Honestly…

…I don’t know if I deserve this, but if the awesome Mystic M says so, I’ll take it with a bow:

And pass it right back to her and to Priya.  I know you gals already got this, but for the record I’m standing on the rooftop (ok, it’s freakin’ freezing outside, so I’m standing on my couch) and shouting it out – I’m not back full throttle on the blogspace these days, but I need these women to keep me honest.

Edited to add: I’m all blogged out for today, but I do owe you a truly honest post. I’ll get to it on one of these cold nights, armed with a heapful of nutella and nothing else.

Confession

During my blog break, my only online indulgence was – lurking around food blogs. There, I said it. The pseudo-feminist that proudly clings onto her I-only-cook-maggi badge almost caved in. It was something about a homemaker having to revamp the nutriotional profile of the household and teaching Big Byte that chicken does not count as a vegetable…Anyways, I quickly realized that I neither had nor understood several of the ingredients/techniques mentioned, so I settled for salivating at the gorgeous pics of culinary masterpieces.

I’m also in the middle of a frustrating crisis right now. There’s a half-eaten box of oreos wasting away in the cabinet and no vanilla ice-cream to mash them into. Wtf! Milk, you say? Bah! That’s for kids. Speaking of which, I need to get Nibbles started on cow’s milk. i’st hrad ot eypt hitw ingfers osscred.

Underwater Notes

The CoHo watched cautiously from her mellow submarine. Will tonight be the night? She glanced self-consciously into her blog mirror, like a virgin desperate to get plucked, uprooted and transported to unknown worlds. No, she’s not ready, not just yet. Inertia, like bottled baby carrots, have a stubborn way of seeping through. And a bagful of tired analogies aren’t helping much either. It’s much easier to watch from the sidelines she decided, as she scraped the chocolate ice-cream that was well past her postpartum grace period and tried to get that damn Disney song out of her heavy head:
Un-dah da sea,
Un-dah da sea…
Darlin’ it’s better,
Down where it’s wetter,
Take it from me!

I’m a Bitch, I’m a Mother

I’ve never been much of a social butterfly. Or any other charming insect for that matter of fact, except for the kind that are plastered to the windows of a car. Ok, maybe a housefly.

I’ve lost touch with most school friends; you know, when you realize that you talk about the Easter egg-fight of ‘96 and basketball championship fouls of ‘97 every single time you meet because you have nothing else in common anymore? Gave the finger to undergrad friends due to shitloads of drama. Adios to grad school friends because New York meant a clean start. And no more hanging out with work buddies during lunch (thanks to pumping) and after work (because I’m sober). Any new acquaintance I make spews forth too much gyaan on parenting that’s often diametrically opposite to my line of thinking, so I tend to avoid them. What with me being petrified of talking on the phone, I figured the blogosphere’s my best bet.

The beauty of a blogging community is that one’s interactions are not bound by location or circumstance. After lurking around techie newsgroups back in the day, too afraid to post lest I was minced and fed to the dogs for a misplaced comma, I was shocked to find a friendly bunch of mommy bloggers. Of course, I did make an ass of myself there too, by solving the Riddle-me-ree fair game on Y’s commentspace that was meant for Mothers To Be (hey, I thought MTBs meant Moms That Blog!). After a brief dammit-I’m-not-cool-enough-to-play moment, I promptly reminded myself that I was not in high school anymore and decided to enjoy from the sidelines (Kick Ass idea btw; so cool for the real MTBs!). It did make me realize one thing though – it’s not always about ME.

I always want the people I hang out with to have interests and opinions similar to mine. Once I find such people, I always want them to approach me and break the ice. So I’m introverted and scared that they may not like me, but it totally comes across as being bitchy. Plus that’s no excuse for not making a fucking effort, eh? At least now, for Nibbles’ sake. I can’t let my anti-social vibe color his innate friendliness.

So with great expectations and new-found enthusiasm, I headed to the community boardwalk with my Nibbles. I flashed my chai-stained smile at every mom/nanny with a stroller, but chickened out when it was time to make eye contact and hid my face behind a bouncing Nibbles. After a while, I felt pathetic, like one of those beggars or desperate romeos that display a baby to attract kind attention. Just as I was wallowing in self-pity for the fungal lifeform that I am, Nibbles turns around and chatters, “Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma…”. In all probability he was excited by the huge cruise ship that sailed past us, but I instantly perked up and squeezed him purple, “I love hanging out with you too Nibbles!”

 And the soundtrack of life played Meredith Brooks:
I’m a bitch, I’m a lover
I’m a child, I’m a mother,
I’m a sinner, I’m a saint,
And I do not feel ashamed…

One Hand Typing

Must learn to bfeed and blog. It’s not so much the mechanics/ergonomics of it, but the need to force a mind-out-of-body experience and ignore the fact that Nibbles is on my lap. Not sure why I need to distance my blogging self from my mommyness, but I do. Of course, it doesn’t help that a curious 4 month old Nibbles is constantly distracted by the tap-tapping of keys and grabs my crawling fingers instead of sprint-nursing like a veteran.

Oh crap! Nothing like a poopy diaper to disrupt a barely steady flow of thoughts. I hear you Nibbles, multi-tasking is the cornerstone of  mommyness, and my utter inability to do so, uh, stinks.

Mommy Blogging

Inspired by Poppins Mom, here’s my take on mommy blogging.

I used to be a hopeless pessimist that felt that this world of Virginia Tech shootings and depleting ozone layer was no place to bring in another life. That was until my Nibbles was born.

As a new mom, I still feel like it’s the cliched jungle out there. I also wake up in the middle of the night to check if my baby is breathing. I look at shopping carts and door handles and shudder at the invisible army of germs waiting to attack my Nibbles.

But I know that I didn’t bring him into this world only to wrap him up in a safe(?) cocoon. I know that it’s up to me to:
a) teach my child to be strong enough to face it
b) stop whining and do something to make things better
For now, I’ll get him vaccinated, toughen him up with breastmilk and be the mommy he needs me to be.

The mommy-blog-hating poser poster need not stop with the crusade to ban baby pics online. Why not keep the kids away from schools where pedophilic teachers might lurk? Or playgrounds and public restrooms? Or like Poppins Mom said, away from eyes of possibly perverted relatives and family friends?

Of course, being a tough mom is not easy. But the mommy blogging community is a testament to those who have been there, done that and survived to share their adventures.