A Year Later...

I still can't believe that Mum got her wings a year ago.

When I started to make notes about my post I realized that it was all a bit sad, bordering on depressing. Don't get me wrong, I am incredibly sad about Mum not being here. I still long to hear her voice, to get the call where she has to share her latest joke.

And that's when I reminded myself that Mum loved to laugh and have a laugh. In the last few years her life was really quite unhappy with being so ill and jokes, yes even the naff ones, made her giggle and gave some light relief.

So I figured, I could lament about the feeling of loss and how I don't really look at the picture of Mum that is on my coffee table too much because it causes my heart to ache. No, instead I figured July 1st is not just a day of remembrance but a chance to celebrate the life of a woman who:

• made me laugh
• made me appreciate the written word
• told me to use my common-sense
• wound me up
• tried my patience
• made me cry 
• I enjoyed hugging
• strive and achieve to become a published author
• taught me the Beatitudes
• I envied and admired her natural artistic abilities
• who ultimately pushed me to be a better person and achieve more than she did

So as much as her absence has left a hole in my heart, I'll always be grateful for what she taught me...as well as not being able to teach the Little Miss bad habits and then hand her back to me (something she promised to do with her grandchildren)!

Thanks Mum xx

"Before the merriment of commencement commences..."

The spring rain had watered the hallowed grounds of Harvard and up sprang marquees of various sizes. Ah yes Commencement was here once again.

Taking an alternative route through Harvard Law campus, as they were busy setting up cameras and podiums, we squeezed past the growing line of students with their mortar boards and gowns chattering eagerly to each other.

I was very excited for them, I have no idea why. It was lovely seeing their faces of anticipation, family members clicking away, friends chatting and posing for yet more photographs before they were called up to shake the Dean's hand and take their seat and listen to Mr. Bloomberg give an inspiring speech.

As we ambled along I said to Hubby that I would love to attend a commencement even it's just to heckle a "woo-hoo, well done!" Hubby said they send out tickets they'd know I didn't belong. But I argued, what if I were to wear a professors hat and gown? I'd fit in no problem. I'd just shake their hands saying "congratulations, now the hard work starts." or I'd quote Four Weddings and grasp the hands of the parents and gush, "congratulations, you must be so proud!"

As Hubby hurried me away from the throngs lest I tap one of the students and give them a congratulatory hug, I'm reminded (by Hubby dearest) that that so called 'hard work' they're destined for is softened by the six figure salary they'll all be starting on. Hmm, good point...

Finally a Posting

Seems that I haven't written a blog post for the 'new' year - I apologize. I suspect having a child will do that. Ah yes, my thoughts of life continuing as 'normal' dissolved pretty soon as I bought the little miss home. Where I used to read a book (to review) in a couple of days, it now takes me a week to finish it and even longer to write the critique. And whilst my head is swirling with feeds, diaper changes and 'the wheels on the bus' I still have time to observe the outside life...

...even if it is to occasionally gripe:

Let the Mocking Begin...
I was stopped in the street and asked where the nearest Starbucks was...

All Dressed Up
Various students were seen around the Cambridge area sporting tuxes, suits and pretty frocks. Lovely, nice to see. However, why would you get all dressed up to the nines and carry an everyday handbag - even if it is a Michael Kors? Completely ruined the look.

Take 'em Off
The clouds darkened, the wind swirled the leaves endlessly around, whipping them intermittently into a frenzy. Yet you wear your shades as if there is bright sunshine blinding you.  No, just no...

I'm the Mother
Took the little miss to a sing-a-long at the library. Had an elevator chat with a fellow mom who actually thought I was the nanny...

Ah yes, even if I am encased in my warm home (for most of the day) surrounded by a giggling sometimes wailing child, Sesame Street tunes in the background, dribble and milk stains on a 'clean-on this morning' top, it's good to know that the world still turns and I can still wonder at it's inhabitants.

What a Year...

...one that has been filled with happiness, optimism and yes sadness.

I was nearly three months pregnant in January and Hubby and I couldn't wait to let our parents, brothers, sister and heck just about anyone who listened, that we were expecting.

February and morning sickness had taken a gentle but strong enough hold to make me feel 'off' most evenings. My sister made a surprise (and very welcome) visit and I felt the first flutter of our little one - a movement that over the coming months would increase to turns and rolls and the start of 'Bump Watch' where I'd spend a few hours each evening just waiting to see movement.

