Category Archives: Motherhood

Toddler Talk: The “Parents of Fussy Eaters” Support Group

There are few jobs as frustrating and just plain exhausting as feeding a toddler with fussy eating habits.

If toddlers were like camels, it wouldn’t matter as much; we could just stuff them with one really good meal a day and then relax while they subsist on the good stuff stored away in their humps or whatever. Unfortunately, they’re more like hyperactive hamsters that burn calories nonstop by running round and round in circles, so you need to feed them three times a day and add healthy snacks in between. The result? Your whole day pretty much revolves around planning what to give them at each meal, and making sure it’s ready on time. Then you need to wheedle them into actually trying the food, selling the dish like some desperate door-to-door salesman (“Paruppu sadam is Dora’s favourite, I swear!”), before finally spending an hour feeding it to them. By the time you’re done with one meal, it’s time to regroup and start thinking about the next.

There’s no step of this process that’s simple. Entire food groups need to be left out simply because your toddler has decided they’re “yucky”. There are no guarantees whatsoever — what was ‘in’ last week or even last night might be on the barf-list today.

And so, for all those parents out there who struggle with this meal after meal, snack after snack, day after day, I propose the creation of the Parents of Fussy Eaters (POFE) support group. This is a non-judgmental space, a place where no one will say, “Your child looks so thin! Has she lost weight?” and no one will blink an eye if you say she had banana chips and ketchup for dinner last night because that’s all she would eat.

We’ll be there for you when your toddler refuses to even taste the soup she claimed she LOVED just last week. We’ll hold your hand when she eats barely two morsels of the dish you spent all evening cooking for her (“It’s kaaram!”). We’ll listen while you rant about the way she ravenously ate curd rice — the one thing she will not touch at home — at your friend’s house, just moments after you’d finished assuring the friend that she definitely wouldn’t eat it. We’ll share in your wistfulness as you watch another child wolf down a full festival feast and wipe his ilai clean, while yours has eaten about one-fifth of a dosa. We’ll pat your shoulder understandingly when you confess that your child sometimes has lunch at 4 p.m. because breakfast took till noon. We’ll even help you lose that extra weight you’ve gained because of eating all those ghee/butter/cheese-filled delicacies your toddler wouldn’t finish. And provide therapy when you snap from having to watch the same cartoon over and over again three times a day, seven days a week, because it’s the only thing that makes your child eat.

You can call our helpline any time, after the trauma of breakfast, lunch or dinner, or after you’ve spent half an hour trying to feed your child half a banana, which now lies in little spit-pools all over your drawing room. You could get mad and decide to just let her eat whatever she wants. But you know you’ll pay the price for that with a night-long tummy ache session, because her idea of a balanced meal is probably chocolate cake and cola.

Instead, call us or attend one of our meetings. No one here will give you advice or thrust super-nutritious recipes on you, recipes so complicated that even the ingredients intimidate you, and no one will look horrified if you say your child hasn’t eaten any vegetable other than potato in three months.

At POFE, we’re simply here to listen to each other’s hair-raising, appetite-killing stories. And, in the process, help you keep your sanity through yet another long meal with your fussy eater.

TIPS:

1. Membership to the Parents of Fussy Eaters (POFE) support group is free. You’ve suffered enough.

2. You’re only required to prove adequate fussiness. Parents concerned that their kid didn’t go back for a third helping at the buffet need not apply.

3. The only advice we give at POFE is: toddlers are hardier than they seem. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Too much.

‘Toddler Talk’ is a weekly column that appears in The Hindu Metroplus. 

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Ganesh Chaturthi Conversations with the Daughter

Mmmm kozhukattais

Me: Look, kozhukattais! It’s Pillaiyar umachi‘s favourite food.

D: Will he eat it, amma?

Me: Yes! And then you can eat some too.

D: But I’m not an umachi!

***

Me: Today is Pillaiyar umachi‘s birthday, so we’re going to visit him at the temple.

D (thinks for a minute): How old is he?

Me (stumped): Uhm… I don’t know, baby. Thousands of years old.

