Hard Choices
“I’ll miss you there, Mommy,” he said, with a sad look in his beautiful eyes and with inverted lips which only accentuated his little puffy cheeks. It broke my heart. Why was I doing this, again? To feed my own…
Loss
It was two weeks ago yesterday that along with my sisters, I cremated my mother. As feminists who were born to two people who were way ahead of their times in how they chose to raise us, three daughters, conducting…
Giving Kids the Space to Fall
As parents of multiple kids know, picking your favorite child is an impossible task. It is just not done. Now you may have a favorite kid in your head but you don’t voice that preference out loud. The famous Indian-Canadian…
Tribute – Part II
Read Part 1 of my tribute to my grandmother here. I start to write this narrative after we put away the clothes. From the corner of my eye, I see her walk around the kitchen and the bedroom attending to minor…
A Tribute – Part I
I sit here trying to read SuperFreakanomics and how the U.S. addressed polio, only half concentrating when she asks if I’d like to listen to the radio. The electricity has been turned off by the City, I am fighting mosquitoes…
Our First Christmas (2016)
Christmas 2016 was our first Christmas as a family of four! When I realized this, I figured, why not write about it for the sake of posterity? Next year, when my kids are almost four and almost two, no matter…
In Disappointments, We See New Lessons
We are bursting at the seams. Cliché, yes. My reality, absolutely yes. A developed world/privileged life problem? Couldn’t be truer.
New Year. New Challenges. New Hopes.
After the balloons have descended, the ball dropped, the confetti cleaned up, and the champagne popped, what remains is just another year – A year that is ours to make what we can of it. 2017 is a year of…
Baby Milestone: Sleeping Through the Night. Not Yet.
1:17 a.m. I open my eyes and turn around to check the time. Silence. The house is quiet and dark. I especially try to listen to any kind of sound coming from my daughter’s room or, what used to be…
The Day My Kids and I Cried Together
No, it had nothing (or only a little) to do with the outcome of the elections in the US. The tears were neither of joy nor sorrow. Per se. The tears were of anger, frustration, helplessness, fear, uncertainty, and solidarity.…
Raising my kids in the US vs. India
First a disclaimer: I do not mean for this post to sound pompous or self-righteous. We all have to live by the consequences of our decisions and choices. One such decision I made was to come to the US for…
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