March, April and May saw us celebrate birthday's, what seemed as never-ending visits to the OB and lots of planning. Oh boy the planning! Which crib to buy, stroller, car seat and what name. Choosing a name is the reason why it takes 9/10 months to bring a child into this world...and it took us practically the whole of my pregnancy to find a name.

June was a hot month and the hottest day of the year was when we had to move from our 4th floor apartment to the 1st floor (that's the ground floor in English). I held the illusion of being able to help Hubby. I insisted, he insisted we move the dining table and chairs where I would sit and take it easy. The fact that I had to stop half way up the stairs only carrying our little one wasn't a deterrent. Hubby was right...yes I've admitted I was wrong!

And then July. A devastating month, one which at times I still can't believe. I was nearing the end of my third trimester and whilst my thoughts flitted from names to strollers to wondering which Disney princess our girl would prefer; throughout I thought Mom would be there giving me advice, laughing at my worries and then calming them down. And even though I have an amazing set of people that I can speak with and friends have said talk to your Mom anyway, she'll hear you, there are times that I just need to hear what she has to say.

When we came back, August became a blur of activity - car seat arrived, crib chosen, confirmation of a pediatrician and the minor issue of finalizing a name for our little miss. D-Day arrived (that's delivery day) and my main concern was I had to have breakfast at 6.30 in the morning as there was a likelihood that I wouldn't be eating for a while. I could only have ice pops? Hardly filling eh... The anesthetist came in giving me advice on having an epidural. I was all, 'thanks, but I'll be okay.' His return look was 'a-ha sure I'll see you later.' After enduring nearly 4 hours of  waving pain (they don't do 'gas & air') boy did I need it. Oh and one other thing, I became a published author.

The following months have been emotional to say the least. Joy, fear, worry, laughter...and the pure bliss that I've felt has been (and is) bittersweet. There are very few moments when I don't think of Mom and whether she would think me a good mother and be proud of me. Whilst I wish she was still here, I remind myself that she is at peace, she's no longer tired or suffering. My little girl has a few things that remind me of Mom and that eases the pain to know there's a little part of her still (physically) around.

As the little miss grows and changes everyday, as Hubby continues to make me laugh, as my sister is on her journey to becoming a mother, I'm grateful for all that has happened...the good and the bad. Life is for experiencing what it has to offer. It doesn't mean it will be all rainbows and unicorns, but just taking each day as it comes.

So, I'll raise a glass on December 31st and share a hug and kiss with the two most important people in my life and look forward to 2014 and whatever it has in store for me, for us.

Nighttime Feeding in Six Easy Steps

It's a wondrous thing having to be fully alert at two in the morning. Just as I'm about to fall asleep, the little lady decides to wake up with a zealousness that would have been much more appreciated during the day. You know, my sweet girl, the time when normal people are up?

But having endured several nights of waking up at midnight and not actually getting back in to bed until 5am, I've perfected the steps that must be followed for me to attain some kip.

1. The Hula Dance
Once feeding has finished, I let bubs rest in my arms for a few minutes (read: half an hour or before I nod off and I hear a thud as the little one rolled out of my arms (NB. that has never happened, so step away from the phone to call NSPCC or Childline)). I walk to the crib in a swaying motion as if on the beaches of Hawaii and Israel Kamakawiwoʻole is strumming on the ukulele, so as to keep her lulled.

2. The Friends
This is taken from the episode when Ross gives advice on how to stop cuddling in bed. You're with me right...the hug and roll. Still swaying I slow down the rocking and then give her a quick hug and gently place her down on to the mattress.

3. The Hover
She's in the cot, still asleep - but no celebration just yet as there's a slight whimper. Thankfully, nothing more. Still I watch, hovering like a hummingbird just in case.

4. Tip Toe Through the Tulips
This is my walk from crib to bed. I place my feet on selected areas so as to avoid any creaking floorboards lest I wake her and Hubby up. Around 3.30 in the morning, the tip-toe may become a trample as I'm too tired to care.

5. The Slide & Pull
My maneuver of getting back into bed without waking Hubby; in one swift movement, I slide into bed and pull the duvet over me. A hint of a smile as I sink my head into my pillow...

6. Ninja Stealth
I'm finally in bed, yet can I fall asleep? No is the simple answer. Instead, like a martial arts expert on a mission, I lie awake waiting, expecting the beginnings of a whimper to turn into a cry and then a short shriek. At this point, I will leap from the bed, throwing the covers over Hubby, stomp over the tulips and lunge at the crying child to start soothing or more likely change her nappy.

