I also came across the video doing rounds on social media where a little girl is seen frustrated and upset and crying while her mother tries to teach her
I read the comments across different channels and saw people’s reaction. Some made me laugh, others made me bang my head, some made me want to bang other’s heads.
Perhaps it was just a reflection of our selves. A mere reflection; as a person, as a woman, as a mother. Just that some times we do not want to face our self. Perhaps the picture is not so great to look at.
With all honesty, it also gave me a chance to stop and reflect on myself, within. Where do I stand as a mother?
I wanted to just talk about the emotions in that short clip of few seconds.
First and foremost, our children are no more children for us, just circus monkeys. They smile, we pull out our ‘smart’ phones, they cry we start recording, they run to us to show us what they built, we choreograph the excitement, they tell us the neighbour’s kid hit them, we look for the perfect frame to match the emotion. We are slowly and gradually training our brain to just look at every thing, every person, every emotion and every aspect of our life through that small hole. We are teaching our minds to forget the fine art of remembering people without any picture. We are producing little actors who know what kind of performance will get them more likes and more comments.
We are also teaching them how vulnerable their emotions are. That we can record anything they do, say or want and put it for the whole world to watch and comment. Privacy is a thing of old times. My times. Guess I am too old now too. *Chuckles*
The rest are all details. I can write pages upon pages on the anxiety and distress that that child must be going through every day or about the mother who in that entire clip of about a minute and few seconds, did not try to console the child or show any affection or about the uncles of the child who later showed up to provide the background on why the child was treated the way she was and that how is that so justified.
But I would just stop right here, and imagine that 3 year old Haya, after about 15 years, a critical stage in her life, when she might see this video some where, and read the comments and then who knows.
I do not want my children to grow up and watch themselves being ridiculed just to satisfy their caregiver’s entertainment nerve-Do you?
Note: I could’ve easily added the entire video clip but then the purpose of writing the above is to highlight the issue, not spread it more. Hence I only preferred an image just for a reference.
While at work today, I was busy putting my things away, when something or say someone, caught my attention.
A young girl, probably in her tween, sweaty and tired walked in with a woman who she was calling her mom. The woman had a high pitched voice and I could hear her continuously telling her daughter to stop doing what she was doing. The girl had tears flowing down her cheeks, and looked helpless. I naturally felt bad for the child and said to my self what a mean, evil mother and awwww the poor child.
In my utmost curiosity and my intent to may be help the poor child out of the weird scenario she was in, I approached them and offered help.
Well not help, help, but I offered assistance while trying to figure the situation out. As the mother spoke to me and explained to me her reason for the visit, I was all ears to the conversation between the two in between. And did I hear them well or what. As I watched them leave, I wondered how would I have reacted in such a situation.
Okay cut the crap. The mother picked the daughter up from her summer camp and had to run some errands. As the child was hungry, the mother got her some fast food from McDonalds that was on her way. Her biggest crime however was that she did not make a U turn and did not go out of her way to go to the better McDonalds who makes burgers just the way the child wants. Hence the girl, that little girl was not happy how her burger tasted and had constantly been shouting and yelling at her mother on how selfish and mean a woman she is.
Just for the heck of conversation and to help lighten up, I asked the mother about the child’s age. She responded 13, the child screamed “I am 13” and the mother replied “Yes that is what I said”. The child screamed even louder “No you said 14!!!”
And I asked my own self what time we are living in.
As a child, and I am not sure if I have ever mentioned this earlier. But as a child I used to get only 15 minutes of cartoon a day, that too if I finished my homework on time, and properly. The food was never of choice but of my mother’s. And so were the clothes. “I do not want this” and “I do not like this” were unfamiliar words. I never had the liberty to raise questions about food, clothes, friends etc. And most of all, it did not damage me or my life. It did not ruin me as many might think or say or assume. It helped me be a better, smarter person. It helped me be thankful for everything I had. It helped me love and respect my parents. It helped me value little things and moments in life. It helped me to have less and still be happy and feel content. And it helped me to never regret being raised like that!
