I hate the dentist...

No, I should not write a “funny” article on this. The son will kill me when he grows up.

Plus the pain he went through during those minutes… no , there was definitely NOTHING funny in that!!

But, like I keep saying, once the pain is over, the story needs to be told in a way which can be remembered not with pain but with an element of humour in it.

One fine morning it was time to visit the dentist. Our dentist had gone bankrupt, hence the need to look for a new one in the neighbourhood. Fresh registration, hence an introduction visit!! All pretty simple.Till here.

However, the moment Arno settled down on the chair ,we were informed that the front tooth needs to be pulled out !!
Now there is a bit of history attached to the two front teeth.

Last year during summer, Arno had a bad fall from his bicycle. Both front teeth were damaged, one had to be pulled out then, the other could wait, the doctor said. I guess, the wait was over. 
Once this news reached his ears, Arno freaked out,”Mama!!, YOU said it is just a ROUTINE check!!”. I know, I said that.

The doctor, a very young guy (looked fresh out of college and a few years older than Arno himself !!) was a bit taken aback by this reaction. He made a face as if he expected the 6-yr old to jump with glee , smile and hug him with a “love you”!! WHY on earth was this kid freaking out?

He thought he should explain to Arno what the problem with his teeth was (I was actually pretty happy about this idea…kids these days are KEEN for the explanation…our dumb days of not-being-explained-anything-because-you-are-small are gone..). But unfortunately (read it as lack of experience dealing with children), he started describing the situation in medical terms (how the bacteria at the root of the tooth can gradually decay tooth structure and the decay can advance to the pulp hence pulling the tooth is often the treatment of choice). I am not kidding…

This is not the language you use to explain to a child why his tooth needs to be pulled out!!

The child was NOT HAPPY, clearly. Whatever comfort was left in him vanished as soon as the doctor took out his needle to give him the anaesthesia. It was a blunt “ I do not want any injection”. Fullstop. When this sentence did not work, he started crying, small sobs at first, big loud howls after the injection. The anasthesia unfortunately did not work. After three such injections Arno was so angry that he started saying “pain” for every movement of the doctor. He howled, protested, shouted, tried wriggling down from the chair….the young doctor was totally zapped by his behavior. Thankfully, there was an experienced nurse by his side ( I have started replacing the word “older” with “experienced” these days..dont ask me why). She was trying her best to comfort the child in a more “philosophical” language. What she said was,

“We know that you are in pain Arno, but we are trying to help you, for your future”

Arno, by this time was beyond all such smooth talking…he was in pain....plus pain enhanced by anger…plus pain enhanced by helplessness on this chair, mouth open! So he replied (to the nurse),

“Do you even know the meaning of HELP? I did not know HELPING means GIVING PAIN”..

The mother although not exactly proud of the way the son said this……could not help smiling…

Kids these days are smart…I was super dumb at six, am sure, could never have constructed such a sentence on my own….

[The last sentence needs to be deleted before Arno starts reading the blog]

;-)

Mother - son bonding time

Not that I want it to happen again. I hate it when Arno is sick....
But since we need to look at the positive side of everything ALWAYS, hence I come up with this post and qualify this as "Mother Son bonding time"
Arno has viral fever for the last three days. I am home with him.There is fever, headache, crankyness, coughing, irritation..etc etc.. Under such circumstances, the "strict" mom needs to transform for a few days. Transform into something different..something to pamper the kid....whatever makes him smile......
So mother transforms and child JUST LOVES THIS NEW MOM!! [imagine the shock he gets when the fever is gone and so is the "new mom"]

Cartoons at 9:30 am: OK [What??]
Chicken nuggets for lunch: OK [Thats ok]
Wii-ing for more than 30 mins: OK [say it again!!]
Cartoon channel on: OK [O God, give me the strength to carry on]
Pizza for dinner: OK
Pizza ON the couch??? ::: ALSO OK [Believe me its not so easy to maintain my new role]


The kid is too surprised to even believe what is happening. I am sure he pinched himself couple of times in my absence to check that he was not dreaming when I said YES to " Mama, can I watch Toy story AGAIN? " . During lunch time, the " new" mama even offered, "Arno would you like to have the chicken nuggets on the couch while watching Toy Story?" Wow...as the words spilled out of my mouth, I could not believe my ears...Little Arno was OVERJOYED! Inspite of the fever, he did manage to give me a wonderful smile..sort of tired, shocked and a surprised smile!! We chatted together on the couch munching on chips and chicken nuggets (I tried my best not to pay attention to the crumbs that fell on the couch and the carpet). Arno was visibly happy. The sick child transformed into a chattering happy child explaining to me the pranks of Buzz light year and Woody..(I have no clue whether this was the paracetamol or the "new mom" that brought about this transformation)...we played a game of chess after that, painted some pictures, watched SOME MORE movies...
We just bonded.

