The pet-shop story

My son loves animals. His love does not discriminate between species. Equally fond of birds, cats, fishes and dogs, he attracts the stray ones like a magnet and they follow him around till it is time for him to come home.

He always nagged me about buying a dog for him, I resisted not only because I am scared of dogs and so is my daughter, but also because so far we lived in an apartment and I did not want to share that space with a pet. I see raised eyebrows don't I? Especially Balan!

Finally when we moved to this villa and had space enough inside and outside to have the much desired dog, there was no stopping my son. Kids can be quite tenacious as we all know. So is my son...

He: "Mom, so are we buying the dog today?"
Me offhandedly: "Soon"
He comes around and stands in front of me: "How soon?"
Me: "Are you sure you can take care of a dog? I really do not know anything about dogs."
He: "Of course I can, I know everything, I have to take him for a walk twice and play with him and give him his food and clean his poop and pee. I will also teach him to do his 'business' outside the house, but that might take some time and of course you must be accepting of accidents once in a while."
Me thinking 'wow where did he get all that stuff from, and why can't he get his school project information from the same source that he got this stuff from?': "Hmm, seems you did your homework on pets. So what breed do you want?"
He: "A Golden Retriever not older than four months."
Me: "Okay so we have to find out how to go about getting a dog here, it might not be easy."
He: "I know all the pet-shops in Muscat, let us go and check them out."
Me: "We will and now please go and do your homework."
He: "I have thought of a name, I will call him Shadow"
Me: " Do you want a male dog?"
He: "Yes of course, a she-dog won't play with me. She will always sit and watch TV like didi. It has to be a male dog."
Me: "Hmm. Homework"

Conversations like this happen more than twice in my house, always initiated by my son and contradicted by my daughter. Amidst this, I started to shed my inhibition to dogs. Probably it was the mother winning over the woman. My husband who likes animals as well but has never had a pet except fishes in a tank was roped in. He looked at my daughter incredulously.

She: "I don't want a dog, He will bite me."
He: "It does not hurt that much, I was bitten once by a stray dog and had to take quite a few injections. A pet dog will be vaccinated so you do not have to worry about needles poking you."
She: "You gotta be kidding me! Why do we have to buy a dog, why cant we just have plants and fishes?"
He: "We have to get a dog so that you get rid of your fear, now that is a good reason, if any."
She: "Will it be a big dog? I am ok with a tiny pup, by the time he grows up he will know me and won't bite me."
He: "Lets see."
She: "I will not clean up after him, I am making it very clear right now."

Finally after a somewhat mixed consensus on the issue the research started. Research for anything is my husband's forte. He got in touch with expats leaving and wanting to re-home their dogs, with breeders, with pet-shops and pet-clinics. Responses were quick to come and as quickly discarded by him much to my son's angst.

Son: "This way we will never be able to have a dog."
Dad: "For you buying the dog is the end but for me buying the dog is the beginning."
Son: "I don't care, beginning or end or anything in between I want my dog."
Dad opens a link and shows him a site: "Read this and tell me what you feel?"

This is the link that we visited,

Take a look 

If you have trouble opening the link from here please copy paste

http://muscatconfidential.blogspot.com/2010/04/dont-buy-dog-in-oman-another-example-of.html 

on your browser to read


An eye-opener to people like me and my children, but not so to many others who own and love their dogs in this country. The pet-shop mentioned in the above link is a very reputed shop here. However, this is not just the case with this pet-shop. This seems to be true for most such outfits in Muscat. Now that the research has crossed the ornamental stage of cleaning the poop and naming the dog, my son has realised that a dog up for adoption is a much better choice than ordering a pup from a fancy pet-shop. However much scared my daughter maybe of dogs, she has also realised that if we finally own a dog, it will be very hard to see it suffer and die.

We are still looking for a young pup who wants a loving home. When matters get serious, it's funny how prejudices melt away.

Charity is funded

The right balance

I have not vanished again, just been busy and therefore away.

We moved house. There was the whole gamut of packing, sorting, discarding followed by unpacking, sorting and hmmmmphs saying, " Shit, I shudn't have thrown all those dusters aways, they could have been handy here. What was I thinking?" 

Well thats one thing that happened and then I fell ill which was the other thing that happened. Probably because the kids have never seen me lying down during the day with a grimace, my son thought I was going to die and he made a bunch of promises to me about doing his chores, homework and stuff on time everyday. he also said that he would not fight with his sister. On being told that I am just a bit ill and will be up and about in a couple of days his reaction was, " Oh,so its not cancer huh?" The C-word scare has passed on from me to him, not that I am free of it, but he has it too, the all pervasive fear of C-strike.