And then the face of that girl flashed in my mind again. The sense of entitlement over a burger not good enough. A child who could not handle disappointment. A child who had to be bribed with a chocolate so she could shut up for the rest of the time while the mother spoke to me. A child who was all about me, me and me and constantly wanted more and more, completely ignoring the fact that she is disrespecting her mother, disrespecting all efforts that woman might be making to keep her little girl happy.
I want to use this opportunity and ask you: What is your stance on that? What causes this? Is this even bad or am I over reacting?
When a baby is born, there are multiple milestones that health care providers and parents look and wait for. When they start to move their head, when they start to raise their arms, when they start to roll over, when they start to crawl, when they’d develop pincer grasp.
Now this pincer grasp is what is stuck in my head for last two days. Between 8 and 12 months, babies develop a pincer grasp, which means they’ll be able to pick up smaller objects (like pieces of food) between their thumb and forefinger.
Coming back to my silly little mind, I’d been thinking about this for a while now. When number 1 asked me if she can get a hover-board for her birthday instead of roller skates, or perhaps when I see people drawing insects and worms instead of letters and words on the paper in front of me, but most recently when I went to Square One the other day and had to get a mall stroller for number 3. They used to have cute little fire-truck kind of strollers for babies, with a little plastic steering wheel to turn around and children would be busy playing with it.
Thanks to technology and modernity, since everything else has changed, so did the strollers. To surprise me, these baby strollers now come equipped with little screens to keep these little minds busy with just the swipe of a finger.
And I thought, our children have stopped walking because there are hover-boards, they are not talking because there is texting and Facebook and Class Dojo; they are not learning to write better or lets say to write at all because the homework is now online, swipe of the finger remember, and we do not focus on our babies developing pincer grasp because tablets have replaced the toys that used to help our children develop fine and gross motor skills.
Welcome to producing heaps of flesh and bones and blood that are slaves of technology. Welcome to robots who can need calculator to do 2 plus 2. Welcome to more sickness and more diseases because of physical inactivity. Welcome to socially challenged children since cyber hangouts are more lit for 12 year olds than physical meet ups. Welcome to the new age!
Sep 16th when I stepped out of that banquet hall, I was happy and so were number 1 and number 2. We were all smiles because we had had fun.
The next day was a rainy and soggy and unexpectedly warm one. We planned to go out to see the dentist for a routine visit and then number 2 asked me if she can have a hair cut.
We went to the store and there was some promotion going on and I myself and both of them got free hair styles.
Little did I knew, that exactly at that time, thousands of miles apart, my 68 year old father might be calling my name in pain. That he might have felt thirsty when that cruel person stabbed him right through his frail, old bones. That he might have felt cold as life left his body.
As we reached back home, I put number 3 to bed for a short nap and the older ones walked out to play and have fun with their friends. I started to prepare dinner and my phone rang. I saw my brother’s name blink and I thought “Oh now he finds time to talk to me” and I ignored the call until after I finish cooking. Then his wife called on Whatsapp. I reacted the same way. Then he wrote on my Facebook wall “Amber call me ASAP”
Telling myself in my heart what a big drama this man is, I called him back but his incoming call interrupted mine again. I asked what’s the rush and he just kept saying my name. I rudely told him to stop playing and come to the point and he kept asking if there was any one else in the house. Then I yelled and screamed at him and asked him again. I knew something was not right. And then he told me what my mind can still not process. He told me that someone stabbed my father and that he is no more.
And people say qayamat sirf aik baar aati hay…. (And people say Armageddon comes only once)
Rest are all details. When number 1 and number 2 stepped back in later that evening, the entire scene was changed. I think I was crying or perhaps screaming or something like that. They saw me and could not understand what happened. The house quickly filled with family and friends and neighbours and acquaintance.
