Two going on Twelve

Nounou Lysie mentioned something to me earlier this week. She said that since Shabd came back from South Africa, he has come back a little boy and was not a baby anymore.

He says "Please" and "Thank You". He expresses himself using full sentences. He shares his opinion; "Hmm, I think ..." And is quite fond of the word "No!". "No! I'm still busy. No! I don't want to bath. No! I don't want to sleep."

Just a few minutes ago, i said to Papa that when he takes Shabd to bed, he should switch off the lights so that Shabd would go to sleep. Shabd at that time was in another room, busy drawing on his iPad. Not missing a beat, he piped up, "Don't switch off the light. Leave it on Papa."

How does he do that? His little-little hands are busy, his little-little mind is busy, his little-little eyes are focused on the screen, how does he still follow a conversation being held in another room?! This child just boggles me!

Any-who...i digress. I imagine, following cues from Shabd, that he probably feels like an awkward teenager. Not quite adult and yet not quite child. Only, at two and a half, it's more not quite big boy and yet not quite baby either.

Barely 6 days old and basking in the love.

2 and a half years old and trying to get the tractor to "Move!"

Our behaviour towards Shabd probably doesn't help the situation either as Papa and I constantly fluctuate between cooing over our "little baby" and proudly proclaiming how proud we are of our "big boy".

Nounou and the grandparents are even worse! I often see a look of puzzlement which slowly turns into a smile of wonder when they interact with Shabd.

I can just imagine the internal dialogue going on in their minds. "I must ensure i peel and chop each grape for him. He's a baby and could easily choke. Did he just read out the number plate on that car? Waow!" they whisper, a wide smile spreading from ear to ear!

I think that in the first year of a child's development, there is great amazement as physical milestones are reached. Babies master holding their heads up, rolling over, sitting up, crawling, walking, running and jumping!

But in the second year, the child's development seems to be more mentally and emotionally focused. Words are strung together more and more coherently, opinions are expressed and feelings are declared.

I've found more and more this year that I've encouraged Shabd to "USE YOUR WORDS!" Of late, we've been exploring feeling frustrated.

Shabd often feels frustrated as he tries to independently navigate our adult world, with high counter tops and even harder to reach places. When he cannot get what he wants independently, no matter how much effort and imagination he puts into reaching his goal, his frustration levels peak and like a volcano he explodes in a spectacular scene of brimstone and fire. As you can imagine, the pitch of the screaming is ear-splitting and will have you running for the hills.

But not this Super Mum! I'm made of tougher stuff!

Super Mum: Shabd, you're a big boy now. You need to USE YOUR WORDS. If you've tried and it isn't working, it's okay. It's okay to feel frustrated and it's okay to ask for help. Okay?

Shabd: Nods slightly and mutters an indiscriminate Hmm.

Super Mum: The next time you're feeling frustrated, i want you to try one more time. If it still doesn't work you must say, "Mummy/Papa can you help me please. I'm feeling frustrated!" (accompanying hand action also shown). Do you understand mummy?

Shabd: Nods slightly and mutters an indiscriminate Hmm. A small smile can be seen lurking around the corners of his mouth. 

Thus greatly enthused by this, Super Mum continues.

Super Mum: Shabd, my big boy, can you please tell me what you're going to say the next time you're feeling frustrated?

Shabd: Mummy/Papa can you help me please. I'm feeling fruss-tray-tid! (accompanying hand action proudly done).

Three days after our little talk, Shabd carried a small stool from the bathroom to his bedroom and tried to reach a box of sweets lying on his dresser. Alas, try as he might, the stool was too small and/or he is too short to reach the sweets. I observe this from the peace and tranquility of the TV room and prepare myself mentally for an ear splitting scream.

Instead, i hear the pitter patter of his little feet as he runs to me saying, "Mummy can you help me please. I'm feeling  fruss-tray-tid!!"

"With the greatest of pleasure I can my big boy. With the greatest of pleasure!" I say.

Our first few days in South Africa, the blu52 way!

Well, as most of you know, I went to South Africa to receive Radiation. Looking back at my blogs, I realized that the blog posts have slowly been dwindling in numbers these past few months, I do apologise for that and for spamming you with information about me. After all, Mom Inc. was created to capture the experience of being a mom to Shabd - the joys, the sorrows, the laughter and the tears.

So...let me tell you a little about going home. I left Mauritius with a heavy heart and yet a spring in my steps. I was leaving my rock behind and going towards the open arms of my family. Talk about mixed feelings! Shabd, being intuitive as always, picked up on this inner confusion and acted up appropriately. There were many a fine screaming contest between the two, both trying desperately to gain control of the other, both testing boundaries, both sure and yet unsure about what to make of our new circumstances.

Dipika and Desh could not have created a more stable home environment for Shabd and I. Living with them forced me to look at how I was living my life, it opened up new frames of reference for me and allowed me to learn many valuable lessons. I'd like to save those for another post.

Did you know that when a pool is green and murky, but you really want it to be clear and blue, there is something called a "Shock treatment" that's given to it, so that it becomes sparkling and blue. Shabd got one of those, the blu52 way!

On our first weekend in SA, Dipika and Desh arranged a huge family get-together and thus the Hansjee's descended on Waterkloof armed with tons of food! Oh the pure JOY! Laughter and smiles and the wonderful aroma's of dokra and bhajia's and masala tea wafted to my nose, making me smile from ear to ear! How I wished my father could have been part of that homecoming party!

