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Reaching New Heights

Decades ago, I used to be a wide-eyed innocent, absorbing the new things around me with astonishment and delight. Β Those were the days of wonder, new discoveries and sometimes, disappointments. There was delight when I ‘understood’ the concept of animation and how drawings could be brought to life. I was stunned to know that the songs in Hindi movies were sung by different people than the ones on screen. It just made watching the actors so difficult, because it made no sense for them to enact the the song, miming with their lips 😦 . Disappointing, YES!!

There is a huge list of first-time achievements/realizations that I still remember from my childhood.Β Of a hundred new things that I learned, there is one very distant activity that is imprinted on my mind. The sheer happiness when I learned to fold a saree. Yup! I remember distinctly because those 6 yards gave me enough trouble! I used to love folding freshly washed laundry, except for mom’s looooooong sarees which seemed like the toughest things ever. Even bed-sheets were easier, because I would spread them on the floor and then go about folding them. There just wasn’t enough space to lay the saree flat on the ground 😦 . So I used to struggle, get entwined and sometimes, just when I thought I had done it, one folded section would slip from my hand and I would have to do it all over again. It was rather frustrating, irritating even. Mom never asked me to fold her sarees, she would be okay doing it herself or sometimes, Aapa, the elder sister, would do it. But I just couldn’t!!

Then one fine day, I got it. Just like that! I got the hang of how exactly I needed to go about the business and within seconds, I had a neatly folded saree in my hands. I still remember the rush of excitement, of knowing that I could figure out the solution to a problem, myself. That I had made my own discovery πŸ™‚ . It was a high of a different kind. For a few seconds, I thought that I had just ‘grown-up’ a tad bit πŸ˜€

Maybe, Lui felt something on the same lines last weekend.

I was busy in the kitchen making tea. Lui comes in and says, “Mumma, see this”. As I turned around, she stood on her toes and stretched out her hands to flip the switch for the kitchen lights. It was at a height that she couldn’t reach earlier. As I stood there and looked at her grinning there proudly, I couldn’t help but remember my childhood. The same sense of victory, of achievement.

Lui was pleased as hell, I could tell πŸ™‚ . It was an act that she could perform all by herself. In fact, switching on lights is an activity that I never ask the kids to do. I’m a tad paranoid about them . But here was my daughter, beaming brightly, showing me how she could reach the light and flip them on and off. When Shobby strolled in and rued that he could NEVER reach them buttons, Lui graciously offered to ‘lift’ her brother so that he too can have his share of fun πŸ˜€

Shobby still couldn’t make it πŸ˜€

Anyway, the only reason I posted about this small development was because, for a fraction of a second, I saw the little me in Lui. I saw her happiness and her glee…..it used to be mine once, though it seems so far off now. Even though we keep learning new things even today, the sense of wonderment is lost . A pity 😦

Not sure if I posted this snap here before….but this is how the twins look these days –

Lui and Shobbs

Lui and Shobbs

 

 

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The Fairy GodMother

Dear Shobby,

By the time you are old enough to read this, you may not even have an iota of recollection about it. But the moment was too beautiful to ignore. I just had to write it down. I want you to read this and realize, that there is one person on this planet who is so tuned in to you, that your discomfort becomes her’s. Your pain becomes her’s. If you stop smiling, so does she.

No, its notΒ me πŸ™‚ . Even though I do confess to being all the above, I know that another person beats meΒ to it hollow. Your sister, your twin. Lui.

For the past few months, all I’ve seen you two do, is to bicker and fight. You yell at each other, steal each other’s candies, come running to us, tattling about the other and in short, doing your best to convince us to get rid of the other. We parents are having a hard time just maintaining peace around the house 😐

Anyhow, on Sunday 27th Jan 2013, Lui woke up with a bad fever. We had to attend a wedding and your poor sister came along and didn’t create as much of a fuss as expected. We returned in the evening and both of you, for once, allowed me to get some shut-eye without screaming. You were a bundle of energy throughout the day, bouncing all over the wedding hall, getting in people’s way and just having a ball πŸ™‚ . Towards evening, I hoped you would tire and relax for a bit.

Fat chance!

You were in no mood to oblige and kept bouncing all over the house. In between, you came hopping to me on one leg, claiming you wanted to go to the loo. As is the case these days, I switched on the light of the loo and turned my back. You, my little skipper, hopped into the loo, on one leg. Now I needn’t say what happens when a bubbly little kid does a one-leg hop on the wet tiles of a loo. Within a fraction of a second, you had bumped both shins against the hard ledge of the step-up loo. You let out a yell that was so full of pain that I dropped the washed clothes I was hanging up to dry and rushed to you.

