28 October 2011

Reading

The little guy loves books. A good book can distract him from the worst scenarios of a 15 month old's mind.

On return from India, his eyes almost popped out of his head when he heard me read to Naina. He then cackled and laughed through the whole story of the Hungry Little Caterpillar. Just saying the name "Greg" is enough to distract him from eating, TV, playing, throwing balls, crying and running out the front door. Greg is the leader singer of the Wiggles, he loves to sing Hot Potato Hot Potato. And Greg wears a yellow shirt and black trousers. And Sarva is obsessed with that book.

He's now progressed on to books such as Where The Wild Things Are, Dear Zoo (can say Haathi, Snake and Giraffe and make the sounds for dogs and lions), anything else that's nearby. He's been known to read books on dinosaurs and colours and monkeys and zebras.

Funniest of all, is his demand for books exceeds all other demands, to the extent that if I read "All about my day" twice and put it down to read N a separate book, he will stand over me and hit me with said "all about my day" book. To the extent that I have to stop reading the baby dinosaur story for Naina and return to "All about my day".

Zoe and Beans: the story of binky boo

Sarva photos

Hold the boy back, there's food on the table

Silenced by sister

Who doesn't like balls?

Standing getting easier

Starting to get big

Catching up with sister, post first steps

Super size me?

Hazard perception test

Sarva

I've been a little distracted in the last few months so blogging has not been a priority. But my mind keeps coming back to how different little boys and little girls are. Sounds obvious. But let me explain.

Sarva is physically quite the specimen. There's no other way to describe it. He runs harder, he falls harder, he pinches harder and he eats... harder. His head is larger than N at the same time, as is height, weight, strength and pound for pound mischievousness.

At 9 months, Sarva was already talking clear words. On returning from India he could say "catch" very clearly, then pick up a ball, lick it like a fast bowler and then throw it. By 12 months he had progressed on to two words such as "haath hatao" meaning remove your hands from that object you shouldn't be touching little boy as well as "giraffe" "haathi" (elephant) and "haaat" (hot from hot potato). He's now at 15 months saying phrases such as ball gone and snake. However, what's been amusing us the most is his penchant for asking how we are at all times of day.

Sarva: "Hi"
Me: "Hi"
Sarva: "Kaise Ho" (How are you)
Me: "Teek hai (fine), tum kaise ho (and you)?"
Sarva: "Accha. Hi" (and repeat)

This conversation usually occurs at the bathroom door at 6:45 in the morning. It's hilarity. Obviously arguable that he's learnt a lot from his sister and how to get our attention by non-physical means, but it is such a pleasant surprise when he comes out with a new word. Like when at friends house recently he came out with "No touching". Seriously.

He's also been climbing stairs from about 10 months. On one occasion Naina opened the gate and left it open. He silently and confidently followed her up. And I've caught him counting on the steps as well. Deepti likes to walk him up the stairs in the evening saying the numbers. He's got to six already. I'm flummoxed. The boy's a verbal genius destined for reform school. You see....

In recent weeks I've caught him in the flour cupboard throwing rice and flour everywhere, about to hit me with a hardback book because I can't read fast enough, biting all three of us when we're not expecting, running out the door at great speed for the road, breaking both ducted vacuum door flaps through sheer force, breaking several dishes, breaking into the wipes bag and throwing wipes everywhere, breaking into the kitchen draws and throwing items everywhere, starting the washing machine by himself and most recently (which awarded him a smack), tipping the formula tin on to the floor, opening it and contentedly eating away at dry formula. Other favourite meals - wood chips, mud and spicey foods.

I'm sure this phase of naughtiness will evolve into something less destructive, but I'm not putting a date on it. Did I mention he likes to hit me with books when I don't read fast enough to him?

14 August 2011

Raksha bandhan 2011

Raksha bandan is a regular festival where sisters give their brothers a small band as a reminder to protect against evil. In modern days, the brothers return with gifts, cash, jewellery or just a barbie watch from Big W.