The Hansjee's - this Shabd is part of your family. A small shock treatment!

The girls (his cousins) were on hand to welcome him, and Shabd on his part seemed to enjoy meeting so many new people. He especially enjoyed reconnecting with Ashna masi and Sheetal masi, oh how beautiful these South African women are!

 

How I wish we could have met each family again. How I wish Shabd could have met and played with Raviva, Ela & Sejal again. Some other time perhaps.

 

Shabd joined a lovely school called "Kids on the Go" - oh boy! Here came another shock treatment!

 

Bonne Voyage Shabby...we'll miss Petrus & you!

Shabd absolutely adored Miss Sherry and even tried to convince her that the two of them could drive to Mauritius together. She really was an angel sent to keep Shabd safe and secure tightly enveloped in her wings.

 

"Let's go Miss Sherry." "Where to Shabby?" "On your car to Mau-reee-shis."

 

Maybe it's children's little bodies, their sweet hummingbird voices or having brought them into this world and nurtured them from when they weighed nothing more than a fledgling that we as parents feel that a child is fragile. Yes, by all means, "Handle with care" - they are after all a gift from God. But we too often don't realize that children are tough little cookies. Shabd especially so.

 

We had our moments, and for most of our time there, I felt like the worst mum alive, but that was my demon in my closet that I had to deal with (more about that in yet another post)!

 

Shabd astounded me. He adapted to living with Dipika masi and Desh masa, excitedly running to the door as soon as he heard the garage door opening screaming "Desh masa is home! Dipika masi is home! Yay!"

 

Heritage Day celebrations by the pool side

And even though he didn't like being separated from me for half a day when he went to school. Shabd put on a brave face and went to school like a big boy, informing me daily, as he danced a little jig, that he had cried for me none-the-less.

 

Shabd learnt to speak in full sentences and his repository of words doubled and quadrupled with each passing week. He learnt to jump on the big trampoline and clamber up the big jungle gym without a hint of fear or hesitation.

 

Shabd leaped forward towards the unknown, he embraced each day not knowing what new adventure awaited him. This little boy showed me day in and day out how I should live my life. If only I had recognized his lesson as he gave them to me, instead of now, in quiet retrospection.

 

 

It is said that children are magical, they know how to live life fully. As we grow older,  we lose this ability to see the magic and spend the rest of our lives trying to capture that magic again by reminding ourselves to be more child-like!

 

Ah! to live with a Master and not learn the daily lessons fast enough, this is a lesson in itself don't you think?

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grandchild Experience, Check! by Guest Blogger Kusum Ba

Sometimes someone comes into your life and just ..... Shabd came to South Africa. I was glad but not expecting much as he would not be spending all his time at my home. I had been warned by my fellow "recent grannies" that you have a strong bond with your grandchild. Being me, i was a bit sceptical. I thought I will have the experience of being with him and in a few weeks time I wil tick off my list,"grandchild experience." I should have paid more attention to my fellow grannies; they are my friends after all- sharing our happy experiences is part of our conversations.

All i could think about is Shabd and his welfare. Is he healthy and when he's sick then it's like why so much medication Varsha? Is it necessary medication? And when he joined the creche I wanted to know how he's coping and he's so young to go to school. Where do all these feelings come from?

Once you reared your children, its suppose to be over with children!! That was Kusum's thinking!! Again God you baffle me. I churned so much water thinking will my children be able to cope through this big bad wolf of a world? Did i raise them well enough to cope, especially after the demise of their dad? During those jungle moments I kept asking God why did he put all these "Mother Instincts" in me?

Dear God, this time I'm not going to ask you "why are you creating those "Grandmother Instincts"? I have grown wiser now.

It takes time to know the nature and personality of a child.The more time I spent with him the more I wanted to be with him. No amount of pain in my joints or tiredness of my feet could stop me from staying away from him. My wise granny friends had advised me to just enjoy the experience, "no comments no criticisms no words, just concentrate on the experience."

My favourite favourite favourite time was story time. He always brought the same two books to be read to him.Through the side of my eyes I would watch his reactions to the story, the pictures, to my tone, inflection, speed and expression. His intense concentration actually made me jealous. I wish i could have at least 10% of that concentration during my mediatition!! Well with that concentration you would surely hear him repeating the story often during the following few days, and you guessed it, with the same speed intonation and expression!!

And now I'm back to my favourite past time - daydreaming of Shabd, his next visit, him as a teenager asking his Trishul mama and Kamal mama to book his ticket toSouth Africa and to come and fetch him at the airport and to take him to his Ba and him surprising me by coming and hugging me unexpectedly as he told his mamas not to tell me of his arrival and him insisting to visit Dipika masi and Desh masa IMMEDIATELY ... and... and...

Ouchie Kiss for Mummy

Loving one's child unconditionally is easy. Looking past the frustration, tears and tantrums so that one responds in a mindful manner is not that easy. Especially when the one with the frustration, tears and tantrums is me. This has been a dreadful year in many ways. After almost 10 years cancer free, as i stood on the precipice of this historical 10 year mark, my body failed me and i was once again up arms in a monumental battle against it.

Mummy had a big ouchie!

Yet, these past few weeks, between the tears and the tantrums, there have been moments of silent reverie. Times when thoughts have bubbled to the surface begging me to look at my ouchie from different perspectives.