You were hurt, very badly….there were nasty bumps on both your shins. You cried fat tears and I did all I could to calm you down. After a brief check to see if any bones were brokenΒ (thankfully not), I applied iodex and wrapped your legs in crepe bandage. It was disheartening to see your earlier cheerful face reduced to a glum, morose one.

LuiΒ took your fall really bad. She was upset and kept pestering me to press your legs (“ShoobyΒ ke paerΒ dabao”). Even when you slept on the sofa, she rushed inside to get you a blanket which she tucked lovingly under your chin. When you complained that you couldn’t see the TV, she ran back inside and fetched you a pillow. As you lay there, wallowing in self-pity, she dragged me into the kitchen and forced me to prepare a glass of sherbet. When I handed her the glass, she took a spoon and then proceeded to feed you the sherbet spoon by spoon. Its aΒ different matter that she spilled a lot and you got bored ofΒ it and finally, I had to take the glass away from her. I just wantΒ  you to know, that in those few moments, when she was mothering you, I had a lump the size of a fist lodged in my throat. I could have stretched my hand for my phone and clicked a few snaps, but the beauty of her actions left me immobile. I just wish and pray, that you are able toΒ imagine and feel the love she showered on you that day. I want you to realize that even at the tender age of four years, your sister felt your pain and did everything she could, to relieve you. And all this while, she was running a high temperature herself!!Even if you cant remember, just close your eyes after reading this post.

You are lucky my boy….she is a gem of a sister. You can have your squabbles, but don’t forget to cherish her, pamper her, humour her. She has her tantrums but she also has the deep-seated love for you. She may yell at you, but she can’t bear us yelling at you. She may scream and accuse you of stealing all her candies, but she also wakes me up in the night to make sure that you haven’t kicked away your blanket. She’s a bundle of contradictions, but she’s also your best buddy and forever companion. Treasure her, make her feel as special as she makes you feel. Beat up the baddies for her as she beats them upΒ for you. Fight for her, protect her, love her. Because she does all this and more for you.

Take care of her too, because she is not just your twin sister, she’s also your fairy Godmother.

Yours (and Lui’s too)

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For The Very First Time…..

….we made a trip with the kids to a …hold your breath…mall.

yup.

Thats right.

M-A-L-L.

We were skeptical and undecided, then finally, we gave in. It was just a matter of an hour or so. We thought about it and discussed at length. No, don’t get us wrong. The BF and I have a LOT of things to talk about, but taking the kids to a mall is a decision we’ve been putting off since the time they were born. Strolling through one is not really our idea of a good time, but the BF had visited one mall where he saw kids enjoying a few rides in the play area and immediately thought that our kids would love it too.

After a lot of pondering over, we decided to go just this one time, since we had an hour or so to kill before visiting a relative. Also, the twin’s birthday is around the corner and we became a little generous towards them πŸ˜€

Anyhow, so it being a Sunday, we expected the place to be crowded. We took a quick stroll, looking for the play-area. Instead, we found an adorable toy-train which would take the kids around the floor. The per head cost of ticket was 100/- which gave me a cardiac. But since the train was super cute and the twins were super excited, I gave in.  Luckily, it wasn’t over-flowing, and we made our way around the floor. The BF didn’t join us, for obvious reasons πŸ˜€ .

Once the train ride was over (too quickly, if you ask me 😐 ), we went over to the play-area.  The rides which would cost 10/- anywhere else in the city, were billed at 40/- each. The worst part was that we just couldn’t pick any ride and be done with it! We had to purchase a card worth 220/- and then we could use any ride we wanted. This kind of flummoxed us and I was about to back out. My middle-class sensibilities reacted violently at this blatant loot. But the kids were already clambering into the toy helicopters and the BF just didn’t have the heart to ask them to come out. So we bought the cards and took the kids through the various rides.

The twins enjoyed all the rides, obviously πŸ™‚

“Mumma, kitna mazza aa raha hai”, squealed Lui, as the toy boat swung up and down. Well, the happiness on the twin’s faces were worth every penny spent, I must say.

