Life-ing it up...

I've said it once and I'm going to say it again... M makes me look like the epitome of patience. I picture myself with a halo these days, the supreme mother, smiling beatifically at her daughter who mistakes the titty for a teether sometimes. M is of the notion that 'it' needs a stretch test quite regularly. Having said that, now that she is 6 months old, she feeds quite actively and these nursing sessions are liberally interrupted with the most adorable things and actions. Breastfeeding can and will stop for any number of momentous things happening in the universe. What it all boils down to is that I will have to bear it all without the slightest movement, as long as she isn't done feeding.  In spite of everything, I just cant help but be amused at her antics. So, let me point out just some of the reasons for M to take a break from her feeding. I cleared my throat. I picked up my cellphone or it beeped or I tried to check my email, etc. Daddy walked in the

I was the stick insect in my school. Neighbours and relatives would keep on commenting that the poor kid seemingly got only leftovers at home. This ideal situation continued right until college. I know, lucky me! But I was too much of a nerd back then to put this into optimum usage.  It was only when I turned 18 and left my hometown, that my first local guardian in the city, a thoroughly delinquent young woman, made me aware of the fact. She also showed me the ropes of the friends-college-fun-party-boys network. At least, now I've got somewhat of an adventurous history that would need hiding from my daughter in future. Alas! the chemical reaction that changed it or let's say ruined it all was my marriage. I don't mean it in a bad way but my marriage was the definite marker if not the reason. So there I went, from a slim figure to a water buffalo. My metabolism all but died and that too a very silent death because I don't even remember hearing a sigh.                

I resigned. I called it quits from the best job, the best office, and the best work I was in. I'm sure there are more to come and will trump my life in T&F in more ways than one but I loved this one and I would always nurse a teeny bit of remorse about resigning. After a total of eight years of working of which five were spent in T&F, I'm now getting ready for a life at home. August 14 is going to be my last day at work, sniff! Five years of learning, mentoring, colleagues, and all the fun of office life. My biggest loss will be my awesome colleagues who have spilled out of that connotation and filled my life as dear, darling friends. I've had the craziest house parties with them, add to it evenings at the pub bitching about all and sundry. (That reminds me I could do a post on them each, that'd be so cool.) I will miss the office coffee, and the sweets and snacks deluge of every Indian holiday and non-holiday. I mean Diwali and Holi is routine but also

I'm working from home again. The office allowed me a two-month remote working arrangement so that I could stay back and take care of my precious little gem. I'm in my bed working as M is sleeping peacefully next to me. I look at her in between my work and I start thinking that my two months are almost over and I will have to make a decision soon. I've been at home since November last year and my lifestyle has gone through a massive overhaul. Sometimes I'm raring to just get out, if nothing else than just take a metro ride to and from a coffee shop. But sometimes I'm content to loll around in my pajamas and averse to even take a stroll around the apartment complex.  No more dressing up, no eating out, no impulse shopping, no meetings or conference calls, no brainstorming or gossip with peers and subordinates but yes, a lot of good feelings, a lot of happiness, a lot of glow and a huge lot of power surge. It's amazing how I feel more confident these days and pow

I know it's been a long time since I last wrote a post. But I have the biggest excuse ever... I've got a baby to take care of! M is doing fine, she is at six weeks now and quite temperamental. I think she will be quite moody when she grows up. Now that I think of it, I think she will give her boyfriend a hard time. Like for instance, they decide to meet up at a particular bus stop and then on to a movie or something. The poor guy turns in a tad bit late (mind you, the key point being just a little bit late) then either she would leave by the very bus the guy came in or would go up till the theatre and take a single ticket to watch the movie alone. Poor guy! S says, I'm just projecting my own latent mean girl vibes on her. Anyway, what I mean to explain is that you get a millisecond late in feeding her, or her bath water is not presented in the exact right temperature or maybe her hairbrush is not moving in the right direction and you will have your ears blasted with the s

They both start with 'W' but are poles apart. I mean really, isn't it a herculean task to get up in a winter morning that we add on piles of extra work to this season. Any little thing you need to do which entails contact with water also entails an extra work of heating it up. If you are not cozily snuggled up inside layers of blankets, an extra work is planning and calculating the exact ratio and line-up of clothes that you need to put on. And of course, winters mean a little extra bit of hunger, so either you cook extra, order extra or fret extra about all the added tires to your already growing paunch. In office, I'm almost always mentally cursing someone who still feels hot enough to keep the AC on and leaves me uncomfortable and at other times dreaming about tea/coffee/vodka (take your pick) with steaming hot pakoras . The result being, I have to work extra on Friday to actually make up for the week's target which I'd spent, day-dreaming and wr