I recently read this article –

While its not very descriptive or anything, the title of the article just got to me. The glorification of motherhood. Its just so succinct and tells a million things in just 4 words! Every time I put up an Instagram post or talk about my parenting style, 2 things happen.

ONE – The first thing, I get comments from all well-wishers, who praise me on how I have it together, how my kids are cute/funny/hilarious/silly, and its just lovely and positive. And I do it too. Because that’s what you do as women, as mothers to each other. We constantly tell each other that we are awesome, our kids are awesome and that we are superwomen, because goddammit, we are! There is nothing more exhausting and life altering than living with mini-versions of yourself who will make you want to crawl back to your mother on your knees and promise to make a shrine to worship her.

TWO – The trolls. Omg, the sadistic, losers who just live off other people’s anxiety and fear. They constantly question talk shit about what you are doing and 99.9999% time tell you that you are fake or you suck. Either way, they don’t matter, so lets forget about them huh?

Coming back to the point of my post, glorifying motherhood. I feel a lot of emotions regarding it because like I said, becoming a mom was life-defining for me. BUT… and its a huge but, it wasn’t all beautiful and amazing. I resented being a mom so much initially, and I have more than once thought about how uncomplicated my life would be without them. Is that a bad thought to have? Yes, no?!? Either way I have them. I wonder if they are going to grow up to be GIANT screw-ups and would all this sacrificing be for naught?

That being said, I also enjoy a lot of things about being a mom. I am such a needy person (emotionally), that my children being dependent on me for cuddles, love, comfort etc is a humongous high. I love the talkative stage where 99% of what they talk is bullshit and hilarious. The crawling, the first smiles, the drunken walk, the baby babbles are all wonderful milestones and I’m so lucky to have not missed any of them (as of yet) with my children. I have an extremely supportive co-parent who helps out so much that I am able to leave my kids and go out too, when my neurotic mom brain allows me 🙂

But the Indian culture of treating your mother like God seems a bit absurd to me. I’ll admit, I thought/still think my mother is perfect. Like, I cannot imagine sacrificing my life at 23 to a demanding dictator and continue to study, have a career, and be an excellent homemaker. I know how flawed I am, and god lord, the number of times I have screwed up as a mom, at the ripe old age of 29 (when Arjun was born) is embarrassing and I definitely don’t think I am worthy of being treated special. I however, do need an award for keeping all of us fed and healthy, and mostly clean 😀

The only part of motherhood that I think is worth glorifying if that only a woman can be a mother. Only a woman can be strong and ambitious, loving and emotional, angry and happy, who can be a complex range of emotions and still come together to be a normal version for herself for her babies is the part that is amazing.


Battling on..

Everyday seems like a battle off late. I am constantly worrying about the kids falling sick to the extent where I am walking around with a thermometer on me at all times. And any time they seem even moderately warm, I am a wreck, especially with the Omlette, his health issues are making it worst for me because I am expecting something to explode around him.

And I feel so trapped in my head, in my feelings, and I feel ALL the emotions. I wonder sometimes… no, I seriously think I am going crazy. I cannot handle myself, my emotions now rule me and its scary.

Trying times

My little Omlette has been falling sick quiet repeatedly ever since I started work back in November. It could be a lot of things – teething, a bit of separation anxiety, missing our nursing sessions (he still refuses a bottle), and I also, figured with a school-going toddler at home, he was fighting a lot of germs his brother was bringing back.

But then, fevers and running noses, we were used to. What we were shocked to see and learn was him having febrile seizures when he started having fevers and he has pretty high fevers. We’ve tried everything, constantly monitoring him, giving him medication etc, but he just is so susceptible to them (falling sick/ fevers). The past month of February was the worst yet for us when he fell super sick and so did 80% of the people in his life – my mother, my in-laws, our oldest Cutlet, our maid, and the woman who would take care of him while I was at work (in my mother’s presence, not alone).

So, I whined about it online and offline as well.. and the one thing I was told repeatedly was that it was “evil eye”. And I am not sure what to make of it, I know I post pics of him on Instagram, but I post just as many of me & our house. And everyone does it, but their kids seem fine. I don’t ever post pictures of him to “show off”, its just my everyday life.