It was dinner time..Finally the "new" mom decided to get the " old mom" back. I cooked a healthy chicken stew.

I realized such transformations are not only necessary but also fun!

Mama barir moja **

We were visiting Bangalore where my brother stays. For Arno, it was heaven..lot of rules were allowed to be broken and the grandparents made most of the decisions rather than the "strict" mom. The best part was ...."you ask for something and you get it". I was offcourse struggling with my inner self trying to appear "cool", feel "chill", react "normal" and sound like a "good mother". Several instances, the urge to box the ears was so strong...............anyway....coming back to the point ;
One of the days when Arno had gradually built up his confidence level to a point where he thought that he can basically get anything and everything , he asked my brother if he can PLAY with the "Chairmans trophy --best employee award" . It is a wonderful glass trophy kept with other such awards in a nice glass cabinet. For Arno , it was very simliar to the "Piston Cup" from the movie Cars ,hence the urge to PLAY!!!!
I said NO. Fullstop.
NO WAY!
He asked again.......NO.....again.....NO.....then I thought it might be wise to try to EXPLAIN PROPERLY (most of the time a proper explanation works much better than a blunt NO).
So I started to "explain" to him how important the trophy was to my brother.
I said (temper totally under control), "Arno, these are not piston cups from movies, these are REAL rewards which my brother got...these are trophies that people get for good work after they are 30".
He said, "Mama, you are WAY MORE THAT 30, how come you dont have these??"
........... A minute of silence.................................

ps: O God Almighty, please give me the wisdom to stop a sentence at the right moment. [Why , why , why did I not stop my last sentence after "good work" ? ]

**(english translation : fun at maternal uncles place)"

Signed "with love"

I am a piece of paper
Light pink with a tiny rose at the corner,
Waiting to be written on.

The wait is long now, it was different before.
These days, I know I am not needed any more..................

Before,
When she picked me gently up,
Her excited heart beat I could hear,
As she sat with a pen in her hand,
Excitement and anticipation, hard to bear
I could see her flushed face,
Trying to weave her thoughts in line,
A slight tremble of hand as the pen touched me ,
Flowing emotions, the pleasure was all mine.
The occasional breaks, as the pen paused,
Fond memories made her smile,
The hug, the kiss, the endearments,
I could share the intimacies, all the while.
A drop of tear, a smudge on the ink,
As she wrote "yours and yours only"
Blurred vision with more drops to come,
If only I could hug her tight, she was sad and lonely.
It was signed "with love", and then a small hesitation before she let me go,
Sealed with a kiss one last time, I was carrying her heart, you know.

Today,
There is a keyboard and you just have to "type"
Life has options, you can "chat" or you can "skype".
"Friends" are "added" with a "request" all the while;
"Smileys" are "entered" to show that you smile,
The "mouse" these days is stronger than the pen;

I lay unhappy in the dark store room waiting,
Till someone picks up the pen again...................



Good Old Days....

Days of pure fun, days of innocent existence,
The period of time is frozen in my mind.

A time of life when life is so beautiful,
Struggling as mad, yet each moment a pleasure;
Silly pranks, stupid jokes, meaningless banter,
Forever to treasure!

Each day a new day to live,
No tomorrow to care for,
The Profs face is the only source of stress,
Some tests, a few classes, low decibel giggles,
Paper rockets flying behind his back,
A sort of “cool” carelessness!!

Each friend – a lifetime friend,
Hot gossip, funny emotions, infinite support,
A bond stronger than blood,
Promises independent of consequences,
Some kept, some broken,
All based on love, pure love unspoken.

Each moment a Kodak moment,
Some happily coloured, few fading grey,
Nicely album-ized, if there is such a verb.
There is no going back.
Turning the pages from time to time and letting my mind wander…………

Focus! Focus! Focus!

7:45 a.m

I firmly suspect that the hands of the clock move faster at this time of the day than they do the rest of the day. Otherwise why would I see 7:00 only a few minutes back ? I just don’t know..All I know is that I have to hurry …leave home by 8:05 in order not to be terribly late for school.