D (firmly): No, I think he’s four or five years old.

Me : You’re right, you’re right.

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Toddler Talk: Telephones and Timbuktu

On toddlers and their enduring love affair with phones of all kinds

There’s something about cellphones. No, scratch that. There’s something about all phones. Toddlers simply love them. You might even say that they’re fixated on them.

It doesn’t matter whether they’re new-age smartphones or old-fashioned landlines, toy phones or cordless phones. If there’s a phone in sight, your toddler is going to want to fiddle with it, poke at it, talk on it, and of course, at the end, drop it with a resounding crash.

I used to think it was just cellphones, especially the smartphone variety. After all, they are exceedingly attractive. They look glossy, they take photos (ooh selfies!), they play videos and games, and they do fun things when you swipe their big screens. Most adults can barely put theirs down for a second, so how can you blame a two-year-old?

But then I realised that your average toddler simply doesn’t care about all these high-end features. My maid’s basic, phone-calls-only cell is of as much interest to my daughter as my swanky (well, it used to be, before it was scribbled on and dropped some 50 times) Samsung S4. In fact, the kid’s something of an authority on all the cellphones that enter our household. Put any five cells before her, and she can identify which belongs to whom effortlessly (she could probably do it blindfolded, by ringtone alone). All visitors have their phones duly inspected, and if your cell is missing, you can be sure she’ll find it and bring it to you with a triumphant, “Here it is!” (following full inspection, of course).

With landlines, the attraction is obviously that stretchy, spiral cord— getting hopelessly tangled in it, and staggering around like a tech-age mummy, or using it to drag the phone around like some sort of electronic puppy. Cordless phones, on the other hand, are perfect for tucking into the shoulder, just like mommy does while working, and striding about holding serious imaginary conversations. Both, of course, are perfect for putting through calls to Timbuktu by sheer trial and error.

But whatever the type of phone, the prerequisite is that it must work. Old, unused or disconnected phones will be ruthlessly rejected with a “No! It’s not working!” It must go beep-beep-boop when jabbed. It must have a dial-tone. That, really, is the only distinction a toddler demands of a phone.

Inexperienced, first-time mom that I was, I thought the solution was to buy her a toy phone. They’re colourful, make chirpy sounds – so she can’t deny that they work – and there’s no fear of radiation, or of calls being put through accidentally to the other end of the planet. She could even learn from them! Pleased with myself, I bought her a (ridiculously expensive) toy phone which taught numbers and counting. She ignored it magnificently. But she did love the red Spiderman phone that loudly sang “Appadi Podu, Podu, Podu” (a fusion phone!) that someone gifted her. And, of course, my cellphone, daddy’s cellphone, both sets of grandparents’ phones, the home phone, my friends’ phones…

The number of toy phones she owns has now gone up to three (including a sparkly pink one to go with her pink handbag). They mainly come in useful during play-dates, because even the most even-tempered toddler goes a little berserk when he sees a phone, and brawls inevitably break out. This way, each kid gets a phone to play with. One pretends to be her mom, and sighs over how busy she is. One calls Dora for help, because her car is stuck in the mud. And the last one … well, I can’t quite tell what her conversation’s about since it appears to be in an alien language, but clearly it’s of great significance.

Then they abandon their phones and aim for the home phone/my cellphone. Because when it comes to telephones and toddlers, there is only one truth– there can never be enough beeping-booping fun.

Anyone called Timbuktu today?

Tips:

  1. Try to restrict play time with cellphones to avoid too much exposure to radiation.
  2. All phones are hot-beds of germs, so try not to let the child handle them too much…
  3. Oh, who I am kidding? Just give the kid the phone already.

‘Toddler Talk’ is a weekly column published in The Hindu MetroPlus. An edited version of this article can be found here.

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Toddler Talk: No! Nooooo! NononoNO!

To preserve the sanity of parents everywhere, I propose the creation of ‘Say No to Your Toddler Day’
It’s been one of those days. Since she woke up this morning, my daughter has said ‘No!’ to:

– Brushing her teeth

– Taking off her diaper. Putting on her diaper.