Have i perhaps been unduly harsh with my body by accusing it of failing me again. Have i been too rash by running in Mel Gibson style, face painted blue, brandishing my tomahawk, yelling at the top of my voice, "You may take my life but you will never take my Freedom!"

It is after all MY body. It belongs to me. Just as the saying goes, "we become what we think", could it be that my body was merely following my own self generated albeit unconscious 'body thoughts"? I cannot believe that i would willingly bring this disease upon myself.

When i reflect back on my life these past 10 years, they have been wonderfully happy. During these past 10 years i have learnt about the value of life, and the reason i breathe was born - who can complain of a life where that happens right?

Could it be, that this blemish so marred my take on my beautiful life that i was prepared to shatter myself so i could wage war on myself? I've been told that i am part warrior part princess. I'm part warrior (let's face it, i've always been feisty!) but not part princess. Ever since the birth of Shabd, I've been part Warrior and part Mummy.

I know this because it is a nurturing voice that says to me, "It's okay. You've fought a good battle. It's time to lay down your arms. It's time to be still and listen to your body for it is not your enemy, it is of you and that is holy." Thus it comes to be that with silent tears i pray for an ouchie kiss. The type of ouchie kiss that Shabd demands every time he's hurt.

Shabd: "Mummy! Ouchie!"
Mummy: "Ag shame man! Sorry baby. Where did you get hurt?"
Shabd: "On toes...Kiss."

Being a mother has taught me to be kind, tolerant and forgiving to myself. Had i not been a mother, i would still be fighting and would perhaps have never realised that i needed to be kind and forgiving to myself.

When those little arms reach up to me and wrap themselves tightly around my neck, there are no judgements made, this is pure unconditional love. And when we nestle nose-to-nose, breathing in each others scent, savouring these precious quiet moments together, i wish the world would stop spinning and this memory would stay forever etched in my mind, as fresh as this very moment.

Practising being in the now is easy when Shabd is the teacher. All it takes is your complete and utter surrender to him! Once you've done that, he reminds you that elephants and sprinkler systems are equally fascinating and exciting, both to be greeted with a happy shout and a little jig.

That every bite of your ice-cream should be taken in careful concentration, savouring the taste explosion and sensations that accompany the cold ice-cream.

He is totally and utterly in the now, discovering and savouring and valuing each life experience, devoid of criticism, cynicism and judgements. He is a child.

I cannot imagine Shabd waging war against his body and neither would i ever encourage him to do so.

Sometimes,  it takes a child's unconditional love and deliberate mindfulness to set us free. Most times, if we are still long enough, the child becomes the Master.

12 Ways to Love Yourself according to Louise Hay

12 Ways You Can Love Yourself Now by Louise Hay

Learn helpful tips for self-love

I have found that there is only one thing that heals every problem, and that is: to love yourself. When people start to love themselves more each day, it’s amazing how their lives get better. They feel better. They get the jobs they want. They have the money they need. Their relationships either improve, or the negative ones dissolve and new ones begin.

Loving yourself is a wonderful adventure; it’s like learning to fly. Imagine if we all had the power to fly at will? How exciting it would be! Let’s begin to love ourselves now. 

Here are 12 Commandments to help you learn how to love yourself:

1. Stop All Criticism.

Criticism never changes a thing. Refuse to criticize yourself. Accept yourself exactly as you are. Everybody changes. When you criticize yourself, your changes are negative. When you approve of yourself, your changes are positive. 

2. Forgive Yourself.

Let the past go. You did the best you could at the time with the understanding, awareness, and knowledge that you had. Now you are growing and changing, and you will live life differently.

3. Don’t Scare Yourself.

Stop terrorizing yourself with your thoughts. It's a dreadful way to live. Find a mental image that gives you pleasure, and immediately switch your scary thought to a pleasure thought.

4. Be Gentle and Kind and Patient.

Be gentle with yourself. Be kind to yourself. Be patient with yourself as you learn the new ways of thinking. Treat yourself as you would someone you really loved. 

5. Be Kind to Your Mind.

Self-hatred is only hating your own thoughts. Don't hate yourself for having the thoughts. Gently change your thoughts.

6. Praise Yourself.

Criticism breaks down the inner spirit. Praise builds it up. Praise yourself as much as you can. Tell yourself how well you are doing with every little thing.

7. Support Yourself.

Find ways to support yourself. Reach out to friends and allow them to help you. It is being strong to ask for help when you need it.

8. Be Loving to Your Negatives.

Acknowledge that you created them to fulfill a need. Now you are finding new, positive ways to fulfill those needs. So lovingly release the old negative patterns. 

9. Take Care of Your Body.

Learn about nutrition. What kind of fuel does your body need in order to have optimum energy and vitality? Learn about exercise. What kind of exercise do you enjoy? Cherish and revere the temple you live in.

10. Do Mirror Work.

Look into your eyes often. Express this growing sense of love you have for yourself. Forgive yourself while looking into the mirror. Talk to your parents while looking into the mirror. Forgive them, too. At least once a day, say, "I love you, I really love you!"

11. Love Yourself . . . Do It Now.

Don't wait until you get well, or lose the weight, or get the new job, or find the new relationship. Begin now—and do the best you can.

12. Have Fun.

Remember the things that gave you joy as a child. Incorporate them into your life now. Find a way to have fun with everything you do. Let yourself express the joy of living. Smile. Laugh. Rejoice, and the Universe rejoices with you!

