Wanted!

In a run up to Valentine's Day, Christina Aguilera's song of 'What a Girl Wants' playing on the radio, I thought I'd share what I think a woman really wants. Every woman is different, but what she really wants in a man hasn't changed too much, well, since Adam and Eve. 

                                                              WANTED!

A man who looks after himself. Needs to be fit, not necessarily Dwayne Johnson type, but with a body to lift my spirits, and stamina to match. Needs to smell like the summer, adventure, and a dash of danger.

A man who makes the time to be with me, even through my PMS and the follow up tantrums. Someone who just holds me tight when I cry, without asking, 'What are you crying about now?'

A man who can cook, preferably a AAA rated chef, who's not afraid to try new combinations. Extra brownie points to someone who likes to watch cooking shows with me & can recreate what he has just learned.

A man who will not compare me to his mother, or for that matter with my mother, in any respect. I am my own person, and if my cooking isn't as good as mom's, that's probably because I"M NOT YOUR MOTHER!

A man with whom I can share silence with. Someone who leaves me speechless, in a good way.

A man, who respects women. Someone who respects me, and will treat me like a girl, woman and a lady, NOT a chick or a babe. (Hot momma, is okay!) A gentleman! Someone who, in turn, earns my respect with his good deeds and words.

A man who is strong enough to share his emotions and deepest, darkest secrets with me, and trustworthy enough for me to tell him mine. You know, the shit even my mother doesn't know kinda stuff.

A man who listens, NOT just hears what I have to say. I don't always need you to understand me, but I would like your full attention, without interruptions, when I speak. Just because I'm sharing my problems with you does not mean I need advice on how to solve them, I am quite capable of solving my own issues. So, unless asked for, please keep your advice to yourself and lend me your ear. All I would like is for you to be there for me.

A man who likes to flirt but knows his limits, except with me. Someone who can look at me from across a crowded room and make me feel weak in the knees. Someone who thinks I'm the most beautiful woman in the world, even with bad hair, morning breath, wrinkles, sick as a dog, unshaven, in my worst moods.

A man who understands that it's the little things that count, like knowing exactly what each little gesture I make means, what my favorite color is, what my favorite flower is, how I like my coffee.

A man who loves animals, has had pets and taken care of them himself. Someone who doesn't think rescuing stray animals is detrimental to one's health.

A man will not abuse me in any way, verbally, emotionally, psychologically or financially. Someone who is fiercely protective of me, enough to beat up a roadside romeo for looking wrongly at me or tell off his mean mother. Someone I can run to to share everything with....good, bad, or ugly.

A man with whom I can be completely honest, open, crazy, sloppy, aggressive, soft, gentle, loving, nurturing, a vixen, and everything else that I really am.

A man who is completely honest with me, enough to tell me I'm getting fat, but kind enough to help me lose the extra weight.

A man who is committed to me on a molecular level and would not stray or let me stray. Someone who understands that flirting to me is a process of making friends (male or female) and does NOT implicitly or explicitly imply anything else. A man who has the sense to ask me about my male friends before jumping to unforgivable conclusions.

A man who knows when and how to use the three little words and mean them....'Sorry, Thank you, Please!'

A man who would give up every bad habit just so that I wouldn't be influenced.

A man who understands that just because you've done something nice for me does not automatically qualify you to a 'roll in the hay'. Must have the ability to be romantic, spontaneous and sensitive ...if possible all at the same time.

A man who isn't afraid of a little PDA, and is proud to show me off as his girl. Someone who's idea of foreplay is NOT 'get your clothes off!' and the words 'I love you' do NOT equal 'let's have sex!'

A man who knows I'm an independent woman, but has complete control over me, body, heart & soul, and visa versa. Someone who shows me he loves me. Someone who can make me dance, laugh, cry all at the same time.

A man who's only fear is losing me, and is not afraid to show it. Someone I would let go of not in death, but only in dire circumstances. 

Qualifying points are in random order. All the above points need to be met to qualify and proceed to the next level. If this person should be found, please call me ASAP.

                         WANTED! Preferably ALIVE, before I Die!

In sickness & ...what!?

I know, it's been eons since I last blogged, not for lack of material to write, or the time. Nope! I had plenty of both but lacked the motivation and honestly, putting sentence in things was not right coming. But I'm back, until I completely fall off my precariously pitched cliff top perch.

