Thirty going on seven

I will be thirty years old in about another half an hour. If I were living in Australia or China I would be thirty already.

A few years ago, thirty seemed so old. Practically ancient. And I thought that I would have my act together by then.

Turns out, not so much.

When I was young(er), I wanted to be a surgeon. A female McDreamy if you will. Then I worked at a bank and there were no specific dreams as such. Then I wanted to be a judge.

Today I was thinking about all those things as Baby and I took a nice evening stroll and I realised that throughout I always wanted to be a writer. The thing is that as I go about my day, everyday I make up stories. They maybe brand new ones, different endings to things I face, alternative endings to books and movies long after I'm done with them. I even make up sort of epilogues for books I read and movies I watch about what happens to the characters afterwards.

Today it hit me. What an idiot! If only I had written these stories down, the collection I would have amassed by now.

What am I now? I like to think that I'm on the path of becoming a home maker. What about all your education, people are quick to ask. So what about it? I will still use it. Just at home.

I cannot in all certainty say that I will never work outside home again. A time might come where Darling being the sole provider will not be enough. One can never tell. Even if we had to scrape through I am happy to be home raising our son. I surprise people when I say that. I think I was the most surprised when it dawned on me. That I want to be a stay-at-home mom and home-maker. It is something that I never envisioned for myself.

Why then?

Beacause I want to make and bake and sew and garden and grow our own veggies and have chickens and have a cow and make cheese and write stories and most most importantly raise my son.

That is what I want. And looks like this dream is here to stay.

You with the devious eyes

You, with the devious eyes
Spare me a glance.
You, with the devious eyes,
Looking everywhere but at me.

You, with the sincere smile,
You, with the mischievous grin,
Merry making with your friends.
Moving like a hurricane,
Around me,
Wrecking havoc in my heart.

You, with the devious eyes
Spare me a glance.
This treacherous heart
Yearns for but one simple glance.

You, with the devious eyes,
Spare me a glance.

Bit**ing

I have this habit. I tend to bitch about people. No. I don't usually use bad words, but in this case it's the only one that fits.

If someone does something that I don't agree with, don't like, that makes me uncomfortable etc etc I talk bad about them with those who are closest to me.

The worst is that I bitch about my closest with each of them too.

I just realised what a bi*** I'm being.

It's not cool. It needs to be broken.

Also why waste life complaining about one person to another.

What if I found that someone was bitching about me to another. I would be heart broken. So would the subjects of my complaints.

Phew!

Self criticism and finding that one falls short of ideal is never easy. But well, here I am bitching about myself and not another.

It's a start right?

The downward spiral : dealing with depression

This is a post on something rather private. But as I realise that there a lot out there who might now be in the little dark hole I was sometime ago, I get a strong compulsion to share this.

After Baby was born, I was diagnosed with post partum depression. I was weepy, crying at the drop of a hat, constantly worried about the baby, getting angry for no apparent reason, again bawling my lungs out for no reason and having strange, terrible thoughts. Worst still, feeling guilty about those terrible thoughts.

Initially, I considered them to be normal baby blues. But as time passed it only got worse and I had to seek medical help.

The first doctor went to gasped as I described my thoughts to her, which I thought was rather unprofessional as she was a psychiatrist specialising in such things. I did not go to her again.

Later an aunt of mine who had also suffered from post partum depression directed me to another doctor who was kind enough to assure me that what I was going through was normal and that many new mothers go through the same. What was important was that I sought help.

What I wanted to share was not only the above. What I wanted to tell you was, don't give up. Don't give in. Be defiant.

Whether it is post partum or depression of another kind, you can get through this. People will say all sorts of stuff. Let me list some out for you.

1. What do you have to be depressed about?
2. You were brought up so pampered that you can't deal witjlh it when you hit a rough patch.
3. You are loved by everyone so much, how can you be depressed?
4. If only you were a little more religious!.
5. I think voodoo would help.
6. I know this person who was depressed and electric shock thrapy was the only thing that helped. Maybe you should try it.
7. Are you sure you need medication? Can't you handle this on your own?