– Putting on underwear. Taking off her underwear.

– Pooping on the potty. Not pooping in the potty.

– Eating breakfast.

– Eating lunch.

– Eating dinner.

– Drinking water. Drinking milk.

– Wiping her face. Wiping her hands. Wiping her nose.

– Having a bath. Wiping herself dry after the bath.

– Putting on her clothes. Taking off her clothes. Putting on hair clips. Taking off hair clips. Putting on shoes. Taking off shoes.

– Combing her hair. Tying up her hair.

– Taking a nap. Sleeping at night. Especially sleeping at night.

(She also almost said no to cartoons, but caught herself just in time).

The nos range from ladylike and British-accented (thanks to the very propah ‘Peppa Pig’, her current cartoon muse) to loud and guttural (“Noaa!”), from a long-drawn out “Noooooo” for moments of greater stress, and the very emphatic “NononoNO!” for those times when she’s really upset and just one ‘No’ won’t do (like when she has to be parted from some hopelessly dreadful Hello Kitty toy in the store or Peppa Pig needs to go beddy-bye).

What really gets to you is the sheer irrationality behind the nos. Not wanting to take a bath or to eat idli you can kind of understand. But during the Terrible Twos, your toddler will say no even to things she’s apparently wanted for months. My daughter, for instance, had been asking for ‘new red shoes’ for ages. It came up every time we dressed up or went to a store. So finally, on a day when I was feeling particularly kind and magnanimous, I took her to a shoe shop.

“Look, red shoes! Do you like them?” I said smugly, expecting ‘wows’ and hugs and excitement.

What I got instead was a big fat “No!”

Fifteen minutes later, we’d pulled out every red shoe her size in the store, and she refused to put her foot into even one of them. “Noooooo! NononoNO!”

I was harassed, the shoe salesman was annoyed and the other customers were thoroughly amused. When the salesman turned away to talk to someone else, I slunk quietly out of the shop, carrying my barefooted daughter, who was now refusing to put on the old shoes she’d worn to the shop.

And so, in honour of parents everywhere who have survived days like this, I propose the creation of “Say No to Your Toddler Day”. You might say, well, parents say no all the time. Ah, but those are sensible nos, when you’re trying to stop your toddler from eating plastic beads or Play-Doh, or preventing them from painting the sofa red or ‘flying’ off the dining room table. Those are tiresome, tiring everyday nos, which lead to frustration and a strong desire to burst into tears on your part.

What I propose is more radical. On this special day, you, the parent, get to be utterly irrational. On “Say No to Your Toddler Day”, you can say no to any random thing you want, anytime. In other words, for a day, you get to be two again. For instance:

Toddler: Peppa Pig!

You: No!

Toddler: Dora!

You: Nooooo!

Toddler: Barney!

You: NononoNO!

(and so on)

It can even have the unintended side effect of making a truly contrary toddler do whatever you want her to. For example:

You: No banana today. No! No! No!

Toddler: Banana!

You: Nooooo!

Toddler: I want banana!

You: NonononNO!

Toddler: Bananaaaaaaaaa!

If you feel a day of such randomness on the part of a parent will be detrimental to the delicate psyche of your toddler, you can ensure that there’s another primary care provider around to actually do the feeding and clothing etc. of the toddler. And you can go around saying no to the adults in your life, which can be just as satisfying.

Significant Other: What’s for dinner?

You: No! NononoNO!

All in favour of ‘Say No to Your Toddler Day’ say NO!

Tips:

-You need to practice those nos. No more sounding like a stern parent. Feel the joy of being utterly irrational and let that “NO!” rip.

-Go for the ‘no’ length and style most natural to you. That will allow you to clock in more nos a day.

-Shoot for about 58.2 nos a day (a typical toddler average). As you get better at it, you can increase the number.

‘Toddler Talk’ is a weekly column published in The Hindu MetroPlus. 