I do not know how I travelled from Toronto to Karachi, when I stepped down in the most beautiful place in the world, how I reached the place I still call home, when I hugged my sister, when I held my wailing brothers.
I only remember that his body was ice cold when I tried to kiss him one last time, and I looked at him and I screamed who would want to kill this man.
I was always proud of the fact that for whatever time I have lived in Karachi, I never encountered any street crime, mobile snatching, theft, robbery. Never. And now this very place took away the man who gave me a surname.
My father (May Allah grant him highest place in Jannah) was a hot tempered man, and my Daadi, his mother used to refer it to his name. And also to the spicy food, that he loved and would throw a tantrum if he would not get a green chilli with his food.
That same man, who my mother used to pamper like a child, made sure that when Ammi was gone, he would make it up to us for the both of them. He would call us multiple times a day, visit us randomly, even send texts on Whatsapp, brings presents on Eid and Skype with us every chance he could.
I used to get upset when I’d find out he had been out visiting people who were not really well wishers of the family. He would reply “Its okay, let them do what they do, and let us keep doing what we do”
There were old women at his funeral out of nowhere, who hugged my brother and told him how sorry they feel and that my father used to help them run errands.
And at home, in the fridge lies that plate of his, in which green chillies been lying for a week now. He was fond of green chilis and onions and so am I. Ammi used to stop me and he would get me chicken corn soup and chaat from street vendors when she was not around. I love beef and he used to save his portion of meat in his plate for me.
Two days back during the morning rush, number 1 turned to me and said “I remember Nano was so funny. He used to do puppet show for us with the Big Bird. I miss him already”
It is a complete torture and it won’t stop. Until there is a closure; until we find who did it. Which I doubt because I know how the system works. How the police operates. There is no evidence, no witness. Will there be a closure?
Because no matter what, no body deserves to die like this.
So many should haves and could haves pound the insides of my temples. So many perhaps circulate in front of my eyes. All these days, myself and my siblings just kept brain storming, speculating, questioning, answering, crying and just being insane.
I am not paranoid but this incident has made me one. One night, middle of the night, we, scanned the whole house, just thinking what if someone came and threw the weapon here.
My children will grow up without Naani and Nano and their crazy emotional love.
And then the guilt that while he was helplessly breathing his last, in that pool of his own blood, I was getting my hair done. The pain may go away. Time may heal this loss but the guilt I feel is going to last forever.
Somehow I did muster the energy to put my grief into words. Because this is my catharsis. It may not heal the suffering but sharing grief does make it lighter. Just looking for some air to breathe.
Say a little prayer for him….and for her who must be happy now that they are together!
Let me start by a confession: I LOVE SHOPPING….. AND I HAVEN’T SHOPPED IN TWO YEARS!!!!
I love shoes, jewellery, dresses, lipsticks, lamps, glasses, dessert platters, plants. I am an impulsive shopper, which means I shop ‘just because’, not out of need. If I walk inside a store and I see something yellow, I would just pick it up and put it in my cart because I love yellow colour. I just can’t resist things I love!
But people do change (or so they think).
The first time I travelled to Pakistan after a gap of about 6 years, I had 6 allowed bags and 2 extra. One of my bags only had shoes; mine, number 1 and number 2’s.
Only a week after I landed in Karachi, I had realized it was a mistake, as for the rest of the duration of my stay, I only wore my Nike flip flop, which was not only comfortable but also the best defence against sweltering temperatures. My sister as usual had issues with me not wearing my branded, colourful heaps of jewellery and shoes, for she was afraid of me being judged (again) by family and relatives but I reminded her my name and she did get used to me wearing those flip flops with each and every, almost every outfit.
Number 1 & number 2 did get some chance to use their summer dresses well, but again accessories and shoes were only adding to their discomfort, being it their first summer in reality.
