BigGeek and DotMom - The Movie II

Recap

YetToBeDotMom
Hi. This is YetToBeDotMom.

BigGeek
Sorry to keep you waiting. I was in the middle of something. Well, actually I was in the bathroom

YetToBeDotMom Voiceover
Hehehehe. What did I say. Well. He should know I did not call him.

YetToBeDotMom
No worries. You aunt called me. I really hate to intrude on a family Thanksgiving.

BigGeek
Not at all. Its just a lot of good food and drink and talk and good arguments. Did you have a good Thanksgiving?

YetToBeDotMom
Not too shabby. My cousin was visiting from California and we went to New York and watched a broadway show yesterday.

BigGeek
What did you see?

YetToBeDotMom
Le Miserables

BigGeek
I have seen Annie Get Your Gun. I would love to see the Phantom.

YetToBeDotMom
Me too! I booked these tickets two months ago and Phantom was still sold out. Can you believe it? Even the matinee.

Montage: BigGeek and YetToBeDotMom talking. Clock shows time.

YetToBeDotMom Voiceover
And so it started. He was so easy to talk to. He asked me what I was reading and I told him I was reading Godel, Escher Bach and was finding it quite daunting. He told me he had written to Hofstadter about a mistake in his book Fluid Concepts and Creative Analogies. Hofstadter had written back to him and had sent his student’s thesis. We both loved StarTrek and science fiction. We both loved freshly ground coffee. He was a metalhead, I wasn’t. I liked literary fiction, he didn’t.

BigGeek
So what courses are you taking this semester?

YetToBeDotMom
A couple of independent studies, advanced screen writing and artificial intelligence.

BigGeek
Quite an interesting mix. Doing the AI stuff in LISP?

YetToBeDotMom
Yeah, lots of parens.

A kid is heard in the background
He is still on the phone! He is still on the phone!

YetToBeDotMom
Are you driving back to Virginia today? You better get going. It will be past midnight by the time you get home.

BigGeek
Well..atleast there won’t be much traffic. Hey listen. Do you have any plans for Friday evening?

YetToBeDotMom
Not really.

YetToBeDotMom Voiceover
I can’t believe I said that. He sounds nice though.

BigGeek
Great. I can drive down to Philly. Anyway, we can figure out the logistics during the week. I’ll send you an email.

YetToBeDotMom
Ok. Sounds good. Drive safe.

3. INT. Fade to YetToBeDotMom’s office on campus. DAY
She is looking at an email that has arrived 1:30 am.

BigGeek Voiceover
Had a great time talking to you. Here is the email conversation between me and Hofstadter. Also attaching the thesis he sent me. Quite interesting. Send me directions/address when you get a chance.

4. EXT- Road at University Campus. –EVENING
YetToBeDotMom is crossing the road. She is in all black. Black sweater and black slacks. She crosses the road doing a small wave and peers through the window of a car parked outside.

YetToBeDotMom
(sitting inside the car) Hi!

BigGeek
Hi!

YetToBeDotMom
Had trouble getting here?

BigGeek
No, not really.

YetToBeDotMom
Let me get us to a parking lot and then I can show you around the campus.

BigGeek drives and pulls into a parking garage. They get out. It’s still quite windy. They get out and walk over the campus.

YetToBeDotMom VoiceOver
We went around the campus. He asked me if he could see some of my films sometime. I just laughed. I wasn’t enjoying the filmmaking so much at that point. The real reason for me taking a course in AI. It felt good to be in the quantifiable world again. I told him that.

Montage ends with BigGeek and DotMom in DotMom’s editing studio.

BigGeek
I know this great Thai place if you wanna catch dinner.

YetToBeDotMom
You know more about Philly than I do!

BigGeek
Actually the restaurant is in Arlington. Just outside DC. We can drive up there. It’s only a couple of hours. I can drive you back if you want.

YetToBeDotMomVoiceOver
Is he crazy? There are perfectly nice places to eat dinner in Philly. He doesn’t look like a playa’. Maybe he is? I better find out.

YetToBeDotMom
Actually I have a friend who lives in Fairfax. Let me call her and ask her if she and her husband can join us for dinner tonight. And can I give her your cell number? I disconnected mine this week since I am leaving on Thursday.

BigGeek
Ummm. Sure.

YetToBeDotMom disappears into another studio across the hall and dials her friend.

YetToBeDotMom
Hey.

N
Hey you! Didn’t you have a date today?

YetToBeDotMom
Yeah. Listen. He wants to eat dinner in Arlington. And I want you and R to join us.

N
Are you insane? Your date will murder me.

YetToBeDotMom
Pleaseeee. I told him it will be a double date.

N
Are you sure?

YetToBeDotMom
We are leaving now. Meet you at 8-ish? Here is his cell#.

N
Ok. Make that 8:30. R is flying in from Boston today. His flight gets in at 7:30.

YetToBeDotMom
OK. 8:30 then. Bye. Thanks. I owe you one.

N
Yes. You do.

YetToBeDotMom walks back to BigGeek.

YetToBeDotMom
OK. All done. We have a double date at 8:30 at ThaiPlace. R is flying in from Boston today.

BigGeek
Well.. they don’t have to come. I am not an axe-murderer you know (smiling)

YetToBeDotMom
Ofcourse not. I would not be in a car with you for two hours if I suspected so.

BigGeek and DotMom sit in the car and drive. Arial shots of highways, signs pointing to Washington DC. In car.

YetToBeDotMom Voice Over
Politics, gay rights, music, physics, filmmaking, hallmark holidays, video encoding algorithms, recreational drugs, Star Trek, movies, his job, the downturn.

BigGeek
It’s the same thing everywhere. Not very different where I work. My own job has a questionable future.

YetToBeDotMom
Friends I know are getting laid off right left and center. What will you do?

BigGeek
Don’t worry. Most people out there have just a skill to sell. I got talent.

DotMomVoiceOver
Either he is really stoic, or a complete dumbass who has no sense of reality. The market was quite bad. It was not easy to get a job in the biggest market downturn.

BigGeek
I have a couple of things lined up.

DotMomVoiceOver
It turned out to be such a short drive. But N did not call. We were near NiceThaiPlace and still no call from N.

YetToBeDotMom
Mind if I use your phone? Don’t know why N is not here yet.

BigGeek
Sure.

YetToBeDotMom
(dials. into the phone)
Where are you?

N
YetToBeDotMom! R’s flight got delayed. The tracker said 8:00, then 8:30 now it says 9:00. I would have come by myself if I did not have to go pick him up.

YetToBeDotMom
Why didn’t you call me before?

N
I did. Twice. Went to his voice mail. Didn’t want to leave a message. Why don’t you eat dinner and come spend the night with us?

YetToBeDotMom
OK. See you in a while.


YetToBeDotMom turns to BigGeek.

YetToBeDotMom
She said she called twice. R’s flight is delayed. Did you hear it ring?

BigGeek
Really? Let’s see. Oh! It was on vibrate and it was in the little pocket in the car door. That’s why we didn’t hear it. Sorry.

YetToBeDotMom
That’s ok. You will drop me to her apartment afterwards?

BigGeek
Absolutely.

DotMomVoiceOver
And so we ate and talked some. I wished him good luck on the job front. He dropped me off at N’s place. He called me on Tuesday while I was at my grad office.

BigGeek
(on phone)
I have some bad news. I just got laid off.

YetToBeDotMom
I am so sorry. You doing OK?

BigGeek
Yeah. It was sort of expected.

YetToBeDotMom
What will you do now?

BigGeek
I am going to go to a Steely Dan concert.

YetToBeDotMom Voiceover
Is this guy really insane? Is he not the least bit stressed?

YetToBeDotMom
I meant about your job

BigGeek
Don’t worry. I’ll have a job before you get back. And not just any job.

YetToBeDotMom Voiceover
I had friends who were unable to find a job for a few months. He was crazy.

YetToBeDotMom
Ok. Good luck.

BigGeek
Do you need a ride to the airport on Thursday? I can drive up and take you. It’s not like I have anything to do (chuckling)

YetToBeDotMom
No, don’t worry. A friend will give me a ride.

BigGeek
Are you sure? Call me if the friend can’t make it.

YetToBeDotMom
Yeah. Yeah. You take care. Call you later today.


YetToBeDotMom Voiceover
And so I left on Thursday. To go to India. BigGeek was a nice guy. The lack of his job did not bother me one bit, his lack of anxiety did though. When I reached Poona, my mom quizzed me about BigGeek. She obviously had a bunch of six-figure incomes and BMWs lined up for me. But I refused to meet any.

5. INT. YetToBeDotMom’s house in Poona. – Day

YetToBeDotMom's Mom
Just meet them.

YetToBeDotMom
No! I am not the three week wonder wedding type girl. I don’t understand such marriages.

YetToBeDotMom's Mom
Just meet them. They are all nice guys

YetToBeDotMom
I am sure they are, but I am not meeting them.

YetToBeDotMom Voiceover
And so the days passed. I wrote my exams, talked/IMed/emailed BigGeek. His old boss, a few friends and he had started a startup. And the time came for me to get back to Philly. My mom was disappointed that I had refused to meet a singe eligible bachelor. All her hopes I suppose were pinned on BigGeek now. But I wasn’t talking marriage. Finally on Jan 26 I landed in a snowy Philly. My friends had come to pick me up and it felt good to be with them. BigGeek was going to drive down for the weekend to visit. I had offered to ask my friend if he could crash in at her house, but he had declined. He had made reservations at a hotel downtown.