It's Okay Mummy

There is no stability, life is constantly in a state of flux. In fact, we are all made of blubber, the whole world is made of blubber and anyone that says otherwise is blubbering!

September has rushed by and I'm ashamed to be writing the first blog for the month now, almost at the end of the month. But deep breath, it's been a challenging month and i need to be more kind to myself, so it's okay!

"It's Okay," two tiny words that mean so much to my little boy. "It's Okay" means that everything is okay with the world as he knows it. As adults, we don't often realise just how small our children are and just how big the world is to them. They rely on us to be their map of the territory, their compass, their companion while navigating new and every challenging but oh so exciting and sometimes scary terrain.

Whenever Shabd and i have a tiff, through his tears and crying he always manages to tug deep into my soul, with his big brown imploring puppy-dog eyes, sobbing "it's okay mummy" over and over to me until i reaffirm "Yes Shabd, it's okay." Two simple words that lets my little boy know that all is well in his little world.

How i wish someone would tell me "it's okay" - that yes, my little world imploded on me 9 months ago with the cancer diagnosis; that yes, weekly chemotherapy is not pleasant; that yes, being operated on twice just weeks apart is gruelling on the body; that yes, having to uproot my family so i can have radiation is frustrating; BUT, IT'S OKAY! And i wish i could believe it.

These past nine months, I've often been called strong and inspirational. I feel i have been neither. I have been a tough mistress to myself, driving myself hard, refusing to accept that my body would or even could fail me, despite the obvious indications that it has! I've allowed myself no indulgences, no forgiveness, no kindness, no compassion. I've turned drill master and ordered myself to get on with it. This was not the place nor the time for tears.

I've come to realise what a great injustice and disservice I've committed to myself. Instead of nurturing me, when i needed it most, i punished myself.

So, after much reflection, this being my birth month, and as we all know one tends to be more pensive around ones birthday, I've come to the great realisation that (drum roll please) i need to nurture my inner child! After all, i would never allow someone else to treat a child the way I've treated myself.  Dare i go as far as to say that this behaviour borders on abuse! How dare i deny myself kindness, compassion and love.

When did i stop nurturing myself? When did i stop saying, "It's Okay" to myself? Are these questions important enough to be brought up for close inspection under the spotlight? I might not have been doing this self-nurturing thing right, but the spotlight is on me now...and i see the error of my ways. So instead of beating myself up and entwining myself further into this ball of self-denial, i chose rather to hug myself tightly, Shabd style, and say "It's Okay Varsha, It's Okay."

Pearls are for Tears

I once read somewhere to never give someone pearls, since pearls are for tears. If this is true, then i must be swimming in pearls. I've cried an ocean on this journey, i cried a stream this week alone. These were tears of joy, tears of frustration, tears of laughter.

Shabd started daycare this week, he goes from 08h00 to 12h00. My heart ached at parting with Shabd, at realising that my little baby was becoming a "beeg" boy now and taking this step meant that he was entering the "real" world. At school, he would have to stand up for himself, speak up, share and learn the rules of engagement. I cried a river that morning. I dropped Shabd off with Miss Sherry, got into my car and cried so hard it hurt.

Shabd absolutely loves staying with Dipika masi and Desh masa. They have gone out of their way to ensure he's comfortable and happy in their beautiful straight out of Top Billing home. They've borne, with great dignity, Shabd's little intrusions into their once sacred and private bedroom. They bravely grit their teeth when Shabd lets out his ear splitting howls and screams. In a mere week, Shabd and i have turned their neat little haven upside down, and they've remained the perfect hosts; genial, loving, caring.

It's been tough for both Shabd and I being away from Papa. We've grown very close. All rules, for this year, were suspended pending full recovery of mummy. Thus, I'm ashamed to say that Shabd has become quite the spoilt child and throws many tantrums.

My child give credence to the phrase "Terrible Two's". The thing is, not knowing any other two year olds, I'm not sure if Shabd's behaviour is normal for a two year old, is it adjusting to the change of moving to South Africa or is he simply spoilt.

Now, I'll tell you why this is important in my little world. Understanding why Shabd is throwing a tantrum will guide how i deal with the tantrum; ignore, hug and cuddle, or discipline. I've read so much on line about tantruming and about yelling (i have been known to join the tantrum parade from time to time). And the advice always points to either:

1. Ignoring the tantrum thus the child realises that throwing tantrums doesn't get him attention and there are more constructive ways of getting attention.
2. Hug and cuddle the child as the child does not have the vocabulary required to express himself and is thus feeling frustrated by this.
3. Discipline the child by means of the "naughty chair" or something to that effect so that the child learns that his actions have consequences.

Now call me overly cautious if you must, but I'm just not sure which punishment fits the crime. Simply because all to often, I'm not sure what the nature of the crime is! All tantrums look, sound and feel the same to me. There are tears, screaming, head banging or body wriggling and a pained look in his eyes. None of these rather conspicuous actions give me the least clue as to the reason the tantrum is happening. So how do i apply the right sanction? For the love of all toddlers out there, how does one know?

As to the advice on averting a potential tantrum; the theory being (and i stress on the word THEORY here, since I'm not convinced it can be done) that if a parent is able to catch the signals of a tantrum still brewing, they can take steps to stop the tantrum before it becomes full blown. 