The bands

Sarva was not impressed with N's attempt to apply tikka

He really messed it up
Band tied
The method to pacification and reminder of duties: sweets and the wiggles

N's look says it all. Don't think Barbie cuts it this year

After shower hubris


Naina wearing a bengali inspired coca-cola sari.

We have walking

Background: I have a form of muscular dystrophy which is of unknown origin. As a result, my milestones as a baby were slow including lifting my head, standing up, learning to walk. Before marriage, I went and saw the Genetic Counselling Service at the Royal Children, with the aim that there would be some news on my type of dystrophy. Essentially there was no information on inheritance - autosomal, x-linked, recessive, dominant. The thought was it was "probably" x-linked recessive, meaning male offspring inherit from their mom's. But with a big probably.

Fast-forward through to child #1. Walking, running and out the door at about 12 months. Being a girl child, it was less concerning as most likely she couldn't get it. However, back of my mind upon hearing #2 would be a boy, was the concern of inheritance, even though the chances were so low.

Sarva's milestones were fairly normal in retrospect. Lifting head on time, smacking sister down on time, biting Deepti whilst breastfeeding on time. His return from India as a small raging headbutting bull, who could stand at nine months further pacified those thoughts. The steps were there - one two small baby steps for the best part of July, so walking most likely commenced at 11 months. Second child syndrome.

Glad to report, on 11 August, he took those steps and hasn't stopped running. Or slapping down his sister.



And it is true. I sort of missed the first steps because I was looking at the fridge catalogue. 280L just aint big enough for the 9L of milk we need to buy each week.


23 July 2011

Books

In a eurocentric way, I always pushed reading on to Naina. She was never overtly fond of books - the very hungry caterpillar and on safari were always big hits, as was in the night garden, but attempting the gruffalo, doctor seuss or other nice books ended up with me reading the book to Deepti as Naina jumped on the bed. I kid you not.

Going to India, the book reading stopped, much to my disappointment. Probably, in a house with two young aunts, two or three uncles under thirty, kids in the alleyway playing and door to door salesmen selling rice, potatoes, onions and eggplants, the very hungry caterpillar never had a chance.

Unsurprisingly, Naina came back still highly disinterested in books. She still loves on safari, grudgingly accepts the Gruffalo as long as she can press the musical buttons and Doctor Seuss's Sleep Book lasts a page or two.

But her interest in "kahaani" is roaring. The oral tradition rather than the written tradition etc. Coming back, every night Naina wanted a different Barbie story. Another post! Then Doraemon stories (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doraemon) (amazingly this show never came to Australia, but is one of the most popular manga comics for kids in India, so much so it is dubbed, into hindi). Then Hanuman stories. So after a futile series of attempts to read to N, we'd turn off the lights and begin proper story time.

N then learnt about Shrek, so Shrek and Donkey stories, then Shrek and Fiona, Dragon and Donkey and then this is our life where Dragon is Deepti and Donkey is me, St George and the Dragon (though honestly I don't know the story), The Hobbit and finally, Lord of The Rings, where all the bad dudes are Dragons and one of the characters (Legolas, the Archer, is renamed Sarva, the archer in Hindu mythology so Mummy Daddy, Naina and Sarva are fighting alongside Gandalf and Aragorn against Dragons at the Gates of Sauron whilst Frodo and Sam are fighting Gollum near the peak of Mt Doom).

I'm not sure what N thinks of the Lord of The Rings Trilogy (people don't die, they fall), but it has a 5 to 10 minute knock out effect. And for that I am grateful to Tolkein.

Naina

Naina's changing. Not surprising. Language skills are so different now to when she left that it is almost like a new person is inside N.

There's a scene in the Simpson's first season where Bart is sent on an exchange program to France and nervous Marge is told:
Pr. Skinner: He'd be staying in France, in a lovely chateau in the heart of the wine country.
Marge: But Bart doesn't speak French.
Pr. Skinner: Oh, when he's fully immersed in a foreign language, the average child can become fluent in weeks!
Homer: Yeah, but what about Bart?
Pr. Skinner: I'm sure he'll pick up enough to get by.

