What was *in* those bottles?
Some of you may be wondering how my new set up with groceries and babysitting is working.
Groceries: Awesome. Awesome, awesome, awesome. This morning I called down, and forty-five minutes later the groceries were delivered to my door. I’m paying the coolie personally, and a little more than is normal, so the whole employment bit feels good too.
The only thing: today I asked for two bhaingan (eggplant), and they heard two kilos. Eggplant is not particularly heavy, so now I have a fridge FULL of eggplant. I batter fried slices of two of them tonight, and said to my sister… two down, only thirty-two to go. I exaggerate. But Kid A couldn’t get enough of the batter-fried bhaingan, so that’s a silver lining. You gotta love a kid who loves eggplant. (I was not one of them.)
(Of course, as I said to my husband on that fateful day nine years ago when we ate the cockroach in Bangkok, anything tastes good when it’s fried with garlic and salt.)
Babysitting: Sometimes I want to pull my hair out. My writing times tend to be full of so many interruptions that I am tempted to crawl under my bed and never come out at all. There are water problems, a puppy runs into the house, Solo wakes up. Somebody needs me at the door and it turns out to be some weird masseuse guy with dirty bottles of oil. “Why did you interrupt me for that?” I ask Ankit. “He said you called him here,” he replied. Which is a strange business strategy for a masseuse: the outright lie. Like I’d say, “Oh? I called you here? I guess I just forgot! Okay! Massage away with your dusty oils and strange tools!”
But there is something about employing someone so that I can write. I’ve turned into a machine. I WILL GET MY 1000 WORDS OUT TODAY OR DIE TRYING. No matter how many interruptions, I’ve been managing. It’s been good.
Tonight was another story, though. I asked Ankit to come over at 8:00 so that I could go out with my sister for a little while. He came, and sat patiently while I tried for what seemed like forever to put Solo to bed. This is how the evening went.
8:30- Finally Solo gets off to sleep. My back is breaking. (Have I mentioned that this is a very heavy child?)
8:34- I am trying to play a dvd on my computer for Ankit. I have the wrong hard drive. Arggh.
8:36- YaYa is “itchy.” She heard a bug. Something was on her forehead and that makes her want to cry and cry and cry, because something was on her forehead. She’s scared of her bed now. She can’t sleep.
8:46- I’m lying in bed beside YaYa, stroking her face. She’s still crying, clutching me every few minutes, saying, “I’m sooorrrry,” and “I can’t sleep.” Finally I ask her if she wants to sleep in my bed. I move her and it’s like magic; all her itches go away, and sleep comes quickly.
8:56- Success with the dvd for Ankit!
9:00- Finally out the door with Becca, I heave a huge frustrated sigh and refrain from throwing rocks. Where should we go? I’m so tired, Solo is teething and I haven’t been getting much sleep. It seems too hard to walk down the mountain, so we decide to walk over to the closer village. Maybe we can have a lassi or something.
9:20- “Becca,” I say, “this restaurant seems depressing to me.” We hand the menus back and decide to walk back over to the restaurant near our house. It’s familiar.
9:35- When we get back to the restaurant, I have to go to the bathroom. When I get out I see Tripta (the restaurant is on her rooftop) and she laughs at me because my hair is up in a wrap. She thinks it looks silly.
9:40- The phone rings. I can hear Solo crying. “I’ll be right there,” I say.
*
Well, we had a nice hike through the moonlight. So, that’s how that’s going. But I’m sure it’s the same for any parents of young children anywhere. It’s funny, isn’t it? I feel as though I can stretch so far, with my kids, but when they are up past their bedtimes, I’m like, wait, what? I was with you all day! I fed you and watered you and we read together and played! Now that part’s done! What’s going ON?
Stttreeeeetttch. I will one day be the most flexible person ever to roam this earth. Metaphorically speaking. (Rubs aching back) Maybe I should get that masseuse back here.
17 comments
I loooovvvve this post. Makes my life seem so much more normal!! Yes, what these little people can do!! I, too, feel like I’ve done my share, now it’s bed time and GO.TO.SLEEP.
Thanks for your perspective!
Thank you so much for the link to Drawn from Water, so inspiring, i am already trying to think of ways to help them!