After many hours of observation, and thought, and more observation, i have only one question, "Are you people psychic?" How do you recognise the tantrum signals? I have to admit, i don't get it. I often ask myself if i am the most obtuse mother alive? Hmm....one for the Lunch Mommies for sure.

Tantrums or not, i wish i could take all the pearls in the world and throw them into the deep dark ocean. Seeing my child's eyes flooding with tears is like having a sharp barbed wrench being turned in my heart.

Pizza! Yay Pizza!

Last night, Papa came home and instead of kicking his shoes off and sinking into the couch to cuddle with Shabd, he declared that we were going out for dinner, as a family, just the three of us. What a special and unexpected treat! I felt as if i was given a birthday present. There was no dilly-dallying, no uhms or arhs, no give me a sec, just lets go for dinner to Beau Bassin.

So off we went, the three of us, Shabd singing at the top of his voice, to Mani in Beau Bassin. Mani is a quaint little pizzeria. The atmosphere is cozy and the staff welcoming. Joyce greeted us with a big smile that widened considerably when Shabd asked Aunty Joyce for pizza please!

Going on our vast previous experience of Shabd being quite an excitable little boy, we were armed with the iPad and prepared to whip it out at the first signs of trouble; our objective being to have a fun family meal together, by hook or crook.

Never in a million years would we have thought that the occasion would not rise for us to bring out the ultimate weapon of distraction. Nay siree. Shabd was the model of a toddler (and here i mean in the positive sense, cute, engaging and all that!). He politely nagged Aunty Joyce for pizza, dancing a little jig, hands in the air, "Way!!! Pizza!! Thank you Aunty Joyce!"

"Make it cold Mummy" and with that he gobbled up his pizza. We were surprised to say the least. Shabd has never before eaten pizza, on account of his lactose intolerance. We've been slowly introducing lactose into his diet, he's reacted positively and negatively to different items. And so the experimentation continues. 

Shabd was polite, calm, relaxed and engaging all through dinner. Politely asking me to vacate the bench i was sharing with him, so he could have more space to stretch and play. There was no screaming, no running around wildly, no trying to escape outside or up the steep staircase. Shabd was in his element. He was happy and content. We just looked on in wonderment, neither of us wanting to point out the obvious, for fear of breaking this magic. For magic it must have been. 

Having dwelt on this further, i find it amazing just how perceptive children can be. We leave for South Africa on Saturday for a two month sojourn and unfortunately Papa cannot accompany us. Each of us, in our hearts, have a tinge of sadness at being parted for so long. Having cancer has deepened our connections with each other and we will miss the comfort of each other.

I worry how my men will cope. Papa rattling around in our big empty house. Shabd being away from his superhero. I am comforted knowing that both in South Africa and Mauritius, there is family plentiful with love abound for my boys. And Grace whispers to me not to worry so much, but to take care of myself and trust.

Papa says i should take a page out of Shabd's book. He loves watching the Three Little Pigs clip and instead of being afraid of the rather scary looking big bad wolf, he points out to Papa that it's actually a dog. And he's not afraid of a dog. Them being so cuddly and soft and warm. Perception is important, turning the scary into the not so scary sends out positive energies out to my son. 

So while my heart is heavy at leaving Papa behind, and i know Shabd will miss him dearly. The next part of our adventure takes us into loving arms of my family and friends. The incessant care of Dipika masi and Desh masa, the home cooked goodness of Ba, and the playfulness of Kamal and Trishul mama. Not to mention the many cousins and aunts and uncles and grannies and grandpa's that like a wave will carry us through this part of our journey, with love, laughter, smiles and joy.

"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf,  big bad wolf, big bad wolf?" or since Shabd prefers watching this clip in French, "Qui craint le grand méchant loup, méchant loup, méchant loup?"

A Time For Every Season

Everything in life has a season. Here, I notice little shoots and buds pushing their way up through the rocky, hard, unforgiving land.

There is a season for everything. A season to heal, a season to dance, a season to cry and a season to rejoice.

Shabd has come through a very stormy season. He's faced many challenges, the biggest of which was saying goodbye to his nounou Lysie. The woman who has nurtured him, hugged him, kissed his boo-boo's better, nursed him, loved him as if he were her very own grandchild. With her departure, the season of storms was upon us.

We often see the dark clouds gathering inside of our little boy. We've weathered quite a few storms with him and being human, we've learnt to adapt and thus calmly steer through the storm.

Late last year, we were in the season of growth and change, of uncharted territories and new discoveries. We were starting a new life in Dubai. We were set. We were ready for whatever windstorm that dusty desert blew at us. We had each other and we knew that those bonds were strong enough to face any storm. Together, we were certain of that!

Little did we know just how strong those bonds are, nor the colossal storms we would have to steer through. Little did we know that by steering through these storms, we would discover so much richness in ourselves and in each other.

And as I sit here, in our little study, writing these words, an old song by The Byrds wafts slowly up.

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die

A time to plant, a time to reap

A time to kill, a time to heal

A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down

A time to dance, a time to mourn

A time to cast away stones

A time to gather stones together

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

The Reluctant Indian

My child has the privilege of being a multinational by reason of parentage; South African mother with Gujerati roots and a Mauritian father with Bihari roots. This equates to a melting pot of cultures, customs and languages. On any given day, one will hear English, Afrikaans, Gujerati, Creole and French in my house. And Shabd, in his own astounding manner, has found a way to assimilate all these languages, adapting himself to his given audience.

