Even before the dawn breaks, our body clocks start ticking, to gear us up for the day-ahead, with a zillion tasks lined up. We forgo external battery chargers and rely on self-purposed motivation to keep us going. After all, as women, we have attained the ultimate fulfilment of life, by delivering to the even more supreme role of procreation. The epitome of patience, a paragon of virtues, and the all-encompassing love, the quintessence of sacrifice-what more do we need to sustain us?…. Welcome to motherhood!
Whether it is handling one or more kids, mothers have reincarnated to assume different roles- from a homemaker, to a working professional, the expectant and the experienced mother; you can visualize a juggler, standing on a narrow ledge, trying to satisfy one and all in the family-framework.
We don different hats, step into different shoes and kickstart the day’s marathon with a supernova of energy.
The morning Rush hour
Sweet slumber and even sweeter chill mornings of the Bangalore climate…who would want to peep out from beneath the coverlets? Yet we rise, and set a precedent for a quicker sunrise. But kids fail to see light in this whole affair, especially during school days. The sweet-natured mother first gives out cuckoo calls to awaken the sleeping devils. The cooing slowly rises to a crescendo of full-blown lung power( which has all the power to bring down the roof of the house). All failing, a poke, then a prod, a stir and then a shove to dislodge them from bed, is the technique which sensible mothers deem best.
Breakfast time
Break- the- fast or break- your- neck routine, it is feeding time for kids, and it can’t be escaped. Here, no amount of experience serves the fussy eaters. You need to be creative, with the food preparation and the feeding technique. The hunger pangs from the night-long fast, cower down before the rebellious spirits to eat what the mother wants to feed. Yet the morsel has to go in. We coax, cajole, wheedle and whimper through super-hero stories(for boys) or delve into the secrets of Rapunzel’s long hair and pink cheeks(for girls). Or, as the last resort turn on the idiot box with the hope that it will turn on the “open” and “shut” mechanism of their mouths, and that the plate full of food slowly empties. All mothers, I am sure, secretly pray that the idiot box’s dumbness does not rub off on their children. But then much as we would love to, should we spank them juicy and red, on their buttocks and unleash a cyclone? I would rather not, but cling to the hope that “tomorrow will be another day” with the kids.
Potty, mothers go dotty.
I can never imagine as to why the expulsion of wastes from the human body is an exacting endeavour for children. They simply don’t understand the deadly impact of controlling their potty, further piling on their mom’s aggrieved state of mind. They would rather squirm and do a sitting snake dance than paying heed to their bowels. Potty time is never a whole-hearted endeavour. Where we adults would love to meditate and settle down with a book or paper on the basket and release the saga of toxic thoughts from our bodies, kids think it’s a sheer waste of time!
Bath time
There is more, a mother has to wade through, to help her kids out of the grogginess. In the bathroom, if it’s a trying time for the mother’s temper, its experiment time, for the ever playful kids. All scientific observations from why the water drains out with a hissing sound to the sinking and floating properties of empty and filled-up mugs, are carried out, when time is running out. You either patiently answer or satiate their scientific temper or risk facing a situation of watching tiny-things dropped in the potty basket. Well if the bucket of water cannot reason out with Science, the potty basket does the job successfully. The mother yet again yields.
Teddy-bears off to school
Ironing to polishing(self or outsourced) duly done, they wear their uniforms with crispy newness. Last-minute search missions, threaten to strike, especially with the small- nevertheless- important essentials, which are sneaked out from a mother’s vigilant eye and are used as night pass-times. All for being organized, I guess the law of nature forbids too much of orderliness at one time, and chaos always has to reign in the kingdom of motherhood.
Mothers off to work
New space, new people, some pleasant, some obnoxious but the change is welcome, even if it means having a boss who is as stinky as a skunk or is as quick-tempered as a fire-breathing dragon. There are colleagues, who can offer empathy and keep you winding through a wide range of gossips. Join the merry-go-round and feel dizzy or simply watch the fun as the cheering spectator. You are out of the confines of your HOME and that is solace enough . After all, there is empowerment at the end of it all, a sense of “independence” to keep yourself groomed(workable) with your earnings
Teddy bears back, mothers all wound up
No afternoon siesta or power naps for worked up mothers. In the wink of an eye, its pick-up time for kids, refreshing them, feeding them yet again, getting them to do their homework. No period. That’s the biggest of them all: studying for the sake of their studies. Researching on the net, or shop-hopping for models and charts, drafting worksheets, we are ever in tow with the kids, even in the academic front. Pushing them to the far limits of the rat race, we keep wondering whether our “little rat”(not being abusive, after all our kids do bound away, when we want to catch them the most) will get the prized cheese. But it is our energy that plays the driving force to lead them and in the process, drives us up the wall! Cheese or no cheese!