I have been sick lately. Yes, I know....Oh my God!! Me sick? A karate brown belt! Well, I have been, and let me tell you, it ain't fun. It has been years since I've been this ill, making me feel like I was going to die. As I writhed in the corner of my extendable bunk bed, I saw flashes of my short, extremely eventful life before me, as if the movie reel had come undone from its canister. I think I had divine visitations from people long dead and some not see in a while, so I don't know if they're dead or not. I heard voices of angels asking if I was alright, and of demons passing snide comments from afar. At one point the cold enveloped my fever wrecked body with such force, as if the hand of Death wanted to wring the life out of me. Every muscle fiber twisted into malicious knots of pain, that I couldn't imagine enduring anything worse. God, I hate having the flu!

As I lay curled up in a heap, hacking my lung out, it dawned on me that I was at my ugliest, not just in appearance, but in behavior, temperament, attitude, in my entirety. To put up with me when I’m normal, not sick and in relative good cheer is hard enough. I know, because I’ve had to put up with me. But when I exude detestability at its heights, I can be a challenge to the Gods, to put is very mildly. Who would want to take care of, let alone tolerate a female exponentially twisted form of Gollum? And in that brief moment of brightness in an otherwise blitzed out mind of mine, it hit me like gravity hits a falling apple…people who truly love me.

Now, don’t get all excited, those numbers are literally countable on the fingertips of less than two hands, of which only one person is not related to me by blood, and she lives half way across the world. This has put things, my value, as I interpret it, into perspective. For the longest time, I had invested my time, caring, love, and all rosy emotional things on people, who, when it came right down to it, didn’t give a rat’s ass if I lived or died as long as their purpose was served. But those who’ve been beside me with absolutely no expectation other than my well being and happiness, however few they maybe, are the ones who make me feel better about myself. It finally boils down to blood and true friendship being thicker than bonds forged of legalities or happenstance.

Now that I’m back to normal, which is a relative term, I have taken it upon myself to look after those I love, starting with me. Because at the end of our lives, we only remember the people who made it worthwhile, loved and protected us, in sickness and in all forms of body art!

Men at work?

God created the world in FIVE days! He then screwed it up on the sixth...by making Man! God made man in His image. That, in and of it self, says so much about God!! For, after He made man, He created woman....to rectify His mistake!

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against men. Men, in their own primeval way, have their use...till a woman finds the one she wants, then, nothing else matters. But, God did pull a fast one on us women! Look at nature. Nearly everything in nature has a 'male' connotation to it, look at the fruits and veggies you eat. And, when it comes to 'man-made' structures, well, think of the Washington Monument, Cleopatra's Needle, The Statue of David, The biggest Ball of Yarn.... you get the idea. Everything has been centered around men. Hell, even the world is round, and it definitely made many men proud!

When it comes to all things feminine (and before you ask...NO! I am not a feminist!), nearly everything includes the male of the species. Woman includes man. A Gynecologist and Proctologist do the same thing. Male and female, each completely different from the other, yet, neither one can exist without the other. That's where the problem lies. In a primarily male dominated world, where majority of the top jobs, pay checks, etc are held by men, women are fast realizing that we need to change this disparity. Okay. I'm going to get off my soap box before I give myself a nosebleed.

The purpose today, as it always is, is to complain. I have come to the conclusion that men are the root cause of all female problems, or at least mine. Take for example MENstruation. We bleed for days, without dying, a cycle which goes on for years. But the only time it stops, is when we're pregnant or going through MENopause. How fair is that? Menopause is another phase in life that I wish upon the male of our species. Yeah, I know....there's supposed to be a 'male' menopause, but seriously, does male menopause entail having hormonal shift so rampant and severe that I'm happy as pie one minute, ready to do the Cha Cha in the middle of the street, and the next minute, personally want to disembowel a staff member at the local grocery store for taking 2 minutes extra at the check out counter? I think NOT! Does male menopause require a complete shaving kit for hair you had no idea could grow in certain, sometimes, unknown places of your body? I think NOT! No, male menopause is easily dealt with, with a shiny new car, preferably a sporty convertible, and a younger 'model' who'll flatter you till the cows come home!

Women revolve their entire lives around the men in their lives, fathers, brothers, boyfriends, husbands, sons, barely realizing that they,themselves, are the ones that matter most. Women, givers of life, beauty and bounty, often sell ourselves short, being what is expect of us, rather than being ourselves, being what we set out to be. I've been told in the past to 'be a lady'. What the pointers don't realize is that every woman is a lady in her own way. Every woman, when needed, will show poise, grit, strength, tenderness, bull-headedness, meekness, anger, hate, and love. Why? Because, unlike men, she possess all these qualities, and can bloody well use them!

My mother was right! (yes, ma I'll admit it!). I think I'm pre-MENopausal. So, I'm gonna go out and get me a motorbike, and a cabana boy!