Then there was the job that I loved and was so happy doing for the first two years and in the last year it had become progressively hard to digest. I finally convinced myself to leave. I chose to be happy and bored over being agitated and argumentative over issues that could not be resolved. here is the low down.

My last three months working for the company I joined when it was just conceived was a whirlwind of desperation, trying in vain to get my passion back. I was and always will be passionate about writing and hence about my readers. I joined a company that focussed on readers and left the company that had turned into an advert-based catalouge churner. Every company needs money, and in publishing, advertisement brings in the dough, there is no denying that, technically I suppose the company has always been an advertising company, but for the better part of the last three years, it didn’t feel like one. It was an ad company only in the sense that a good TV show is an ad company: having great content attracts advertisers. But then the focus shifted. I could not accept editorial being sold. Fights ensued and we stopped seeing eye to eye.

In one of the bitter fights with my GM he said a line that will stay with me. The fight was actually between me and the AGM - Sales, and we had to rope in the GM as neither of us was budging. It was the usual war between a piece that I felt we needed to carry and the sales team head wanted dropped and replaced by an interview of the CEO of an advertising company. After an hour of heated words my GM said, " Sujata don't be naive, I think it is high time you realise that even charity is funded. Nothing comes free." Well, I agreed to that line but could not accept to live with that ideology and hence decided to leave.

It is more than 15 days now that I have left my job as Head - Editorial. It feels good so far and I am happy to be writing what I want rather than writing what the advertiser wants. Charity is definitely funded and I am lucky to have a husband who is paying my bills unconditionally. :):)

Please write in your comments on how far we should allow advertisers to rule publishing.

Yesterday

Yesterday needs to be blogged about. 9th of May 2012 has one more importance in my life apart from it being 'yesterday', but will come to that bit later in the post.

I was scheduled to attend a Defensive driving course yesterday. This is a full day course. the first half is theory followed by practical sessions in the afternoon. I expected to be back home not earlier than 4 pm. It needs to be said here that I was doing this course after a lot of prodding by my husband. There were numerous arguments that began innocently and ended in one of us walking out of the room. This was promptly followed by another argument the next day till finally he booked the course for 09/05/2012.

01.05.2012 sample argument

He: "You should do this course. It makes a lot of sense. the roads here are unsafe you know"
Me: "I don't think so. It is going to be a waste of time. What will they tell me that I do not already know."
He: "You have a lot to know. You drive fast, you do not check for blind spots while changing lanes, you get angry all the time and in the process lose concentration on the road..."
Me: "Wow, you are on a roll are you not? So what happens if I flunk the test after the course?"
He (A wide smile, likes of which I have not seen in a while): "I passed mine and was given a defensive driver's license for two years. Many failed, some got the license for six months, some for a year and so on. We will see how you fare."
Me: "HAH! Now you are talking. We will see won't we."

And so the day dawned.

I woke up at 5am, made the school lunch packs, took my shower, woke the kids, gave them their breakfast. Husband woke promptly without a nudge from me. His first utterance of the day, "If you do not report at the centre by 7am sharp, they will consider it a no show." He has told me this every day since he booked the test, so I mimic him as he says it again. He smiles which reads 'You are so gonna get your ass whipped today.' I get angry with the sheets and the laundry. The kids leave for school. My boy says, "Mom you gotta pass this one." My girls says, "Huh?" shrugs and leaves.

It is 6:20 am now and Hubby is having his breakfast and I am checking my hand bag.

HE: "License there?"
ME:"Why wouldn't it be, isn't it always there?"
HE: "Just checking, don't want them to send you back for not carrying your license."
ME: "Hey listen I have a few things for you to keep in mind as well. Get home before the kids arrive. They reach home at 2:30 pm. If you are not home by then, they will be locked outside."  I have been telling him this ever since he booked the date. I check to see if he is mimicking, he is not.
HE: "I will try."
ME: wishing that looks could really kill, or at least burn, or punch or do something physical. Because I am LOOKING my furious best and he is not looking at all.

The washing machine is whirring and he says as he puts on his shoes, "Hope you are not going to put the clothes on the line before you leave, as you should already be in your car now." I tell him very clearly and loudly that I am not making any such domestic plans at the moment. He does not wish me luck, just gives me a smile that reiterates the fact that he got this damn license for two years and today is my day. That actually works better than any mushy 'All the best darling, do well.' line. I get all the adrenaline required, gushing through my system. He leaves, so do I.

