass back to the gym. Sour-faced, of course.

So this is me bidding adieu to 2014, all the incredible things that it was about, and getting started on my goals for 2015. And there will be a mid-year review and everything. (And I wager, some blame-games to follow.)

Happy 2015 folks!

Things I Learned From My Daughter...

I have a confession to make. I'm a whiner. I whine a lot. About everything. About not getting an extra half hour of sleep if Peaches is up before her usual time. About losing hair. About somebody eating my chocolate.( By somebody, I mean my hubby, Sumit.) About tiny little things in my household gadgetry falling apart. Like the other day, a very ill-placed water canister suddenly decided it has to throw up some water all over my most favourite Roald Dahl classic that was innocently lounging in the shelf right beneath it. Unfortunate as it was, it's not as if I'm disaster-prone. It's like I'm deliberately keeping my eye out for any minute havoc that has the potential to bring on my whiny face, and there I am again with that "Why does this happen to me" monologue.

But something weird happened the other day. I was slowly savoring... no wait...gulping down my morning cup of chai as I observed my perky two-year old, Peaches unfold the mysteries of her toy box all over the living room floor. Since I'm not that much of a morning person, I decided to take the less-traveled road of letting her finish what she's doing. And I continued watching. She was talking to her toys. Telling them how to behave and where she'll take them in the evening. And just out of nowhere, she'd break into a song and sing to her doll. Then, she spotted a stain on her doll's dress. She fluttered to the bedroom to fetch a baby wipe and got down to scrubbing it pretty hard. She went on and on...with this magical intensity and purpose.

And just like that, the mess dissolved into a blur. I breathed in a fresh draught of morning air and sipped my chai. And it was then, after what seemed an eternity, that I got my mornings back.

The whole time, we carry within us a list of life skills, lessons learned, to-dos and to-don'ts, and beliefs that we import from the people around us. We make a mental note of them and pass it on to our kids as they grow. But who ever thought that these tiny, dripping vessels of love could show us a simple DIY of how to leave behind our baggages and relish life just as it comes?

So I thought that I'll make a small list of all the things that my spiritual guru in diapers has taught me so far, at least the ones I'm picking up easily:

Time for Life Lessons 101

1. How to dance like nobody's watching (and not give a f*** if somebody is):
Dancing doesn't come naturally to me. It's an utterly humiliating exercise. Somebody once observed about my dancing skills that if people could do this morose, zombie-like dancing at funerals, that's where mine would apply.
But the way Peaches moves in this really upbeat, madly-spinning rapture makes me want to groove to whatever it is that she's grooving to. Even if it's a nursery rhyme. And I lose my calculated rhythm, the sense of what looks sexy and what doesn't, the sense of myself, and I freakin' jump up and hop and dance. And it's ridiculously awesome!

The Way I Dance Now

2. How to smell the roses and fall in love with your life:
You know how it is. We're always dashing to get our chores finished, like until the morning comes. Then we mull about how mundane our current situation is and how we're lagging behind in that self-charted race of life. But even when I'm running helter skelter in a daze and being broody in general, I make it a point to watch Peaches lose her head in delight over replicating my boring tasks in her own little space. She mixes veggies in a bowl (and garnishes them with coriander). She cleans. She folds. Between tasks, she begs me to put a spoon of sugar in her mouth. And she squeals with joy when you see what she's accomplished. While I am wheezing to catch my breath, there she is, sitting happy and shiny, loving every bit of what she's doing. And she makes my life look perfect, right then, right there.

3. Saying hello to strangers:
I'm not a sociable person. I'm not even that vocal, come to think of it. I'm pretty sure I was the kid who screamed, "Monster!", when a guest came over to talk to me for the first time. I was the girl who didn't say one word in a Group Discussion, cos she was waiting for her turn. Oh yea, I was the quiet girl for the longest time. In fact I once told someone that I'm a writer and I want to get into building a blog, and he gave me that dreaded advice. He said with a sassy smile, "Babe, forget writing for a while. Network! You need to get out of your shell." And I'm nodding my head and thinking, "And you sir, you need to floss." 'Cos I thought writers can get away with being loony.

But now that I'm a mom to a very chirpy kid who starts random conversations with random people (even in a 10-second elevator ride), I'm learning how to smile at strangers. I'm learning how to say stupid one-liner jokes to people while standing in a queue. I'm learning how to pour out trivial details of my life to other moms. And above all, I'm learning that people are not monsters. And boy, that's a relief.

4. Embracing your body:
We all have those special phases in our lives when looking at your reflection in your bare skin becomes a bit of a self-deprecating exercise; one that gets the better of your self-esteem. Even when your husband tells you that you're beautiful, you don't accept it.  If people compliment you, you find ways to deflect it by saying, "Oh thanks! But you should've seen me 5 years ago." or "Thanks. Must be the new diet I guess. But wait till I lose another 10 kgs" or "Really, you like it curly! But I wish mine were straight like yours." As it happens, I'm still crunching away to whittle down my muffin top (and that dimpled hip) and I realized it's not going to melt away by my burning stares. Which is why I look at myself in the mirror, count till 5 and disengage. But to Peaches, I just look like mommy.  She calls me beautiful when I'm out of the shower, when I'm wearing my worn-down pyjamas, even when my hair's sprouting in all directions ...She doesn't care that my jeans is too tight or my belly's kinda squishy right now. All that matters then is how I feel about myself. And I kinda feel pretty again. She taught me how to.

5. A day out in the mountains is worth ten big swipes on your credit card:
OK, I'm a city girl and don't really have that much in me to appreciate the quiet. I mean if you took me to Grand Canyon, I'd probably look at the view for a minute and go, " I'm done. When can we hit Vegas?" So when we were planning a vacation, I was OK with Goa, 'cos you have a pleasant mix of serene beaches, colourful flea markets and noisy lounges but I was skeptical about Gir National Forest. Four days in the forest seemed unjustified if we were going to stare at lions and listen to the birds chirp. And we were miles away from the shopping hubs of Surat and Ahmedabad. We got there and I was gasping for some familiar carbon monoxide fumes or the smell of fresh concrete but the air was way too clean . But Peaches...She belonged there. Not only did she have a hell of a party on the train ride up there, but she was collecting little flowers around the enormous garden stretch, she was getting all wonder-eyed when she spotted lions for the first time, she was chasing butterflies, she was getting glints of sunshine in her lovely locks while running about with her dad.

Peaches and Dad - At Taj, Gir Forest

 I've to admit that it was after really long that I saw a butterfly, I mean like really see all the way through it. And it finally dawned on me that this has to be paradise on earth.

So that's what my cute little teacher's managed to teach me so far.

Yet, there are so many more lessons to learn. Things that I'm being slow at include:
6. Being a hero, when your gut feeling says, "Run!". ('Cos I still run when I see a lizard)
7. How to get really dirty and enjoy it, even when you're in a fancy restaurant.
8. How to stand in the middle of the rain and jump up and down and not obsess about how your hair'll get all weird and sticky, among other things.
9. How to just go somewhere...without a purpose.
10. How to go by your gut instinct.
11. That thinking before acting is over-rated.
12. How to say what you mean. And say it like you mean it. Even it means saying No. Especially No.

So from where I see, Peaches is turning me into a brand new person, little by little, everyday. Maybe before I can even think of passing on my big book of wisdom to her, she's showing me a whole new perspective.

I can try to trace when it all began. But in the meantime, I'm just going to slowly sip my chai, watch her be a little girl as she helps me get started with living my life anew.