Here's the deal. They mean well. It is just that they have probably never been where we have been and hence have no idea what we are talking about. They are also worried that we might be mental and are secretly terrified.

Nope. Just because someone is depressed it doesn't mean that the last cookoo is about to leave the nest. It doesn't mean that we will become axe murderers. Or the seven psychopaths. (on a side note, how cool is that movie?)

So what I'm trying to say is this. Let the people talk. Let them offer their unsolicited opinions. Don't let it bother you.

Count your blessings. Trust me, it helps. Write your thoughts down. Build stuff. Cook. Sew. Crochet. Knit. Paint. Draw. Write. Doodle. Sing. Dance. Exercise. Go for a walk. Take pictures. Whatever that takes you to your happy (or less depressed) place.

But most, most importantly DECIDE TO BE HAPPY. Happiness does not come easy. You have to DECIDE to be happy.

Stop obessessing that you're depressed. The more you worry about it, the more you get depressed. The more depressed, the more you worry. It's a viscious cycle. You have to break it somewhere.

Start right now. DECIDE TO STOP BEING DEPRESSED. DECIDE TO BE HAPPY.

Also, seek medical help. It can do wonders. Trust me. I know.

P.s.
This is not a medical blog or a medical article. I'm neither qualified nor experienced to offer medical advice. This is just to tell you what worked for me.

Rock-a-bye baby

Everytime I put my baby to sleep I sing him a lullaby. I keep on singing it until he dozes off and then I just hum it in an undertone.

But every single time, up until he finally falls asleep, even with his eyes closed, Baby protests having to go to sleep ( at least I thought so). He always goes "gnnnnnnnn" or "mmmmmmm" or " ahhhhhh".

Today, while I was putting Baby down for his morning nap Darling said "stop humming". I looked at him in wonder. What did he mean? Did he not want me to sing to the baby?

"Trust me". He said. "Just stop humming for minute".

I stopped humming. So did Baby.

I started again. So did Baby.

All this time he had not been protesting at all. He had been singing and humming along with me.

New resolutions

After Baby was born I've been kind of slack lately. I take care of him and that seems to be pretty much all I do. I've been told countless times by loved ones that I better get back to my usual self and not be a lazy, fat person who (in a moment of insanity) cut her own long hair short.

I have to start doing many things. I have to start taking care of myself. I just realised that I don't want Baby to have slob for a mother or for Darling to have a slob for a wife. They deserve better. I deserve better.

So it's time to start making some changes. Starting tonight. I thought if I write this and send it out into the universe that it might help me.

So what am I going to do?

For starters, work out everyday. Secondly try my hand at some craft project every day. I don't necessarily need to finish one every day, just make something.

Above all else, I just want have strength of mind.

P.s also hope that my hair will grow back faster.

Thank you,nose

I rock my baby for a good twenty minutes and he finally falls asleep when my nose decides that it is the perfect time for  a sneeze.

Not just my nose, something always seems to get in the way of my baby's sleep.
1) He's in my arms and I HAVE TO scratch my back.

2) I close the curtain. crrrrrreee.... go the curtain hooks on the curatin rail.

3) I close the window. The window latch goes click.

4) Someoneone has to use a wheelbarrow right outside the window. eeeooooeeeeoooo

5) I'm nicely lounging next to himusing the laptop. I click on the moisrpad.

6) It is right outside our gate that a van driver devides to brake. screeeechh....  

7) I'm cautious like a spy when I get out of bed and CRASH..  Topple the nappie bucket over.

8) I kiss him.

9) A car honks.

10) Our three dogs have a barkfest.

11) My mother calls me to come have dinner.