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Miscellaneous Toddlerisms – Part II

1. Granddad: Where are your bangles?

Disha: I don’t have my bangles. *pause* I only have my arm.

2. The Fairy Tale Effect

Me: Disha! Please sit down!

Disha: Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!

3. The Dora Effect

Disha (standing in front of a shut door): Abre! abre!

 

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Miscellaneous toddlerisms

baby doll

Impossible toddler goals-

1) D: Amma, I want to lie down on my lap.
Me: You mean you want to lie down on amma’s lap?
D (bending over and twisting her head onto her knee): No! I want to lie on D’s lap!

2) Wanting to sleep on six-inch long dolly beds, and coveting her baby doll’s clothes and shoes (“I want! I want!”)

Accurate toddler misinterpretations:

1) Me (being pretentious): Excuse-moi
D (cheerfully): Excuse amma!

2) Me: Let’s go to the library, D
D: I love going to the libraread!

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Thank you for the music… Not

‘Donna donna’ — Joan Baez at her soulful best. It’s a melancholy but melodious Yiddish theatre song about a calf being led to slaughter, its lyrics filled with solemn symbolism.

Not exactly what you’d call a children’s song.

But some folks in Chinese toyland thought differently:

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. That is what they did to ‘Donna donna’ (please don’t miss the electronic barnyard chirps in between). What I really want to know is, why? What was the thought process here? Why this particular song instead of, say a ‘Baa baa blacksheep’ or even a ‘My bonnie lies over the ocean’?

Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that there was some sort of American folk music bias in the song selection. So what were the companion pieces, you ask? Some Dylan, some Simon & Garfunkel, maybe some Joni Mitchell? Nope. Pressing each successive button (green and fish shaped, please note) was an adventure in musical randomness. What followed in tinny, cacophonous succession was: ‘Polly put the kettle on’, ‘Jingle bells’, ’12 days of Christmas’, ‘Oh Susanna’ and oh yes, not to forget Vivaldi’s Four Seasons (I’d upload that too, but it’s just too heartbreaking).

Of these, ‘Donna donna’ was the hardest to figure out (it was the most mangled by far) and if it wasn’t for one of those Android apps that name a tune for you when you hum it, we wouldn’t have figured it out at all. It was the husband’s brilliant idea, and so, to the daughter’s increasing annoyance, mummy and daddy sat hunched over her (usually unpopular) toy, playing the tune over and over, and then humming it into daddy’s phone. Not our finest hour as parents, but the sense of elation we felt once we’d placed the song made it all worthwhile. As we played ‘Donna donna’ on youtube, it was as though, finally, one of life’s mysteries had been solved. A puzzle piece fallen into place. Things made sense again. As we high-fived and the daughter whined, it seemed we would prevail over the diabolical designers in Chinese toyland.

But, alas, it was not to be. Fired up by our success, we tried, tried, and tried again to place the last two unidentified, elusive green-fish button songs. But they were just so tuneless, so utterly random, that even the musical app finally threw up its hands in despair and crashed. It really gave its all first though… it suggested everything from classical pieces to Spanish dance songs. But we had to admit defeat at last. Whatever technological strides man makes, some mysteries must remain. It is the way of the world (and really crappy toys).

(Just out of curiosity — can you, dear readers, do better than the app? Can you figure out what these dratted tunes are? The husband and I would be very grateful):

Edited to add: Woohoo! My 100th post on this blog! 🙂

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The Toddler Exercise Regimen (TER)

Watching my toddler and her BFF (yes, apparently you can have besties that young) bounce around our flat this evening, I had a moment of inspiration. We don’t need to pay thousands of rupees for gym memberships we never use, or sign up for the latest neo-hippie fad workout in the city in a desperate effort to lose weight. No. All we need to do is to the incorporate the Toddler Exercise Regimen (TER) into our daily lives, and we’ll be burning off calories even as they’re ingested right through the day. Much like your average, live-wire two or three year old does.

Allow me to elaborate on some of the ways you can make the TER part of your life:

1) Wake up in the morning and bounce on the bed 10-15 times. Singing/yelling at the top of your voice is optional.