Once the rides were over, we went over to the food court. Now, this was a bad decision on all counts. For two adults and two toddlers, we shelled out nearly 1000/- . The fact that the food wasn’t worth the price grated on us. The only reason we ate there was because the kids were tired and hungry and it would have taken us time to go out somewhere else.

Anyhow, sharing a few pics from the evening . Getting Shobby to pose for a pic is the toughest task ever. Just when I’m ready to click, he turns his head right. Then left. And then, thankfully, he looks straight ahead. Luckily, no such problem with Lui πŸ™‚ .:-

Overall, it was a fun evening, but not something we would be doing again.

On their part, the kids totally erased the memory of the mall-trip the minute we reached home. They haven’t mentioned it or the rides since last week. It almost as if they never went there 😐 (we took them there last to last Sunday), which works just fine for us. Probably, the kids didn’t enjoy it as much to demand a second trip!

Hopefully, the next time they step into one, will be when they are much older and wiser πŸ˜€

 

 



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Through Tears And Smiles

It is Dad’s fault.
He was the one who called me up early in the morning. On a Sunday!!
I spoke to him for a few minutes. It felt good. He sent me oodles of prayers and best wishes for the future. As I bid goodbye, I promised to call him up more often.
“So, how does it feel?”, the BF asked.
Thats when the dam burst.
I sobbed. I sobbed hard. The BF was shocked. He didn’t think I would take it this bad.
“Its okay sweetheart…you are just a year older”.
“Ish knwat that. I mish my pah-ents”, I muttered between sniffles.
“Lets ask them to come and settle in Pune”, he offered by way of help.
I would have thumped him with a pillow if I wasn’t already busy with drowning in my tears.
“Okay, why don’t you make a quick trip to B’lore next weekend”, he offered, in the way he knows which helps avoiding major conflicts.
“*sniff* *snort*”.
“Take the kids, spend some time with them”, he comforted.
“Cant. Much work. Tickets ‘spensive”.
“Well…you either gotta think about the money or about the family. Take your pick”.
Damn this guy!! He cant even let me wallow in pity on my own birthday!!

So friends, this is how I ushered in another year in my life. I was sad, upset and whiny. I wanted my Mumma and my Dad and I wanted to be the little girl I once was. For a few moments there, I was overwhelmed by it all, the kids, my job, the home, my responsibilities and my overall ineptitude. A part of me wanted to get out of it all. I don’t want to grow any older 😦 . Thirty Three done. Thirty Four Start. Whew!! Seems a count too many, doesn’t it.
But then, like Dad says, age is frame of mind (His frame is definitely the best teak out there, because he just seems to get better as the years pass by. Mine must be made of oak, rotting from the inside 😦 ).
Anyhow, the dark clouds didn’t linger too long over my head :). By 9:30AM, I was happily making curries and whipping up cakes. Good cheer and sanity were restored. The kids were in a benevolent mood. There were no tantrums or howls of protest πŸ˜€ . They got to cut up cakes and blow out candles (in that order πŸ˜€ ). The BF and I managed to sneak in a couple of hours to go and watch a movie (Barfi. Good one). We bought some toys for the kids on our way back. Evening was spent with the family. We had a family dinner, followed by some more cake-cutting. The BF had to go out for some work and got delayed.He came back with another cake and a bunch of red roses *blush*
So we cut the last cake of the day at around 11 in the night. The kids were too full of sugar to feel sleepy and we had a nice story-telling session till late night.
As we finally said the prayers for the night, I thanked Allah for all the little bits of love and happiness that surrounds us.
And here’s hoping (and I really, really hope) that I mature up and have the courage to face whatever comes my way.
Brick or bouquets, I’m ready for both πŸ™‚

Edited to Add : To everyone who called/messaged/emailed/walled/scrapped or did anything else to wish me, Thank You. You made it a great day for me πŸ™‚



