How I got Zara excited about clearing up

Hint: By getting excited about it myself

Okay, no, there’s more to it. But let me start with that one. I’ve been meaning to declutter my living space and shed/give away ‘stuff’ for a while now, but have only managed to do it in miserably tiny bursts. So when a friend shared a link to the Marie Kondo show trailer on Netflix, I bookmarked it as something to get to soon. Oh I also shared the link with my mum who began watching the show right away and gave glowing reviews.

Also, on clearing up children's stuff OR getting them to clear up - it's a royal pain in the backside. What I'm sharing here, therefore, helped me address both - ek teer, do nishana types. (One arrow, two targets. No, I will not 'kill two birds with one stone'. I refuse to kill birds, even in words.) Back to the topic.

Last weekend, at a best friend’s house where we were staying, I sat in front of the TV and announced to Zara (after her TV time was over) - 'I’m going to watch something now.' ‘Please watch something I’ll like as well? Like some cartoon’, she said. I responded, ‘I think you will be interested in what I’m watching’, and put on Marie’s show. She joined me on the couch, we scrolled through her episodes together, and picked one which had a couple with kids. We watched as a couple’s house got transformed over the course of a month (54 mins for us) of applying Kondo’s methods. I asked Zara - ‘Will you join me in doing this for our house?’ She said ‘Yes!’ So that was one.

Yesterday, now back home, I was wondering how to get started on this endeavour. It had come up a couple of times on our flight back. Suddenly, it struck me - ‘Zara, why don’t you make a list of what we will do on which day to clear up your stuff’. ‘Mama, it will also be your list because you also have clutter’. Okay, point taken. So it became our list - not just her books, but also mine, for instance.

Now, a note about Zara and lists - she loves them - both making and ticking them off. She takes them very seriously. Like very. So I used an insight I had into her as a person, along with a bit of child psychology (all of this is post-facto deconstruction, as in, in hindsight, at that time it was pure inspiration) - that children want to feel like they’re in charge, they are in control, and can direct things. It’s a basic human need for power and freedom (you can read up on William Glasser’s ‘5 Basic Human Needs’ in his Choice Theory ). So she felt like she was directing the process, not I, which matters. To my daughter, especially, as she exhibits a strong independent streak, is a natural leader (‘The little directress’, I call her. More on this another time.) and loves to be in charge. She also loves feeling a sense of accomplishment, and gets motivated by challenges. Mission accomplished.

That was second. Third was to set boundaries and consequences. Yesterday it was that she would get to go on the playdate with her best friend only after she finished the day’s task as per the list. So while I heated our lunch, she got busy with the first task - clearing up the top bunk of her bunk bed (yep, she has one. The bunk bed is another story for another time). At first she said ‘You have to help me, I can’t do this alone’, and I said ‘Why don’t you get started, I will help you shortly or if you need me’. Thus assured, she clambered on to the top bunk and began. Very soon she'd created a game out of it where she used some props and concocted a theme, decided to take exactly five objects to put away at a time etc. She was some rainbow witch or something, I'm forgetting now. Basically, I saw her enjoying it, and I was enjoying her enjoyment of it. By the time I served our lunch, she was halfway through, which was her target for yesterday anyway. I was so surprised it was actually done! Yet another consequence was that any item of hers that was left behind on the dining table (there were a few books, a doll, some small toys and knick-knacks scattered), would disappear forever and likely be given away to someone else. That's a rule for the hall because it also doubles up as my office and I like having it clean and uncluttered, I'd once explained to her. The rule hasn't always worked before, for many reasons, but this time she cleared up the dining table too before leaving.

Cut to today. I suggested to Zara that we go meet her nana-nani in the evening, and she said ‘But Mama, then we won’t be able to finish our clearing up target for today!’ So now her nana-nani are visiting us instead, and I’m waiting for my daughter to take charge this evening so we can finally get some more clearing up done. This is an experiment that’s working so far. I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts, and keep at it myself in the process!

P.S. - It feels so good to be back to this space. I'm going to share more. Oh there is so much to share!

P.P.S. - Just for context, Zara is 8 now. I know right?! :O

P.P.P.S. - I need to change the blog headline. I'm no longer a 'mint-fresh' mommy, though I often feel like a novice.

P.P.P.P.S. - I hereby promise to not add any more P.S.'s even though I love them.

Hey You, Young Mom

Hey you, young mom
Who's forever exhausted
Often frustrated
While being delighted
Hey you, who feels no one gets it
(Maybe they do, maybe they don't)
Who wishes for once
Someone would see what she's doing
Feeling
Going through
Who craves empathy, not sympathy

Hey you, mommy
Who feels this is a lonely road
With or without a co-parent
Parts you've to walk alone
There are others like you
Invisibly walking alongside
Feeling alike

Hey you, who craves
A single night of full rest
Who steals moments to call her own
Wishes someone would officially
Permit me-time
You have permission. Go.

Hey you, who physically loves her children
Yet feels her body doesn't fully belong to her
And is instead at the whims and demands of this little rascal
Remember you were one, once?
You and this little thing
Your body feels the separation
As does hers
So gravitating towards each other
Don't mind this transition
You'll miss it once it's through
And you'll have your body back, fully

Hey you, always on the move
Rushing here, there
Always on an elastic band
Tied back home
To your little one
Like you're away on borrowed time
It's okay to feel happy
About being away and on your own
Enjoying the taste of freedom
As much as it's fun to revel
In the reunion
Once back home
You can have the best of both worlds.