Shabd has always enjoyed music. Be it strumming the guitar, banging the djembe, blowing into the recorder, fingering the piano or singing the hundred tunes neatly stored in his little head. He seems to have taken the same liking to languages, quickly picking up nuances in pronunciation and accent. He can quite convincingly say, "Sies man!" as if he were a South African. Or look for his father in French, "Papa, ou etes tu?" (Papa, where are you?). Or greet his Ba in Gujerati, "Namaste, kem chor?" (Namaste, how are you?).

As a mother, i'm in awe of his ability to assimilate so many languages having had no formal introduction to them save hearing the languages, some often and others only occasionally. And as a mother, i realise this view might be just ever so slightly biased. This does not diminish from the wonderment of hearing him speak 3 different languages within one 2 minute conversation.

Growing up, i was quite the reluctant Indian myself. My parents, being good and conscientious Gujerati's ensured i went to Gujerati school and hindu Sunday school. We children were forced to attended classical music and dance concerts. I even studied Bharata Natyam for many years. My mother and Chandrika masi (my mother's best friend) always spoke of India with such passion. It was their motherland. I never understood their fascination nor patriotism to India, until now. 

I am a South Africa with Indian heritage living in Mauritius. I have a 2 year old son and i want him to know all about my culture, customs and language. I want him to at the very least be able to dance garba (a traditional Gujerati folk dance), understand basic Gujerati and Afrikaans and be comfortable in a kurta. Most of all, i want him to know that he comes from a rich parentage, full of colours and grace. And that is something to be proud of.

Tempests, Tantrums and Terrorists

I'm going to come right out and say it. No siree, I will not sugar coat this, not even with fat-free sprinkles. A child at the age of two has the power and ability, I might add, to completely and utterly eviscerate a mother. They have no pity. They take no prisoners. Come to think of it, a two year old toddler is very much like the atom bomb that went off in Hiroshima; small and lethal!

One minute, we're all plodding along, Mr.Sunshine beaming down on us, rainbows in the sky when suddenly, boom, out of nowhere the bomb hits! A ginormous mushroom cloud blocks out the sun and the rainbows cease to exist. The rest, a you well know, is history.

Shabd has an uncanny ability, I tend to think it comes from the musical gene he inherited from his father's side of the family, to hit just the right note. Now this is not a lovely, tra la la - Sound of Music -  note. No. It's a high pitched, the world might as well have come to an end note. The type of note that can incite any well meaning and mostly patient mother to pull her hair out in sheer desperation.

Now, there are two things that are in rather short supply in my home at the moment. The first is hair and the second patience during those high note poor me wolf howling's. The end result I'm afraid is TWO toddlers in the room screaming! And by two, I reluctantly refer to the aforementioned well meaning and mostly patient mother.

Fear not though, for help is at hand, in the form of well-meaning advice from the Lunch Mommies. "Ag man, we all lose our temper. He's just testing his boundaries. Don't worry. Don't be so hard on yourself man! Relax. Now the first step is to breathe!" And what follows is a flurry of tit bits of experience and advice. Followed by the all so famous disclaimer all mothers are guilty of employing (yours truly included); each child is different!

I've come home with some easy strategies that I can adopt immediately. And some introspection that is being asked of me. Sometimes, we need to accept that the child is just the child. And an age old spiritual adage comes to mind; "I am that I am."

Shabd, like all children (cancel universal disclaimer here) has an innate predisposition to be happy and joyful and full of giggles and smiles. He will act up. He will display his frustration and anger and annoyance. He might not have the full communication repertoire required to ensure these emotions come across in a manner that is neat and tidy, but tell me this, have you met many adults that can?

And we've come full circle to that introspection bit that I've circumvented almost this whole blog and incidentally most of my conversation with the Lunch Mummies. How to be less toddler-tempest-like and more mummy-gentle-summer-breeze-like in the face of a full blown cyclone.

I have the ability to centre myself. I have the power to create sunshine and rainbows and calm Shabd down. I also have the endurance to last out a storm, God knows I've had plenty of experience in that department. Only I can do this. Only I can choose to act more mummy and less toddler. And at the risk of sounding all Maya Angelou, the choice lies with me.

Being the realist that I am, I've also formulated plan B. So just in case I do am not so good at exercising my will to remain calm and collected in the face of a toddler tantrum, like all muscles I expect this will take some practice, "Who you gonna call? The Lunch Mommies!" cue Ghostbusters theme song here!

Shabd Turns 2!

Papa and I had decided to follow in the footsteps of my parents and ensure a Birthday was truly a memorable and special day for our child. So we went out and bought that ONE BIG GIFT and the new clothes and ordered the birthday cake and sent out the birthday invitation and packed the bags ready to celebrate.

I'm not sure if Shabd or Papa was more excited over Shabd's birthday present, both being music lovers. Both their eyes danced as their hands lightly fingered the keys of the keyboard Shabd received as his birthday present.

The day was off to a TIGGERIFFIC start, whoo hoo hoo hoo!

La Vanille Crocodile Park was the venue for Shabd's 2nd birthday celebrations. His best friend in the whole wide world came along to celebrate with him. The two of them went tearing down the pathways, screaming at the tops of their voices, "Nayshaaaaaaad! Shaaaaaaabd! Waow!"

We marveled at the crocodiles...some more than others!

We were entertained by the monkeys, the furry brown ones that is!

We learnt about fossils and ammonites and dinosaur bones! Thank you chacha Ravi.