Eulogy

For the past few days I have been trying to write a eulogy, a remembrance of sorts, about a person who has impacted my life profoundly. But the right words seem to escape me.

How does one begin to thank a person who brought out my creative side?
How do I tell her, it was she who made me understand the true value of having three daughters?
How do I show my appreciation for a person who's sacrifices throughout her life taught me to live mine?
How do I express my gratitude to her for making me master the art of positive thinking?
How do I tell her that I am grateful for being able to recognize my own capabilities as a person, and those of others?
How do I acknowledge her role in my attitude towards the world?
How do I tell her that she was the one who made me realize what my path in life is to be?
How do I say that it was she who made me realize what family is truly supposed to be?
How do I tell her that she changed the way I perceived relationships?
How do I make known that I understand all she went through and tolerated in her life, but I refuse to make her mistakes?
How do I tell her that she was and is instrumental in my pursuit of happiness?

I missed my chance!

The MIL passed away a couple of weeks ago, making me realize life has so much to offer us. But how we face life, head on, depends solely on our attitude. Life is truly too short to throw away, doing things that don't make us happy with who we are, not knowing what love really is, or wallowing in the remnants of the past. MIL's life, and also her sudden demise, has taught me that no matter what each of us goes through during our own lifetime, we all finally end up the same way. The circle of life has to be complete. But during that precious time we are given, it is up to us how we draw our circle, and who, and what we include in it.

Thank you MIL for making me understand how I need to live MY life.

What I did in my summer vacation.

Schools have started. And as my kids venture forth in their wonderful world of education, I was made to feel like the mother from hell when my oldest came home today.

Oldest child: Maa, I have to write an essay on what I did in my summer vacation.

Maa: Great, you're a good writer. (thinking...wonder where you get that from?)

Oldest child: Ya, but I didn't do anything this summer! We were stuck in day-care...remember?? You absolutely ruined our vacation!! Now I have nothing to write about!

Maa: Well, look on the bright side, at least you won't have to write as much as the other kids.

Yes, I totally ruined my kids summer vacation. But in all fairness, there had been no promises of exotic foreign escapades, or skiing in the Himalayas. No, I had made it perfectly clear, from two months before vacation started, that this vacation was all about me. The resistance had started from the minute I laid down the plan. There would be no trips to the zoo or museums. They could continue their usual activities like karate, swimming, skating and so on. But, the entire vacation would revolve around me. Unfair!! I hear you say. Well, life ain't fair...so deal with it!

For a month and a half my three angels endured the grueling routine of waking up early, only to be packed up and dumped in day-care, a task I truly hated doing. Every morning would be the same, filled with howling cries of  "I don't want to go to day-care!! I hate that place!" Yet, I unrelentingly carted them off under influence of bribes, that were all made good on, and sometimes threats of dire consequences*. And at the end of the day I would bring them back only to feed them and shove them out of the house, to play. The curfew was extended from 7.30pm to an unthinkable 9pm, something that still makes me shiver.

And what was I doing, while my children were couped up in a room with activities that could numb every nerve fiber? Or out galavanting in the summer heat, unsupervised?

Giving examinations for the first year of my Master's program.

I'd been warned that studying with kids is difficult, with very little time for actual studying. But my kids helped me through a tough, sometimes whiny, and many a times emotional summer. If it hadn't been for their effort and sincere desire to help me, I don't think I'd have been able to accomplish such an immense task. They've been nothing short of troopers to see me through the last month of intense study, 6 papers, 2 practical exams and a karate exam, to top it. I know, I've been unfair to the kids, but believe me, they're getting their money's worth out of me, and have 3 pending vacations that they have already planned out.

Now lets hope my results are as fantastic as my kids are.






* Threats of dire consequences: "Do you want mommy to fail her exams? Sob! Sob!"

Learning Curve

I feel old, not as an extension of my physiological age, no, that would qualify me for retirement any time soon. I feel vulnerably old, psychologically. Eighteen no longer does the chronological wonders it used to, even in my form hugging size 4 jeans. My Medulla Oblongata seems to have shriveled up to form a sizable disconnect from my cerebrum and the rest of my body. Yeah! I'm stressed!

Last year I enrolled myself into a Master's program, you know, coz I had nothing better to do, and needed to fill the empty hours I was wiling away. Although a distance learning course, the amount of work required seems colossal. Nights are spent staring at pages of familiar information, which seems to need extra effort to assimilate and coherently re-verbalize. I know, I'm using big words too. Why does it feel like I'm struggling to keep up with something that would have been effortless in my youth? Too many extra-curricular activities? (as my father put it). Nah, he obviously missed my teenage years!

