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?