We visited the Insectarium and saw weird and wonderful creepy crawlies.

We saw hundreds of colourful butterflies of all sizes and shapes. And imagined they were alive and we were in a field of flowers surrounded by them.


We saw American alligators. And Malagasy crocodiles.

We learnt that turtles and crocodiles can be friends too. And Koi come in a kaleidoscope of colours.

We met Seychellois GIANT tortoises. Shabd was terribly polite, leaned over and said "Good morning Fabrice. How are you?" Well it's only logical that a Seychellois tortoise would have a French name. And being his mothers son, Shabd tried to move Fabrice along!

The restaurant created our own little celebration corner and the boys loved it! They especially enjoyed eating the stars on the cake!

 

And if all this was not enough, we met donkeys and goats and sheep on our way out! Everyone, sing with me, "Baa baa black sheep have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. One for my master and one for my dame and one for little Shabd who lives on Palma Lane!"

"Thank you for coming to my appity to you" says Shabd!

Lunch Mummies

We almost always meet for lunch, that's why we call ourselves the Lunch Mummies. It's that simple.

I have a small set of friends, mummies themselves, and we meet regularly for lunch to chat, share, complain, cry, laugh, advise and support each other on this journey of motherhood. It's like belonging to a fraternity where we air out all our highs and lows, there are no judgments nor comparisons. There is plenty of encouragement, camaraderie, understanding and have I mentioned no judgments already?

When one sits down at that lunch table, you already have an "A" in motherhood. An "A" for being vulnerable, for being willing to say it like it is, an "A" for showing up, warts and all. And who doesn't want an "A"?

A date with Lunch Mummies is like going to group therapy, with wine! You're reminded that you're not meant to get it all right the first time round. Sometimes, it takes three tries. You're encouraged to have a good ole cry if you need it. You're cautioned to not set up camp on down days and you learn to accept that sometimes you need to ride the dragon. You're reminded that no matter what path you've chosen, you count, you are special!

And there is laughter, lots of it. Laughter at the blonde moments, the oversights, the oopsies and the milking it with the kids and husbands. There is fashion advice, sale notice reminders, patient bedside visits and crafting tips.

Over a milkshake, we talk of our hopes and dreams for ourselves and our children. We share our troubles, our regrets and our misgivings. We talk and talk and talk, jumping from headaches to office politics to potty training to the turquoise purses at Mango.

Having lunch with the Lunch Mummies is like going for a swim in the ocean. The water is warm and welcoming, and one feels refreshed and calm after having had the sea wash away all ones troubles.

Tamatave 2013

Tick Tock My How the Time Has Flown By

Well…tomorrow is the 1^st of July. It feels like this roller-coaster ride had only begun, but in actual fact, half the year has passed already. I cannot remember the date of my diagnosis but I remember sitting under the tree with Akash crying at the utter senselessness of being diagnosed with breast cancer a second time. I remember coming home to my mother and siblings concerned smiles, their respectful silence while we all absorbed this terrible diagnosis, their stoic solidarity.

I was not alone this time around. I was not isolated in a cavern of deprecating loathing. This time around it’s different; I am surrounded by love, family, care, respect, warmth, strength.

 

 

Tomorrow is also 11 days before Shabd’s 2^nd birthday. Truth be told, true to my very nature, I’ve been mulling and stressing as to how we will mark this special day since mid-May. I am slowly and painfully learning that I am that I am. What this philosophical realization means is that I have finally come to accept my true nature instead of denying and trying to change it. I am an excellent igniter of things and terrible at follow-through. I am a perfectionist and have the most untidy cupboard. I am a chronic worrier and a great believer in people. I bounce back amazingly fast from failures, I invented the Tigger bounce! I’m tenacious and don’t give up without a fight, sometimes to my own detriment. But I digress (let me own that quality as well, while we’re on the subject).

Shabd has amazed me these past 6 months. He’s realized that mummy is sick and has to go see the doctor and take medicines. He’s accepted the changes in physical appearance, though he did confuse mummy and papa for a while there. And he’s respectful of giving me space on the days I come home from chemo and need to sleep. On those days, Shabd politely climbs into bed with me so we can cuddle and read a book quietly, as opposed to jumping on the bed singing 5 little monkeys at the top of his voice.

I know this might not sound like a lot, but don’t forget that he’s not yet two years old. Shabd has shown more maturity, compassion, consideration and understanding then some adults I’ve met! I cannot claim credit for these qualities; I do not believe it to be as a result of nurture, but rather of his own gentle nature.

 

Tick tock tick tock, my how the time has flown by! Only 11 days to go, and while I have a few ideas on how we can celebrate Shabd’s birthday, I would love to know what you think we should do.

 

Eureka

Legend has it that Archimedes was so thrilled with his discovery of buoyancy that he immediately hopped out of the bath and ran onto the streets naked shouting 'Eureka!' 'Eureka!”. It is rumoured that had his wife not filled the tub to the brim, this discovery would never have been made. But I digress.

I had my own “Eureka” moment this week. I finally discovered the reason for my recent bout of misplaced aggression, annoyance and impatience; drum roll please….Menopause. Yep! Full-fledged, hot flush and all menopause! Unlike Archimedes, I've resisted the urge to run naked onto the streets yelling at the top of my voice, "Eureka! Eureka! It's menopause!". But the thought did cross my mind.