Learning is a constant, however trivial. But, isn't too much learning detrimental to one's health? At the moment my learning curve probably looks like a straight line, with very limited knowledge being retained for further use. I wish it was information overload, but apparently it's stress mingled with pre-menopausal hormones (diagnosed by my mother), and a desperate need to be on a year long vacation on my own. Maybe, I'll learn something new on the vacation! Time management may well be an issue, as I juggle school with kids, work, Karate, and the goddess from hell. But it was brought to my attention that I seem to have enough time to read non-educational material, bake cakes, sit at the computer for hours, galavant with friends till the wee hours of the morning, without breaking a sweat. Damn!  I could blame it on the usefulness of the topics I'm supposed to be learning, but, I'm sure they have their place and importance with other students going through the same grind. Perhaps, the apathy rises from my complacency of being habituated with what I've known for so long, that change instills a feeling of fear of failure. Holy crap!! What??

Well, learn I will, even if I have to physically join the ends of my learning curve together. The socks are being pulled up, the glasses are being pushed back. For the cumulative can't dos & won't dos, there is only one reason to keep going.... my progress, my success, my betterment! (okay, that was 3 reasons).

But hey, the biggest push comes when my kids tell their friends, 'Our mom goes to school too.'

Horrible Housewife!!

I know I'm late celebrating, but honestly I haven't been in much of a mood. Yes, it's that time of the year again. No, not taxes, that's much too exciting. It's been 3 years since I had this baby, and as I've seen it grow over time. I have this uncanny feeling that I too have grown with it. This blog has seriously helped me unleash the dormant monster in me that I knew existed but was too scared to let loose on the world. But hey, you can't save every one. So with that spirit I shall continue the pursuit of bringing to you the gory snippets of my interesting life.

Over the years I have been called many things, most of them not repeatable for the fear of being obscene. The list, however, just grew as my limited skill sets become more apparent to those around me. Let's, for the sake of fun and clarity, review some of my past triumphs.

I have been the unwaivering bitch to those whose points of view I contest. Although this has been a constant feature of my personality, the number of people joining the opinion poll seems to be growing. Being malicious is not a trait I identify with, and will not stoop to that level. However, being a bitch qualifies me to have a good time, and still piss the hell out of people who don't have the balls enough to join me.
I have been touted to be the Daughter-in-law from 'hell and then some'! This one is a matter of (one) personal  opinion, which invariably over-qualifies me to be a bitch. What can I say? Some of are just borne to stardom!
Now to my personal favorite. The world's worst cook. Yes, after slogging and slaving in front of a hot stove, providing nutritious meals to the family, all I get in return are derogatory comments and sometimes looks of pure disgust. So I have come up with a solution...don't cook! One man's rubbish is another man's gold, so go find your own gold (or rubbish, as the case may be).
I haven't been openly called this, but you can always get the vibes. Monster wife! I think this stems off from the total bitch and DIL from hell thing, but I can't be sure, since 'he who will not be named' is smart enough to preserve his still remaining functional body parts.
Bad Mommy! Oh yeah! I have often been labelled the bad mother as my parenting skills include, but are not limited to, playing with my children, many a times in a rough boisterous manner that makes my girls tougher, pushing my kids to do things that most mothers would avoid making their girls do (contact sports, oration, and the likes), refusing to let their hair grow out...coz it looks terrible, screaming & shouting or being extremely openly lovey dovey with them in public. Yes people, I am the mother from the other side of hell, who doesn't believe in pestering her children to do their homework, will let them figure out how to deal with stupid people on their own, and who lets them swim by themselves. I have been told time and time again that my parenting skills, or lack thereof, won't help my kids, that is probably the reason each one of my three girls is top of her class, excels in her chosen sport, and can speak her mind regardless of who stands in front of her. Me, bad mommy!!

The above have been labels unfairly pinned on my early twenty-ish frame, and I, in all honesty, used to resent it till I figured...people are always judgmental and avoid the truth if inconvenient to them. But the new label is something I don't think I am in a position to contest.

I was dumped earlier this month for a younger and better model. Inevitable I suppose. I had hoped that all I had put into the relationship would have made it last, but it was not meant to be. The dependence I had on this being, had made me so complacent that till the day it happened, I kept fooling my self into a false sense of security. Then I was left...all by myself!! This experience did bring out the glaring fact that I am incapable of doing certain things, of keeping things in order as they should be, of juggling 10,000 things simultaneously and looking like Angelina Jolie while doing it. Things fall apart, but I had no idea they would instantly.

I hate my maid for leaving me and making me the horrible housewife!

Where's my Brad Pitt?