My day goes quite well actually. They kept saying things I knew but had most of the times over looked. I realised again how simple things like being conscious on road can save my innocent kids who are buckled up in the back seat and have trusted me with their innocent lives. If you think the last line was sarcastic, well it was! Why would I be anything but conscious on road. But at moments like this, I conjured up the image of my hubby's winning grin and concentrated harder. I sat through theory, remembered every little detail the instructor said and sailed through the practical session. It was not difficult, as the GSM was turned off and mom could not reach me with one of her lectures. The kids were not occupying the back seat and fighting over what music they preferred. I was obviously not speeding or taking sharp turns or cursing fellow roadies. Why would I? I had my assessor sitting next to me. So I kept safe following and stopping distance, I ignored honks, I smiled when I saw the frustrated driver behind my car show me his finger. Heck man, of course I know the usual speed at which we take this road is 100kmh, but the limit here says 80kmh and today I am going by the book dear. So I cruised along the highways and by-lanes with even tailgaters giving up on me.

By 3:00 pm I reach the centre and the trainer says,"Hmm, not bad. But I hope what you did today is not a one of thing, but something you will practice every time you are behind the wheel." I smile and say, "How many years did I get it for?" The trainer laughs out loud and says, "Go back to your class room and wait with others."

4:00 pm I get my license for two years. I punch the mobile keys with vindicated joy. Hubby replies,"I knew it." Huh!! He still wants the bloody last word.

Anyways I decide that anything that happens for the rest of today, is too less for me to fight over. So saying some Buddhist chants I go to my parked car and drive like I don't have a clue what defensive driving means. I flout speed limits, text my boss and a friend giving them the news. Reach home without a single honk and a big smile. Only thing on my mind is food. I am hungry and need to eat.

I ring the bell, kids rush and I can hear them both scuffling at the door, fighting over who will open it. I am hungry (tick tock tick tock), I just want some hot food and a bed to lie down. Excited kids can wait, I did the whole exercise for them didn't I? Finally I am inside and telling them that yeah I got the license for exactly the same number of years as their dad. There are yippies and whooping sounds. But my mind is getting distracted as I see strewn school clothes, bags, shoes, and the table so clean that there is no way the children have had their lunch here. Mind has taken in the scene, not seen the adult, who should have been visible by now, and the fuse blows. I march to the bedroom to see hubby snoring inside the comforter. My anger is not getting its outlet. Where is a course for this? Who teaches how to fight with snoring husbands? I march to the kitchen where the kids are fighting over whose lunch plate to heat first. I cannot imagine the kids have not had their lunch till this late. I march again to my bedroom and yank away the comforter. He stirs, purrs, blinks and smiles. Obviously my look is not registering in his sleep induced brain. But my roar will. "Why did you not feed the kids till now? What are you sleeping for in the middle of the day when the children are unfed? Do you have no parenting skills at all?" He rubs his eyes and says,"You asked me to be home so that the kids are not locked out, I did that. So whats this about?" I cannot react to this. This is obviously how a man thinks. He adds,"They are not infants, one is 12 the other 9. They can feed themselves you know, or have you not taught them how to?" I know he is doing this deliberately, and yet I take the bait and yell like a woman possessed and he laughs, goes to the kitchen and fixes me a meal. "When hungry your brain along with your tummy needs food, else this is how you behave, kids take a mental picture of mom when she is hungry.", says the man.

The kids are eating in peace and so am I. He puts on music and everything seems normal again. I am told that kids can remain hungry for a couple of hours, they do not wither or perish. But fatality, on the contrary, can be caused when their mom is driving hungry and so raving angry. Moral of the story, the kids are told, is that mom should eat on time always. I feel a bit like a fool, but I don't mind. I got the license for two years did I not!!

After lunch I go to the washing machine to put the washed clothes on the line. Not only the kids but also their dad have topped the washed load with their soiled clothes of the day. Now that is reason for ANGER if there is any. Does the man have no memory of a whirring machine today morning and the conversation that ensued? Do the kids point and shoot their clothes in the washer?Defensive driving indeed! Gotta be careful on road, these guys wont survive a day without me.

Oh and the other thing that was yesterday, 15 years ago I got married on this day. Well the man still makes me roar, need I say more!!

Scribbles from 'Away Land'

Heal

Blows are defeated on weathered shoulders
Yet a look can kill;
When you have always roughed the sea
Does sighting of a shore heal?

Plight and penury often go unnoticed
It is fortitude that steals-
My heart that is wounded so often
Just takes a moment to heal.

Broken

Some bonds break with the lash of a whip
Some with clangs of  metallic chains
Some, on the other hand, give away
like silken threads
But what of the pain..
Isn't it always the same?

Hey all,

A long break, a sudden return, two 'definitely not-happy-poems'.. Can I predict where your mind is going?