Imagine my annoyance at myself, it’s the second time I’m experiencing menopause, I should have recognized the symptoms sooner, I should have connected the dots months ago! Chemobrain you will be my own undoing yet! Urgh!!

Having had my light bulb moment was like something in my brain clicking into place, and slowly but surely (like watching a fight scene from The Matrix in super slow mo), the cogs in my brain started turning until eventually the fog lifted.

I realized that I’ve been too full of “I shoulds, I will, I musts” instead of just being; accepting my limitations, embracing me, in all my quirky uniqueness (I’ve discovered that cancer brings out the quirky in many!).

Instead of supporting Shabd during a very difficult time, I’ve been terribly impatient with him. His nounou has gone to Swtizerland to visit her grandchildren; she will be away for 3 months. Shabd has not taken too well to her replacement. He’s absolutely crestfallen at having lost his nounou and has been vacillating between absolute clinginess to mummy (whining come free) and moping in silence all the while lying on the floor.



Shabd and Nounou Lysie

I should have been kind. I should have understood his pain, his hurt, his loss. Instead, I was impatient and annoyed that he was so clingy and not adjusting fast enough to this change. I was angry at myself for not being sensitive enough to his pain especially since I know how much he loves his nounou.

I’m glad I’ve had my “Eureka” moment. Finding the reason for the way I’ve been feeling is not a resolution in itself. It doesn’t diminish the mood swings or hot flushes (and boy are there quite a number of those) – it does allow me freedom to let go though. Freedom, to forgive myself. Freedom, to be kind to myself. Freedom, to say to myself, as Shabd often says to me while gently stroking the top of my bald head, “it’s okay.”



Selfie

I’ve not slammed on the brakes. I’m done with “should haves”. I am that I am. And for now, what I am is menopausal, in all its grisly glory.  Acceptance is the wonder salve to this festering wound of self-berating. It’s amazing how pleasantly different things are once one stops berating oneself.





Ice-cream...without the cream!

Shabd and I spent the morning at Flic-en-Flac on Friday. We had a fantastic morning of playing in the sand, walking on the beach, singing, eating ice-cream and taking selfies. We had a long chat about nounou, how much we both miss her and how it was okay to be sad. Shabd, ever his father’s son was gracious as always with me. For the first time in weeks, when Papa arrived home that night, the atmosphere was jovial and there were wide grins all around. We spent the evening singing and talking, just the three of us.



Sea, Sand, Sun all year round

On Saturday, Shabd and I, along with LK went to visit MM and her family. For the first time in months, Shabd didn’t throw any tantrums, he did not scream or yell or become impatient with me. Instead, he sang along to his CD while in the car for 2 hours it took us to get to MM’s house. He happily ate all his food despite lunch being served an hour late and shared his toys with MM’s sons. Could it be my acceptance of myself that precipitated this positive change in Shabd’s behavior?

The love of my life

On Sunday, Akash and I reconnected over a lunch date at Spur; yep, voted most kid-friendly restaurant on the island by yours truly. So kid-friendly in fact that we go there even on dates. I felt as if I had stepped back in time, savouring the time spent talking and holding hands.



My house is not immaculate. My garden is more veld then garden. Our washing machine has packed up leaving a pile of laundry as high as Mt Kilimanjaro and I’m not always successful at gathering enough energy or will to prepare dinner every night. And it’s okay. The cogs turn slowly as I learn that if I’m okay, everything around me will be okay too. That it’s okay to let go of the “should haves” and just accept things as they are for now. For in time, this too shall pass.

Beekharry Selfie!



"Ah-ppity You You Nayshadh!"

Nayshadh is Shabd's cousin and his best friend in the whole wide world! These two are as thick as thieves. They get together every Sunday from 10h00 to 13h00, and during those hours, these two cousins are inseparable.

As soon as Shabd see's Chacha Ravi driving up our driveway, he yells out excitedly, "Nayshaaaaad!" There is much wiggling and even more screaming as he quickly makes a dash for the door, just in time to collide with Nayshadh running in to meet him.

Nayshadh speaks in French, Shabd in English, yet the two have their own way of communicating and understanding each other perfectly. They each speak a healthy melange of English, French and Creole to each other...which is quite amusing to the casual eavesdropper.

Nayshadh turned 5 last week. Shabd helped ice the blue and purple cupcakes, our humble offering for the Toy Story themed birthday party.

He chattered incessantly repeating over and over again, "Ah-ppity you, you you, Nayshaaad" (Shabdish for Happy Birthday to you Nayshadh) as if to remind us not to forget it was his cousin's big day.

As we've come to learn of Shabd, he stayed true to his character and shyed away from the celebration, choosing instead to stay indoors and colour. He came out only when Nayshadh was free to play soccer with him again, ensuring Nayshadh remained in the spotlight - it was after all Nayshadh's ah-ppity you you!

Nayshadh on his part, proudly showed off the cool watch his papa had given him. And generously shared his brand new Liverpool soccer ball with Shabd.

Excitement shone out his eyes as Nayshadh blew all 5 of his candles in one go! He loved his Hare Rama Hare Krishna McQueen Car cake. He loved the multicoloured balloons that hung everywhere, the Toy Story crockery and polka dot hats everyone happily donned (Job well done Papa!).

Most of all, judging by the size of the smile plastered to his little moon face, I suspect Nayshadh loved having his Papa by his side. To every little boy, their Papa is their superhero.

"Ah-ppity You You Nayshadh!"