Hey, new-age mother
Trying to always better yourself
It's okay to not do it all
To do it now
With your child
There is time, there will be time
Breathe. Pause.
The moment will pass you by
Before you know it
Your child's childhood
Will pass you by
It's okay if the clips don't match
Every once in a while
Heck, every time
(Your pre-teen won't put up with it though. My toddler often doesn't)

Mommy, my dear
It's okay if it isn't all clear
You haven't figured out your act
Are too busy getting by
Day to day
Look, catch your child's gurgle
Doesn't it put everything into perspective?

What you're doing is a big deal,
Even if every mother before you
Has done it
And several fathers too
(Except the birthing and feeding)
I'll make a big deal out of it
Watching your every move
Lauding your every success
The small steps
Of victory. Of growth.
You're not alone
Not one bit.

I want someone
To say all this to me
So I say it to myself instead.

Written on 04 May 2018 at 20:51hrs
On a flight from Mumbai to Chennai

Playschool Pangs

Dear Zara,


Taking you to playschool is so hard. I was slightly nervous about the routine – wayward as I have been in my ways – never once thinking anything else would pose a challenge. Turns out that getting that schedule right isn't the hardest thing, it's what happens after that that is. To leave you there and walk away.

It's what they call the 'settling in period', when they allow us parents to anxiously hover around our little ones. The second day you went there, this cute little Montessori playschool in our neighbourhood, I was told that I need not linger any longer; that you had settled in quick and fast. I was relieved. Saved us both the initial hiccups. I saw a few other kids hollering as they were carried inside by the Akka (helper lady) and bid goodbye to by parents at the gate, feeling bad for the kids and the mothers alike, thanking my stars you weren't one of them. But my respite wasn't to last, just like in the previous crib story (Yes, you promptly came back to the bed and mummy's tummy the next day. Now the tummy can't go to sleep without your touch, it seems. Some strange primal connection this is).

Last Thursday you cried when you were taken away by a teacher. I had been waiting with you in the play area for 20mins already because you didn't let me go, when they finally lured you inside with tricoloured balloons. They shut the glass door once you were in. You turned and realized what was happening and let out a cry. In your tears I at once saw distress mingled with what I perceived to be accusation – 'How could you do this to me?! Leaving me behind with strangers' Sigh. Am I imagining too much? Maybe. I'll never know. When you grow up we'll be the ones telling these stories to you, bereft of the tiny details time will take away from our memories. Hence, this blog, in all its irregularity. Hence this post.

Over the weekend you told me, 'Mamma, I don't want to go to school on Monday. I will miss you.' My heart sank. Eager that you build a positive association with going to school, I accompanied you inside on Monday, then yesterday and again today. Monday, you went in glumly (thank god no tears) after half an hour of my hanging around in the lawn with you.

Yesterday, you rushed into my arms and said, 'Mamma, I'm hugging you tight so no one takes me away from you'. How can one not melt at that? Your small, fragile body in the my big arms. Like a sparrow rushing into a mountain, in search of home. I didn't want anyone to take you away from me either, sweetie. But you had to go to school. And I had to pick up my work. While one teacher (aunty, as you all call them) patiently gave you your '5mins mamma...mamma 3mins more please wait. Mamma, 6mins!', another one came a short while later and carried you away. You cried again. I anxiously peered in through the curtains on the side and tried listening, but I couldn't hear any cries. Someone told me you were sulkily playing in a corner. Haha...my darling.

Today, your crying brought on your cough so I waited around until you had calmed down a bit. You said, after a good deal of playing together, 'Mamma, I prrromise you (yes, that's how you say it) I won't ask you to stay after this. Just 1min more' How do you calculate these things? When the teacher carried you inside, you threw your arms and legs around, screaming at her. 'Leave me alooone!' I wanted to laugh and cry both. I did neither and just quietly slipped out, dil par patthar rakh kar.

The moment you go inside though, your cries disappear. As if it's a switch. You observe, you sulk, you reluctantly, eventually, join in the play. But you don't cry. In those few moments of parting, however, my separation anxiety has washed over me and left a dull heartache behind. 'Bacche toh rote hi hain nursery mein', my mum said. 'I used to have tears in my eyes while dropping kids off to playschool', said my mother-in-law. Another mother whose child is also new at this playschool, and about the same age as Zara, sits on a couch in the cafe next door, casually checking her phone while teachers try and settle in her sobbing child. I look at her calm, smiling face greeting me with a sort of dazed look. How does one do this? How do I do this?!

This really does seem like my settling period, much more than yours.

Love,
The Mamma-who-never-quite-wants-to-leave-or-let-go

P.S. - Last night, while putting you to sleep, you asked why I was still on my phone. I explained to you how one of my closest friends was upset, so I was listening and trying to make him feel better. You thought for a few seconds and then said, 'Mamma, you should call him. He will be happy'. I smiled, taken by your response, and said 'How sweet are you, Zara?!' 'Very', you quipped, and snuggled into me. Wise and cheeky. Quite a combo.