N returned to Australia completely fluent in Hindi. And some Maghi, a regional dialect of Bihar. Verbose, demanding, and utterly fluent. Only now, eight to nine weeks after returning, with saturation western TV is her hindi breaking down to a little more English. But she's able to comprehend English at a reasonable level, with some sense of accuracy. Though explaining chi-chi to the kindy teachers has been bemusing.

Obviously, taller, thinner, shorter hair. The usual things. Naina has always been a fussy eater, but now, she contentedly scoffs her food, with a bit of cajoling. She knows McDonalds means chips. Nando's means chips. Coke cans mean coke. We're able to divert her attention but she doesn't forget. I have a secret stash of up'n'go in the stairs. When we bought it, she lectured me that this was her medicine and not daddy's. She saw it today and reminded me of her comments. There were surprises coming back from India though. Tales of her happily eating eggplant and melon dishes with Deepti's sisters. I look back at that and her now complete disdain for anything more complicated than fruit or meat or bread and wonder where that kid has gone.

Her biggest strides are in independence. Toilet training has been conquered, which is a wonderful feeling, though I take no credit. It was achieved in India. We've had the odd accident since (see Coming Home), but she's pretty good. Naina's now able to dress herself. Favourite colour top - pink, favourite colour dress, pink, favourite colour pants - pink, favourite colour jacket - pink (curse you Barbie!). Although struggling with getting singlets on over the top, she pulls them up from the floor and then squeezes her arm out last. Funny. She's even started using the shower. It's a sense of joy that we can guide her rather than do this stuff for her. And she's reluctantly able to teach her little brother.

Naina is meek and mild and a worrier by nature. She insists that I give Deepti lots of love instead of arguing when I'm teaching Deepti to drive. N then falls asleep for two hours whilst we do meanders of Moorabbin's Industrial areas. Advice was given and received today on being careful not to burn my mouth on the soup/noodles. She insists that I not go to work when the weather is bad. That my boss is a bad man who she's going to smack if she ever meets him. And that Sarva's always to blame and "Mein kutch ney kiya" (I didn't do it!).

Outta my way sunshine!

Naina's also started three year old kindy, which she calls school. As with other kids, she's not fond of going, tolerates it for three hours and then cries when she sees Deepti again at 4pm. Though I think Deepti's heart breaks a little bit too, sending N. Maybe that because N's gone pathological on one of the teachers: she's not too fond of the "fat" teacher at pre-kindy because that teacher goes around hitting the kids. I have no documented evidence of this. That said, N did not cry once when she attended pre-kindy and the "fat" teacher was not there. Still not evidence.

Coming home

It's been a while. Naina Sarva and Deepti got back around 12 May. Two months have shot past. This time the time apart seemed much shorted, more hectic. Last time, in 2009, dragged on and on. Before I knew it with gardens and handymen the time was up and there they were:

Positioned in exact same spot as last time, to see how time has wearied us all. See if you can spot the differences:

This time
Last time

That's right, Vodafone weren't a sponsor in 2009.

The trip back was much kinder than the trip over. Going N had delightful gut emptying experience on landing in Bangkok. Coming back she only managed to loose control over her bladder in the customs hall at Tullamarine. I reckon that's real improvement.

Naina recognized me, for Sarva I was a stranger. Not unexpected. More about raging bull later.

17 April 2011

Oddities of gas

Naina had gas pains until she was two years old. It took us the best part of the first year of her life to realise why she was waking up screaming at midnight in uncontrollable pain. Doses and doses of infacol were consumed. Alternative medicine treatments were tried. Not feeding to sleep was tried. Formula was tried. No formula was tried. No medicine was tried. More medicine was tried. No luck. At completely unexpected times, like the middle of the day, Naina would develop screaming colic pains that made us fear she'd broken something. Confusingly, when she did break something (fell down the stairs and broke her clavicle), we did assume it to be gas.

