Dear Piya,
Days seem to keep running away from me these days.
You would know this by the increasing lengths of intervals between my letters to you.
The truth is that I found myself with all the time in the world after you came into my life. You were are handful (an am sure still are), yes. But apart from feeding you. cleaning you and waiting for you to fall asleep, there was little work, if any, professionally speaking.
That I decided to build this blog in the form of a diary to you is the best I could have done with the first 12 months of our lives.
I say this because I published a book based on our letters. You probably know that as the little, 2.5-year-old you keeps chanting 'Me to Mommee' every now and then around me, much to my heart's delight.
I found a new flair in my own self through this one decision of taking up writing.
My career has taken a huge shift owing to the same and that is what has filled the free time in my life with writing assignments now.
Sadly, that keeps taking my time away from writing to you, love.
But, here I am now, and if you have caught on the phrases I keep speaking aloud around you, the you would know that this is the perfect opportunity for me to quote "देर आये, दुरुस्त आये".
I have started to feel the guilt upto my neck these days, for any time that I am away from you, baby.
But I also feel the need to take time away from you every now and then.
I guess this is how all mothers feel.
Speaking of this mother's bundle of joy, with time, your naughtiness has only grown in leaps and bounds, so much so that I keep losing my temper these days more often than not. But the minute I lose it on you is followed by an hour of self-loathing towards myself.
And that has a major chunk of reason sunk in those pitiable-cat-eyes you pop out crying aloud.
It hurts but so does your increasing level of mischief.
I find myself torn between letting you be and inculcating discipline in you.
It just seems impossible to have both!
And I know this because I have struggled with trying to be nice, and then not so nice, with no major results showing up.
You seem to just love throwing things around, kick-boxing everything & everyone in sight, acting with utmost stubbornness everywhere, refusing to follow directives and, your perennial favourite, procrastinating sleep.
All of these affect my day, and my mood, in a really adverse manner.
You see, unlike you, I cannot have all of the day get away without having a thousand errands to run.
I wish I did, but that would be the precise definition of wishful thinking!
While play is all you should engage in, your old woman is not at the liberty to enjoy the same.
I hope I am not jealous of you at some level, because of this.
I look at your innocence through the endless stream of pictures on my phone every chance I get, asking myself why I would ever want to instruct anything into somebody so perfect. Why should a child so young be subjected to any rules of do-this-not-that, at all!
I have lost quite some sleep over this, love.
But what comforts me every time is your unfailing forgiveness.
While you catch on to the stupid things we say around you with a mental net, you have recently started repeating one statement in particular.
Every time you hug me apologetically, after having enraged me with your childish shenanigans, you gently whisper "I love you a big deal, Mommee".
This what I have whispered into your ears, every time guilt ate away a part of my heart for having been unfair to you, ever since you were born.
My heart grows a bit every time I hear you say this to me, now,
I love you a big deal too, my darling.
I will try to act better, as I wish you will too.
Love,
Maa.
Days seem to keep running away from me these days.
You would know this by the increasing lengths of intervals between my letters to you.
The truth is that I found myself with all the time in the world after you came into my life. You were are handful (an am sure still are), yes. But apart from feeding you. cleaning you and waiting for you to fall asleep, there was little work, if any, professionally speaking.
That I decided to build this blog in the form of a diary to you is the best I could have done with the first 12 months of our lives.
I say this because I published a book based on our letters. You probably know that as the little, 2.5-year-old you keeps chanting 'Me to Mommee' every now and then around me, much to my heart's delight.
I found a new flair in my own self through this one decision of taking up writing.
My career has taken a huge shift owing to the same and that is what has filled the free time in my life with writing assignments now.
Sadly, that keeps taking my time away from writing to you, love.
But, here I am now, and if you have caught on the phrases I keep speaking aloud around you, the you would know that this is the perfect opportunity for me to quote "देर आये, दुरुस्त आये".
I have started to feel the guilt upto my neck these days, for any time that I am away from you, baby.
But I also feel the need to take time away from you every now and then.
I guess this is how all mothers feel.
Speaking of this mother's bundle of joy, with time, your naughtiness has only grown in leaps and bounds, so much so that I keep losing my temper these days more often than not. But the minute I lose it on you is followed by an hour of self-loathing towards myself.
And that has a major chunk of reason sunk in those pitiable-cat-eyes you pop out crying aloud.
It hurts but so does your increasing level of mischief.
I find myself torn between letting you be and inculcating discipline in you.
It just seems impossible to have both!
And I know this because I have struggled with trying to be nice, and then not so nice, with no major results showing up.
You seem to just love throwing things around, kick-boxing everything & everyone in sight, acting with utmost stubbornness everywhere, refusing to follow directives and, your perennial favourite, procrastinating sleep.
All of these affect my day, and my mood, in a really adverse manner.
You see, unlike you, I cannot have all of the day get away without having a thousand errands to run.
I wish I did, but that would be the precise definition of wishful thinking!
While play is all you should engage in, your old woman is not at the liberty to enjoy the same.
I hope I am not jealous of you at some level, because of this.
I look at your innocence through the endless stream of pictures on my phone every chance I get, asking myself why I would ever want to instruct anything into somebody so perfect. Why should a child so young be subjected to any rules of do-this-not-that, at all!
I have lost quite some sleep over this, love.
But what comforts me every time is your unfailing forgiveness.
While you catch on to the stupid things we say around you with a mental net, you have recently started repeating one statement in particular.
Every time you hug me apologetically, after having enraged me with your childish shenanigans, you gently whisper "I love you a big deal, Mommee".
This what I have whispered into your ears, every time guilt ate away a part of my heart for having been unfair to you, ever since you were born.
My heart grows a bit every time I hear you say this to me, now,
I love you a big deal too, my darling.
I will try to act better, as I wish you will too.
Love,
Maa.
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