Koalas on my handbag!

The morning is a whirlwind of activity. From classes to cleaning to cooking, the day has already descended into ‘crazy mode’ – like many other days that have preceded it. When I reach ‘Point frazzled’, the sun has crossed our balcony, bringing with it intense humidity. I feel sticky, as tendrils of my frizzy hair forge strong bonds with my sweaty neck. I know just what I want.

I head purposefully to my chest of drawers and pull open the drawer. I cluck in exasperation. I cannot find a single claw clip or clutcher clip. Not a single one! The hunt begins. I do use rubber bands, but they are not as effective as these claw clips.

I head straight to my daughter’s room, a labyrinth that I have been told not to navigate. But this is a pressing situation that allows for some rule-breaking. We have 4 long claw clips and 2 medium sized ones at home that my daughter and I share. From under the pile of books and papers and folders that jostle for space on my daughter’s table, I unearth 2 big ones. I sigh in relief.

I grab all my hair and twist it vigorously, I pin it with the long claw clip, every single loose hair forced into submission, piled on the top of my head in a grim-looking knot. I dare any of my curls to escape the clutches of my claw clip. I automatically feel energized, cool and ready to go on with my day. I continue my claw hunt. I find one behind my daughter’s mirror. That’s three. Where are the other three?

I know where they will be. I head to my handbag cupboard. I pull out the ones I have used recently, and yay! I find the remaining three, clinging like koala bears to the handles of my handbag, where most women keep them till they need them.

My claw clips are an integral part of my life, for they are easy to use, can help with styling, can serve as humidity- life savers and thus managed frazzled nerves.


Five years and many simple moments later….

I just received a message from WordPress wishing me on my 5th Blogiversary. Five years….wow! Can’t believe it. This five-year blogging journey has been truly enriching. I have made many new friends, and have learned a lot from other bloggers and friends who follow my blog.

Courtesy – http://www.pexels.com

I treasure every single like and comment that my posts receive, for they give me happiness and motivate me to keep writing. I want to thank each one of you for all your kind words of encouragement and support. I wouldn’t be here without you all.

I hope to continue writing about the simple moments that I observe all around me. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share them with you. Wishing you all the very best always. Lots of love – Nimi.

Wake up!

Parents from around the world have different parenting tricks up their sleeves. Tricks that have been honed to perfection, through repeated testing on their offspring.

One of the most successful parenting tricks is the one that gets kids out of bed in the morning. I have heard many stories about parents in the tropics, who would switch off the fan or the aircon, and then allow the intense humidity to engulf the sleeping- innocents and jolt them awake. Parents in cold climes would probably snatch the blanket to get the kids to wake up.

My Dad was a strict disciplinarian, and when we would hear his footsteps approaching, we would usually know that it was time to wake up. He would say ‘Wakey, wakey’, in a cheerful voice, and we would groan, ‘Morning Dad’ and wish that he would leave the room, so that we could sneak in some more shut eye.

Only when I became a mom of school-going children did I realize that every parent needs to have a strong ‘waking-the-kids-up-skill-set’ – an arsenal of various tricks – good and mean, cheerful and stern, loving and angry. And on any particular day, the parent has to use the best mix to goad the children out of bed.

Courtesy – http://www.pexals.com

This morning, when it is time to wake the kids up, I decide on a cheerful morning wake up call. I decide to whistle like a bird, interspersed with wake up, wake up in the same tone. My daughter groans and buries herself into her pillow. My son is woken by this musical bird sound and looks really irritated. He says, “Mom, can you stop that sound, please? It is really loud.” And then my ever-considerate son looks at me with half open eyes, and feels maybe that he has hurt his mom, and says, “It was quite melodious actually, only that it was loud.” I laugh and give him a bear hug.

Without skipping a beat, he says, “What’s for breakfast mom? I am famished.” I head to the kitchen to start my work. Another day begins. It is business as usual.

Not that generous….

Most humans have different preoccupations for each decade of their lives. In the mid-forties one of the main things that my friends and I talk about is our health. From intermittent fasting and counting calories to maintaining diaries and charts, we are all busy. But sometimes, our resolve is put to the test.

My husband and I decide to go watch a movie. The show is at 9 pm, and we decide to leave home by 7 pm to run a few errands and then head to the movie hall.

We discuss dinner plans. My husband bravely announces that he will skip dinner, so that he can eat popcorn without any guilt. This irritates me, as I want to eat both – dinner and popcorn! Today is my cheat day and so I want to leverage it to the maximum.

My husband is unwavering in his resolve, till he sees the menu card. I manage to wolf down a huge dosa, while he eats another type of dosa. We feel guilty, but pronounce ourselves satisfied. He does some entering into his food calorie counter app. After running some errands we finally reach the movie hall.

Two regular tubs of salted popcorn please, I hear myself ask. I protect the popcorn and hug it close. The aroma is tantalizing. I move the flap and quickly pop two pieces into my mouth. My husband postulates that one should start eating only after the movies starts playing. I disagree. We take our seats. In just a few minutes, I open the tub of popcorn and start eating, savouring every bit.

Courtesy – Pixabay (www.pexels.com)

As I watch the titles roll in, one piece of popcorn bounces off my mouth and falls down. What a loss! I pick up the piece and put it into a piece of tissue from my bag. I promise myself to be careful, and not lose anymore popcorn. My husband has not started eating his popcorn yet. Strange, I think.

As the plot unfurls, I start feeling cold. The aircon is freezing. I pass my popcorn tub to my husband for safe-keeping, and pull out my stole from my handbag. I wrap it snugly around myself, and then turn to my husband. I am shocked. My husband is helping himself to my popcorn. I ask him to open his palm. There are three pieces. I ask him how many he has already eaten. Two he says with a huge grin, as he sees my face.

I take back my tub. I ask him to open his tub of popcorn. I carefully count out five pieces of popcorn from his and transfer them to mine. My husband’s shoulders are shaking in mirth. But he doesn’t get it. This is popcorn. I am generous, but not that generous. Calories or no calories, five pieces are five pieces. So there!