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Somewhere in early 2000, I wrote my last letter to Mom. Parents were in Kolkata at that time, me, Bro and Bags were in Pune. For the first time in my sheltered life, we were living away from parents, from the comforts of a bustling household, from the aroma of fresh, tasty food, from the ignorance of managing a house and the many, many little things one needs to do to keep the home running.
Living alone brought along its hardships, right from washing utensils to clothes, sweeping, mopping, cooking, the works. Bro used to work long hours, Bags was in a management course and had ungodly hours at college. I was the free one, giving up a post-graduate seat because I didn’t want to pay for it and preparing for the admissions for the next year.
Since I was home throughout the day, looking after the house became my responsibility. It wasn’t easy, far from it. I had trouble deciding what to cook for the three different meals. I had to keep an inventory of the groceries needed so that Bro could buy them in one go. Luckily, he loved shopping for vegetables too, so that saved me some trouble πŸ™‚
My routine comprised of cleaning up the house, washing clothes (in the washing machine πŸ™‚ ), washing utensils (by hand), cooking, folding dry clothes, sorting vegetables, folding laundry , etc. In the evenings, we usually sat down to do our studies, me and Bags. We didn’t have a television, so we either used to watch a movie on the desktop (which had a 2 MB hard disk *gasp* ) or simply listen to the radio (Aakashwani, since Radio Mirchi wasn’t born yet).
We used to call up parents regularly (thankfully, we had a land-line) and it was comforting to share our domestic tales with Mom.
One day, after a fight with Bro over making tea, I got fed-up of managing the house and instead of calling Mom, sat down to write a letter. A couple of drafts later, I realized how utterly juvenile my rants were. There was no need to worry Mom over such a trivial matter. So I just wrote a nice little letter, letting her know that all was well on our side and that we missed her.
I dont remember the date on which I wrote it, but it was definitely my last. I never wrote a letter after that 😐
Till this date, I wonder why! Mom LOVES letters. She loves reading them more than writing them. By the way, the second thing she excels at (the first being cooking) is writing. She writes in Urdu and believe me, if you could read her, you would relaize what a fine writer she would make (if only she agreed to publish her diaries 😐 )
Many a times, Mom would gently remind us to write letters. We would say, yeah sure and then completely forget about it. As long as we could call her up and update her on our status, all seemed to go perfectly fine with us.
I went on to get a job and Dad gifted me my first mobile (Nokia 3315. Remember anyone??). Distances grew shorter. I could call parents anytime I wanted πŸ™‚ . I would send Dad a hundred messages, mostly irrelevant and he would message me back to shut up πŸ˜€ . Life was fun. But not for Mom. Even till recently, when she was in Pune, she said, “I’m not tech-savvy like your Dad. I can’t read mails…so why don’t you just write me a letter?”.
As usual, I assured her that I will. And I didn’t 😐 .
So imagine my surprise when I see this envelope waiting for me when I reached home yesterday! The address was in Dad’s handwriting, but the minute I opened it, I knew it was from her. She is the only one I know who has the capability to really fill a letter, if you know what I mean πŸ™‚ . There were two foolscap pages covered back-to back in her neat, tiny handwriting. I don’t have words to describe how it felt to receive a letter. Bikram does a much better job here πŸ™‚
Needless to say, the letter was brimming with love and oozing concern and best wishes. I couldn’t get enough of it. I read it with a grin on my face, imagining Mom’s brows furrowed with worry as she wrote about how she worries and prays for me πŸ™‚ .
I LOVED it. I LOVED it LOVED it LOVED it πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚
And now comes the difficult part. I haven’t written a letter in ages. 12 and a half years, to be precise. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to fill a page 😐 . But you know what?? I sure am going to try. And there’s only one reason why. Because no matter how many times you call or send an email….nothing and I mean nothing can match up to the thrill of holding those papers close to you as you read them out, or as you clutch them to your chest and feel the love pouring right into you.
Letter writing!
Can’t be so tough, can it?
I’m surely gonna try it out today.
Will let you know tomorrow πŸ™‚

And oh, in case you want to try it out, write a little note to your loved one today. And see the difference πŸ™‚

Cheers πŸ™‚



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I think I’m the epitome of embarrassment.
There is something about me which begs embarrassment to come and hug me. Not only that, I’ve given the dear Em a place of permanent residence on my countenance.
The BF, aware of my predilection, choses to ignore it …well most of the time.
Other times, he’s busy bearing the brunt of it.
Once such incident, which came to my mind this morning will clarify my point further.
The year was 2005. Just a few months before, I had confessed to my parents about my undying love for the BF.

