Mother-daughter moments

Our Director tells me one day, "You have to go to Delhi. Make a presentation in front of top doctors in India and  convince them to give us some crore of rupees for a project. They'll going to chew you to bits, argue your every point with better informed and scientific counter-answers, and maybe have you for dinner. When you come back, you may need to see a therapist. By the way, the meeting is next week".

Okay, not exactly in those words, but that's what the meeting implies. Especially in this time frame :(

For moral support, I request my mother to please accompany me, and promised her one day of shopping. She agreed. Incidentally, the day of our flight was the day her sister and family were going to Dubai for an all-expense paid trip, via Kolkata.

So she tells me to book the tickets online. Myntra has tickets to Delhi, via Guwahati, reaching Delhi at 6 pm. Cost of ticket Rs 9000/-. Meanwhile the only tickets via Kolkata reach at 9 pm, and the price is Rs 11000/-

My irrational mother wants me  to get the ones stopping at Kolkata. The  stubborn me refuses.

One- The tickets are cheaper.
Two- We get to reach Delhi at 6 pm. Meaning we can have a reasonable dinner and a nice sleep.
Three-  We can meet my aunt and family everyday in Aizawl. Why pay more/waste time just for a few hours at an airport?

Mother's only rationale is that it would be nice to wait with my aunt in the airport. Minor cold war ensues. Mother huffs, 'Fine, I won't come along then!'. Stubborn me, 'Yes! Don't'. Men intervene. Aunt's flight is at 5 pm, we won't be at the same airport at the same time. So I win.

The question is, how can a dreamy, sentimental person like my mother have a practical, hard-headed, hard-hearted daughter like me?

The answer lies in the stars. She's a Piscean, and although she never read Linda Goodman's books, she conforms to her sunsign's directions and proves to be a little romantic, flamboyant and dreamy. While I, the Capricorn, am also proving how right sun signs can get.

Reflections

Sanga's whimpers wake me in the night. Maybe his sister hit him in his dreams, maybe he's cold, or hungry. Half-awake, I cover him with a quilt, put the bottle in his mouth, and just as quickly,  he goes back to sleep.

Most nights, I fall asleep just as quick. But on the bad nights, I toss and turn, the day's events unfolding like a movie in my head. I would recall the words I spoke, so candidly at the time...but in the middle of the night, they would come back to me, sinister, with doubled-meanings, and I would wonder if I hurt someone's feelings, or if I could have dealt with a certain incident more graciously.            

                                       

Sometimes I would think of all the things I should have done. Whom I should have called, what I should have said or written, at work, with friends or a relative. But I have to lie still, quadraplegic-like, or the kids would wake, and I would wait with baited breath for sleep, or morning to come rescue me.

Or more frequently, I would dwell upon my lack of social life. I would console myself, at least when I was single...I had friends! But now, it's just H and me, and the kids, and sometimes, our immediate family. Too many missed occasions, weddings, birthdays, dinners. Too many missed calls or even SMSes. And me, with too many routines, their all-important nap times, baby breakfasts, lunch, dinner and in-betweens. 

But frankly, my dear, I cannot change. Cannot forgive unmade beds, dirty floors, unwashed laundry, no matter if the old back is broken and the maids have gone. Cannot have the kids forgo their lunch or brunch or miss their naps, even if the clock will not give an extra hour to its 24. My true friends will forgive me, and wait, like me...for the kids to grow up, be big and strong, and wise beyond their years. Then we can have lunch, and dinner, shopping sprees, and travel to Timbuktu and the rest of the world.