One fall out of working from home and a working wife is school and the picking and dropping of my daughter.
After a year, I have been invited to join the mothers weekly kitty party, worked out by some of the mother’s who have been interacting with each other and me for a while.
Needless to say the hour of the party will be immediately post school, with each mom by turn hosting the lunch when the husbands are off to work.
One mother has kindly agreed to supervise the lunch of my daughter, though I can manage it pretty well on my own, as my daughter insists on partaking her meal herself whenever I am to supervise. She gives a tough time to her mother and grandmother
The mom conversations, as is usual, will center around interesting cooking recipes, clothes and the most dreaded figure, the “mother-in-law.”
Dont mind it as it is a welcome relief from all the business, politics and strategy I am constantly updating.
The mothers have also agreed that for my turn, a restaurant would do, where everyone will go dutch.
After contemplating a little while I have decided to give the mother’s kitty party a miss.
Although I am tight for time, I could accomodate the weekly interlude, but it would be difficult to explain to my wife as to why the lone male member happens to be me.
Cant keep it away as word will travel from daughter to wife or alternatively mothers to kids to my daughter to wife.
Guess will have to wait for my daughter to grow a bit to have her on my side and keep secrets.
In reply to the invitation I have said that it does not look good that I am the only guy around.
They have all understood that I would have wife problems. After all they wouldnt let their husbands do the same.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
I am Sorry, Jan 1, 2009
Well, December 31, 2008, Khyati mediated the first fight between me and my wife.
It was actually one of those insignificant incidents between a couple that escalates into a verbal slanging and plenty of steam letting.
The end result was that I threw a glass of wine into the sink and my wife sat outside the house on the stairs.
Khyati intervened. I was brooding in the drawing room...``You should not have thrown the wine..you should go and say sorry to mama,'' she said.
Clearly she thought I was at fault.
She looked me in the eye and spoke with a bit of authority that I have not noticed often in her voice. She meant what she said. I could not argue back.
I went out and said sorry to my wife. She was surprised by the gesture as I have a habit of not saying sorry.
She instantly came back in and the new year eve preparations continued.
Later at night she checked with me: ``Khyati said she told you to say sorry.''
``Yes,'' I replied.
There were no further words spoken as we hugged and wished each other a happy new year.
It was actually one of those insignificant incidents between a couple that escalates into a verbal slanging and plenty of steam letting.
The end result was that I threw a glass of wine into the sink and my wife sat outside the house on the stairs.
Khyati intervened. I was brooding in the drawing room...``You should not have thrown the wine..you should go and say sorry to mama,'' she said.
Clearly she thought I was at fault.
She looked me in the eye and spoke with a bit of authority that I have not noticed often in her voice. She meant what she said. I could not argue back.
I went out and said sorry to my wife. She was surprised by the gesture as I have a habit of not saying sorry.
She instantly came back in and the new year eve preparations continued.
Later at night she checked with me: ``Khyati said she told you to say sorry.''
``Yes,'' I replied.
There were no further words spoken as we hugged and wished each other a happy new year.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Four Letter Word, Dec 14, 2008
So, my daughter has used her first four letter word...it was couched in one of the innumerable ditties that kids her age sing, invent and improvise for their games...they are generally good humored but the one that caught my attention went something like...boys go to school, so they are fools...girls drink Pepsi, so they are sexy....now what would a seven year old know about being sexy...
Matters around such subjects can be tricky.
A year back she had asked why Shahrukh Khans susu part bulged when he danced in the movie Om Shanti Om that she happened to watch...I recalled the video, Shahrukh in leather pants that did accentuate the private portion, probably done to please his many adult female fans...
Searching for a quick explanation, I told her that King Khan bulged because a man's susu part is different from a woman's...she said so she wanted to see mine...I told her that this was not possible as children should not see older people without clothes (though it is okay the other way round in the presence of parents...I wanted to extinguish another line of arguments to tackle)
But, it seemed Shahrukh had settled in her mind.. she insisted three, four times... ``I want to know why Shahrukh Khan's pants at the susu part are so round and not mine..''