6. EXT. In car – Day.

BigGeek
No goodies for me from India?

YetToBeDotMom
Yikes. I am not unpacked yet. Need to find an apartment first.

BigGeek
You got a list of places you wanna see?

YetToBeDotMom
Yes.

YetToBeDotMom Voiceover
Much of Saturday was spent in hunting for a new apartment for me. Tired, we were wondering where to eat dinner, circling the City hall yet another time.

YetToBeDotMom
Need to go to the restroom

BigGeek
Ok. Lets go to the hotel. Atleast I’ll find parking there.
Turns to go into the hotel.

7. INT. Downtown Fancy Hotel – Evening

YetToBeDotMom
Let me ask the front desk

BigGeek
Just come up

YetToBeDotMom
Ok. Hope you are not on the thousandth floor

BigGeek
16th

8. Elevator door opens. BigGeek and DotMom walk towards BigGeek’s hotel room. BigGeek opens door.

9. BigGeek’s fancy Hotel Room – Evening
YetToBeDotMom comes out from the rest room.

YetToBeDotMom
Nice view you got there (looking at the skyline)

BigGeek
Yes, pretty isn’t it. (points to a chair). Sit.

YetToBeDotMom sits down. BigGeek sits close to her, on the bed. Freeze Frame.

YetToBeDotMom Voice over
Since this is a G-rated (not even PG-13 movie) I am not going to tell you what happened (no, it is not that). Suffice to say he said these words.

BigGeek
I know this is a little early, but will you marry me?

YetToBeDotMom
Yes!

Silence.

YetToBeDotMom
Where is the ring?

YetToBeDotMom Voiceover
The nice sized double brilliant diamond came three wakes later. And replaced the yellow elastic band I wore on my ring finger to tease him. On Valentines Day. But at midnight, as I was dead tired and ready to go to bed. Cranky because he had not made reservations anywhere and we had ended up eating a sandwich at Panera. He was trying to beat the Hallmark Holiday which he hated (and give me the ring on the 15th) and still does. But there were flowers and chocolates. And a proper proposal made down on one knee.

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And so ends the movie. Tell me who you think should play BigGeek and YetToBeDotMom. How about Hugh Jackman and Monica Bellucci? :)

BigGeek and DotMom - The Movie

The wonderful noon after having written a beautiful recount of her own engagement has tagged me to do the same. So here goes. It's a movie, mind y'all.
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1. EXT. Opening Montage. Opening credits roll in unobtrusive plain text bottom right of screen.

YetToBeDotMom at her University. Its autumn. Windy. General shots of campus, students. YetToBeDotMom walking to her class, sitting in class, chatting with classmates, walking home late in the evening to her crummy apartment, cooking for herself and settling down with her pile of reading. The camera pans across the room, boxes and crates are half packed with apartment stuff.

YetToBeDotMom Voice Over

It all began in my 26th year of single hood. It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving. I had packed most of my stuff to go to India for an almost 2 month long break and to write my comprehensive exams. In a week I would be gone to a warmer place, my stuff stashed with a friend. It was then the phone rang. I knew who it was even before I picked it. It was my aunt from Connecticut. Again. Asking me if I had called a certain gentleman.

YetToBeDotMom

(on phone) No, I haven’t.
Listens to what her aunt is saying biting her fingernail.

YetToBeDotMom

What am I going to say to him?

Listens again.

YetToBeDotMom

You are in a book club with his aunt? How many pages left?

Listening.

YetToBeDotMom

No, I really can’t call him. (pauses). God! You can’t do that. No! Can you? God!

Sound of dial tone. Phone goes dead. YetToBeDotMom puts on Dire Straits and goes back to her packing.

2. INT. YetToBeDotMom‘s bed room – EVENING
Caption on screen says- ‘30 minutes later’. YetToBeDotMom is sitting on her bed rigidly, phone in hand.

YetToBeDotMom

Hello?

Over the phone friendly FEMALE voice

Hi is that YetToBeDotMom? Hi! I am Mrs. Nice Scientist. Your aunt gave me your number.

YetToBeDotMom

Oh! Hi!

Mrs. Nice Scientist

Well, I just wanted to call you and chat with you and tell you a little about the Nice Family.

YetToBeDotMom

(fake laugh) Oh! I was meaning to call, but was insanely busy.. I am going to India next week, am taking my exams early, subletting my apartment… just so much to do…Sorry you had to call.

(listening)

YetToBeDotMom Voice Over

I wasn’t sorry at all, truth be told. I was just being polite. Why was she calling me? Thank god I was going to India in a week.

Mrs. Nice Scientist

God! I can believe how busy you must be, hope your exams went well.

YetToBeDotMom Voice Over

Why does she have to be so nice? It just makes things soooo much difficult.

YetToBeDotMom

They did, they did. I am glad I am done with them though. Still have to do my comprehensive exams. I plan to write those from India.

Mrs. Nice Scientist

You have to write comps? God! They can be tough. I remember mine. Good luck. Well I don’t know how much your aunt has told you about the Nice family and about my nephew BigGeek.

YetToBeDotMom

Not very much.

YetToBeDotMomVoiceover

What did I just say? Gosh.

Mrs. Nice Scientist

Well the Nice family is very large and very smart. Well traveled. Cultured. My eldest brother in law, BigGeek’s eldest uncle is a biophysicist, another uncle is also a scientist and worked on the Pokhran Blasts, my husband is a Chemist with a post doc from UConn and I research gene therapies. A lot of the family holds many patents too. So, not to brag or anything, just wanted to share our accomplishments.

YetToBeDotMomVoiceover

Very impressive indeed.

YetToBeDotMom

Very impressive indeed. Thanks for sharing.

Mrs.Nice Scientist

But, silly me. I am doing all the talking. Let me get BigGeek. He and my other nephews are visiting for Thanksgiving.

YetToBeDotMom

Oh! I’d hate to intrude upon a family gathering.

YetToBeDotMomVoiceover

I really don’t want to talk to some dumb schmuck no matter how nice his aunt sounds.

Mrs. Nice Scientist

Oh, nonsense. They are just chatting. Let me get him.

Silence. More Silence.

YetToBeDotMomVoiceover

The schmuck does not want to talk to me? This is soooo embarrassing. Maybe they have a mansion where it takes for ever to walk from one room to the next. Maybe he is in the bathroom. Oooh. That would be awkward.

Nice Male voice on the phone

Hi! This is BigGeek

(to be continued)

Helping Hand

For all the jokes about one’s neighbor, we have been fortunate. Not that our neighbors don’t have a have a sense of humor, most do, but we feel blessed to be living in a home surrounded by great neighbors. Choose your neighbor before you choose your home, so goes an Arabic saying and I am glad we did exactly that. When BigGeek and I were looking at houses, the agent showed us this one. The house was smaller than what we wanted, had no garage which again we wanted, but I was happy to see neighbors chatting and kids playing in the cul de sac. It was an older tree lined neighborhood that did not have that impersonal look of newer developments. One got the feeling one could ask a neighbor for a cup of sugar or call on them in an emergency when in these days and times most of us hardly even know who we live next to. And I am glad we moved here.

Small things. In February while BigGeek was away at school, my car got stuck in 2ft of ice (not snow) because the stupid ploughs piled up the snow and slush in front of our driveway in the middle of the night which froze completely by morning and which my stupider self thought I could go over. And got horribly stuck. It was early, most people had decided to stay home I thought. But the ever adventurous me got out the shovel yet again and began chipping at the ice wall but instead slipped and fell and hurt my jawbone so bad I was deaf for a day. M saw me do it through her kitchen window, and sent her teenaged son to help me (ah, how I longed for Chip to be high school) and then came another neighbor M1 and between them they had chipped the ice and got my car out. Later when A (more about V and A in a bit) heard the story, I got the third degree from him for not crossing the street and asking for help.

Big things. V and A live across the street. Their daughter T2 and Chip shared a nanny last year and we have been friends ever since. And now that BigGeek is still not up a 100%, V has been picking up Chip from home and dropping him off at daycare everyday. I know what a hassle that can be. She has two daughters to get ready and with two full time jobs there really is not a minute to spare. Also, when BigGeek had the heart attack we had just changed Chip's school, so Chip was still adjusting and drop off must have been harrowing. But they did it and still drop him everyday.

Last week, A came to pick up Chip instead of V. Chip was not ready and my MIL got so flustered that A (who she did not recognize immediately) was at the doorstep and Chip was not dressed, so without hesitation A helped her dress Chip. And they bring delicious soup. And care. A few days ago, Chip and I and my MIL went to the library to return long overdue books. BigGeek was still at work. When V came in she saw our driveway was empty. She called that instant to make sure everything was OK.

Hesiod once said -A bad neighbor is a misfortune, as much as a good one is a great blessing. I know the blessing part is right on, hopefully I will never have to be that unlucky to find out if the first bit is true.

Greener than thou

I was all set to do a post today about my wonderful neighbor V and A who have been helping so much during these past few weeks. I know V and A visit here occasionally, so apologies. I’ll do a post on you guys next week. Rage before praise.

Which brings me to the point of this post. Be warned, there is a rant coming up. And while I am at it, screw objectivity. Whoa. This is oddly liberating. As I was pulling into my work campus, I tuned to BBC World to know what’s going on with the world, but mostly to just amaze the security by not listening to loud hard rock for once, I caught a half-sentence. Something about Gore and the IPCC being awarded this year’s Nobel Peace Prize. This was as expected as Chip throwing a nuclear tantrum at the grocery store I suppose; with Gore’s film winning the Oscar and everything, and Climate Change the hot button topic of the century, but one, well, hopes against hope.