When I got back to Canada, there were couple weeks, rather months in between, where I lost track of new and old stuff. I had been preparing for this trip for months and then of course I bought and got stuff in Pakistan too. Hence at times, I would find out brand new stuff, with the labels on, buried deep inside the closet, running a size or two short for number 2, or number 1.
So it was around the beginning of 2014, when I decided I am not shopping. Yes I know it sounds weird, and unbelievable. But imagine the height of my frustration for taking such a big decision, for those who know me, know that shopping is one therapy I love and how fond I am of pretty little stuff and trinkets. BUT i decided nevertheless.
There was no deadline, no plan. I just decided I will not shop until all the current stuff in number 1 & number 2’s closet runs short and mine is all used, at least once.
What followed next were a few months of serious and severe depression, glum and binge eating. Of course this was my mind and body’s defines against this “stupid” decision I had taken.
Image courtesy: Google
I would just break the continuity here and share a funny habit. Long time ago, I developed this habit out of need. I would go to the mall, pick up all the stuff I liked, take it all to the fitting room, try it on, and then pick a handful out of those piles that I loved. It is the perfect ‘Dopamine fix‘ for me that not only helped satisfy my craving for all that colour, glitz and style but also cool it down.
Sorry… back to where I was….
For past almost two years, every time I browsed through Zara.com, I would add stuff to my shopping cart and at the end would click every item, zoom in and try to find a similar item in my closet. And every time I did find one, so I would remove that item from my basket and end up with nothing, and a reminder that I have that blue top with the bull head or that long lost turquoise flats that I had almost forgotten.
It was and is not about money, but trust me when I say it; the feeling of peace when you actually take the worn out or old stuff out of closet, when you actually find space, when you feel it organized, when you can put a new outfit together without spending money using the same stuff from the back of the closet that you did not know existed. And this is something big, this means ALOT coming out of this horse’ mouth.
I did not buy a single piece of clothing, any thing for home, any utensils, just nothing. I just kept removing the chipped plates, the ripped clothes, the clothes that kids grew out of. For their pre-loved clothes, I know this super amazing place ‘Weecycled’ where I give their clothes when they grow out of it. They are a consignment based store in Brampton, and carry pre loved clothes and toys as well as new stuff. I have been dealing with them for about 6 years now and am super happy. I know I could give the same clothes to someone in the family or friends and I did try it. Turns out they took the clothes too, and later whined and complained they were not good ‘enough’ so they threw them. Okay…. Alright…. I get it….. So I decided to divide the clothes. One portion I give to donation, the other to Weecycled, and few I keep for memories. Yeh that’s me!
And I did not break my fast, for about two years. No clothes, no shoes, nothing at all. Almost two years for number 1 & number 2 since they badly needed winter clothes for school, and more than two years for myself. I satisfied my cravings by browsing online stores, adding items to my cart, and then analyzing if where would it be used. I love dresses on my little ones, but I specifically asked myself where and how they will wear it since the snow pants make it almost impossible to wear dresses in winter so that leaves only spring/summer. It helped me great deal to put in perspective the need.
And then came this spring. I opened the closet. Clean, spacious, welcoming. It felt so good. Today was the last basket of clothes that I will be dropping off at Weecycled. After this I would need new clothes, and that still depends.
I myself am still fasting. I am using my existing wardrobe, trying to innovate and restructure my stuff in new ways every time and I must say I am loving it. I also realized how much junk I have been carrying all these years, while I only use two pair of jeans and 4 tops on a regular basis. Rest is all the impulse!
I also remember last year when I visited my favourite clothing store in Karachi, they had these new short kurtas on display and while I was checking those, one of the sales staff came to me and mentioned “You don’t need these; you bought all these last time and they have just been shortened in length but all the same”
That was some sincere and honest opinion I loved. I mean one more reason for me to stand firm on my decision. Also my sister and sister in law have been tempting me for past so many months, sending me pictures of branded replicas that would cost less than half the price of the original one. Yet, I stood firm and am still standing firm!