The great thing about these 'steps' is that they can be repeated countless times of no detriment to the little one...only perhaps to my sanity but that's not important is it?

Oh and when I said 'perfected' it is - in my mind. The reality is I am a slave to her demands and sometimes none of these techniques work. Ah who needs eight hours of sleep a night? Not me, I'd be happy with just two...

Mum

As I enter the world of motherhood, I find myself missing Mum more and more - she was the one that I would have called and asked 'am I doing this right?' Having said that, when I had to asked Mum a question (some months ago) she responded, 'how old are you Shalini? Well, that's the last time I looked after a baby, I can't remember...' but that didn't stop her from passing on a few words of wisdom.

It's been a couple of months since I heard the phrase, 'Mum has died'. Three words I, perhaps naively, didn't think I'd hear for a very long time.

A calmness surrounded me when I heard. Yes tears were shed, but essentially I was calm. Did I think I would be hysterical, beat my chest wailing if and when I would hear the terrible news? Perhaps, but I'm rarely that demonstrative and the truth be known, I was more at peace with Mum going than I thought I would be. On that day, having been told that Mum had gone into hospital, I didn't panic or start to fret like I normally do but I simply said to myself, 'she's in your hands now God'.

So many ordinary things make me think of her and it's amazing that despite the tantrums I threw and the arguments we had, all I remember are the times we had a laugh, when we would just share a hug or work quietly together in the kitchen preparing dinner. As I think about how I will be as a mother, I hope to pass on a few things that Mum taught me such as how to treat other people, having faith, a good sense of humor - as well as my own little nuances...

Some people call their mum/dad their best friend, but I never saw mine like that, she was just Mum. And it would be easy to be upset at not being her best friend, but I'm proud to be just her daughter. She knew everything about me even when I said nothing. She knew what made me tick, how I would react to a situation. As I got older, got married, our conversations changed and she talked to me as a grown woman - but still as her youngest.

A stylish, hard working woman who could make the most delicate sugar-paste flower to wallpapering an entire room single-handed, what ever she turned her hand to, it worked. She had a great sense of fashion, loved her 'bling' (her middle name should have been Swarovski) and wherever Mum went, she made a friend and had a smile for a stranger.

So as I tend to my daughters needs, I'm both excited and sad. There have been many little things I know I would have called Mum to tell her about for me to hear how she would have handled it or her experiences with raising me, my brother and sister; it's very bittersweet.

But as Hubby said, our daughter wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Mum because she had me - so there's a little bit of her in our little girl. It's a comforting thought and I can't wait to tell our little one about her remarkable Grandma.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

The recent news of Kanye and Kim calling their daughter North West, highlighted the difficulty of choosing a name and well, the stupidity of some parents.

With our little one on her way we have that important/arduous task of choosing a name that will be with her for life (obviously). They say a name makes the man or woman - why else would Norma Jean become Marilyn Monroe, Maurice Joseph Micklewhite, Michael Caine or Marion Robert Morrison be better know as John Wayne?

But they're celebrities, you understand why they changed their names. Yet why is it that certain celebrities, who have 'normal' names choose a name that the child may feel compelled to change? Or is it because they are born into a world of money and status that it's of little consequence what these children have to 'suffer' because of the choice of their parents?

What would you say if you knew a Peaches Honeyblossom (Bob Geldof/Paula Yates' daughter), Blue Ivy (Beyonce and Jay-Z's daughter) or Moon Unit (Franks Zappa's daughter) in your primary school? Admittedly, children are very accepting of what's put before them. There may be the slight 'huh?' when they hear the name but as long as you're willing to pitch in a game of baseball, who cares.

I spent last weekend looking at 1500 names. Yes there are that many and then some...I've amended the list of names we've put together, looked at them, coupled them with our surname and revised it (again and again) crossing off the ones that SO won't work. Hopefully we'll find something that we agree on...no Hubby and I haven't quite seen eye-to-eye on some names. We both have at one time or the other given each other looks of "are you serious?" Once we've chosen a name, I'm planning on having a couple on standby as she may not 'look' like the name we've chosen. Regardless, the search continues...

However, what I am sure on is that we won't be calling the little one Beetle. Yes that's the name of this boy in the UK somewhere. Can you imagine being in the playground - "hey, bug boy - pass us the football!"  And when he's older, sitting at an all important interview; "Hi my name is Beetle,"... poor child.