I don’t know what tortures me more. The fact that the guy who once claimed to have created the internet won the Nobel ( and I am not even going to go near the fact that Green Gore lives in a 10,000 sqft. mansion that uses energy like there is no tomorrow) or whether the folks over at the Norwegian Nobel Committee, in their haste, overlooked the immense controversy surrounding the Climate Change hypothesis. Coerced to pick, I will choose the latter.

Historically the Nobel Peace Prize has been awarded to folks resolving armed conflict. I am not going to be all nit picky about that definition, after all last year it was awarded to Muhammad Yunus and his micro-lending Grameen Bank, that allowed poorest of the poor a chance to be entrepreneurs and reduce poverty and strengthen third world economies. And that was fine by me. After all, micro lending is proven to work (see Kiva loans) and there are tangible effects that can be observed quantitatively. Not so with Climate Change.

Even if one believes the numbers- and I have a sinister feeling that is shared by many scientific journals that the numbers are exaggerated and doctored- it is hard to say what exactly causes global warming. Is this a normal variation in climate? After all, people have been recording temperatures and precipitation merely since the last century and in industrialized countries allone. There is no data available from say, sub Saharan Africa from 300 years ago. So, on the scale of things, things being the age of Earth and such, the data set is miniscule. Who was measuring carbon dioxide levels in 3000 B.C.? Not the Pandavas and the Kauravas.

Prove to me the sun is not shining 0.01% more brightly than it did say 500 years ago. Prove to me it is not related to the Earth’s geo-magnetic field is changing polarities. Convince me that this warming trend is something else than the warming the Earth has experienced since the last Ice Age. Prove to me this is not cyclic – periods of warming followed by periods of cooling and vice-versa.

Predicting climate is complex. The models are unreliable. There are so many variables and the physics is so dynamic and complex and perplexing that only approximate solutions can be gleaned. One computer model says one thing, the other can say something entirely conflicting. There is a lack of consensus. Meteorologists don’t even know how something as simple as cloud cover really works. The fact that cloud cover increases the ambient temperature in winter but decreases it in summer is one huge mystery to them. Predicting weather for the next weekend is more inaccurate than accurate. How many times have we seen them use this cover-all mysterious phrasing – partly cloudy with chances of rain. WTF? What the hell is THAT supposed to mean? It means if it is cloudy, they are right, if it is sunny, they are right, if it rains they are right, if it doesn’t they are right. Gets my goat every time.

It may be so that in another century, it will be proved beyond reasonable doubt that human activities have caused Climate Change. But to say so definitively now, while ignoring contradictory data is certainly bad science. And I am distraught to think that the Nobel Peace Prize has been awarded to folks that have been perpetuating what can only be a hypothesis at this point in time. This year’s Peace prize is politics at its worst.

Suggested Reading – State of Fear by Michael Crichton

Our Song

Family Room 9:30 pm or so.
The room is painted in a deep wine red. Watercolors of a Parisian streetscape fill the wall on right, a huge poster of Monty Python fills the left. A black couch sits in front of the TV, a futon mattress with zillion cushions is spread under the Parisian streetscape. The TV is tuned to a music channel playing Red Hot Chilli Peppers. DotMom and BigGeek are watching TV, Chip is fast asleep besides them. BigGeek’s mother is sitting by Chip’s side, watching the shirtless guitarists on TV.

DotMom (suddenly remembering): What’s our song?
BigGeek: What song?
DotMom: What’s our song?
BigGeek: For what?
DotMom: What’s our song?
BigGeek: Who wants to know?
DotMom: What’s our song?
BigGeek: Depends on the time and place.
DotMom: What’s our song?
BigGeek: Depends on the mood too.
DotMom: What’s our song?
BigGeek: Paradigm Shift
DotMom (pauses): Why do you think Paradigm Shift is our song?
BigGeek: Because it has no lyrics
DotMom: Why did you pick a song with no lyrics as our song?
BigGeek: I made it up (turns to his mother) Not the song, the song is real, I made it up that it is our song.
DotMom: Why did you make it up?
BigGeek: Because you like it, I like it and it has no lyrics. And we listen to many songs.
DotMom:Out of the many songs we listen to, what is our song?
BigGeek: Paradigm Shift.
DotMom: OK.



DotMom and BigGeek go back to watching TV. Chip's poor grandmother has no idea what just happened. So enjoy Paradigm Shift.



Edited to add: Thus ends Kiran's Tag here

Awarded

First GTN, then Moppet’s Mama sent this my way. WHOA. Wait a minute. Are you sure you got the right person? Jokes apart, I am touched by the award of course (and my first one too) but more than the award I am touched by the warm words you wrote about me. And so, small thank you notes to both of you.

Thank you. You have been so very generous and charitable. Really. I admire GTN for her fortitude and her dry wit. She reminds me so much of myself sometimes. Maybe I should pay her a visit on one of my shrillion trips to CT. Moppet’s mom, I love your infectious spirit and your way with words. Very creative. Very clever. Always lifts my spirits.

And so passing Da Rockin’ Award to:

Kodi’s Mom : I admire her for her grace. She writes lucidly and is charmingly funny. Always reminds me of the very proper Victorian lady.

Parul : I admire her for her sarcastic, over the top wit. It is never overboard, never offensive and that I feel is such a difficult balance to maintain.

Sue: For her honesty. She speaks her mind and is not afraid of it. She does not even have a pen-name. She writes under her own. I admire her for that.

The Dream tag

Many moons ago, DDMom tagged me to do list of my dreams (she, I think meant the variety you have when you are asleep, not the I-dream-of-being-very-rich-and-very-thin type). With circumstances being what they were in the Kingdom of DotMom, this tag slipped from her mind, but was caught just in time before it was forgotten in the unknown abyss of her dusty, cobwebby brain. So. I am not much of a dreamer. There were complex, vivid dreams in hi-def resolution and color when I was pregnant, but since then I don’t think I have fallen into whatever stage of sleep (REM, alpha, gamma and all that dull nomenclature) one needs to dream. Or maybe it’s my hormones. Who is to know? So I am going to narrate two of my dreams – one my oldest, the prophetic sort and the other one from 2 days ago. I will also provide, for your entertainment only, since you have been awesomely great readers and such, an interpretation of the dream a la dream interpretation sites^* that have slightly more sophisticated algorithms than say, fortune cookies.

Dream 1 – The oracle appears to the DotMom
DotMom is not married. She is still a student, living in sin with BigGeek, mooching off of his princely salary. When one night a dream comes upon her. An adorable boy-child of 3 or 4 who looks a little like DotMom’s father, a little like her brother and a little like BigGeek stands on a footstool in a small bathroom. The boy is twisting and struggling, screaming and yelping, but BigGeek holds him still. In his other hand BigGeek carries a small toothbrush, brushing the boy’s teeth vigorously. DotMom enters – “Stop, stop his gums will bleed, his gums will bleed.” BigGeek strengthens his hold on the little boy and replies – “If I don’t, his teeth will fall, his teeth will fall.”

Six years later, this dream comes true.

What the Dream Interpreter thinks: Dreaming of Children shows DotMom’s innocence and her longing to look at life as a child and seeking to develop her self in new ways. The fact that she dreams of having a child with a man she is not yet married to is indicative of the guilt she feels about having him support her and denotes a desire to repay his kindness.

What DotMom thinks: She is mighty glad the dream came true.

Dream 2 – I dreamt this?
DotMom is married and has a kid whose father brushes his teeth with the same gentleness as a carpenter saws his wood. Her life is now devoid of dreams simply because her life is devoid of sleep. But suddenly one night, she dreams. Of being in India and being accosted out of the blue by a petite woman in a silk saree and a sleeveless blouse. DotMom knows this woman is a pediatrician. “Your child is malnourished” she says to DotMom. “Really? He is such a good eater though. Will eat a horse if that’s what is for dinner.” DotMom tells her. “I don’t think so.” Gosh. This pediatrician is adamant. DotMom, even in her dreams has decided that this does not merit a response, verbal in any case, so she raises an eyebrow slightly - a trick that always gains her the desired respect – with Chip at least. “He doesn’t eat enough carbohydrates.” He pediatricians proclaims smugly. DotMom is now slightly flustered. She looks at the meaty Chip and thinks there really is no way anyone can tell that. But secretly, she knows that Chip is the ultimate Atkins guy. He h-a-t-e-s carbs. “How can you tell” she shrieks at the maybe-she-is-a-wiccan-cum-quack-pediatrician. “Look at his ankles” she proclaims. “They are thin. Thin ankles mean he is not getting enough carbohydrates.”

What the dream interpreter thinks: Dreaming of ankles denotes support and direction. A friend is trying to help DotMom secretly. Difficulties followed by success. Dreaming of a doctor is indicative of mastery over many things and dreaming of children indicates a new beginning.

What DoMom thinks: They know Chip won’t eat carbs and are coming for us.

* http://petrix.com/dreams/

I think almost everybody has done this tag. Passing this tag to the new mom blog by Shobana. Also Gauri, MadMomma, Noon tell me your dreams. And yes, do ignore if you have been there done it.

Tower of Babel

“Aie, Look! It’s a bitch.” I don’t think there is a faster to grab any mother’s attention than a statement like this. Here I was on a lazy Sunday morning. Having eaten breakfast, enjoying the cappuccino delicioso made lovingly (and excruciatingly slowly) by BigGeek, reading Joel Achenbach’s achingly funny article in the Washington Post, sprawled on the couch. Ditto BigGeek on couch #2, but going through Best Buy and Circuit City flyers and Chip dear playing with his duplo blocks. “It’s a bitch, Aie” Chip is shouting excitedly, repeating himself, incase I hadn’t heard him the first time.

