Can women "Have it All?"

I had an epiphany when I commented on a Facebook post by a friend; which was this rather lengthy article-
http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2012/07/why-women-still-can-8217-t-have-it-all/9020/?single_page=true.

I realized I certainly feel like I have "seen it all!,"having been in 2 very different work cultures before moving on to making my own. I've seen working single mothers struggle on their own, and other working mothers struggle despite having family and other help around, for various reasons. (From foundation-shaking divorces, rebellious kids, unavailable/unwilling parents, MILs who demand their 10-hr-job handling DILs do the family cooking, though they can perfectly well afford a cook, to life-force sucking commutes, incompetent maids and nannies, unavailable spouses to schizophrenic FIL- so there.)

The only way to make it work is by keeping your "All" elastic and adjusting your sails to the wind. The "all" should be a personal choice, made up of what you are willing to give up and what you cannot compromise on, and finding ways to negotiate yourself a better deal...no matter whatever situation you find yourself in. Nothing is ever absolute or constant. Your perceived "all" at 25 has got to be different from your "all" at 35, and 65! Your "all" is YOUR "all," not your best friend's or your cousin's or your high school competitor's or your co-workers. It is the sum of your unique abilities and demons, the customized curve-balls your life has thrown at you. A big chunk of my personal "all" is not just the good experiences but every single bump or hill in the road that has shaped who I am today. There were times when I felt like I had it all, yes, and we know all good things come to an end. So what do you do then? You just pace yourself, but keep going, till you reach the next phase in your life where you have it "all" again. It will be a different all but you will be a different person by then.

Some women in the article said they can't find a role model. Maybe they're not looking in the right place. For that matter, why need a role model? I believe there is something you can learn from every single person you meet in life; man or woman. You can learn things just by shutting out the noise and listening to your own heart. I believe that when you come up against a wall, you find ways to climb over it, dig underneath it, walk parallel to it to find a crack to butt your head against, or if nothing works, set up camp right next to it and enjoy the stay till, perhaps, a break comes from the OTHER side.


Its the same thing, in different words-quoting the article below-


Along the way, women should think about the climb to leadership not in terms of a straight upward slope, but as irregular stair steps, with periodic plateaus (and even dips) when they turn down promotions to remain in a job that works for their family situation; when they leave high-powered jobs and spend a year or two at home on a reduced schedule; or when they step off a conventional professional track to take a consulting position or project-based work for a number of years. I think of these plateaus as “investment intervals.”

Who asked you?

I suppose every mom has gone through this one time or another. Meeting some I-barely-know-you person who deems it their birthright to comment on how thin/fat/short/dark/lagging behind your kid is. Often in comparison to their own little darling. And this person is usually another mom. I've rarely come across a dad who says anything like this, either to me or to another dad.
So, the other day, I'd just about reached the end of my rope when a playground mom commented on how thin my daughter is. This after following her around for no reason for some 15 minutes and setting the stage with some observations that she seems to have a temper, she is so talkative, etc etc. I personally believe its not necessary to be nice in situations like this. So when the "small and thin" topic began; I looked this woman in the eye and said,"yes, she's a small, skinny kid and is likely to remain a skinny kid; because, as you can see her mother is petite. Now my brother was one, and so was my sister-in-law. My brother grew up to become a strapping Merchant Marine who pulled 14 hr shifts in the freezing North Atlantic and in the equatorial heat. My SIL is slim and smart and a university topper. And yours truly, at five foot plus nothing, has climbed the Grand Canyon and Havasu Canyon with a 27-pound backpack, Mt. Healy in Alaska and hiked in the hottest place on Earth, Death Valley. And 2 eminent pediatricians have told me there's no reason to worry about my child; who is a normal, happy and active youngster, and SPECIFICALLY TO IGNORE SUCH COMMENTS FROM PEOPLE LIKE YOU." Not the response the lady expected, I'm sure. She muttered something about "concern" and changed the subject. Concern my a**. At least credit our intelligence in being able to distinguish between someone who voices genuine concern and someone taking cheap pot-shots at a hardworking mom. A child's parents are the first line of concern...so before passing comments or judgments; give them the benefit of doubt that they are doing everything for their child. Don't you?

Remembering a past life

Some mornings you wake up and there are about 17 different things to accomplish before you can have breakfast, or even a quiet cup of coffee. I'm not kidding. Forget about my own morning routine and giving in to that desire for 5 more minutes of blissful snooze. (Hey, not my fault if the channel changed 'Supernatural' timings to 10PM instead of 9...a girl's gotta have her dose of ghosts and mysteries and eye candy at the end of a long hard day). The typical non-weekend morning also involves getting a reluctant kid awake, fed, bathed, dressed and ready for school. And a borderline-competent cook who has a tendency to pull disappearing acts, supervised to get a decent meal out. And a dog walked, exercised, fed and watered. If I'm lucky, a workout. (On second thoughts, as if all this isn't!). A nourishing breakfast prepared. Two lunch boxes packed. Compare it to the pre-motherhood routine that involved only about 5 things before jumping in the car to head to work. Motherhood has managed to get my a** in gear like nothing before it.
There are days when I look at a house that can't stay tidy for more than 5 minutes, where no two bedsheets and pillowcases match, where a false move can make you trip on a stray toy. There are days when I curse every freakin' jigsaw piece and building block in existence. Every time, I can almost hear my former super-organized, neat freak self from a past life laughing. My weekend sleeping-in, pedicure-getting, wanderlust-indulging, book-reading-in-coffee-shop loving single self...well, did she really exist? Maybe she did. But you know what; now few things can beat the sight of a tiny figure in white pyjamas running up to her first thing in the morning.