As for the children, trust me it don’t matter to them. As a matter of fact they loved the idea of no shopping and getting money for their clothes so they try to keep their stuff stain free so they get more coins in their coin box.
There is nothing wrong with being smart. Nothing wrong in teaching kids to be smart. Perhaps we just need to try it. And definitely if I can stay sober and sane, so can you!
I wake up every morning, turn the alarm off, the next thing in my hands is my phone: I do the same with the alarm, then check Messages(If any), then Twitter for news, then Whatsapp for messages from family and then Facebook for updates. After and when I am done with all this, then only I move. And I hate this!
Okay its alright to stay current and updated with the news, but what on earth am I supposed to do with what someone thousands of miles away from me is eating and feeling while eating. I mean first thing in the morning?
Past couple days, I’d been down and anxious; so much going on and then one morning when I was reading some news on Twitter, number 3 woke up and saw me busy on my iPhone and came close, and held my face and turned it towards him and said ‘ Band Mamma’ (Turn it off Mamma) It happened two consecutive mornings and what did I do? I signed out of all the social media apps on my phone.
There are people in my life, for who Facebook and Whatsapp comes first in their priority list, even before myself. But then I am me!
I have friends and families who have got separate tablets and iPads for their kids, as young as 2. I go for grocery and I see every passing stroller with a kid busy swiping the screen of their smart device. At traffic lights, I see cars and vans, with Dora or Caillou playing on the little television screens. Hospitals, doctor’s offices, shopping malls-9 out of 10 kids I see have some sort of device in their hands, regardless of their age. I mean what is wrong with us?
I remember growing up with only a 5 minute cartoon slot on the national television which was the only screen entertainment for us, that too in a hallway, that was always flooded with Dadi, phuphoos and cousins.
Then things progressed and we started having a 25 minute cartoon, evening 7pm. And that was it. And I am not talking about centuries ago.
Ammi used to pull keep knocking our bedroom doors, if any of us would lock it. We used to have dinner together. We used to talk. We had books to read, newspapers, magazines, puzzles.
And now I get guests, the young guns, that prefer to pull their hoodies on and sit in a corner playing, reading, listening, simply doing something with their smart device, and not socializing with the not-so-smart people in the room.
Personally I feel it is more the parent’s own short comings then anything else. I am not being judgemental; I am just saying what I observe.
Mothers are too busy so it really sounds like a good idea to have a silent baby-sitter with colours and music and pictures playing and keeping the kids entertained. Plus there is a lot of peer pressure. ‘That cousin” have it so I should also have it usually works wonders.
It some how addresses our own underlying, deep rooted complexes as a child-We try to give our children all that we could not get as a kid, without understanding that there was a reason we did not get something, and it was not money (only).
I have a household of three screaming, excited, ultra active human beings. I write and I sew and I bake and I craft and I watch news, dramas and movies; plus the every day household chores. I wash the same dish 15 times a day, because my baby likes to play with the freshly washed one, so I keep redound the same stuff over and over again. I have no help at all and yes I am bragging here. The only screen time my school going children get is 30 minutes, max 45. My baby is not a fan of screens at all. Yes there are times, when the screen time stretches beyond an hour, but that is rare, and extremely uncommon. They have no access to iPad unless they need to do some homework, which is timed and strict. They do not use any computers for any game, activity. I get them books, crosswords from the weekly flyers and newspapers. I asked for my family to send a Ludo so I can play with them.
And when they do nothing, they hover and make me want to run away.
Yes it drives me crazy and some times, it all just gets too much to handle. I am under slept, over tired, over stressed, but I am not ready to trade my children’s innocence for a 6 hour sleep. They eventually will be tech savvy and will have less time to communicate or interact with human beings in person. I just try to keep it this way, the natural way, for however long I can manage.