Somedays, I go on a sort of karma-thinking, wondering if my casualness to a lot of things is coming to bite my child instead of me. Is the universe so cruel that my kid is going through these trials and tribulations because of me? Is this going to be our everyday life? Where I am protecting him from everything and everyone, just because I don’t want someone’s “evil eye” on him?

Bottom line, I don’t know why or what, I just want my baby to be healthy and happy. I want him to grow stronger and not fall sick so often. I’m ready to make any sacrifice in that regard. In fact, I am considering quitting my job and just focussing on my kids for the next year.

Will that help?

An honest sort of a post

You guys, I am in a sort of low point in my life right now. And because I know I lead an extremely privileged life, it’s causing me so much guilt too. I’ve thought about it a lot, and wondered if I should be even putting this out there…. I am going through post-partum depression. Again.

This is so extremely upsetting for me because I really thought I made it through this time. I was enjoying this baby and his baby-ness in every possible way. And then, BAM, 3 months in, I get those tell-tale signs. I can’t sleep at night, I over-analyse every decision, I cry relentlessly, I shop excessively, and I lose my temper non-stop. 
I think I am one of those people with a weak mind and who is susceptible to depression. I’ve always been a quiet, introverted kid – the pride of every South Indian parent. But what I didn’t know then, was that I was battling a lot of demons as child. I was molested by a family member, I was ridiculously awkward, I was a complete nerd, and I just didn’t get along with anyone. I didn’t get along with anyone because in my head, I had already decided that they were going to be bored of me, or that I had nothing special to offer, or they’d mock me. So, I built this wall around me, and I stewed in my own dark, miserable thoughts. I was so lonely and scared, and being a child, it was terrible.

Enter the husband. Or rather, the neighbour kid, who was pure sunshine. This boy laughed and made others laugh all the time! He literally saved me from myself. And I remember telling him, that I don’t wasn’t going to open up to him that easily and if this was a summer flirty fling thingy, I’d be pissed as hell. His response, if its going to take that long, lets start dating now. Its been 22 years and honestly, dating that boy was the best decision, pre-teen me every made. 

I am not even going to lie and say its been perfect. Its not. Its been a lot of hard work and compromise from both of us to make this work. To stick by each other. We’ve been together so long, sometimes I feel we’ve created our own little world, with its eco system, that no one else can survive amongst us. But off late, even that is becoming tumultuous. 

Now, when I go into that dark place, I become destructive. Not physically, but emotionally. I start a fight, I become silent, I become angry, oh so ANGRY, and that anger is directed to the nearest living thing – Atom or Cutlet. Then, after I lash out, I become sad and start crying scaring the crap out of my children. I also have thoughts of suicide which is more alarming . Not like I will ever do that, but I think of what a considerate person I’d be if I want to kill myself. For example, I tell myself that I’ll drop my kids of with my mother, Atom with my in-laws, ask Anil how long it would take for him to come. 

It’s disturbing and I know I need therapy. I am getting help, but it’s such a slow process it scares me. I feel like I’ve been going through this so long, I want a resolution NOW. I am also trying to make an attempt to be happy for every silly thing. My Instagram is full of selfies, my babies, cracking jokes about my kids, husband, myself. But deep down, I feel like a fraud. Like I don’t think I am that happy. I wish I was that happy. 

So for now, the goal is to be happy like my Instagram profile. Because like my Instagram profile shows, I LOVE my kids, my puppy, my husband… I just need to learn to love myself!

Babies for days!

Over the past week, my big boy Cutlet turned 4(!!) years old and my littlest one turned 3 months old – the final trimester. On one hand, I cannot believe I have TWO children with their own personalities and so many times, I feel accomplished & proud that I have still kept them safe and alive.


I would LOVE another baby. There I said it. I literally have a 3 month old and I am already dreaming of having another baby. For those newborn-ness, for the waiting, the pregnancy, the kicks, and knowing that the baby & I are one body. My mother (who thinks 2 are enough) tries to scare me by asking me if I am ready for another boy? I honestly don’t care. Coming from someone who had 2 miscarriages and 2 healthy pregnancies, I know once pregnant, all every mother prays for is a healthy, happy baby. Gender is the last thing we think of, at least, the last thing the well-adjusted mothers think of. Would I like a girl? Maybe. Would I mind another boy? ABSOLUTELY NOT! I have the most adorable boys and I’d be crazy to say no to another one.