Got inked!

Pretty early into motherhood, I wanted a tattoo of my daughter's name. It took nearly 3 years, but that day came today! First it was the b-fing period, then the busy life that comes with being a working parent. Funnily, the actual process just took half an hour. But it took a long time to reach that point. I am now a proud inkee. My wrist tattoo proclaims "Aria" with an infinity symbol cleverly looped into the A. It's a reminder that our choices, actions and words have consequences that can be infinite. Its a good message for the caregiver of a small child; me thinks.
The artist Aarti smiled when I told her I wanted to ink my daughter's name. She said Aria will be so happy that her momma has written her name; that's when she's old enough to read!

I've heard tattooing can be addictive, and yeah I've already started thinking about my next one!

Pet topic!

I've long wanted to write something about children and pets. Wanted to make it a good one, too, because the topic is near to my heart. What just reminded me of this- my daughter is chasing our dog with a feather duster this very minute, to dust her off. The dog is making futile attempts to hide skulking behind our dining table, between furniture, by the door, and generally looking embarrassed as hell. Just another day in our lively household!

Before I had my daughter, I became pet mommy to a 12-week-old golden fur ball, half Lab, half Golden retriever named Maya. She was “Kendra” at the shelter, but we didn’t want our pet named after a Playboy Bunny J. Even remember the date- October 21, 2006. After several months of searching for the perfect pooch on Petfinder.com, visiting a couple of shelters, and fuming through a 3-week, longish delay stuck in Canada due to visa issues. The night before my visa appointment I was surfing through Petfinder.com, not able to sleep, when I see this post with a picture of 4 tiny puppies- 2 black, 2 golden that somebody had dropped off at a suburban shelter. The very weekend after my return to Michigan, we checked them out on what was one of the happiest days of my life. A week later, Maya came home.

Maya has changed 2 countries and shared 5 homes with us. She has terrorized several maids (all bark no bite), 2 cooks, converted about 45 non-dog people into dog lovers or at least, “likers”, precipitated the addition of another Lab, Buddy, to my in-laws’ home, and has a fan following of at least a hundred- including our family, friends, friends of friends, neighbors, pensioners, trekkers and even slum children. She has been a constant companion through some of the toughest phases of our lives. She single-handedly awakened my maternal instinct. I still remember the first visit to the vet to get her shots, the first night alone with her, dealing with separation anxiety, bathing, feeding, potty training, socialization et al! Couldn’t ask for a better warm-up for motherhood.

I walked her daily almost up to the 8^th month of my pregnancy. On these walks, we coolly returned glances at my huge belly, and pooh-poohed well-intentioned but frankly clueless advice about how my dog will be detrimental to my health and my baby’s. Maya was beside me right up to the night I was admitted in the hospital to deliver my daughter. She was so careful around the baby…in fact it was my daughter who made the first move by crawling up to her and patting her on the nose. I have albums full of pictures of the two; perusing it will be cuteness overload.

Maya totally destroyed the dog hate campaign being run by some un-enlightened individuals in our Bangalore apartment complex. In response to some mail about “fierce dogs” on the society forum, my husband simply shared a video of my 10-month-old bouncing up and down on Maya and friendly neighborhood Golden Retriever Leia, peering into their mouths, grabbing their ears and toddling about trying to decide which dog to sit on, while the dogs lie there all benign and only attempt to kiss her!

Parents, letting your children grow up with a dog is one of the best things you can do for them. If you have any doubts, feel free to leave a comment. I’m a fount of information on this topic!

Off to school. All too soon.

My daughter started attending her "big school" this week. The standard 3 years before 1st grade, nicknamed Playgroup, Nursery and Prep. Speaking of Prep, that's exactly what we were trying to do for our chatty, precocious not-quite-three year old bundle of chutzpah...taking her to the school at every opportunity, so its not altogether strange. Showing her a yellow school bus and telling her how much fun it will be to ride on it to school...etc. All said and done, it seems to have worked...day 1, some tears while boarding, but a good time and a triumphant return. Day 2, a mandatory bawl while saying goodbye but she comes back with a glow, super excited and crooning some new song we've never heard. Day 3, she climbs the little steps by herself. No tears, just a look of anticipation. Day 1 for me- I could hardly concentrate and events right from my labor, her birth, and random life events kept rewinding and playing in my head. I just buried my nose in "The Secret of The Nagas" which kept me going for the few hours of waiting! But so, so happy to see that she's liking her school. Me and her dad liked the school so much at the first go...felt like attending there ourselves :). It will be like revisiting school through her eyes. After all, we too have to discipline ourselves to get her brushed, fed, bathed, and at the bus stop on time. We too have to remain in the teachers' good books! We too have to learn basic arithmetic and repeat the alphabet till we're sick of it :). Algebra...aaaaaaaaaaargh. I just hope she's inherited her dad and both grand-dads' math abilities, not mine. Now language and art, that's another story...that's definitely me.