Number 1 was just promised by her father yesterday that if she finishes her Quran by a certain time she gets an iPad. And to my happiness, she responded “Remember no iPads” So I know children never develop complexes unless we try to shove it into them. Cell phones for now I have promised them when they’d be at least 16.
So my point: Please be sensible when deciding on handing over all this garbage aka technology, gift wrapped as tablets, pods and smart phones to these beautiful, super intelligent children when all they need is our attention and some encouragement. I argue and confront and fight about it with those I love. I know it is hard and I am not some kind of anti Illuminati or anti tech freak. I’m guilty of binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix when I am sad and I hog up on pop and sugar when I am depressed or I give up everything and not eat for days and survive on Chai as my to go med, friend, shoulder to cry-on. I just also admitted my horrible routine of social media when I just anxiously and insanely keep checking Facebook okay. I do. I am not a perfect mom, neither a perfect woman. I have my fair share of flaws. In fact I am more flawed than most. But this stuff is poison. It hurts those bright eyes, it damages those Einstein brains, it isolates those giggling personalities, it bars them friendly gestures and public etiquettes. It produces jay walkers who walk without the knowledge of their surroundings, engrossed in whatever device, and eventually usually get struck.
I wish I could’ve been born another time. Too old perhaps and hence nag!
I wish there was a place in this world, a place bigger than Harrods or Harvey Nichols or Saks Fifth Avenue. A place where, things were available based on their worth, not the price attributed to it. A place where people could exchange emotions, I would have given my self in exchange of one last glimpse
If only though, if only wishes were horses, beggars like myself would fly high.
Its not what I would have or could have done, its just that every year this day comes, and though there is hardly a day when I do not think about her or when number 1 not have a question about her, perhaps the same questions repeatedly every day, I still feel like a five year old, in search of a warm embrace, looking for that precious smile, waiting to be held and be loved.
Every year, its like the same cycle. I start getting these weird dreams, and then I recall that at this time one or two or three or now four years back, this happened. It is like someone is dragging me to the electric chair, to be executed, and every year, a part of me dies within.
Its not philosophy, its not tragedy, its just the reality. That she is gone, that I was not with her. That I could not kiss her good bye. That she kept calling my name. That she kept waiting for me. Was all this actually worth it?
I remember my sister always used to ask me to go out at night on weekends, and Ammi would always tag along “How can I let you girls out, alone this late?” And when we would reach a jam lacked Hyder’s, she would say “Oh I don’t feel like having anything” And then later she’d be like “I’m kinda thirsty and will have a sip or two” And we both would fight with her that why you do not order something for your self. And I know deep in her heart, she was trying to save money that were so uselessly spending on “unhealthy, garbage stuff”- Mothers:)
When other girls talk about their mothers, I look at them with envy. When someone posts their status on Facebook to wish happy birthday to their mother, I just get numb. When I see women holding their grand children, my heart sinks. I have been trying to find her in every person I see, meet or talk to. I call every elderly woman Ammi, and yet this vacuum inside never fills. The gap just keeps increasing.
Its just like a hole, the size of California, being drilled in my heart, every day, every year.
And although her prayers for me have been answered and I have an angel right by my side, I still can’t deny that she took away a part of me with her. I am not complete any more. Can never be!
I have often seen child number 1 being the most angelic, most well mannered, well behaved one, while number 2 is usually an opposite. It is not because I am child number 1 but because even my children are like that.
My first born is the first born of both the families so she has always been a blue-eyed baby. Plus she is the most well mannered baby I have ever come across. It is not because she is mine, but I have always gotten compliments about her, to the extent that my friends would ask me for advise on how to get theirs as disciplined and behaved.
Of course I know no magic, number 2 and number 3 are a proof.
Number 2 was/is a loud baby (just like her mother). She is a Mini-Me. Care free, easy going, easy moving, distracted, extremely loving and super intelligent. When outside, both number 1 and number 2 are known for their manners, etiquettes and behaviour. But she likes to be a baby at times, and after number 3 even more.