“A bitch?” Where in the sweet God’s name did he pick this word from from? Thousand thoughts arise. School, neighbor fighting with her ex, BigGeek, not me- I don’t cuss, must tell his teacher, the TV, how can BigGeek read without a care while his 2 yr old is cussing? Chip is holding up a structure made with his blocks that suspiciously looks like a tower. “Whoa. What a nice tower!” I say. “No, no tower, Aie. It’s a bitch.” Hmm. Maybe they are teaching pairs in school – horse-mare, bull-cow, that sort of a thing. So I decide to play along. “Where is the doggy’s tail?” I ask Chip. He is in deep thought. His little brow creased, lips pursed, one hand on his hip, the other holding his “bitch”. No, doggy sheput (tail) Aie.” He lets out a sigh. “It’s a bitch”. He runs away grabs his one of his shrillion little cars and comes to me. “It’s a car bitch Aie. Zoom, zoom.” The car files over the tower. Ah. I relax. It’s a bridge. B-R-I-D-G-E.

Fall Begone

Where is the fall this year? I am asking. Hell, I think everybody is asking that question around where I live. It’s October already. The time when leaves turn into golden yellows and fiery reds and mellow oranges. There is a nip in the air. Vapor condenses as you chat with your neighbor, wearing a soft fleece jacket. I had these visions last fall. Of me and BigGeek and Chip in Fall of 2007. Raking leaves on the back lawn while Chip dives into them sending them flying everywhere. But of course mommy dear and daddy dearest don’t get all upset simply because an hour or two of hard work is going down the drain (no, that’s wrong. Going up in the air- that sounds better, no?) They join him, in slow motion - Chip, DotMom and BigGeek, arms up in the air, leaves falling by everywhere, wearing turtlenecks and flannel plaids in autumn-y colors, the sun setting on a quiet Saturday evening, mulled cider in steaming cups that stays miraculously warm for hours while we kick up our heels in the backyard without a care. Now rewind. Pause. And look at this scene through a lens fitted with a soft filter – now you see my vision of a puuurfect family, don’t you.

And it doesn’t end here. Sunday morning DotMom sneaks out of bed to make blueberry pancakes with golden butter (cholesterol issues here, ok golden BENECOL then) and grade A dark amber maple syrup (oh, how I love thee) washed down with a cup of perfectly brewed cappuccino. BigGeek and Chip come down the stairs, again in slow motion and soft filter, no sumo wrestling today to brush Chip’s teeth and dig into the pancakey goodness and then we all get dressed in the latest autumn fashion and drive to the pumpkin patch.

Ah. So was my Fall 2007 going to be. All planned in the Fall of 2006. But nature, as it is often known to do, has thwarted my carefully planned weekends. Fall is nowhere to be seen. A few weeks ago, I was fretting about having zero fall clothes. If I only knew the atrocious and down right ugly fall clothes the stores are selling this season - tunics in jersey fabric that cannot get any thinner and short sweaters with puffy sleeves. On me? No. Thankyouverymuch. Does nobody wear twinsets anymore? I would have happily worn my full-of-pills-sweaters and baggy t-shirts that I have long since purged. Only if I had known.

But I digress. Coming back to Fall or the lack there of. I am still wearing my nautical themed sailor’s golf shirt and capris. Chip is still wearing his shorts and t-shirts that are so tight now, he winces trying to get in or out of them. The temperature in the morning is still in its 70’s and by noon we are still hitting upper-80s. The leaves are still green and in places are simply withering to a dusty brown because of the rainless summer this year. No nice fall colors this year.

I like Fall. A lot. I like Spring too. I don’t care much for dog days of Summer and I like Winter only up until the New Year after which is gets very boringandcoldanddarkandgrayandsnowy. My love for nature is absolutely conditional.

My parents are going to Montréal this coming long weekend. To see the fall colors. The days there are nice and crisp, with a slight chill. Just like the perfect apple you bite into. And here we are. Stuck in a balmy October in our tanks and shorts, waiting for a real fall day to go to the pumpkin patch. Oh! Fall, where art thou?

Nothing to fear, but fear

This is about Chip. It’s been a while since I have done a Chip-exclusive post and this would be a fitting sequel to my other bizarre post. Chip was a colicky, asthmatic baby and he was so hurting most of the time, he did not have any energy to bond with strangers. All that has changed and he is quite the Mr.Friendly to everyone now except a really good friend.

Let’s give him an alphabet – S. S is a great guy. Soft spoken, gentle even. Great with kids. S is married to P – a wonderfully sweet and caring woman who also has a great sense of style. S and P are really good friends. But S and Chip don’t get along. Well, if there was an Understatement of the Century Award, this line just won it. Chip is terrified of S. And we don’t know why. If P is visiting alone, he will go to her, talk to her, and show her his toys all the time keeping an eye out for S. If they both or S visits by himself, all hell breaks loose.

Last year, BigGeek was recovering from a torn ACL in his knee when S and P stopped by to visit. They arrived riding on a motorcycle. Chip, Chip’s Nanny and I were pottering around in the garden when the motorcycle pulled in. Chip was happy to see a motorcycle, but as soon as S took of his helmet, Chip started to shake with fear. S had experienced Chip’s wrath many, many times before so he slunk away and did not make eye contact. P and I followed him inside the house but Chip refused to come inside with us. It had started to rain, so the nanny took my car keys and spent 20 mins. inside the car with Chip, who, she later told me, was not playing, instead buried his face into her lap and trembled as she talked to him softly. This is not an isolated incident. This happens, in varying intensities, every time we meet S.

Another curious incident happened when S and P moved into a bigger house a few months ago and threw a house warming party. S kept away from Chip. Chip was playing with the other kids, drinking juice. Suddenly a terrified shriek rose from Chip. I suspected he had run into S. But S was no where in sight. I looked around and saw a few friends and another well-dressed guy who I had not met before. He looked faintly familiar and Chip was looking at him and howling and trembling. The poor man looked puzzled and embarrassed. I apologized to him, and whisked the shrieking Chip away. Moments later it dawned on me, that the strange man was S’s older brother visiting from NYC, when S’s mother who witnessed the scene, was stunned. She knew about S and Chip but S and his brother don’t look very similar. She drew Chip towards her, hugged him and asked smilingly and in jest – “What have my sons done to you?”

In an effort to help him grow out of his fear, I asked P for a picture of both of them that I could show Chip from time to time. Last week she brought one and I put it at Chip’s eve level on the fridge. Didn’t say anything to him. He didn’t realize the picture was there until the next morning.

Chip (pointing to the picture): P- mawshi (P aunty)
Me: Yes.. that’s P-mawshi. Who else is in the picture?
Chip’s body goes slightly tense as he stares at the man in the picture, then relaxes.

Chip: Z-kaka? (Z uncle)
Me: Is that really Z-kaka? Look again.
Chip looks again.
Chip: K-Kaka (K- uncle)
Me: No! that’s not K-kaka. That’s S-kaka.
Chip is terrified.
Chip: No S-kaka, No S-kaka
He runs away.

A few minutes later he returns to the fridge and pushes the framed photo up on the fridge away from his eye level.

The next day we go through the same drill and Chip finally tells me that it is a picture of S-kaka. A few minutes later, he stands on his tip-toes, gets the picture and puts it on the kitchen counter. “Aie, S-kaka nako” (I don’t want S- kaka).

Often I have asked, in jest, to S, if he bullied my son in a past life. Looking at Chip when S is around, you get a distinct feeling that Chip knows S and as he clings tightly to my shirt and won’t take his gaze off S, I often wonder if he is trying to remember something.

BigGeek Returns

I am fretting as BigGeek returns to work today. Only for a few hours. He will be driving alone for the first time after his lil adventure and it’s very hard to refrain myself from calling him every 5 minutes. But baby him I shall not. He still has to undergo Cardiac Rehab before he resumes his regular routine. For a man who is used to going at 60mph with his work and school he has been grinding to a near halt the past couple of weeks. This bothers him. He was supposed to go to China later this month for a school trip and he obviously cannot go now (he tried convincing the doctor yesterday, but thank god the doctor was adamant). This bothers him. And I feel his pain. But this too shall pass.

On a related note, I just read Cheney’s history of heart troubles. First heart attack at 37, two more and a quadruple bypass before he turned fifty, a stent procedure later. I don’t know if he has a pacemaker. None of this has slowed him down. I sent the link to BigGeek - he has such tremendous admiration for Cheney already.

Tagged

I have been tagged by Timepass to do a tag to list one fact related to my life for every letter of my middle name. My middle name is my maiden name and I don’t want to give it away and relinquish my semi-anonymous superhero second life. So, I choose BigGeek as my middle name.

The three rules to be followed are:a) The rules must be mentioned in the beginning of the tag.b) You must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.c) At the end of your blog post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

B – Benign
To borrow a term from Douglas Adam’s H2G2 - I am mostly harmless. But try pushing me too hard and too far and you will unleash the unrelenting, sarcastic monster.

I – Introspective
And not in the right doses. It’s good to look within now and then, but I do it with a strange compulsion. I am quite narcissistic that way.

G – Garrulous
I was a shy child, so my ability to strike up a conversation in an elevator makes me quite proud of myself now.