So I told her that men and women have different physical features....just like I have hair on my arms and her mother does not... as for a man's susu part, it is also different and looks like the trunk of an elephant, though much smaller...I think she got some idea and has not spoken about the subject since though she could again...
As things stand the sexy word has not jogged any curiousity in her mind...so I have kept quiet about it...but I am preparing for the day when she may ask...I am still figuring out what to say...
Matters around such subjects can be tricky.
A year back she had asked why Shahrukh Khans susu part bulged when he danced in the movie Om Shanti Om that she happened to watch...I recalled the video, Shahrukh in leather pants that did accentuate the private portion, probably done to please his many adult female fans...
Searching for a quick explanation, I told her that King Khan bulged because a man's susu part is different from a woman's...she said so she wanted to see mine...I told her that this was not possible as children should not see older people without clothes (though it is okay the other way round in the presence of parents...I wanted to extinguish another line of arguments to tackle)
But, it seemed Shahrukh had settled in her mind.. she insisted three, four times... ``I want to know why Shahrukh Khan's pants at the susu part are so round and not mine..''
So I told her that men and women have different physical features....just like I have hair on my arms and her mother does not... as for a man's susu part, it is also different and looks like the trunk of an elephant, though much smaller...I think she got some idea and has not spoken about the subject since though she could again...
As things stand the sexy word has not jogged any curiousity in her mind...so I have kept quiet about it...but I am preparing for the day when she may ask...I am still figuring out what to say...
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Father of a Daugher
It is a disadvantage being a father as the mother will always know and do better.
I don’t argue the assertion – she creates the child; she bears it for nine months, the bond develops before birth. Is it my fault? I am prepared to be pregnant, if only to save my wife the suffering that can be mentally, if not physically, as difficult for the father.
But, say as much as I may, the wife says I am saying it, as it is not possible for me to do what I have offered myself for.
Call it the absence of pre-natal bonding, I found that coming to terms with my baby took me more time than it did my wife.
She seemed to trapeze with practiced ease the rounds of nappy changing, potty washing, bathing and more.
I haven’t managed bathing without fearing that her tiny body would slip off my palms though she is a year and a half old now.
She senses the strength of my grip and wails every time I try and wash her. I call my gawkiness a genetic aberration; my wife calls it a lack of commitment.
She is working, so am I, so we spend as much time with the baby; thus there is no room for the common alibi that one partner has the unfair advantage of spending more quality time with her, except before birth when my wife claimed she communed with the being inside.
I have tried to think up as many explanations to my incompetence vis-à-vis my wife, try as much as I may.
There is one more reason, apart from the pre-natal one. Don’t mistake me as chauvinistic, but I think I could be a better dad if my baby were a boy.
I know as I was a boy once, what a boy wants, see the world through his eyes, a world defined by me in a way that a guy sees --- playing sports, watching porn, proposing to girls, cycling, swimming and climbing hills.
I have never seen the world through the eyes of a girl, although there were several girls I loved, but never loved them enough to see things the way they saw it, until my baby came.
I ask will she play golf, read Ludlum and listen to hard rock? My wife never does, but could I or should I teach my daughter to do the things I like to do?
I admire my role models, but do I need to study female role models, who may be different? Who would I like my daughter to emulate? Tiger Woods… I am sure she will go her own way and define her own rules; I want to do what my father did, though I never followed what he preached.
It is my duty now to see from my baby’s eyes and define and study closely the world of women leaders --- of Thatcher, Rowling, Sarandon and the standards they set.
My wife drowned the arguments.
``Philosophy is okay, but cannot take away from the immediate reality of changing nappies, feeding from the bottle and doing it well,'' she said, and was right.
I tried hard and without being immodest must say was reasonably okay by my standards only.
She hears the baby cry in the middle of the night before I did, and do. She is up and away from bed much before I do, or to make matters worse I am frequently even slower than my mom-in-law in the next room who had taken temporary abode in our house but is likely to be a permanent fixture as both of us pursue our careers.
I am good at several things, playing golf for one, but cannot figure out why my wife is better at this, though looking after a baby is no sport.
Yet I compare with golf which is languorous while parenting is not. I went through another period of introspection and arrived at another answer.