She is the only summer baby in the family, so we always have greater and better chances to plan and celebrate her birthday. But for past couple years we could not. I was travelling on or around her birthday so we would just cut a cake and give presents, but then there were occasions and that too very often, when she would come to me with those puppy eyes, and huge pout and say “Am I not your daughter? Why do I never have a birthday party? Why do I not get to invite my friends? Etc etc etc”
Being the crafty mom that I am, I’m always on the look out for stuff, cheap stuff that I could use for little, unnecessary stuff. About a year back, I had seen some nice chevron and damask patterned stuff at the local craft store in the clearance section and boy it was a treasure for about 20 bucks. So I had been thinking of using that stuff towards her party; to make her happy on a budget. But it just happened, like it always does, that few days before I set the party, I happened to visit the store again. And something caught my eyes. It was a paper ice-cream cone garland, from summer stuff. I just loved the colours and put it in my trolley for a mere $2.75. That ice-cream cone garland just turned everything upside down.
I came back home and dived deep into my magic closet where I keep all the left over papers, cards, glitter, paints, glues, mod-podge, pom poms like Mr. Maker. And I came out successful. A whole bunch of goodies that were gonna keep me busy for a whole lot of days.
I made the invites out of the card stock that I had saved. Glitter, markers, paper fasteners, pom pom balls were all part of the project.
Since the weather was great, so I planned a backyard party with everything in the party to do something with summer and candy and ice-cream.
The Pizza cones: That actually matched the total ice-cream theme (Recipe here)
The Fruit Punch: Just the simple orange juice with some honey added for sweetness, and reusable plastic ice cubes
The Ice-Cream: I did not get a chance to take the picture of ice-cream itself but I used three different flavours from President’s Choice: Sprinkle Party Cake, Rainbow and Galactic Swirl (All Kosher Certified) The toppings were marshmallows, cherries, sour jelly beans, and mini m&m’s.
The Mango smoothie: A little sprinkle goes a long way, and so it did help attract the young guns to that healthy nutritious smoothie inside.
The party favours: I chose these super cute gum-ball machines, that were an instant hit with the girls. Of course there were these little fights over who wants the pink (Which obviously everybody did) but it was manageable.
The Watermelon jello: Who does not like jello? That too when it is made in a watermelon shell and looks like watermelon slices!
The cake: I had decided to go for a seven layered rainbow coloured cake with vanilla buttercream for the inside. And had two different themes in mind for the decoration. But then I left it blank, like a canvas and kept some edible decorating markers on the side so the guests and the host could decorate it themselves. It was one of the biggest hit of the party. everyone so excited as to when we were going to decorate the cake.
The girls had an amazing time decorating it. Though it was a bit difficult for them to run the markers through the soft fondant but hey, cooking and baking and decorating for them is such a fantasy right now at this age!
I couldn’t have thought of a better idea than to hide colour inside the cake so when she cuts it, she is as happy as this rainbow:)
Not a very good quality picture but this is how the table looked like.
Happy reading… Do post your comments in the section below!
Days before October arrived, number 1 told me “I know it is not okay to celebrate Halloween because it has Pagan roots, (I told them about the origin of Halloween and luckily the class teacher also discussed and explained the same to them) but would it be okay if we can just give away candies to people who come to our door”
This was the most tricky question I had been asked in months, so much so that I had to ask her for some time to think about it and get back to her.
In its essence, it was just a simple innocent wish to welcome people who come to our door step. At the same time it was something, that if I allow, would totally go against my previous sermons of why we should and do not celebrate Halloween.
I was lost in my thoughts for days around. I asked an aunt and she mentioned the same that her daughter had asked and that she would allow her to go out trick or treating this year. I was almost falling into the same path, with half my mind and heart still saying it is wrong, when suddenly one afternoon, as I picked them from the school bus stop, she went “Mama I think I do not want to give candies on Halloween. It is better we stick inside, and enjoy some good movie”. Should I say I was relieved? Yes I was. Should I say I was surprised? Yes I was.