G – Go the extra mile
I try to do this. Everywhere. Especially in relationships.

E – Enthusiastic.
When I was in school, this is what my teachers called me. I am still like that and can’t seem to help it especially when I get all trippy over small things and when others look on with what can only be described as a sophisticated nonchalance. Ah. How I long to have that. But no.

E – Escape routes
I have an exit strategy for every situation. That is the first thing I think of when making a big decision. Do I have an escape route? Of course there are no escape routes to a few (and very important) things in life and that annoys me.

K – Karma-believer.
I believe in karma. What goes around comes around. In this life or next.


I am going to ignore the 3rd rule (simply because I don’t know that many bloggers)
So I tag Kodi’s mom, Moppett’s Mom, Tharini, Altoid, Swati, Something to Say, Mystic Margarita, mnamma.

Maid in India

Rohini wrote a follow up post today, about maids and such and while I agree with her for most part, I feel coerced to put in my point of view, especially regarding cultural differences. But first to the points I totally agree with. Child labor. These children would have much horrid lives if they did not work. By working, they are getting square meals, a roof over their head, and security. I am sure there are exceptions to this, but by and large the young girls I have seen employed are just that. Playmates to a kid or light housework. They are not expected to do anything more. My mother taught our maid’s two kids and she, not wanting it for free would send them to our house to help out – watering the plants, folding the laundry. The older one (my age) has a degree in Business Management, and the younger one (a girl) works as a technician in a Pathological Lab. I agree with the political incorrectness too. That’s just plain silly. About trusting working moms, on the whole, I do feel I am at a slight disadvantage because I am a mom. I will shun from jobs that will are stressful or require considerable traveling because I have responsibilities at home despite knowing that these choices are not the best for my career. The prejudice does trickle down the chain.

I disagree with some points regarding cultural differences. And I am going to address them one by one. Its not the first time many of these points are raised and I have had similar arguments with family who had not really lived (2 week visits do not count) in a country similar to the US. I don’t think privacy and/or maid services are mutually exclusive. We had a wonderful live in nanny, who always kept out of our business and would lock our room or would ask me to. Most cleaning ladies/nannies in the US are mindful of their employer’s privacy. And yes, I grew up in a joint family in India, so I don't care that much for privacy, but BiGeek does.

The point I completely disagree with is and this is a huge misconception with most Indians -

Keeping a house in running order is much tougher here. India is a pretty dusty country and we don’t have sealed houses with central cooling/ heating and a thorough daily cleaning is required to keep the house liveable and hygienic rather than the fortnightly cleaning that is adequate in the West.

This is completely inaccurate. Keeping house is difficult anywhere. The problems are different. Although we have sealed houses, they don’t quite remain dust free and need to be dusted regularly - especially during fall and spring (allergy seasons) when we open the windows and unseal our homes. You probably don’t need to vacuum them everyday if you have responsible adults, but throw a child in the mix. We sweep and mop living/dining/kitchen areas everyday. Also, most homes here are carpeted and hygiene becomes important and difficult to maintain, especially in the colder months. It took me several hours with a stain remover and then a steam cleaning session to take out all the of Chip’s puke when he had an upset stomach and puked away to glory everywhere. We also need to steam clean our carpets every now and then to make sure its mildew and allergen free which will cause illnesses when the house is sealed in the colder months. Then there is the yard work. We need to cut grass from spring till fall, rake leaves in the fall and shovel snow in the winter. All that is really hard, physical work. We also need to power wash our decks and sidings, clean gutters and seal all wood work every year lest the termites chew away our home. There is no home delivery of anything. We need to go do our own groceries in multiple grocery stores (because we are Indians), pump our own gas, iron our own clothes and drop off and pick up our kids from the school (no rickshaw walla or vans) and scuttle them off to after school activities. We replace our own faucets, caulk our own bathrooms, install our own ceiling fans and chandeliers and take out our own trash and recycling and water the garden. Most people here have 3-4 kids and the men and women do this all by them selves and raise their kids with zero help – they simply cannot afford it. This is obviously because manpower is premium. So, after having lived here for many years, having the seen people who do everything bythemselves and then some, it becomes very hard for me to sympathize with my mom or mother-in-law when they tell me the maid did not show up for a day.

Another point I disagree with-
Working life can be harder in India, especially for working mothers. Our concept of work-life balance is still not very evolved and working hours can often be undisciplined. With this as a background, it becomes that much tougher to run a house single-handedly, while holding down a full-time job.

And it is here? Women take 6 weeks maternity leave (and 80% of time it is unpaid). And they are back to the above chores and a full time job and a baby. Bosses are demanding. It doesn’t matter where you work. A lot of my friends often work on weekends and stay at work late at night or go in very early in the morning (i.e. 5 am, I myself leave home at 6:30 everyday)

Indian men are not as helpful around the house as their Western counterparts and most of the responsibility falls on the already over-loaded shoulders of the wife and mother. Combine this with the previous point about working hours and it’s a nearly impossible task to manage without maids.

This again is probably true of the older generation. Even here, men will rarely load the dishwasher or do laundry, but they will cut grass and shovel snow, so there is a division of labor, of sorts. The joke these days among Indians here is this – To be an ideal husband you need to work outside the house and make good money, come home take care of the kids and their homework and load the dishwasher. Also, men in India do less because there is a maid to pick up the slack. BigGeek did that when we had my mom/mil/nanny live with us. Now that we are on our own, he does every little bit. And I am sure husbands in India would jump right in, if maids were not a viable option. Here, I find a lot of non-working and working Indian women who slack off because they are used to having maids in India and have a tough time adjusting to the DIY attitude here.

This is not an affront to all those who have full time maids or domestic help. It is simply presenting the other side of the coin.

A Bizzare Incident

Last Friday or should I say early Saturday. I am not quite sure myself. But BigGeek was in his hospital bed, I was trying to sleep on the broken recliner close to him. BigGeek had a temperature that was freaking me out. The nurse came in every two hours to check his vitals, taking care not to disturb his sleep. Another patient down the hall screamed his lungs out. “Help, help. Someone please help me, help help.” I drifted in and out of sleep, not sure if the cry for help was real or imagined. Real because I could hear it loud and clear. Imagined because I could hear the faint chatter of the nurses at the nurses’ station. How could they not hear this man? I thought to myself. Surely they won’t leave him in pain. I remembered how earlier that evening, a nurse had rushed in less than 5 seconds after she heard a crash in our room when BigGeek knocked down a cup. The nurses were attentive. Could they not hear this man?

It was close to midnight, I was tired, yet alert, my body must have been producing massive amounts of adrenalin. BigGeek was soundly asleep. His breathing rapid. I closed my eyes and settled into a surreal slumber. Everything was so still. Everything. Except when punctuated periodically by the old man’s cries.

I was aware of the clock. I could see it in my mind’s eye, slowly ticking away. I was waiting for 2:00 am when the night nurse would be back to see if his temperature was down. All I wanted was BigGeek to get out of this, to be well, to thrive. Just about then a very strange thing happened. I don’t quite know how it began, but I have a distinct memory of someone talking to me. It’s quite hard to put this experience into tangible words. It just felt so real then, but so bizarre later. Perhaps it was my tired, stressed mind making up stories. Who is to know? But a voice was heard. It was grandmotherly, yet so young. It was affectionate, yet slightly detached, like a friendly neighbor. It had authority- you got that feeling- you simply could not refuse it, but it was so casual, like a friend. It felt like my own voice, but it was not. All it said was (in Marathi) “Ekda yeoon bhetoon ja” (Come and meet me once). Very casually. Yet with a little urgency. Like what an old teacher would say when meeting a student unexpectedly in the middle of a crowded street. I felt the voice’s presence (not a person’s presence, mind you, I knew the voice was there) even before it spoke to me. I knew what it would sound like even before the words actually materialized. I knew that the voice, bizarrely enough, was Vaishno Devi’s. This is truly weird. I kept asking (I don’t know to who) why not deities I am more familiar with? Like Tirupati Balaji or one of our family deities. Why Vasihno Devi? Who I have always associated with sappy Hindi movies and devout Punjabis? I am not a religious person. Not in the conventional sense. My questions were not answered, but the message was repeated twice and it stopped. That’s it. Nothing more.

It was close to 2:00 am. The night nurse wheeled in her paraphernalia. She stuck a thermometer in BigGeek’s mouth and proclaimed his temperature was down by a degree. An hour later, he broke out in sweat and when the night nurse came back at 6:00, the temperature had returned to normal.

To shave or not to shave

BigGeek hasn’t shaved in a week. He has scraggly looking stubble and I can’t say I like it. It makes you look old. I plead. Really? He is truly astonished. It’s not all one color now, you know. I say. I really don’t want to point his attention to the white specks but he just made me. I thought it made me look dignified, he tries to tell me. He is looking in the bathroom mirror, admiring himself. No. I sigh. You only look that way in the mirror. Hmm. He is thinking. Do you mean to say I look the mirror image of dignified? There is no winning with this guy.

He rubs his hand over his chin and tells me he thinks he looks like Steve Jobbs. You know, a cool geek not a corporate geek, he has a glint in his eye. I already have the rimless glasses, all I need are a few black turtle necks. (Ah. He conveniently forgets the shrillions!)

This post is so bad, that it made me cringe. But I have promised my self to write everyday and so it shall go up. I am trying to get out of my blues, but it’s not been easy. I just have to bide my time and let it do its magic. Till then, I’ll be writing insufferable posts.

