I have been pondering over something for the last one month. Though it feels that it was a private moment, I hope my dd does not mind my sharing this here.

Daughter, is having some tough time, because of the selection of schools, and there were a few days where I was running from one school to another, not because she did not get admission but getting admission into all the schools we applied except the one we wanted. Now we are waiting.

In one of those bone tired moments, I was looking so frazzled and washed down, DD must have felt guilty, and she asked me this very shocking question, which will be imprinted till the day I enter the pearly gates (well that is something I have to yet decipher, whether I get in or not), coming back to the question, “Mom! Do you ever regret being a mother”.. I was paralyzed with shock for a few moments, going back to look have I made any statements, actions that made her think that way.. but thank god for small mercies, I had not, as confirmed by her.

Well, I hugged her and told her I was the blessed one to be her Mom. Later that day when I was talking to Dear husband, I did ask him “Am I a good MOM?”. He did say yes dear, you are the best..(well maybe he was prejudiced ) but on a sly note he did tell me a “Mom is a mom, there is nothing like a good Mom, or a bad MOM”. Well he did not realize there were/are bad moms too, and I am not going to fall into the trap of giving examples of bad moms here..(so don’t question on that please)

Not satisfied, I was in deep thoughts for the next few days.. so much introspection of being a mother. and the self verdict was I am blessed to be the mother of my kids. I should thank them.

Well with so many reasons, why not..

The birth of my daughter, made me believe in magic of life, while the birth of my son against all odds stacked against him, believe in miracles. The determination to survive when the whole nature is forcing you down.. I rediscovered my childhood, healed a lot in the process.

Though I knew there was unconditional love out there, with their innocent smiles and hugs, and believing that I could make no mistakes, made me a staunch follower of it. Today I believe in unconditional love so much, that loving everyone around has become so easy.

They have taught me to look at things with new pair of eyes. their eyes. We have learnt a lot together because of the new perspectives.

I have learnt to value myself a little more. The careless, a little bit lazy, a lot more adamant, a lot more stubborn person has refined into a active, extra careful, considerate, compromising and determined person. .Of course the catalyst (silent partner) in the whole process was husband dear. I value the life more, after I see the compassion in my son’s eyes. He does not advocate hitting a stray dog, even if he is scared to death of being attacked. I have learnt to count the small blessings.

They are miners, in search of information, and the plethora of questions that start with when I know about Krishna and allah, why can’t my friend Abdullah learn about Krishna, this was my son when he was 4. today at 13 he worries about the world rejoicing on the death of Osama, saying that it is just a terrorist and not terrorism. And last night, it was about beating Neil Armstrong’s record of reading 90 books at grade I( ? well I still haven’t referred to google to get more information on this..).

I admire and learn from him, the way he articulates and assimilates things. For example, when we were discussing Autobiography of Gandhi, the first question he did ask me was, “Why do we take the example of Gandhi, for truth.. did you know he has committed all the mistakes, like stealing, trying cigarettes, lying. If learning from your mistakes was common, why should he be put on the pedestal alone. why not Lokhamanya Tilak who was equally truthful” well that day I did not realize where all this was leading to..but today I am a wiser mom Who is one step ahead, to counter his Even Gandhi learnt from his mistake”.. My Daughter, is a striving perfectionist (well she gets it from me..), and a self learner (I can’t take credit for this ALONE) has made me appreciate creativity, art and learn the nuances of appreciating music, and the skies. Well she has a different perspective of things. A loner, a silent, yet strong person who teaches me everyday, you don’t need to follow the crowd to feel good.
well doesn’t that make me a learner climbing the learning curve? (only the curve goes extending)

Well this blog will go on and on if I have to write about how blessed I am (Oh,I can hear you saying half of the blogs talk about them and we know so much about them..)..

Being the mother of these kids has been the greatest joy and of course miracle and privilege, and not a burden, it is not the hardest job in the world as people try to put it out, it is not a position that seals off my individuality or growth. It has been a wonderful journey of being connected to SELF, the outside, the family and the best learning curve a person could ask.

Well did I say it was a bed of roses..

There are days when nobody realizes, I am cooking, cleaning, shopping, sick and those are the days I feel Invisible, but the hug and I LOVE YOU mom, makes me Invincible to surge ahead.

Well I am off to see to my kids, who are still sleeping, as I dare not miss the chance of seeing them in their peaceful slumber with a smile triggered by fanciful dreams as I learnt a lesson long back from this poem that looks so silly/simple the first time but so profound..

It is song for the fifth child by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.