Warm and Fuzzy

So I am not overly religious - I believe in prayer but don't do so everyday. I love going to temples but only manage to do so occasionally. However, I almost always leave a temple with this great feeling of peace and I don't know, maybe even a sense of freedom. Last week, I took my younger one to the local Udipi temple and we spent around 15 minutes there. I could see my son praying hard and heard him ask Ummachi for his ripstick back (long story, short version of which is that because of damages to the walls of our home, I confiscated their Ripstick from the kids). I reminded him that praying is not just asking for stuff but also thanking Ummachi for the things we do have. We spent the remainder of the time sitting quietly in front of the sannidhi, rang the bells, he did his thopukaranams that his grandparents have been teaching him and then we headed back home. One the way back he says " Amma, can we come more often to the kovil? Something inside me feels really good right now. ". I was surprised and somewhat mystified that a six year old could feel some of the same things I get out of a temple visit. I still feel all warm and fuzzy that this is something I can share with my little one, that he gets what I get from a temple visit. I am also humbled and a little bit ashamed by the fact that I was surprised at his reaction, that I underestimated his ability to perceive and express these deeper sentiments. You learn something new everyday I guess.

Take me for granted, please!

My son had a party at school for Valentine's Day and I had to decorate a bag for him. For non-creative me, that is a huge deal and I went to work with glitter glue and stickers. I took it into school the next day and my son ofcourse, was expecting me. Something about his confidence that I would show up with the bag struck me, made me feel warm and fuzzy. I remembered other times when I had seen that look before, that look that said "she'll be here". They take for granted that I will be there for them and to me, that is my gold medal. I hope they never change that.

Out of the mouth of babes ...

They say it takes a village to raise a child. I think I will need a whole village and maybe the next ten to raise both of mine. Or atleast to answer questions I cannot answer and do not ever remember asking my parents. I don't ever remember asking my parents what marriage was - for the longest possible time (and this stymies even me how I was that ignorant for that long), I just thought my parents were siblings like my sister and I are, and that my grandparents were siblings too, this somehow reinforced in my mind because both my grandfathers had a "murthy" in their name - Ramamurthy and Krishnamurthy. Like I thought Rajnikant and Vijaykant were brothers (I know - I must have been a really lame kid) And then one morning, I woke up and I just knew what the whole deal was about. I just never asked my folks questions about stuff that I somehow knew would earn me a mild rebuke or at the very least some form of a dismissive answer. I stumbled into my own answers through incorrect assumptions and convoluted conclusions. Kids nowadays are different. And let's face it - we as parents are too. I would not dream of brushing off questions about marriage and babies and death as being too much too soon(or atleast I thought so). Hence the quandary - How much do you tell them? How much is too much? ANd on greater questions like religion and being a vegetarian, how do you teach them to accept that they are one while others around them are another? I obviously did not do a good job with the whole vegetarian shebang because one hiking trip, Vinay turns to the two other sole hikers - both white, strappy males in their 40s and says loudly, in English "Hunters! Bad hunters! Amma, do they eat the animals?" Needless to say, we cut our trip short.

Sample (on the subject of marriage):
Vinay: Amma, are you married?
Me: Uh huh. Yes baby I am
Vinay: To whom?
Me: Why, to your appa!
Vinay: Oh. Can you get married again?
Me: Oh no, I don't think so. And who would I get married to anyway?
Vinay: You could get married to Varun (this softly) or how about me?
Me: Oh baby, you will get married to someone else .
Vinay: Why?????

Sample on death:
Me(in a scream): Varun! if keep jumping off the bunk bed you are going to fall and break your neck!
Vinay: So then he will die?
Me: Er....no.
Vinay: He could die, right?
Me: Er ...we would have to take him to the hospital and the doctor would have to give him shots
(Now the "shot" word used to be enough to silence them both for a looooong time, sadly no more) So again....
Vinay: But could he die??
Me: Hey! WHo wants candy??!!!!

There are many times I simply bow to greater experience and influence and I let his teachers know. And they have been absolutely wonderful, guiding me through some particularly tricky ones and handling some at school in ways that I would never have dreamed of but which have worked out beautifully. Like the other day in the car, on our way back from school
"Amma, do you know some people have babies. And then some don't"
"Uh huh"
"And that's okay" "And then some people don't want babies -for a loong time. And that's okay too"
I sat there in stunned silence while my heart was just overflowing with gratitude to his teachers for patiently answering my inquisitive child his incessant questions while injecting a learning of acceptance in him.
So they say it takes a village.
I'll bow deep to that.