Trial By Fire

We are not quite out of it yet, but BigGeek is on the mend. He still has some fever (which truth be told is freaking me out a little, but he is on antibiotics) I am so scared that I don’t want to say anything more. BigGeek is a very, very strong guy. This happened so suddenly, that it left me struggling to cope with day-to-day issues like caring for Chip. BigGeek was scheduled for the Cath procedure (angiogram) at 9:00 am Thursday. They were going to transfer him from the local ER to the Cardiac Institute at INOVA, Fairfax at 5:30 am on Thursday. It would have been difficult for me to drive to the hospital 25 miles away in the ugly rush hour, while getting Chip ready for daycare. So I asked a friend to be there before 9.00, to meet with BigGeek and Cardiac surgeon. I really did not want him alone. But they started the procedure at 8:00, so BigGeek was all alone, but look at his indomitable spirit. I would have been shi**ing bricks if I were in his place, but he told the surgeon he wanted to see the stent go in. They don’t give an anesthesia for this procedure, just a mild sedative. So he was asleep while they were investigating, but the surgeon woke him up when he put the stent in. When I told this to a co-worker, he could not believe it. But that’s quintessential BigGeek. I fondly call him my Rock of Gibraltar, and he is a very, very brave guy and a real trooper. I am so proud of him and so proud to be his wife. The first words out of his mouth when I went to see him in Cardiac Recovery, where hooked up to allsorts of machines and looking feeble, were “I saw them put the stent in!”

If I had to start narrating the events they would go back to Tuesday evening. BigGeek's aunt is a scientist and was in D.C. for what would later be so ironic, a heart failure conference. We met her for dinner at a popular Kabob place and were discussing stents and stem cells. Who knew what had been in store for us later that night? Around 2:00 am early Wednesday morning, I woke because Chip was calling out to me. I tended to him and realized BigGeek was sitting up in bed. His arms ached he told me. Did you strain them while picking up Chip, did you twist them in your sleep? No. When I went over, to massage them, his back and chest were as hard as a rock. No exaggerating. I asked him if he thought he was having a heart attack. He replied no. No perspiration, no chest pain, no palpitation or shortness of breath, just a dull ache in both his arms that extended from the shoulder blade to his palms. I put on some Bengay, gave him a couple of painkillers. He said he had a little heartburn (which he never has), but so did I, so I blamed it on the food.

I asked if he was doing ok, the next (Wednesday) morning and if I should stay home. He said he was better and I left for work. He did his morning routine, dropped Chip at the daycare and went to work. He worked for an hour or so and decided to look up these symptoms on WebMD where he found something curious about heartburn which is a symptom of a heart attack. He decided to go to his doctor and have it checked out.

On Wednesday, BigGeek called me at work. I was just about to go get lunch and was reading Rohini’s blog when I got a call from an unknown caller id. It was BigGeek calling from his doctor’s office. They suspected he had a heart attack and had called 911. I sent three emails. One to my boss, one to his co-worker and friend to tell his workplace what had happened, one to another friend to tell him to pick up Chip from daycare. When I reached the ER, they had taken 4 EKGs, had given him baby aspirin and nitroglycerin.They were waiting for a CT scan, a chest X-ray and on results of blood work that would prove beyond doubt that he indeed had suffered from a heart attack. He was met by a cardiac surgeon who scheduled the Cath procedure for the following day. You gotta love the ER. They work like a well oiled machine.

Three close friends came to the ER and I don’t know what I could have done without them. Another couple of friends M and S stayed with him while I went back to K’s (a friend) home to see Chip who K had picked up from daycare. I stayed there through the night, readied Chip for daycare the following day (Thursday) and left to see BigGeek. Another friend Y knowing the traffic and that I had to be with Chip, left from her house (which was close to the hospital) and was there by the time BigGeek got out of the Cath-lab. She talked to the Cardiac Surgeon and was there waiting for me. Soon an old college friend N and her husband arrived and stayed by my side all day. BigGeek was very tired and was sleeping in the ICAR. Y in the mean while went home, made some food for BigGeek and me and brought it. N stayed with me until late afternoon when my mom arrived from Toronto (thank god, she was a couple of hours away from us). After which P got there with dinner and to stay by our side. I don’t know what I could have done without this immense support system that we had. I cherish them deeply and we are lucky to have such incredible friends.

The following day more visitors – his classmates (who told him if he could have just asked for an extension on his exams instead of taking this extreme step) and more co-workers (some also wrote emails to him saying that if he was reading this email on his blackberry, he needed to hand it over to me, so I could throw it out the window and yes, he did read this message on his blackberry, he is incorrigible). Y had set up a website on Caring Bridge and BigGeek got messages from 300 people. I didn’t know he knew 300 people.

A and S bought a cute gift basket with heart healthy food, but most importantly a card, not a get well soon card, but a Happy Anniversary card, because it was our anniversary that day. And that little gesture spoke tons.

Snippets of what left an indelible memory. Me being held tightly by Y as I cried my heart out all the time telling me he is going to be fine. K who took care of all the nitty gritties of daily life (including asking me if I needed to pay bills) S and R who bought in warm tea to soothe us thinking we would have enough food which we did. R also brought food. Another friend S who had a good techie-banter with BigGeek (who always loves a good argument). My old college friend N who would not leave my side despite a doctor’s appointment for her 4month old daughter. The nurses in the ICAR who came up to me and asked me if I was doing OK.

In a country where manpower is premium and which thrives on the each-to-his-own mentality, these friends left behind their little children, their jobs and their commitments to be by our side on those three harrowing days. To thank them, is lame.

Living Nightmare

BigGeek had a heart attack early Wednesday morning. He is only 33. It was obviously a huge shock and we still think it is unreal. He drove himself to the doctor and was then rushed to the ER. They found a clogged artery and they did a cardiac catheterization procedure and put a stent in him. He was discharged yesterday and is at home now.

Your loving son, Chip

Dearest Baba,

About time we talked, you know, man-to-man. About stuff. I don’t know what’s wrong with Aie these days. She is just soooo difficult to deal with. Gets angry at the drop of a pin and puts me in a corner for minor offenses. It’s like there is a constant battle between her and me. It’s impossible to talk to her. Just take this incident yesterday. I was examining this bottle of water I found in the (may I say, dusty) laundry room. The bottle is almost full, the cap twisted open. Surely you will agree that such opportunities present themselves rarely. So, I open it, take a swig, replace the cap, go into the kitchen, open the bottle again and am about to take another drink, when I see my red truck. I wasn’t really thirsty so I set down the bottle and decide to ride the truck when Aie who is doing I-don’t-know-what by the counter turns back without looking and topples the bottle. I look at her in utter dismay. Couldn’t she be a wee bit careful? And here is the clincher. Instead of apologizing to me or sitting in the corner all by herself without being told, what does she do? She gives me The Stare. “Where did you find it?” she asks, not nicely. “Laundly room”, I say truthfully. “Chip water-bottle pee pani” (Chip drank water from the water bottle). Ok, in retrospect I should not have volunteered that information.

I rush to save whatever water is left in the bottle and to put back the cap. I am trying very hard not to cry at this point. Then, not wanting to escalate the matter further, I go to her dishcloth basket and pull a few dishcloths and begin wiping her mess. Does she help me? No. The mess is reasonably clean, its only water, she is still staring at me. Since she isn’t going to sit in the corner by herself like I do so many times, it’s time to tell her. “Aie, kopyaat bas” Aie sit in the corner. I say trying to be calm, but my voice wavers a little. But look at her defiance. “Tu kopryaat bas.” You sit in a corner. She says to me. I obviously refuse to. How can this be my fault. Really, she is quite imaginative that way. So, taking full advantage of the difference in our physical sizes she picks me up and plops me in the corner, but I was not going to make this easy for her. So, I howl. Loudly. What else could I do?

Or take this. Despite many requests she refuses to give me the lawn mower to mow the lawn. She says, only Baba can mow the lawn. Please. So I have to resort to pretending that my trusty red truck is the lawn mower. I her fill it up with gas, attach the big basket and even tell her what I am doing in the fond hope she will pity me and give me the real thing. But no. That’s OK I can live with that. I check the wheels, peer here and peer there. You know the stuff you have to do before you actually start mowing the lawn. Just then Miss Maureen shows up, I say hi to her- she is alright- and then go back to my lawn mower and start to mow the lawn. Aie and Miss Maureen are talking and I don’t know about what since I am not the one to eavesdrop and truth be told, what could possibly be more interesting than a lawn mower. Anyhoo. I test drive it on the sidewalk and then go onto the business of cutting grass. Might I take a moment to tell you give a quick grass update? It’s in a bad shape. No, I am not criticizing you here, just being very objective. It is barren in large patches and grows in dense clumps else where.

I am targeting the clumps here. But my truck is a truck even if I pretend it’s a lawn mower. It gets stuck in the clumps. I grunt, I get frustrated. But does Aie listen? No, she is busy talking and when she thinks I am being too fussy, she tells me to get the truck and ride it on the sidewalk. For the hundredth time, it’s a lawn mower. You cannot cut grass on the concrete sidewalk. So, obviously I refuse to do what she is suggesting. I am getting no help from her here. I manage to mow the clump and move on to other parts of the lawn when my pretend lawn mower gets stuck again. I am really aggravated now. You try cutting grass with a plastic truck. I sit down, venting my frustration. Aie comes over and sits besides me, Miss Maureen is looking. “Chip, this lawnmower has tiny wheels.. it gets stuck in this grass. Why don’t you mow grass over there?” She is pointing to a large patch of barren yard. The grass is all dead there. She wants me to mow dead grass? Has she even cut a blade of grass in her entire lifetime? This suggestion is completely insane. I keep telling her I want to mow the lawn but she is telling me we have to go inside and eat dinner now. She even tells that to Miss Maureen. So off we go. Is this reasonable? You tell me.