2) Finish breakfast and promptly run round and round in circles around your dining room/kitchen.

3) Hop like a frog/kangaroo/rabbit all the way to the car and again from the car to the office/store/miscellaneous destination. Animal sound effects optional.

4) While taking a break during the workday, climb onto your desk/chair and jump down. Repeat 10-15 times. Yelling “wheeeeeeee” is optional.

5) Instead of chatting on the phone or posting on Facebook or gossiping at the watercooler, zoom up and down office or apartment building corridors playing tag with friends/colleagues. Alternatively, if you’re feeling kinda anti-social, just zoom around by yourself, pretending to be an aeroplane or a superhero.

6) Instead of vegging out in front of the TV in the evening, jump up and down squealing (it might actually make whatever braindead TV show you’re watching seem more interesting).

7) Before you sleep at night, bounce on your bed another 10-15 times. Having a tickle-fight with a loved one is optional.

Easy as that. With these few simple steps, you can keep your weight down, your heart healthy and still eat pretty much anything you want to. If you ever find yourself slipping, just go around and spend time with the toddler closest to you. He or she will be happy to keep you on your toes. Literally.

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Results of this morning’s Bored Toddler Olympics

 Throwing multi-coloured balls onto pink blow-up chair (note: participant disqualified for not maintaining required distance from chair while throwing)

Emptying contents of salt shaker onto dining table : Gold awarded to Disha for spreading the salt evenly at fastest speed, but subsequently taken away for trying to mix diaper rash cream into salt

Running round and round in circles in the drawing room: Gold awarded to Disha for miraculously not stumbling over the few hundred toys on the floor

Tickling and rolling around the floor giggling: Gold shared by Amma (tickling) and Disha (giggling) for superb coordination and teamwork

Pooping in the potty (sort of): Gold to Disha! Go go go Disha!

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Ten minutes in the life of a doll

I lay on on my toddler’s play mat tonight, overcome with a sort of lethargy, apathy, almost. Couldn’t get myself to move for any reason. She needed dinner… she needed her medicine… she needed to go to bed. For about 10 minutes, I just shut out those constant “mom-reminders” that ring in my head from morning to night, from the moment she wakes up to the moment she goes to bed at night. I didn’t want to think about everything that needed to be done, all the balls that I’m juggling, all those schedules that needed to be maintained. I just wanted to be, just another object lying on my daughter’s play mat.

And so I lay there. She was sitting right by me, reading a book. She stuck her foot into my nose and mouth a couple of times. Sat on my hip and bounced, announcing in delight that she was “jumping on amma”. She clambered over me, this way and then that, several times. She put her snack bowl over my face like an oxygen mask and watched me with the kindly attention of a ward nurse, to see how I’d react. I didn’t. It afforded her considerable entertainment, and for me it was strangely liberating. My day, just like every other day, had been spent monitoring what she was doing and wasn’t doing… “wear your clothes!” “don’t pull off your underwear!” “don’t throw the cup!” “come for your bath!”.  Now, since I was just another object on the mat, I could let it all be. For those ten minutes, it didn’t matter that she was sitting there playing bare-bottomed or that her cup lay in the far corner of the drawing room.

She lay next to me and played with my hair, humming under her breath. Then she gave me a hug and said, “Love you too, amma!” (the “love you” from my side was clearly a given). Then she went back to reading her book, her big toe lodged in my nostril again, apparently utterly contented. The child who’d spent the entire evening whining and clinging to me had disappeared. Some vestige of energy returned to my limbs and I sat up slowly. I reached for the discarded Peppa Pig undies, and wonder of wonders, she put it on without a fuss. Then I hoisted myself off the mat, ready for the dinner to bedtime drill.

My 10 minutes of suspended animation turned out to be the best thing I’d done all day. I’ve always wondered what it felt like to be one of my daughter’s favourite dolls. Contrary to what I’d assumed, it wasn’t a bad life at all.

***

The post was written in response to the Weekly Writing Challenge: Object over on The Daily Post.

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