Nothing drastic has happened this side of the world dear friends, apart from the once-in-a-while-kicks from Aparna. I am still the same woman married to the same guy and mothering the same two kids. No additions and no deletions in the family side of things, apart from those 'kicks', that is.

The mind... well that has always been another ball game!

In case any of you wondered, the header image is from a beautiful island in Oman called Musandam. The birds go by the name of Cormorants.

A winter break finally getting over...

Was it procrastination? growing kids? job? or just ME being me:)?

Whatever it was, it's finally over and I am glad to be back. Hope you all are too, at least the ones who still visit from time to time.

The ones who have given up, I am here to get you back on my page and into my world :)

Winter Break

So, it's winter break here. Anyone with kids knows what a double-edged sword that is. On the one hand, you don't need to deal with homework, getting up early, running to after-school activities, and yogurt spilled in backpacks. On the other hand, your kids are home 24/7. With you. All day long. For a complete month plus a few days in case other holidays that get attached to this break.Yeah.

On Saturday, we eased into winter break mode by sleeping half the day, then watching movies and eating garbage the other half. I'm pretty sure it's acceptable to have chili cheese dip and tortilla chips for dinner on winter break. We watched Shrek for the 58th time, The Princess and the Frog (loved it lots!), Where the Wild Things Are (hated it!), and The Time Traveler's Wife. I really liked that one, but time travel movies always confuse me. I feel like I need to make a diagram so I can follow the messed-up timeline.

Because we had successfully messed up our sleeping schedule, we all overslept and missed a breakfast invitation on Sunday. Oops.

Today, the kids played outside most of the day. It's downright pleasant here at 20 degrees and we're enjoying every bit of sand and the lazy, languorous sunshine. I love cleaning my floor and the muddy footprints are just precious reminders that I have a houseful of love. And honestly, I didn't even notice the clogged and overflowing toilet. I carefully stepped over the huge pile of papers and toys on the floor as if they weren't even there. The food stains on the couch are hardly even visible in the dark and the extra 500,000 dirty dishes every day is nothing at all. I love that my kids are home all week! Now excuse me while I pack our bags for the actual break to India starting tomorrow, and thank my stars that I don't have to deal with all the precious and overflowing love by myself for all the 30 days of the winter break.

I will be back in a month's time. Be safe and be good!

Shop till you drop is an under-statement

I had to type this in even at the risk of sounding like a mother hen, a frustrated, middle aged and menopausal female, or whatever other adjectives you can come up with. I just couldn't let go of this one without sharing! OK FINE.. my life does have a lot of kids in it at the moment..so please hear me out.


YesterdayI ended up buying a bunch of Pokemon cards. Why? Because my kids sneaked them into my shopping cart while at the grocery store and I ended up buying them because I didn't notice they were there until we got home. How could I have possibly not noticed they were in my cart, you ask? Let me explain.

You haven’t lived until you’ve gone grocery shopping with six kids in tow. I would rather swim in a bikini, be a contestant on Fear Factor when they’re having pig brains for lunch, or do fourth grade math than to take my two kids and their(four) friends to the grocery store. I absolutely detest grocery shopping, I tend to put it off as long as possible. There comes a time, however, when you’re peering into your fridge and thinking, ‘Hmmm, what can I make with ketchup, Italian dressing, and half an onion,’ that you decide you cannot avoid going to the grocery store any longer. Before beginning this most treacherous mission, I gather all the kids together and give them “The Lecture“.

“The Lecture“ goes like this…
MOM: “We have to go to the grocery store.”
KIDS: “Whine whine whine whine whine.“
MOM: “Hey, I don’t want to go either, but it’s either that or we’re eating cream of onion-ketchup soup and drinking Italian dressing for dinner tonight.”
KIDS: “Whine whine whine whine whine.“
MOM: “Now here are the rules: do not ask me for anything, do not poke the packages of meat in the butcher section, do not test the laws of physics and try to take out the bottom can in the pyramid shaped display, do not play cricket with oranges and most importantly, do not try antics with the trolley on the escalator again.”

OK, the kids have been briefed. Time to go.

Once at the store, we grab not one, but two shopping carts. The two 'thin as rake' 7 year old boys sit on one cart while I push one cart and my daughter's friend pushes the other one. My daughter is not allowed to push a cart. Ever. Why? Because the last time I let her push the cart, she smashed into my ankles so many times, my feet had to be amputated by the end of our shopping trip.

At this point, a woman looks at our two carts and asks me, “Are they all yours?” I answer with a laugh, “Yep!" Make people feel good about themselves that's my motto!!

“Oh my, you have your hands full.”

