That left me and the mother next-door enough time to drink tea and chat about everything and sundry and lament our heart about why our kids simply refused to eat anything edible or cooked by their respective moms!
There, really, is something heartwarming about having good neighbours. For one, it makes you want to be good neighbourly folks. Then, if you need just one green chilly for the raita and can't be bothered to run down to the vegetable vendor four storeys below, you have a door to knock at, so it shall be given to you.
This joy that I am revelling in is being shadowed by the utter dread (hand on my heart) I am feeling at the prospect of Abi starting school in April. He loves sitting for a moment or two in the school bus, whenever one of the other kids is late. My heart knows, it will not be the same once he does it for real!
I started him in playschool two weeks ago (cringing at my tardiness) and the first week was smooth sailing. Then , after having played with all the toys there, he got tired of the whole business and now, clings to me wailing at the top his voice every day.
Sometimes, in the morning, he hides behind the curtains so I can't find him in time for school. Ingenuous are his ways, but not cute enough to stop determined-mother-on-mission to get him an idea of school.
After a month of school, its summer holidays and we take off for Kerala where we spend time with both sets of grandparents. At the end of the carefree days there, it is almost always a culture-shock for me as every responsibility falls back on my shoulders and I am homesick to the core.
Apart from that, I am excited at the prospect of having 8.00 am to 1.00 pm as a child-free zone. I have an offer to teach part-time at a college. I am blushing as I write that I will, in case I take up the offer, be teaching journalism! My journalism guru, will probably resign from his post as dean of the institute I studied in, if he hears word of this.
Now, this job is guaranteed by my friend, who in addition to being an editor at a magazine, has been teaching next-gen journalists for three years. I have to admit, him teaching is not the same as me teaching at all. He has work experience and I got married soon after internship and until three years ago, only wrote emails.
Maybe, it would be better for humanity, if I took the year to revive myself. I do, do feel drained and my neck always hurts.
*smiles*
It would be so nice to have two hours to myself five days a week. I could read all the books I wanted to. Maybe, go wander around in the nearby malls. Explore a by-lane, a new street. Deep clean my house. Enroll in a gym to feel fit and good... and get rid of some of the cellulite.
I could take a nap, sighs! I could get me a massage... a facial, where I have time for the face pack to actually dry. I could sit and stare, without having my eyes poked at by sticky fingers. Learn to meditate. Think about something other than medicine doses and to-do lists.
Practice yoga. Start learning classical music. Maybe not. Organise the kitchen. I could just be and contemplate and mull and wonder and feel rested and... I could go on and on.
As the days of my so-called freedom come near, I feel strongly about staying put in the house with myself. To get to know me as a mother and wife and actually learn what it is I actually need to fill in my life.
It was my dream to be employed by 2010, when I will be thirty. That wish seems shallow now. I might never be employed ever (twinge and grimace. But, now whatever it is I do, I want to do so knowing I can do it best because I love it so.
Insha allah!