I put the milk in the microwave, the bread in the toaster , the cornflakes in the bowl and shout at the top of my voice ( maybe the 29^th time)….”Arno, where are you? Breakfast is served” . The past tense is used purposely otherwise the little master adds the time of the microwave to his “lazily-finishing-his playing-and-coming-down-the-stairs” routine! I Go back to kitchen, take the milk out, take the bread out……

The cornflakes are now indeed on the table, the son is nicely seated in front, the mother is busy instructing him on the speed with which he should finish the bowl. At the same time , with her back to the table she is also spreading butter on her toast (multitasking and all that!!). The little one fiddles with his spoon, fiddles with the dry cornflakes, fiddles with whatever is on the table. The eating process is extremely slow, not because of the hunger, but because of the lack of focus! That’s what the mother thinks!

The instructions start very nicely…” please Arno, eat quickly , we will be late for school”. Child begins to eat at a speed much much lower than the speed stated minutes before by the focused mother.

Gradually the tone goes an octave higher, words like ‘Please’ just drop off.

“Arno, Quick! We don’t have all the time in the world..EAT!”. Child continues eating but still at a very very slow speed.

I proceed to make myself a good cup of tea. That eats away my 3.5 mins. I turn around only to see the little one holding a cornflake in his hand , looking at the ceiling and even SMILING, mouth empty! One flickering moment of anger sparks..all this while did I not make myself clear? Clear about the speed ? clear about the need to focus on food? So I shout, “Arno! FOCUS! FOCUS FOCUS……..”

He looks down from the ceiling as if waking up from a bad dream (in this case that of a witch screaming at him) and looks at me patiently , smiles and says…” You know what Mama, yesterday when Tom was eating cornflakes, Jerry walked up behind him and………………..”

I had to smile.

Thank you God for creating small five year olds who don’t focus!! What an uninteresting world that would have been if EVERYONE focused……………

The launch of the son

Yes , now I know EXACTLY how Mithun da felt when Mimoh was launched!This comparison goes ONLY to the extent of how a parent feels when for the first time your little one walks on the stage, grabs the mike and starts to perform! The comparison ends here, please!

;-)

17th April, 2010. As the day dawned, I woke up with a sinking feeling in my stomach, its the day when A-junior is going to perform. Its a Bengali assosiation program to celebrate the New Years, Poyla Boishakh as we call it..

Sukumar Ray is a household name for any Bengali kid (do not know about the current generation, though). Atleast when we grew up , Sukumar Rays ABOL TABOL adorned the bookshelf of almost every bengali kid. This is a collection of poems, stories, articles, dramas etc which is EVERGREEN..the pleasure of reading it has absolutely no relation to the readers age! you enjoy it at 5, at 25 ,at 55 and so on....
I needed to give this introduction to make the reader understand why "Bhalo re bhalo" was chosen for A-junior to be launched.
It all started with grabbing the book ( which by the way was inherited by A junior from the senior), trying to explain what we are about to do, trying to judge by his reaction if at all this is feasible, trying to explain some more the meaning of the poem, getting him hooked on to it, memorizing it (first myselfand then junior), getting some actions planned and so on...This all fits in 3 lines dear friends, but the real task was tedious, long and at some points totally "give it up" situation.
Step 1:I made a copy of the poem and put it up on the refrigerator with A-s favourite magnet!
Step 2: Started reading the poem whenever we are in the kitchen
Step 3: Making the little one laugh and enjoy centain lines by explaining the meaning ..for eg: Tiki-o bhalo, taak -o bhalo..
Step 4:Ask him to say after me...in other words get it memorized.
Step 5:
Step 6:......
After innumberable such steps, the kid was ready.(almost). However, the night before the program he said NO! I WLL NOT SAY THIS....Can you imagine my face?
I bribed him, cajoled him, scolded him.........nothing worked. ..I gave up.
But then, BINGO, 5 mins before the program started he wanted to do it.......
My pulse starts racing, my heart skips a number of beats, am thinking about the lines on which he might be stuck..etc etc...
So up he goes on stage. After that nothing else mattered any more.....good or bad...I did not care...

The little one just performed, the crowd clapped, I really did not hear anything.....

It was a pleasure.

It was such a pleasure to see the "little" one grow up........

To watch your small kid up on the stage.....its a pleasure.

To see him enjoy doing it...its a pleasure.

To hear the applause..its a pleasure.

It was one of the most enjoyable moments of my life.