Actually, I didn’t. I just told them that I was ‘interested’ in marrying this guy, IF they approved πŸ˜€
Mom put the onus of decision on Dad.
Dad, being dad ( πŸ™„ ) had to say NO! I mean, what kind of a father gives a “Ja, Jee le apni zindagi” kind of approval when the daughter, the apple of his eye, the youngest of his off springs, drops in at his workplace one evening and drops the bombshell?? Tell,tell??
Anyhow, so Dad gave an outright NO. I realized I had some major brainwashing to do and decided to move to Bangalore, just so you know, I could be by his side and pester him into acceptance πŸ˜€ . It took time and I started seeing the first few signs of him thawing. Never the one to let an opportunity pass by, I rang up the BF and informed him about the update. The BF, bless his torn jeans, wasn’t really over the moon, but yeah, he cheered up a wee bit. Barely 😐

In between, BFS dropped in to B’lore for a visit and we had a great week together. During one of our shopping expeditions at Pantaloons, I found this really cool offer where they were giving away two T-shirts for the price of one.
Ek par ek free!! (If you know me even a wee bit by now, you’d know its my life’s mantra!) I simply HAD to buy them shirts. Purchase done, I asked the cashier to gift-wrap one. Handing it over to BFS I asked her to personally deliver it to the love of my life. She hugged me and promised that she would do exactly that πŸ™‚ . Not hug the BF silly, hand over the T-shirt!
A few months went by. Dad had to make a trip to Pune, some stuff to be brought down to Pune for Bag’s wedding I suppose. I called up the BF and asked him to contact Dad on his arrival and be as much help as possible.
“I’m working, you know”, the BF lovingly informed me.
“Err yeah. Dad will be there this weekend. Make sure you take out some time for him”.
“Hmmphhh…the stuff I have to do for you….”!!
“Hey, it’s not as if you are sacrificing you weekend cricket match or your sleep?! Actually, you are, but what the hell! You love me no??” I wheedled.
Convinced that he had no option but to butter up the future pa-in-law, the BF got up early, shaved ( *gasp* on a weekend!!), put on his new shirt(gifted by his beloved) and went to do the needful.
*Ding Dong*
Dad opens the door.
“Hi-“
“Hi-“
Silence.
Silence.
The BF says it was a good 5 minutes that the two men stood there looking at each other. I’m sure he exaggerates. So what if both of them were wearing identical T-shirts?!! In my lah-di-dah way, I had gifted the other T-shirt to Dad, never assuming that there would be a day when he and the BF would end up wearing it in each other’s presence 😐
It’s a good thing that Dad didn’t hate the BF or anything…..else, the situation could have taken a much worse turn. BF says he was never more mortified in his entire life!! Both he and my Dad were tongue-tied, not sure what to say to the other, since both of them were wearing the same shirt gifted by the one who loved them both. Me πŸ™‚
In a way, I think it worked out for the best, maybe they both saw that they had something in common after all πŸ™‚

The rest of the morning was rather awkward. Dad needed the BF’s help in moving some luggage around. Some relatives who had come to visit Dad commented on how he and the BF were wearing the same shirts. Neither the BF nor Dad bothered to reply to those comments (Somehow, I’m tickled pick just thinking about that scene πŸ˜€ )

But yeah, one of life’s lessons I’ve learned is that never ever buy the same coloured T-shirt if buying two for the price of one!

(As for ek-par-ek-free offers, go for it dude πŸ˜€ !!)

Saves one a lot of embarrassment in the long run πŸ˜‰

 



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A Long time back, before I had the twins, there was a time I was shuttling between the doctor’s clinics and pathology labs. For some unknown reason, I had difficulty retaining my pregnancies. Miscarriage after miscarriage had made me immune to pain.
I was advised to get various different blood tests done. I’m surprised at myself now that I actually got blood tests done worth 6-7K!!
So frequent were my visits that all the people at the lab recognised me on sight. Sometimes I would have to give blood from both the arms. The prick of the needle didnt hurt me anymore. There would be other people, men and women, who would either turn away their face, or yelp/gasp with pain.
I sat there silently, like a third party observing the pricking and prodding of MomOfRS.
By the way, all the reports were negative.
I got pregnant naturally and had the twins. There’s a long story about the universe conspiring to give you what you want. I had blogged about it here.
Anyway, the pathology lab was like a second home to me. Even after I became pregnant, I used to visit it atleast twice a month for the sonography. I know, its not required that frequently, but neither my doctor nor we, were willing to take any chances this time. Though under house-arrest (by the BF) most of the time, the only trips I made out were either to the labs or to the doctor.
Once the kids were out, I never ventured that side again πŸ˜€ .
Until yesterday. When I had to take my itty-bitty little son to have blood tests done, ranging from malaria to TB to goodness knows what all the doctor had prescribed.
He was suitably excited to be at a new place, plush sofa sets and a laaaarge TV, a waiter serving him water and offering a candy. Obviously, he was thrilled. That is, till he was strapped up for a blood sample retrieval. Thats when he recollected that a couple of weeks back, he had a similar blood sample taken (at a different lab) and that the needle hurts.
My son burst out crying even before the needle was inserted and it took three people, me, holding him in my lap, one attendant to hold his hand still and the third to insert the needle. Shobby bawled his heart out. But even in his bawling, he couldn’t help throwing curses at the attendants. So funny were his words that they had difficulty in keeping their hands steady as they laughed.
“Arre, kitna khoon le rahe. Abhi bas na!!”
“Inn dono ko police ke paas bhejenge”
“Mere Abu ko bulao. Woh aapki piti-piti karenge”.
“Kitnaaa sataa rahe hai sab mujhe. Kitnaaaa?!!!”
“Aap dono ko jungle mein chhodoon kya??”
Even I was smiling, because my son was visibly furious at being pricked and was throwing all the expletives he knew !
But it hurt deep down.
Because I couldn’t prevent causing him pain in the first place.
Shobby has developed a swelling on his liver which may or may not be serious. His hemoglobin is low and his weight has been dropping steadily for the past one month. Thats why the multitude of blood-tests.