But she is my Aie and I truly adore her. You have seen me cling to her madly and follow her everywhere. And I will not let anyone near me come bedtime. And she has the exclusive rights of feeding me dinner. I have my own ways of showing affection. I am a simply guy. But she is one complicated mother. Only if she followed some rules. Like taking me to the tot lot on our way home from school. I am sure she can do pee-pee in the woods behind. I have done that (hey, it was an accident), and nobody seemed to mind. Or giving me jam and poli and peas every day for dinner. Or swinging me for an hour and a half on the tot lot swing or letting me play with the real lawnmower. Is that too much to ask? You tell me.

Your loving son,
Chip.

New School, again

Chip starts his first day at the new school today. He woke up crying he did not want to go there. So, not a good start. I am crossing my fingers, toes and whatever else there is to cross. I am stressed (duh). Don't think there will be much blogging done today.

The Perfect DotMom

So, after having tried very, v.e.r.y. hard for the past three months, to show my infallible, courageous, near perfect self, I am being tagged by Moppet’s Mom to list my own quirks. This was very difficult, believe me. I could not think of any, so had to email BigGeek who replied with this-
You don’t have any. You are perfect. So enjoy your day.
So, I slept on it for two days, and finally by divine destiny or heavenly providence, my quirks were revealed to me in a very lucid nightmare last night.








Edited to add: Yes, these cartoons are done by me. In Powerpoint.

The man of many quirks

Winkie tagged Chip about his quirks. Chip is a little man but he is a man of many quirks. Some inherited from his Aie, most from his Baba. Here they are in a chronological order.



The Sneeze
The first thing Chip did after he was born was to sneeze. Tired and amused then, little did I know it would later turn into a habit. After every feed, Chip sneezed. Thrice. Never more, never less. Drink milk. Sneeze. Burp. Hiccup. Repeat.



The (cute) Head Tilt
When Chip was about 5-6 months hold, he got into this habit of tilting his head to one side when observing something intently. Nurses, me, the reflection in the mirror.

The Nose
Around the same it, he developed a strange fascination for noses. People, dolls, the neighbor’s dog. He would try and bite of every nose he could lay his eyes (rather his teeth on). He would hold a stuffed doll-cum-mitt by her nose by his teeth and shake her vigorously like a cat shaking a mouse.



The Nose, again
He screws up his button nose when he smiles, especially when he trying to act cute.

The Spoon
Around the time he was a year old, and started to attempt to feed himself with a spoon, he developed this maddening quirk that irritates me till today, since he still has it. Over the years, the spoons I own have grown in size, style and design. I probably have 3-4 designs and 3-4 sizes. But Chip, will only accept a spoon if it is a desert spoon of a particular design. Woe befalls on someone who does not know this. When he was younger he would simply howl but now he gives a rather condescending “uh-oh” and gets down from his chair and helps himself to the correct spoon.

Shut the door, please
When coming down from upstairs Chip always shuts all the doors. I have no idea why.

No curtains
Curtains always need to be opened when Chip goes to bed. Else he will tug at them until the curtain rod threatens to come down.

This be the 50th

This be the 50th.
I can’t believe I wrote 49 posts. I had promised myself I would write something every day. Well, at least 5 times a week, 20 mins. a day (god, this sounds like the gym), and it was made a lot easier by warm comments left by those who stopped by and then stopped by again. Thank you.

So I think I deserve a little post-break today. Therefore, instead of writing something of own, I am going to print something written by Marguerite Kelly. Among the many people I admire, as a parent I probably admire her the most. She writes with fortitude and compassion, so unlike other parenting gurus that point a perpetual finger at us, the parents. She also writes with grace and wisdom that is very much in paucity in this day and age. So every time I am weary dealing with the arsenic hour day after day, fighting many battles with Chip and with my own self or get muddled, not knowing which way to go, as a parent, I turn to the Mother’s Prayer.

A Mother’s Prayer by Marguerite Kelly

Help me give my children the best -- not of trappings or toys, but of myself, cherishing them on good days and bad, theirs and mine.

Teach me to accept them for who they are, not for what they do; to listen to what they say, if only so they will listen to me; to encourage their goals, not mine; and please, let me laugh with them and be silly.

Let me give them a home where respect is the cornerstone, integrity the foundation, and there is enough happiness to raise the roof.

May I give them the courage to be true to themselves; the independence to take care of themselves and the faith to believe in a power much greater than their own.

See that I discipline my children without demeaning them, demand good manners without forgetting my own and let them know they have limitless love, no matter what they do.

Let me feed them properly, clothe them adequately and have enough to give them small allowances -- not for the work they do but the pleasure they bring -- and let me be moderate in all these things, so the joy of getting will help them discover the joy of giving.

See that their responsibilities are real but not burdensome, that my expectations are high but not overwhelming and that my thanks and praise are thoughtful and given when they're due.

Help me teach them that excellence is work's real reward, and not the glory it brings. But when it comes -- and it will -- let me revel in each honor, however small, without once pretending that it's mine; my children are glories enough.

Above all, let me ground these children so well that I can dare to let them go.
And may they be so blessed.

Faithless

I come from a slightly peculiar family. Well, we all do in some way or the other, don’t we? But my family is odder than most. We are quite faithless in matters of religion. By Indian standards anyway. There. It’s out in the open now. We don’t flaunt it, but we don’t hide it either. My grandmother, my father, me and thankfully BigGeek. BigGeek is a self confessed agnostic. My folks and me, we are not quite sure. We are definitely not atheists. We are not agnostic. I don’t think we are religious skeptics (though we do harbor a healthy skepticism for all religions) Heck. There is not even a real term for people like us. Because most terms apply to religions of the book, and also because nobody genuinely inquires into mainstream Hindu practices, no matter how antiquated they maybe.

My earliest vivid memories of our unreligious-ness is my grandmother when I was around 3 or so. Bored in the afternoons with nothing to do, I would often ask to bathe and do a pooja of the little idols of Vithoba, Ganpati, Annapoorna and the likes. My grandmother, a semi-retired lawyer who also majored in philosophy, would happily give me a dish with water, kum-kum and flowers and let me ‘play’ with the idols, much to the neighbors’ bewilderment and incomprehension.

Another memory is about my father. A temple was built on an open piece land in front of our house. It was commissioned by an enormously corrupt and crooked builder or a government official. Perhaps he was both. He or a member of his family had escaped the jaws of death and as deities are often known to do, a deity appeared to him in his dreams and ordered a temple be erected. A marble and concrete structure was duly built with all the black money the said builder had amassed. Everything was alright for a while, but the builder thought this was not enough. To show his true piety, he donated a commercial-grade stereo system and humbly requested the temple officials that pious songs be blared from it at dawn and dusk. So at 5:00 am every morning and at 5:00 pm every evening, for two hours, bhajans and aartis rung out of the humongous speakers and could be heard for a mile at least. We could barely hear ourselves speak in our own house. My dad was not amused. He first thought this nonsense would end in a day or two. But when it continued for over a week, he started to complain. How dare he complain, said the temple priests. This was God’s work. Nobody had complained. My father not believing this went to every neighbor’s house and asked if the noise bothered them. They all admitted it did, but would not complain. It was God’s work. My father was furious. He began his solitary battle. Infact his constant complaining peeved so many, that they hounded him one evening and asked him how could a Hindu and a Brahmin at that object to pious bhajans? He didn’t object to bhajans he said. He objected to the decibels at which they were played. As long as the songs could not be heard outside the temple, they could play whatever they wanted. Are you a Hindu, they demanded, medieval-style. My father calmly replied that if blaring songs from a stereo was a necessary condition, he wasn’t. Which of course made our god-fearing, religious neighborhood whisper behind our back and give us strange looks.

Growing up, we never really celebrated festivals in a religious way. No sathyanarayan poojas, not even daily poojas (we did not have a dev-ghar, the mandir) We did feel a little left out sometimes, but kids that age will feel left out for smaller reasons. When we first heard the Satyanarayan Kathas, my brother and I were amused. This was what people were so solemn about? We could not comprehend it. The only time we went to a temple was to admire the sculptural splendors. My father always was the official footwear-watcher at temples. And later after everybody was done with the darshan, he would quietly lead us away and show the magnificent works of art and architecture, the smallest details would not miss his eye – the walls, the pillars and the idol were all equal to him.

And I carry forward their genes and their legacy. I do have a mandir in my house, but that’s because my mother-in-law gave one to us. There is a treadmill in front of it and we do wear shoes while running. When Chip asks me to recite the Ganesh Stotra (again learnt from my mother-in-law) while he is on the potty, I don’t hesitate. This is not a cheap thrill or an act juvenile rebellion. It simply is because I believe that all things are sacred in the same way all things are not.