When Deepti and Naina went to India in 2009, a single traumatic evening at a hotel was the worst of it. For the rest of that trip, the gas never re-occurred. Nothing. No medicines, no treatments, no rubs, no lotions, no potions. No no lotions, no no potions. I think you get my drift. The change was so dramatic, so reversed from the previous presentation one would think we were hypochondriacs who munchausenly made her develop gas to satisfy our desire to increase our affinity and spend at the local pharmacy.

Fastforward a few months to little Mr S. He too developed gas. He too would scream uncontrollably in the evenings and nights. Sometimes even with a dose or two of Infacol on board. I felt conned. Surely this never happens to little white babies. A keen eyed maternal health care nurse suggest something a little more rough and tough. Basically, baby mylanta. And cue trip to India.

Gas? What's gas is the basic refrain. Nothing. Nada. Zippo. Seriously conned. All good things must come to an end. They're coming back, sometime soon. I am already writing the next chapter (when little S returned from India...).

05 March 2011

Relevance deprivation

100 days is a long time to be alone after the joy of children has entered one's life. I cannot explain some of my feelings but others are easier.

Initially, my anxieties were around male selfishiness - how will I feed myself, oh my god I have to iron my own shirts... After those initial feelings of uselessness passed, the over-riding feelings have been mainly on a sense of void.

I'm so used to coming home to life being turned upside down, without a moment to rest or relax, that this surplus, this excess, is proving dispiriting. Naina would throw her clothes out of her cupboard, find DVDs she wanted to watch, rummage through kitchen drawers, sprawl her toys everywhere in the lounge room. I couldn't leave anything of value anywhere. My keys would disappear if I left them on a too low bench. That sense of everything will be exactly where I dumped it/left it/ threw it is disconcerting now, where as a single man it used to feel refreshing. "Don't touch my stuff" has long since passed and he's not welcome in my life anymore.

The other feeling easily explained is purposelessness. Time is now available to sit in front of a TV. Problem is there's nothing worth watching except the intro to In the Night Garden (which brings a tear to the eye) and the Office (US). Work hours are extending cause there's nothing worth rushing home to. Shopping is a chore instead of a stress.

I'd argue that I'm technically in relevance deprivation syndrome. No one to read to, no one to take swimming and no one to chase up the stairs.

With the news that my mum's brothers two boys are both planning their marriages in the third week of May, I'll be deprived of relevance until that time.

22 January 2011

Swimmingly well

Perth seems so long ago now, a month has flown past. For each visit, there's a tinge of nostalgia of 90's parties and crazy hair (man) and wistful wondering if we'll ever call it home. For now though, it's the week off work town.

We had gone to Perth to perform Sarva's sataysa pooja (naming ceremony) but for N, the highlight was the pool. And the iPad (sigh). Maybe the iPad first then swimming. Many nights passed with N's interest in all things Elmo and Night Garden and reading diminishing as the bright lights of touch screen iPad kept her awake. Sleep got delayed because of iPad games then even further delayed because of Deepti's phone, such was the hook of that evil iPad. We had even packed books for N to read. I suppose a book doesn't quite compare to a shiny lighty touchy thing.

The pool was the highlight for us, at least. N's more confident, Sarva as a first timer was comfortable after a couple of goes. N's jumping into the water, picking items off the bottom of the pool with her feet or hands and copying dada by swimming on her back and trying backstroke.


She tried getting back into the pool minus floaties once. A scientician that I am, I witnessed her go straight down, to her own surprise. I did catch her as soon as she went down. That'll teach her.
Naina really likes applying sunscreen (sum-scream?)

Deepti even managed a brief foray. Looking relaxed dear!

Sataysa

Sarva was born under Jyestha, a mool nakshatra, which is considered to be bad luck for the father's health. I found this rather dramatic explanation on the internet.