The doctor says that the swelling could also be because of the anti-biotics we’ve been giving him over the last one month. I believe that his core problem is low immunity, as he is easily prone to infections. The doctor also asked us if anyone in my family has a chronic problem of cold-cough. I shook my head in ‘No’, before I realized that there was indeed one person in my house who was mostly ill. The nanny.
The girl has a chronic problem and she’s been taking treatment for it too. But the fact remains that atleast 2 days in a week, she is definitely ill. If she takes a leave to visit her aunt, the next day she would be down with a terrible fever. If she goes out with her friends, she falls ill in the night. Its sad to say this, but the only time she is actually fit is when she comes for work regularly. She gets to eat home-made food and gets to sleep 3 hrs in the afternoon. Though I’ve asked her to take the kids to the park every evening, she takes them only once a week, because she’s not feeling well enough and cannot get up in the evening. There are times when the FIL/MIL come back in the evening and wake her up.
The doctor has advised me to replace her soon. My son has low immunity and until that improves , we need to keep him away from any source of infections.
The problem is, the nanny’s an orphan. We feel responsible for her and her health. But I also cannot compromise on my son’s health. That girl just cannot run around to different homes for work. What we pay her lets her live comfortably off without worries. If I get rid of her, I know for sure that her health will deteriorate. Even at 22, she doesn’t have the maturity to understand that unless she earns her living, she cannot go on. Unfortunately for her, her friends are all from a better background, ready to splurge at the movies or eating out. Since they have nothing better to do, they plan night-outs at her place, staying awake till early morning. She then wakes up at noon and then calls to inform that she isnt feeling well and cannot come. By then, either the MIL or I have taken a leave off work to stay back with the kids!! Every week, the friends expect her to join them for shopping expeditions. Mostly, she refuses, but then when she does relent, she ends up spending more than she earns 😦 .
We have spent thousands on her, though frankly, I’m now really doubtful as to what she has been doing with all the money 😐 . Removing her seems to be the only way to check if Shobby gets better. But I need to settle her someplace else. Unfortunately, she hasn’t got a very good work record for people to accept her immediately. Too many neighbours around who have visited our place, know of her sleeping habits 😦
I’m really stuck in a hard place here. On one hand is my baby and on the other, a girl who lost her mother shortly after she started working for us. Not only me, but the others at home feel responsible for her too 😦
Then there’s the option of day-care. I know hundreds of women put their kids in day-care and some of them are really good. Its just that my kids aren’t used to staying away from the house for more than 3-4 hours. They are used to the comforts of their home. Soemwhere deep inside, I’m feeling a tad upset that with no other option left, I’ll have to leave my kids in daycare 😦
It doesn’t help my cause that the BF is strictly against day-care!
I’m sure there is a solution out there somewhere…its just that my mind is too jumbled with thoughts to come up with a workaround.
I’m not doing too good at work either, as I’m preoccupied with Shobby’s health issues all the time.

Hopefully, this too shall pass πŸ™‚
I know its a phase. When bad times abound, the good times are just around the corner πŸ™‚
So, keeping my fingers crossed for tomorrow (when I’ll get the reports).
Send your thoughts and prayer Shobby’s way. Please πŸ™‚



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