I like to delegate, provided the work is done well. I want the best for my daughter, and there is no better nappy changer or potty washer in the world better than my wife. So I have delegated and am happy about it. I discovered this when my wife was away on a business tour. I was fast, faster than ever, never gentler.
I think my mother-in-law sensed it, but has kept it to herself as in her eyes only her daughter is number one, which is fair enough, as long as the mother-in-law is not number two, I reasoned.
But the tragedy is, my wife will never know my real prowess, as whenever she is around I sub-consciously delegate. This could be genetic or I wish I had not read too many management books, but I have decided I will never beat my wife, but should at least better my mom-in-law.
She is fast, I am faster, but my wife is the fastest. And that's the way it remains.June 25, 2006
(The writer's daughter is going to be five now. This piece was written earlier)
I don’t argue the assertion – she creates the child; she bears it for nine months, the bond develops before birth. Is it my fault? I am prepared to be pregnant, if only to save my wife the suffering that can be mentally, if not physically, as difficult for the father.
But, say as much as I may, the wife says I am saying it, as it is not possible for me to do what I have offered myself for.
Call it the absence of pre-natal bonding, I found that coming to terms with my baby took me more time than it did my wife.
She seemed to trapeze with practiced ease the rounds of nappy changing, potty washing, bathing and more.
I haven’t managed bathing without fearing that her tiny body would slip off my palms though she is a year and a half old now.
She senses the strength of my grip and wails every time I try and wash her. I call my gawkiness a genetic aberration; my wife calls it a lack of commitment.
She is working, so am I, so we spend as much time with the baby; thus there is no room for the common alibi that one partner has the unfair advantage of spending more quality time with her, except before birth when my wife claimed she communed with the being inside.
I have tried to think up as many explanations to my incompetence vis-à-vis my wife, try as much as I may.
There is one more reason, apart from the pre-natal one. Don’t mistake me as chauvinistic, but I think I could be a better dad if my baby were a boy.
I know as I was a boy once, what a boy wants, see the world through his eyes, a world defined by me in a way that a guy sees --- playing sports, watching porn, proposing to girls, cycling, swimming and climbing hills.
I have never seen the world through the eyes of a girl, although there were several girls I loved, but never loved them enough to see things the way they saw it, until my baby came.
I ask will she play golf, read Ludlum and listen to hard rock? My wife never does, but could I or should I teach my daughter to do the things I like to do?
I admire my role models, but do I need to study female role models, who may be different? Who would I like my daughter to emulate? Tiger Woods… I am sure she will go her own way and define her own rules; I want to do what my father did, though I never followed what he preached.
It is my duty now to see from my baby’s eyes and define and study closely the world of women leaders --- of Thatcher, Rowling, Sarandon and the standards they set.
My wife drowned the arguments.
``Philosophy is okay, but cannot take away from the immediate reality of changing nappies, feeding from the bottle and doing it well,'' she said, and was right.
I tried hard and without being immodest must say was reasonably okay by my standards only.
She hears the baby cry in the middle of the night before I did, and do. She is up and away from bed much before I do, or to make matters worse I am frequently even slower than my mom-in-law in the next room who had taken temporary abode in our house but is likely to be a permanent fixture as both of us pursue our careers.
I am good at several things, playing golf for one, but cannot figure out why my wife is better at this, though looking after a baby is no sport.
Yet I compare with golf which is languorous while parenting is not. I went through another period of introspection and arrived at another answer.
I like to delegate, provided the work is done well. I want the best for my daughter, and there is no better nappy changer or potty washer in the world better than my wife. So I have delegated and am happy about it. I discovered this when my wife was away on a business tour. I was fast, faster than ever, never gentler.
I think my mother-in-law sensed it, but has kept it to herself as in her eyes only her daughter is number one, which is fair enough, as long as the mother-in-law is not number two, I reasoned.
But the tragedy is, my wife will never know my real prowess, as whenever she is around I sub-consciously delegate. This could be genetic or I wish I had not read too many management books, but I have decided I will never beat my wife, but should at least better my mom-in-law.
She is fast, I am faster, but my wife is the fastest. And that's the way it remains.June 25, 2006
(The writer's daughter is going to be five now. This piece was written earlier)
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