There are twenty-seven constellations (Nakshatras) in all some of which are considered inauspicious. A child born in the first stage of the 'Moola Nakshatra' brings destruction to his father, In the second stage- to his mother, In the third stage- to wealth and property. A child born in the fourth stage of the 'Moola-Nakshatra' though remains harmless but it is better if the rituals are performed for the pacification of this Nakshatra because it eliminates the fears and apprehensions that is generally associated with the name 'Mool-Nakshatra'. If a child is born in any of the following Mool Nakshatras, the pacification becomes mandatory to neutralize the ill effects.

As a consequence, we were advised a special prayer was required. A five hour prayer. With lots of accessories. I reckon like all good churches, the hindu church is a great untaxed industry, with patronage at the highest places.

Anyway, the ceremony proved to be far too arduous for us to organize in Melbourne on our own with two kids, as it had to be done on a set date, at a set time, with only certain North Indian type priests. So a trip was made to Perth at Xmas/New Year and Sarva's "sataysa" pooja was planned. My mum loves this stuff.

Deepti and I performed most of the rituals, but Sarva was required as a prop at some stages. He performed well. With the 40 degree heat, we lasted the five hours. And yes I am wearing a hankerchief on my head. Naina will never live this photo down.


As a pleasing break before the finale involving the "havan" we were doused in tap water. Refreshingly cold on a 40 degree day.

Sarva displaying his one pack

Mr Bean

Getting cool

Happy baby

Haavan ceremony (fire to left)

Taking advantage of the itinerary, we planned to have his first hair cut (mundan) in Perth. After last time, I had wanted to organize it in Perth at the Hare Krishna temple but was told they weren't very good at doing the whole head, so leave it until Sarva got to India. So this time, he also had a little bit cut off by his buas. The full shave was performed in early February in India and the hair taken to Devgarh near Patna, on the Ganges. Anyway, Sarva was more interested in bua's dupatta.


Sarva was five months old by this stage (yes the ceremony was that long), so we also did his first proper cooked food meal (Annaprashan) ceremony.


Think he fell asleep

It was such a long hot day, but worth it anyway. Even just for the ripped abs. And the multiple outfits.

09 January 2011

Practice

So roll up Perth trip. Xmas day didn't feel any different to a normal workday. It's strange how quickly time flies in the rush to get to a flight that will probably be late anyway. The flight over went smoothly enough; Naina watched DVDs on her new player for an hour or so, stuffed herself on icecream and any food that walked past and Sarva slept fairly contentedly. Though Qantas gave seats without bassinets so Deepti had to hold Sarva for most of the flight.

I came home to an empty house and a vision of my life from Jan 21 onwards. Over the next six days I managed to:
  • Eat KFC, Subway, Oporto, Nandos, Crust Pizza and Fish and Chips at least once and possibly twice. Don't worry, the Fish and Chips were cooked at home.
  • Watch approximately 12 hours of cricket
  • Spend two hours at the boxing day sales going to Good Guys, JB HiFi, Dick Smith, back to Good Guys, looking for KFC (at 10 am), Office Works, Chemist Warehouse (Panamax for 69 cents!) by which time I found an open KFC. Must remember to actually buy some electronics next boxing day.
It's gonna be a long three months.

Meanwhile, Naina was having a blast at the Perth Zoo. Her time with Pammie Bua (Prani) and Dada-zee (Dad) was the longest non-school related time Naina's been away from either one of us. Clearly she was missing us.

Attempting to make Sarva laugh

Naina throws the blankets. Sarva did not even attempt a laugh after the head lock.

Xmas eve

With the trip to Perth booked for 25 December afternoon, there was only one thing to do. Open presents on the 24th. There were a few surprises in store.

Imagine Naina's surprise when she got a vidal sasssoon hair curler!


The gruffalo sound book wasn't a big hit that day, now N won't let me touch it (cries of leave it, leave it, assertively).