Playtime, terror strikes!
Before the day draws to an end, there is more in store- the much awaited playtime- a battling of energies, which kids are so amply supplied with these days. All the combatant forces converge in the playzone and then the battle begins- who wields the power, who is the better and who comes first, and stepping into prohibhited zones(the line of control simply disappears into the high-spirited escapades). The bullying, the bullied…
In the midst of all, a singleton mother becomes the SUPREME mother HEN for all kids, keeping a watchful eye, hearing out their grievances and pecking on the wrong-doer and making a desperate attempt to bring them together.(And in a flight of time, they might get holed up in their favourite hide-outs. Have they gone missing, you would think. Rest-assured, you will get a tinkle from a perturbed parent, who was forced to give them shelter and is rendered paralysed by the action-packed scene in her/his sweet home)
There is no sign of the aggression abating and the mother HEN still maintains her stature and status as the indomitable, even as twilight sets in.
Star-spangled sky, mischief in the little twinkling eyes
As the nocturnal creatures from the bats to the pesky mosquitoes, leave their nests, the kids still do not want to nestle in. Extricating kids from the playzone, can be as tough and tricky as extracting a wisdom tooth. There is a catch, a dentist succeeds at all times but a mother probably will need a reorientation program to deal with the same situation. The best bargain you can strike at is give permission for an “in-house” camp for a short time. Off the bounders go to a buddy’s house, with promises to come back soon!
In-house camps(When outdoor play is not enough!)
What happens on the new premises, only the gracious hosting mother knows. And I bow to that saving grace of a mother with all humility. As if one’s own offspring weren’t enough to manage, there are his/her buddies all set to act as artful as a cartload of monkeys, within the four walls of a house. Neatly set beds serve as the best trampoline () as they go about like jumping jacks from one end of the cot to the other. The sofas on the other hand, become the ground for acrobatic leaps and the whole house is turned into a gymkhana of sorts. Praise be to all those mothers who bear it with aplomb!
Time-out, bed time
With all their Energies spent, and their endless escapades, sleep kicks in but not without prodding. Through the eyes of a child, there is still so much to do, so many pranks to play and so much energy to drain out of their poor old mother. But they yield, for once and plonk on the bed. Beware, closed eyes do not indicate deep slumber. So I make sure that they are read out some stories that would sedate their excitement levels and bring them down to peaceful slumber. Once you hear the faint snoring(it is pronounced for kids with adenoids), you then know it is your time of the day.
Where was the better half all the time????
Time to catch up with your partner, hey? You can sure catch up on the inscrutable higher-ups or wasteful wastrels at work or on the manipulated games of cricket played with no sporting spirit. Husbands are invariably the “angry young men” , whose assumed primary duty is to bring about a change in the system. They fail to understand that HOME is the first chrysalis of change, for which they are never willing to take charge. Why bother, anyways, there is someone to take care of all the chores and his children after all, when fathers dearest are hell bent on making the entire universe align to their vision,. And if things don’t work out, who takes the brunt of it all?
It’s the meek WIFE, who tactfully turns a deaf ear to all the complaints about less salt and more spice in the sambar(and all this while I thought the right amount of salt was necessary to bring out the other flavours in a dish… talk about the blame game)
Women, luckily come in layers of packaging from the soft/supple crust to tough interiors. Oh they can withstand the hard blows of life much better. From love to love-making, they look beyond pain to give pleasure ….it is the SUPERNOVA mother, to the fore again who never ends up mothering and taming the angry young man in her husband!
SUPERNOVAS after all
After the marathon run for the day, you end up tuckered out. You realize that the little bundle(s) of joy, who you had so much fun cradling, and who was your sole source of bliss, is/are growing up, with each phase of growth demanding the same burst of energy, patience and level-headedness.
Well I do explode, many times and I love the spell of temporary calmness it creates. For once I manage to exercise control and that can be some respite for a freaked out mom.
How often would have I sought that peace! But in retrospect, when peace reigns and I slump back, I feel the unbridled spirit of childhood embracing me, to go bouncing with my kids on an expedition, where I will get to discover and learn as much as they do…and be the universe of energy bounding and rebounding… Are not we the supernovas after all?
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