“Yes, I do!” say I while the kids give me nasty glares.

We begin in the produce section where all these wonderfully, artistically arranged pyramids of fruit stand. There is something so irresistibly appealing about the apple at the bottom of the pile, that a child cannot help but try to touch it. Much like a bug to a zapper, the child is drawn to this piece of fruit. I turn around to the sounds of apples cascading down the display and onto the floor. Like Indiana Jones, there stands my son holding the all-consuming treasure that he just HAD to get and gazing at me with this dumbfounded look as if to say, “Did you see that??? Wow! I never thought that would happen!”

I give the offending child an exasperated sigh and say, “Didn’t I tell you, before we left, that I didn’t want you taking stuff from the bottom of the pile???”

“No. You said that you didn’t want us to take a can from the bottom of the pile. You didn’t say anything about apples.” The daughter is looking embarrassed to the core.

With superhuman effort, I resist the urge to send my child to the moon and instead focus on the positive - my child actually listened to me and remembered what I said!!! I make a mental note to be a little more specific the next time I give the kids The Grocery Store Lecture.

A little old man looks at all of us and says, “Are all of those your kids?”

Thinking about the apple incident, I reply, “Nope. They just started following me. I’ve never seen them before in my life.”

OK, now onto the bakery section where everything smells so good, I’m tempted to fill my cart with cookies and call it a day. Being on a perpetual diet, I try to hurry past the assortment of pies, cakes, breads, and pastries that have my children drooling. At this point the chorus of “Can we gets” begins.

“Can we get donuts?”
“No.”
“Can we get cupcakes?”
“No.”
“Can we get muffins?”
“No.”
“Can we get pie?”
“No.”

You’d think they’d catch on by this point, but no, they’re just getting started.

In the bakery, they’re giving away free samples of coffee cake and of course, the kids all take one. A toddler decides he doesn’t like it and proceeds to spit it out in his mom's hand. (That’s what moms do. We put our hands in front of our children’s mouths so they can spit stuff into them. We’d rather carry around a handful of chewed up coffee cake, than to have the child spit it out onto the floor. I’m not sure why this is, but ask any mom and she’ll tell you the same.) At least this time the "mom" is not me! Small mercies.

My kids’ attention spans are spent. They’re done shopping at this point, but we aren’t even halfway through the store. This is about the time they like to start having shopping cart races. And who may I thank for teaching them this fun pastime? My daughter of course. While I’m picking out loaves of bread, the kids are running down the aisle behind the carts in an effort to get us kicked out of the store. I put to stop to that just as my son is about to crash head on into a giant cardboard cut-out of an elf stacked with packages of cookies.

After standing in the cereal aisle for an hour and a half while the kids perused the various cereals, comparing the marshmallow and cheap, plastic toy content of each box, I broke down and let them each pick out a box. At any given time, we have a minimum of 5 open boxes of cereal in my house.

The shopping trip continues much like this. I break up fights between the kids now and then and stoop down to pick up items that has flung out of the cart. I desperately try to get everything on my list without adding too many other goodies to the carts.

Somehow I manage to complete my shopping in under four hours and head for the check-outs where the kids start in on a chorus of, “Can we have candy?” What evil minded person decided it would be a good idea to put a display of candy in the check-out lanes, right at a child’s eye level? Obviously someone who has never been shopping with children.

As I unload the carts, I notice many extra items that my kids have sneaked in the carts. I remove a box of Twinkies, a package of cupcakes, a bag of candy, and a can of cat food (we don’t even have a cat!). I somehow missed the box of Pokemon cards however and ended up purchasing. As I pay for my purchases, the clerk looks at me, indicates my kids, and asks, “Are they all yours?”

Frustrated, exhausted from my trip, sick to my stomach from paying the bill, dreading unloading all the groceries and putting them away and tired of hearing that question, I look at the clerk and answer her in my most sarcastic voice, “No. They’re not mine. I just managed to take them away from their parents because I thought it was a fun thing to do.”

So, up for auction is an opened (they ripped open the box on the way home from the store) package of Pokemon cards. There are 44 cards total. They're in perfect condition, as I took them away from the kiddos as soon as we got home from the store. Many of them say "Energy". I tried carrying them around with me, but they didn't work. I definitely didn't have any more energy than usual. One of them is shiny. There are a few creature-like things on many of them. One is called Pupitar. Hee hee hee Pupitar! (Oh no! My kids' sense of humor is rubbing off on me!) Anyway, I don't think there's anything special about any of these cards, but I'm very much not an authority on Pokemon cards. I just know that I'm not letting my kids keep these as a reward for their sneakiness.