Later she went on to explain “There are all kind of creepy faces that come for candy and I would not be able to sleep if i see one of those so closely, so its better for us (Pointing to herself and number 2) that we do not do it”.
End of story-Or was it?
It was basically their fear of those ugly faces, or zombies or demons that played the trick this time around but would it help next year?
As I keep saying and repeating, life in West has its own pros and cons. You live in a first world country, enjoy all the perks and privileges, many can only dream of back home. Yet there is this constant battle, within self, with the family, with peers to maintain our own identity, to have our own rules. Sigh!
Every year as Halloween approaches, there are these long lunch time discussions about why Halloween is not for us.
Lets put it this way: to me it is all a way of making money by the corporate giants around the world, than anything to do with any faith or religion. Enter any store in January and you’d see red hearts, chocolates and cupids all around asking and inviting you to SHOP for Valentine’s day. Comes March and suddenly everything is about Easter egg-hunts, and pastel flowers and bunnies. Then Mother’s day’s daisies, Father’s day’s ties, Back to School clothes, bags, things, Thanksgiving turkeys, Halloween candies and decorations, Christmas lights and Santa’s presents. In between al this there’s summer sale, winter sale, Cyber Monday, Black Friday, Boxing day and God knows what.
There is so much temptation, such marketing that one is almost forced to indulge into shopping for cheaper candy or better food items.
And then there is the religious part too.
You see I am quiet a liberal woman with very strong beliefs about right and wrong of my own. These were embedded when I was still a kid, a baby kid, and then reinforced time to time. Yet I would say, my mother must have had a better time teaching us things because back then there wasn’t this much awareness or must I say, information, among kids.
But at the same time, I am thankful to Almighty for such beautiful children I have. They listen, try to understand, and follow. Hardly ever a question, and not because there is any lack of intelligence or because of fear of any sort but because they’ve have learnt and believe that whatever mom decides for them would be the best and that is what they know.
I remember when number 1 was only 7 months old, I myself took her out trick or treating in a Tigger costume. I guess it was more my own wish to go around and have fun rather than her choice.
Then I realized its only little things like “Oh its just candy” “Oh its just saying Merry Christmas” or “Oh its just Easter egg hunt” that later on can find ways to justify a lot of things that are actually a nightmare, because “Oh its just……” (Fill in the blanks)
Also my own inner child that I had to tame. How long could I do things in the name of my children but actually because I want to do them or because I did not get to do those when I was a kid. And my kids see not what I say, but what I do!
I had to teach and lecture them repeatedly, again and again, why celebrating Halloween is not for us or why wearing spaghetti strap or sleeveless dresses is not proper. And friends it does make sense: How can you let your children do something until about 8 to 10 years of age thinking oh they’re just children and then one day just tell them they can’t do it anymore. You see those little minds do not see the justification here and they are not wrong. If something is wrong, it must be wrong from day 1. Then why were they allowed to do it or follow it till now and why is there a sudden halt.
By the way the above lines only stand true for some of us, while for others Halloween is just about candy and having fun and being part of the world we live in, for the rest of their lives and it is perfectly okay. I am no one to judge. To each their own!
For the candy part, I try to make it up to them. Every party at home, any sleep-over, any occasion, I try and keep extra desserts and candies for their little tummies and eyes. And I let them drown in those, never keeping a tab on those special occasions so they never feel “Oh we did not get enough”
I am no religious scholar, neither I feel my knowledge is perfect. Yet I am an individual with my own opinion and belief about everything. I have two beautiful well behaved kids that the world praises for their manners and etiquettes, who are not picky eaters, who are in bed when most of the kids their age are still in front of the television, who are known for their wit and intelligence so there must be something that I am doing right. And this is just one of the lessons that I taught them and thought of sharing.
