Mom Exchange

I’m afraid I’m doing such a lousy job of being a mom, that my lil boys are soon going to smarten up and go demand a ‘cash back’ from the Mom Exchange.

I mean – examples:

Neel wasn’t allowed to enter his piano competition in school because his mom didn’t ask in writing. So I promptly sent a note – taking full blame. Blaming it on my PMS and my head trauma when I was 11 years old (oh well, not exactly , but...) and in short, saying – look, he’s got a lousy mom, just let the kid play, ok?

Lil Niks is the only boy in his class who hasn’t got an umbrella for his umbrella dance. Where can one buy an umbrella in the dry dustiest season of the year? I’ve combed the streets and stores. So he’s hopping around like Gene Kelly twirling the class Number Rod. Well, at least he’ll stand out on stage!

Neel has decided to take things into his own hands. Today, I see him breaking his plastic sphere into 2. What for? Cos he needed to take one of my bangles as a circular object to school for Timeclock drawing, and he assumed (correctly) I wouldn’t ever be able to find a bangle. So he created his own hemisphere instead.

Now, they’re gonna get chatting with their pals and realise the others have these wonderful moms who pack tiffins on time and have bangles and write notes for piano. And some day, they’re going to trot off to the Mom Exchange and demand they get one of those!

So if one day you meet my boys at the Mom Exchange, please tell them how I gave up a galloping career at its peak to wipe multi-coloured crap off baby buttocks. How I painted their room wall with the Jungle book animals they wanted, since Asian Paints couldn’t and how I got a dust allergy from it that I carry till today. How I make Stegosaurus idlis attacking Diplodoccus cauliflowers for dinner. How every time they go up on stage, I chew off all my fingernails. And every time I’m told what fine young men I’ve brought up, I begin to howl in pride. Bet they can’t get a mom from the Exchange who’ll do all that, huh?