Off course, this is all hypothetical and maybe it’d never happen either because the husbane says he is done. He loves our family and he feels that its complete. While we had always talked about having 3 kids, he thinks now, with us growing older and with his work schedule, bringing another baby to the mix would be insane. I agree with him, but my goddamn ovaries don’t want to understand!!!

I just feel like we aren’t done yet. Even though I know that it would mean another c-section and that thought of being in the operation theatre awake is already making me break into cold sweat, I am willing to do it  all over again for another sweet babe.


I’m going to go ahead and say it already – 2017 sucks ass. With the exception of lil baby Omlette, nothing good has happened this year and I just need it to be done. 

While a lot has happened personally, I’ve also had a really tough year work-wise (my manager is not an easy person), the usually postpartum hormones, and a pretty bratty child. It makes me wonder if I am a weak person or if as I grow older my tolerance for bullshit is at an all time low. 

Some days I close my eyes, take a deep breath and tell myself – “today you will not yell at Cutlet, not get mad at your mom/sister/ in-laws, and not expect anything from your husband.” But I pretty much do all of the above within an hour of waking up. It’s so hard for me to not expect something from my family. It’s because I am such an introvert, and I have such few people in my life that I am close to; I give them my everything. My time, my energies, my love and when they don’t reciprocate, it bugs me to no end. A random tangent, but something I was wanted to just say.

And the people this year. OH-MY-GOD. I’ve had people commenting on me raising my baby with a dog, questioning me if I loved my dog more than my eldest, if I wasn’t worried about diseases with my dog around. For the record I hate saying “my dog”, I always refer to my 40 kilo dog as puppy or my oldest. That also is frowned upon. How I raise my kids without caps or mittens or sweaters. How I am gallivanting around 2 weeks post birth. The best was a relative telling me how brave I was for putting lipstick on while I was getting discharged from the hospital after having the Omlette 🤦🏽‍♀️

The only good thing that’s come from this year is that I’ve grown a thick skin. And my belief in my abilities as a mom (dog & human) is on point. I know I am doing the best I can and all I want is for my children to be healthy, safe, and happy.


OMG! It  has been so long. Too long. In the time since I last wrote..

  • I lost a bunch of weight (yay)
  • I got pregnant (yay yay)
  • We bought our dream house (boo.. home loans)
  • We had a baby (zillion yays)

So, yes! The biggest news is we had a baby. This baby that I dreamt off, since the Cutlet turned 1. The baby that I wanted even more desperately after the miscarriage in Jan 2015, the baby I am pretty sure my dad was waiting for during his final days. But the universe has a way of bringing everything together because my father passing away was a catalyst for all things to change in my life. I tried to be objective with my life and realised that I wasn’t getting pregnant because I was SO OBESE. So, I told myself, I’ll give myself 1 year to lose weight and then, for our 9th anniversary I was going to meet a fertility specialist to have this baby I so desperately wanted. I lost the weight and saw those 2 lines on the eve of our 9th anniversary. And the baby that was born in May of 2017, is so much like my father. He is born in the same month as my dad, is super laid back like my dad, and is just the perfect fit for us.


Oh, and we had a baby BOY! And boy oh boy (ha), did we have some unexpected reactions to that. For some god forsaken reason, people were pissed/sorry/apologetic because we had a boy and not a girl. For the record, I am not sure what the protocol is to produce a female baby. More importantly, WHY!?!? I mean, if there was anyone who had any right to be disappointed or happy or sad it should have been the husbane or me, no? Anyway, for the record, he (the Omlette) is nearly 2.5 months and is the best baby ever. He is happy, coos a lot, sleeps well, and is such a Amma’s boy (my favourite). Even more amazing, 6 months maternity leave which I am loving!!!

Anyway, that’s pretty much what’s been happening over here. I know I don’t blog much, but today I just needed to record this. I needed to make sure my baby Omlette was talked about somewhere ❤