පුතු

මා පළමු වතාවට මවක් වුනේ මේ ඊයේ පෙරේදා ය.  නිදි නැති රැයවල්, මගහැරුණු කෑම වේල් මට දැන් පුරුදු දේ වී  තිබේ. 

පුතා පාන්දර සිට නිදි නැත. කුකුළා හඬලන්නටත්  කලින් ඇහැරෙන ඔහු අත පය ගසමින්, "ආ ඕ" කියමින් සිටියි. මම අමාරුවෙන් ඔලුව කෙලින් කරගෙන, බාගෙට ඇරුණු ඇස් වලින් ඔහු දෙස බලා හිඳිමි. විටෙක මා දෙසට හැරෙන ඔහු කිරි ඉල්ලන්නට කට  හදයි. කකුල් දෙකෙන් බයිසිකල් පදියි. අත් දෙකටත් නිනව්වක් නැත. 

ඔක්කොම මහන්සි නැති වෙන්නේ පුතා මදෙස බලා සිනැසෙන විටය. සමහරක් විටෙක මා ඔහුට ආදරේ බව පවසන විට ඔහු ඉතා සතුටෙන් හිනා වෙයි. හරියට මා කියන දේ තේරුණා සේය. මගේ මුහුණ දෙස බලා "ඕ ඕ" කියයි.  මා ඔහුව සිප ගන්නා විට වේගයෙන් අත් පා  ගසයි. 

මීටත් වඩා සතුටක් ලෝකයේ තිබෙන්නට විදියක් නැත. මා මෙතරම් වාසනාවන්ත වූයේ කෙසේදැයි සිතෙන විට මගේ සිතට අනියත බියක් දැනෙයි.  සෑම නව මවකටම එසේ සිතේදැයි මම කල්පනා  කරමි. 

පුතා කිරි බොනවා ඇතිද, නිදනවා ඇතිද, වැඩීම හොඳයිද, දාහක් ප්‍රශ්න මගේ ඔලුවේ සැරිසරයි. මගේ මව අතේ සිට මා ඉල්ලා හඬන විට මම ඔහුව වඩා නොගත්තොත් ඔහුට එය මානසිකව බලපායිද? ඊළඟ ප්‍රශ්නය මේවා වෛද්‍යවරයාගෙන් ඇසිය හැකිද යන්නයි.  

මවක් වීම ලේසි නැත. 

Meena

Meena was only fourteen when her mother left. One morning she woke up to the wails of her one year old brother crying and found out that her mother had left sometime in the dead of the night. Her father sat in a corner, not knowing what to do or how to console a crying one year old. As cries got more high pitched and louder, the other siblings woke up. There are three more of them. Meena is the eldest of five.

It was only years later that she found out that her mother had eloped with her lover, leaving her husband and five children stranded. Meena's father had had no clue and was in shock for months afterwards. Which is how it became Meena's responsibility to look after her four siblings.

Meena learnt to do everything. She would get up at 3.30 in the morning. Cook for the day. Wash all the clothes and get ready to go to school. She would then dress the two oldest siblings for school and wash the other two. On her way to school, she would deposit the two youngest siblings at her paternal aunt's. On her way back from school she would pick up the little ones. Most days she missed school, trying to calm baby tantrums, sooth growing pains, teething pains and hunger cries.

One day, when the one year old had grown up to be two years Meena found that the little fellow was having breathing difficulties. He seemed to be in pain. When she tilted his his head back she could see that there was something stuck in one of his nostrils. He was howling by this point and everything she had tried to dislodge what was stuck in his nose was proving to be futile. She was about to drag him to the bus station to go to the hospital when inspiration struck.

Meena threw a handful of dried chillies into the fire burning in the stove. The fiery smoke achieved what she could not all that while. At the smell of burning chillies, her brother sneezed, sending out the little peanut that was stuck in his nose hurling out.

Meena is twenty seven years old now. She doesn't miss her mother. Her only regret is that the mother who was never there would not see how they have grown. How they have fared without her. That is all.