My Lady of the Lantern

Yesterday was a new chapter. M refused to eat. And he mostly declares his dislike by first tasting the food and then declaring Yay or Nay by the pursing of his lips.  But yesterday was different because he just would not open his mouth, and was fussy and cranky. In fact, he was not even happy with milk.  " You must be hungry. This is food. You can eat it. I eat it. It is not that bad. Open up your mouth. Darn it! ", was the mental chatter in my brain.  Then we discovered something called mouth ulcers . One bugger was right on the inside edge of the left side of the lips. I could not see anymore.  My mind perceives two possible causes. One is that he was put on antibiotic on Saturday, and it was his first time on that medicine. Also, M does have a white coating on his tongue, which is white because of his milk residue, and on the last visit the pediatrician had mentioned about cleaning his tongue regularly. Maybe that is the cause? Or it could be a co...

Viral to Viral to Viral! M has viral. Again. Doctor finally added antibiotic.  - - - Work has been skate speed. The way things are currently, I can raise my head from the desk only in the third week of August. *cue: Milton Waddams look* I miss my office downtime. - - - After my aunt died, my reaction was far less profound than my brother's. He made a collage and wrote a letter about what he learnt from my aunt. That collage and letter were so phenomenal that they were 'widely' used during the ceremonies and elsewhere. The letter is now enlarged, and placed in my deceased aunt's house. Nothing so creative struck me. I could not channelize my angst the way he did.  My mum left for another country today (she has gone to stay with my bro for a couple of months). And I am not feeling very nice about her absence. - - - Figlia shows signs of "growing up" and maturing more and more these days. Because she has to wake up early t...

Little man is down!  He is dealing with a second bout of viral fever in as many months. He is cranky, and clingy. He went to sleep on time last night, but woke up at 11 pm, and believed it was morning.  He repeated the same at 2:30 a.m.-ish. Then he finally woke up at 5:45 a.m. All the night wake-ups had got more to do with rising temperature than hunger.  His temp fell every time I gave him paracetamol but it never went to normal. He remained a little warm throughout the night.  Saving grace was that Figlia was pretty good today morning, and not only brushed her teeth and peed without fuss, she even got ready to take her bath. I was there with her when the bus showed up at the pick-up point, and she went in happily.  Figlia has made friends with a much older girl who boards the same bus, and the girl gave her space to sit next to her in the bus.  Did I tell that DH is out of town? And won't be back till tomorrow late morning? ...

Figlia is exactly 3 1/2 years old today. Wow. I remember recording the date every month in her first year, a sort of crossing the calendar that we were finally getting to the 12th month. And this loosened up after she hit 18 months. And now, it is more an acknowledgement of year(s), than months. M is a 'latent variable', a sly mister who looks calmer than his sister but is upto one thing or the other. He is a week short of turning 8 months old. Mister is caterpillar crawling! It's cute, really. He uses his belly, elbows and knees the most to push himself ahead.  He sits well if one makes him sit, but is not sitting himself up right now. Figlia has started choosing clothes for M (especially the clothes he wears in the evening)! M in turn, has special interest in anything and everything his older sister is holding. He tore a page off an activity book that was in Figlia's hand, before she or I could do anything significant about it.  Figlia receives M ...

My aunt died today. She was my mum's oldest sister. She was not well for a long time - a rainbow collection of severe diabetes and other ailments that get magnified by advanced age. And yet her zest for life and sheer will power kept her afloat.  There is a difference between the dying and the dead. The dead are dead and the dying are dying, and hence still alive. The life story comes to a pit stop at death, but the dying are still writing pages of their own, albeit slower than the active ones.  While one expects the dying to die eventually, and obviously are more mentally prepared to see the event happen, the magnitude of the hole that gets left behind can be felt only when it has been created - when suddenly, the last breath drawn becomes the last breath.  You know they are dying but you dont know that today would be the last day. I did not cry.  I am far away and won't be present for the last rites. My mum is currently on her way to be there f...

I am tied up at work. And yet, I tend to take out minutes for myself while at workplace, because it is easier to do it here than at home. Last week, I applied for a higher position at my workplace. Overall, the resume looks good, but the last few years, some categories have suffered because I have been away for extended periods from my workplace.  Between 2011 and 2014, I have claimed maternity leave thrice! I need to later also submit a crisper resume that is quantitative, and will focus on only the last three years, and boy, does it suck! In it,  I am meeting the criteria, but by the edge of my teeth. If only both - the whole resume and the partial one are taken together, does it look any good. And then, I am not the only one vying the raise, so I have to make it work. Since the resume will be just one part of the evaluation that goes with the consideration to promote, I am hoping the other dimensions will help me. The very same week was M's brush with viral ...

I alternate between feelings of leaving L behind, and then re-live flashes of moments from "her time". I wonder about how things would be if she was here.  And how things would be if only she and Figlia were my children? What would she grow to be like? Would she be as feisty as her sister? And would Figlia's fire be more muted if she was the younger child? Or would Figlia have happened at all, if L had lived?  Somehow, holding M makes me closer to L. He is my last baby. Every day,  he grows up a bit more and the farther I go away from the stage of infancy. The relish I experience with M is different, and much calmer.   In his face, there is L's face.  ( There, I said it. I never said it before. I never say this to anyone .) His face is closer in its features to L than Figlia's.  If I made them stand together you would recognize them as siblings,  but there is a secret to his face that makes my heart weep with sadness and jo...