Abs x
ps any fried aubergine left over?!
Oh! If you don’t mind a suggestion on how to use those eggplant, how about an eggplant, potato, carrot or whatever Thai curry? Or an Indian curry, if you don’t have Thai spices and coconut milk.
I Love this post. Holy smokes; you got in a late-evening walk! With an adult! Who needs food? I always ended up wearing somebody in order to get out the door. (Once it was my husband – he just needed a few minutes of adult time, even shared with a gf of mine!)
Now my babies are almost 8 and 9, so getting away is easy.
Please do write your book. I’ll buy it!
children should be contractually obligated to go to bed at 8.30 and stay there for 12 hours without needing water, the bathroom, comforting, less blankets, more blankets, or to come sleep with me. especially that last part. “sleeping” between two kicky, sweaty, leech-like boys is actually not my favourite.
so, yeah. i feel your pain.
sniff, sniff. I feel your heartache all the way over here in Colorado. You are right. This happens to every mother, no matter where she is in the world. What hurts the most is when we’ve already made the mistake of envisioning the quiet break or the chance to slip away for adult conversation. What I love best (or maybe not) is when I tell my kids “no, you aren’t sick, go back to bed,” and they proceed to vomit all over themselves and me. Not only is my evening out ruined, but my Mommy guilt is mammoth. I pray my children don’t remember me in moments like these, that all they recall is how sweet and compassionate and selfless I was??
I wonder if that masseuse ever had any luck with his “she called me” trick? Cute.
1) You’re absolutely inspirational for writing 1000 words a day. I still haven’t figured out that trick yet, and I only have 2 little ones! (I will so buy your book once it’s out.)
2) Can’t help you on the eggplant. I resolved to learn to like it last year, but I’m not sure *anybody* likes it 2 kilos’ worth.
3) That late night outing… oh. Oh oh. Consider this a long-distance hug.
The older my kids get the easier bedtime gets. But yes, at 9:00 I am done being mom and need to be just me for a few hours before I go to bed. It keeps me mostly sane.
I think we mama’s start exhaling the moment we utter the word “bedtime.” The possibilities lie endless before us…
I feel the same way. It’s like there’s some unwritten treaty– between children and mothers– at 8 o’clock you’re on your own. They’re violating the treaty for heaven’s sake. I want to shake my head, “I THOUGHT we had a DEAL here.”
The other night I said, “You’re killin’ me kid.” He thought it was the funniest thing he ever heard. I don’t think he knows about the treaty.
Being as you used to pinch your sister and awaken her so that she would be the one who would tell us that she can’t sleep, I figure it’s coming back to bite you. Just kidding! I think kids somehow sense when something is different (like we have other plans once they’re in bed) and they try to stay up. Any excuse will do, even the forehead one (although that’s one of the best I’ve heard). Wish we were there to help you.
Lots of love,
That’s a lotta eggplant.
I agree on the 8:00 My Time.
Grocery delivery. It sounds so simple. And heavenly.
I’m glad to hear that there is a treaty in other people’s houses as well.
I’d like the record to show that I NEVER pinched my sister and woke her up… we’d be lying and giggling together and I’d tell her to go out and say she couldn’t sleep, but I never pinched and I never woke her up!
Ahh yes I too understand. I often think they have a pack. You go get her, no its your turn, no let me, no I got a good one. lol I love them, and yet they can suck the life out of me. During the day the spit it back in. Valor, Honor and Sasa say hello…… hello, no go get in bed!
Amanda
Blessings
wish i was there with you. there will probably be some eggplant waiting for me when i get back…
Although the mental anxiety when bedtime “treaty” is broken does seem to be universal (sigh for the sisterhood), as a one-time expat myself (also with an ultra busy husband at the time) I think there is an extra pressure, even burden, of escape-to-comfort-of-any-kind needed from time to time. Hmmm. At least I’m thinking that as I read this post. Sorry about all the eggplant: hope your Superstar still likes it when it’s getting overripe
I really love your blog! I just wrote my own blog entry about bedtime in our house describing the game of musical beds my family plays almost nightly. I, too, have a teething 11-month-old and a five-year-old who recently informed me that she hates sleeping, confirming what I’ve suspected since birth. Hang in there!
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