My grandmother and my father are deeply spiritual people. Philosophical. Extremely well read. Heck, they will give Kant and Nietzsche a run for their money. And I (try to) tread in their footsteps. If you have to question the purpose of a ritual it can be safely eliminated. This is the DotMom’s law. Rituals are defined by people, not the other way round. The questions of the soul cannot be answered by doing poojas following instructions from a CD. If it were that simple we’d all be enlightened. The answers cannot be found by reading Hanuman Chalisa (and the likes) a thousand times each day while the mind drifts to the kitchen, the children, the TV schedule. Meditation is more than sitting lotus-posed in silence. I have found moments of utter clarity and lucidity in the din of the office when I intensely write a complicated piece of code or in the evening listening to Bach while folding laundry while Chip screeches or in my car stuck in traffic, Kishori Amonkar rendering Bhoop on the car stereo. I have been transported to the place, albeit briefly, where all questions are answered, no, they simply cease by reading a great passage from a book or a haiku. This is the everyday religion I follow. No idols required. No dietary restrictions, no complicated paraphernalia, no sartorial fiat. There is no wrong way of doing it and its rewards are endless.

The Observer

The Observer

Wandering the many parks and malls,
City streets and its halls
The curious watcher looks around
Is there no more excitement to be found?

The lights and sounds are not so new,
Extraordinary sights so far and few
Laments the watcher with a sigh
As the evening slowly draws to nigh.

Green and checkered, with frills and bows,
An infant snug in halcyon repose
A baby carriage passes by,
Not missing this curious watcher’s eye.

A look of joy draws upon his face
At last! Something worthy of a chase
Upon his visage a look of pride
He follows with a resolute stride.

Enraptured by the face so sweet
Oh! Charming baby he must meet
Thus the watcher sets his mind,
But the carriage leaves him far behind.

Crestfallen he turns away
Not knowing how or what to say
A wail is heard by the passers by
Taken aback by his plaintive cry.

To the scene a lady rushes,
Holding the watcher she gently hushes.
Yet, with a pout he flings his shoe
For the watcher is no more than two.


This is for Chip, who resolutely follows strollers and will not let go until he has said hi to the baby and later informs me, cute baby, cute baby(except he can’t say cute, so replaces he k-sound with the ch-sound with disastrous results) I am encouraging him to say chotoo baby (small baby) instead. Ever since I told him that a dear friend has a baby boy in her tummy, he wants one. Every night he comes to me and says, “Aie, Chip baby boy pahijey” (Chip wants a baby boy).

-x-x-
To all those kind comments and emails about Chip’s health, he is doing much better. He and BigGeek are at home today.

Home again

Chip is most unwell. The pooy guy threw up several times last night, has abdominal cramps.. and I have no idea why. He is usually like that when he suffers from an egg allergy. But no accidental egg ingestion yesterday. I am worried about his fluid levels, since he can't even seem to keep water in.

To the Y Chromosome

Even as a baby Chip never was never still. A very wiggly baby, he managed to shake his head in protest at the age of 8 days and slither down because he hated the rolled up blankets his grandmother put to support his head (as a result his head always flopped to one side and has a flat spot).

While I enviously saw other babies sit happily in their baby bjorns, Chip would tug at the snaps, kick in our groins and flail his arms, until we took him out and carried him in our arms where he had better access to everything around him. He wasn’t very happy with the stroller either (thank god we did not buy the pricey-fancy travel system). He would kick and whine until we took him out and later when he was a little older, would simply slither down a bit and hold the wheel by placing his foot on it. He learnt to come down the stairs using his famous tummy slide even before he learnt to crawl. He would climb on the sofa and crawl on the wide ledge of the living-room picture window before he could walk.

So when friends would tell (horror) stories of how their 20 month olds threw the phone out of a window or dunked a toy in the toilet bowl, I would laugh politely. Because just the night before, Chip would have done something like taking an apple out of the fridge, getting my 6” knife from the kitchen drawer by standing on his truck and proceeding to cut the apple on the floor. Even now while many toddlers follow their mothers around grocery stores, or sit in the carts, Chip actively shops by himself for the things he likes to eat. He gets yogurt and a head of broccoli, peaches, bread, orange juice (no pulp, extra calcium and if that’s on a higher shelf, he will gladly climb and get it if it were not for his mom glaring down) and milk. There are mysterious items in the cart every time ranging from kosher meat and cantaloupes to bottles of wine.

If I had a nickel for every time I heard strangers remark fondly “He is all boy” or variations there of, Chip’s college would be taken care of (ok, I am obviously exaggerating, but hey, I am a blogger). But we also get some cold stares. I don’t let Chip run all amok in stores, but he is a boy and will walk up and down the aisle fifteen times while I pick stuff off the shelf. He is forbidden to push the grocery cart, so he will stand on the lower bar and push it with his feet like riding a scooter. He will not sit still as most girls will. (So to all those, who think gender is solely a social construct, think again.) I tried to get Chip to play with dolls, but he had more fun figuring out how their eyes closed and their arms moved and scrutinizing their pee-pees (or the lack thereof). He climbs fences, plays with sticks and stones, can walk a mile and half without getting tired, eats bugs and pretends his truck is a skateboard (this deserves a post of its own) and knows the name of every construction vehicle ever manufactured.

I feel for boys and their mothers in this day and age where everything is so girl-centric. There are hardly any male teachers and the female teachers are so touchy-feely, that boys in high schools read Jane Austen instead of Robinson Crusoe or Tom Sawyer. And then these teachers complain that the boys' reading skills don’t match to girls’. How will it when they are given material they simply can’t connect with? Boys are encouraged to sit still and talk about their feelings. This is not how boys communicate.

My mother, a teacher for close to thirty years, who teaches middle school in India (she also teaches kids with special needs such as slow learners and dyslexic kids) tells me how over the years the tolerance towards ‘boy-ness’ has decreased as a result of which virtually every boy who has a hard time sitting still in class is diagnosed with ADHD and put on drugs. In all these years, she said, she has come across with one boy, dyslexic, who was very, very restless that it really concerned her and she asked the parents to seek professional help. She has a simple remedy for active boys. She tells them to go take a walk/run and burn off their steam before school starts and tells the parents to enroll them in some form of Martial Arts. 99 times out of 100, it solves the problem. If Chip does not spend an hour or two outside running, jumping, climbing, he gets belligerent and restless at home.

There is an inherent aggression in boys. It needs to be channeled not stifled. Their love for adventure and physical activity needs a creative outlet not disapproval. Depending on how they are treated, these little boys will grow up and become fearless astronouts and marines or will end up in street gangs. Its the same aggression, the same love for adventure, the same penchant for taking risks.

I always joke that Chip only has a third of a brain in his head. The rest is divided between his hands and feet. And a few days ago, while reading an article on Slate, I found there was a word for it. Haptic. It means hand-on. Boys are haptic learners. Who knew? So when Chip’s need for physical activity, his love for machines and non stop adventure tire me out, I remember a bib Chip once had which said- Thank Heaven for Little Boys.

Back to the square one

The last two days have been not-so-good. BigGeek was away at school and Friday evening, Chip’s teacher told me Chip refuses to sit in one place wants to do things on his own, is defiant. Well, he is two, I wanted to tell her. Instead I asked her what she would suggest. She just shrugged her shoulders. I was upset, instead I said I will tell him to be a bit more obedient and told her to be firm with him. But honestly, this has left a bad taste in my mouth. Not because it is an isolated incident, but it is the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. There had been the allergy incident. Then there had been a time when I went to pick up Chip and he was burning with fever (102F) and the teacher had no idea. A couple of weeks ago, when I was picking up Chip, his room smelt of a cleaner/solvent. When I asked the teacher if it was safe for the kids to be around such a smell, she just shrugged. I asked the vice principal and she said it was fine. The smell was pretty strong and with the cooling, there is no ventilation. So when she told me Chip did not want to sit for circle time and was defiant and she had no idea what to do about it, I had enough. Chip is a high energy kid. Like I say, he is more of everything. He is 20% more than your average kid. He has more imagination and is more curious than your typical 2 year old. He is also more stubborn and obstinate. He needs reasons. If I tell him, to not pick the dirty candy off the floor and pop it into his mouth, there is a good chance he will not listen. If I tell him that the candy has germs because it is dirty and that will give him a stomach ache, he will. Apparently the teacher doesn’t have patience for such reasoning, such as she is. I had been sold by the fact that she had brothers and sons and she would understand energetic boys. But no.


Also, to blame is my perception of center based care. I just thought Chip and I would need to get used to this standard of no-so-personal care. One evening when I went to pick up Chip, the class had been playing with zoo animals. A large tub of big plastic animals. Chip will probably play with these for 5-10 mins. He is too old to get enamored by their textures and colors. Once he identifies the animal, he has lost interest. He is too young to weave stories about the animals so he simply wanders off from the table and looks for something more interesting to do. The teacher should recognize this and give him another challenging activity. Or take their tot lot. The slides are as tall has Chip. He gets no thrill from sliding down those – actually he can’t slide down any of those because once he lies on the slide, there is 6 inches left to slide. We go to the park every day and he has a ball on the full sized slides and I have to drag him home everyday. Another point is reading. The teacher reads to 20 kids. I don’t know how the other kids sit without being able to look at the pictures. At this age, reading is an interactive process. Why doesn't the teacher understand that?


I spent the whole weekend being totally upset. Talked to my dad and my grand mom and my mom (who I finally was able to get through- she was visiting a cousin) and my mom-in-law. I also talked to a dear friend to who I told her all of the above. She was shocked. She has a high energy kid herself and she exactly understood what I was going through. She told me to get him out of that school. This is not how her kid’s (called A here after) school did things. So we are back to the square one. I am going to see if A’s school has openings. Some of A’s teachers have left so she has no idea how other teachers are in the 2-3 age group. I am beating myself up over giving up admission to the nice Montessori school. They just had too many days off and I did not have enough vacation. So I have to see if the Montessori has openings. It will also mean Chip will have to go through to another phase of adjustment. This is life, I guess.