Friday, December 31, 2010

... and a Happy New Year!

Rahul has been singing "I wish you a merry Christmas, I wish you a merry Christmas, I wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year" for some days now. So here he is, wishing you. And if you can't see his face that is because he is too busy doing a Cleopatra.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010


Rahul has been using aapni for some time now. I have been trying to teach him to use it when he speaks to his teachers but have not got anywhere with that. Out of the blue though he started referring to all of us as aapni. When he is tired or excited he mixes it all up and the ensuing conversations can be really funny.

"Babu, eta dekhun!"

"Baba aapni amake Horlicks debey?"

"Diddi, tui amekey khelna diye deen."

It's rather cute though. Especially when he gets it all correct. I have always liked the sound of little children saying aap/aapni. When he calls me aapni in his own inimitable way it sounds absolutely adorable.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Fallout and Finger Fries

After I wrote Thrift, I got scolded by E for fretting about money without cause. It made me think a bit about why I had fretted so much and here is what I think: for the first time in years I did not earn a rupee all month. I am no good at spending money that I do not perceive as mine, which is how I view the money Vicky earns and gives me for the household kharcha. So, yes, every time I went into a shop I started feeling a little low because I could not justify a single impulse buy, not even a wee chocolate since I wasn't earning. (This does not mean I did not buy myself any wee chocolates though!) Anyway, that is a temporary state.

The other fallout was that I jinxed a perfectly good weekend by writing about how good it was and promptly fought with Vicky. Sometimes, just sometimes though I wish he would see for himself how tired I get and how the answer to my tiredness is not tell me to take it easy but to help out with the chores.


I fried my finger yesterday and life-altering experiences like these change one's perspective on life. I am now a bigger, wiser person. I shall celebrate my new lease of life (didn't expect to survive the night) by spending the day exactly as I wish. Those Niyogys and the rest of the Roys can jolly well go amuse themselves. You would think a fried finger merited some sympathy but thus far Vicky told me I was being a baby; my mother laughed at my death agonies; my father patted Vicky on the back when I called him an unsympathetic pig for calling me a baby; my Kaku (uncle) congratulated me on a job well done; even the boy was more engrossed with grabbing my ice bag than consoling me on (nearly) losing a finger.

When I win the Nobel, guess who will not be invited to share the fame?

Sunday, December 26, 2010


Leaving work sooner than I had initially planned, and the vagaries of Vicky's freelancing has meant that I worried more about money this month than I have all year. We haven't exactly been broke or come quite close to it, but I suspect that I like worrying about money. Like a hobby perhaps. Nothing else explains why I do it with such passion and for so little reason.

Anyway, so my thrifty thinking this month had some unexpected benefits:

I baked and baked and baked. I didn't know I could make all these things. When we went to New Market with the girls, Evie took me to a shop which had the most adorable baking ware. Pans and tins of all shapes and sizes, with loose bottoms and without... I bought myself a dozen cupcake cases only, because I was feeling broke. (Otherwise my soul has been yearning to try out souffles and as we all know, those need wee glass ramekins... hmm, I do have an anniversary coming up!) The cupcake cases came in very handy this Christmas together with the silicone cupcake cases Ma got me from Vizag because all I did for Christmas was bake cupcakes by the dozens. I experimented with a choco-bourbon bundt recipe from Dot to make chocolate rum'n'raisin cupcakes which are only getting better with age. I baked mocha chocolate chip muffins which raised my eyebrows by the amount of choco chips they called for but turned out better than anything I've had from a bakery along those lines. My last batch was eggless brownie cupcakes which disappointed me a bit because they were the very first things I had baked with oil instead of butter and I could taste the difference. They were very chocolate-y though, so I will probably give them another shot with butter.

The joy of all this baking was counting what it cost me to make these forty cakes. Yes, chocolate and cocoa and sugar and butter are all very expensive but considering that I not only fed guests and ourselves but also sent out cakes to friends and family, I think it was all very cost effective. In addition, this time I finally got around to using local cooking butter which was cheaper and made no difference to the taste.

I have also cooked a bit more in recent times than I would have otherwise. I ended up making things like chilli chicken and pasta and keema sandwiches which I haven't made in a long time and obviously, since I made them at home, they were the healthier alternative to restaurant food. (I tend to go easy on the oil etc when I cook.)

The other area in which I did not go overboard was Christmas gifts. Last year Rahul had a boatload of gifts under his tree. This year, my only contribution was adding my handful of Mr Men books to the two Aunty Ro (and Ayaan and Tarana) had brought him. Apart from this he got a 3D Cars book from the Mad Momma, a 'big boy' book of poetry and a Santhal bow and arrows from Li'lpet, Payal Jethima and Suhrid jethu. He also got a small gift at the tree decorating party on Christmas Eve, not to mention cartloads of gifts when Christmas came early, so I didn't feel particularly bad for him. But he did mention to his dad that there were fewer gifts this year. :)

And what did I get? A clean fishbowl -- my only request to 'Santa'! -- and a sleep in on Christmas morning. Diamonds wouldn't have made me grin bigger when I finally did get up.

Here is a pic of our tree that I took this morning. Funnily enough, it looked taller somehow last year when the boy was shorter. This year he hasn't quite towered over it, but next year he will.

We decided to anchor it inside Rahul's little tub this year, held in place by Louis the Bear and Srinivas Teddy, ringed around by Rahul's new anaconda toy. You can see the Santa Claus Vicky made last year, Art's Jagannath at the base (it's too heavy for this tree's branches) and a sock ornament and a moon higher up from Ro last year. It's funny how we have only had our tree for two years and already it has its own set of traditions. Breaking with these 'traditions' we did not have the angel on top, but stuck a star with its own little story up there instead. Keeping with the 'tradition', Li'lpet and her parents came over to help us decorate the tree. It's all lopsided from the kids' efforts but it's damn cute.

It has been a good Christmas. A good month. A good rounding off to a year that has seen more good than bad.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Deja Vu

I slept till the last possible moment, so I had no time for lunch. Picked up my papers, ran out of the house in a breathless rush, with a bar of Perk to see me through until I could make it to the canteen for my first meal of the day.

Only, I was 28, not 20, and the Perk was handed to me with a kiss by the husbandman while the boy waved goodbye, and not snatched from the bare fridge in my empty apartment.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

A Day to Remember

Today I made pancakes from scratch and served them with chocolate ganache and gur as an alternative. Lunch was at the new Just Baked on Anwar Shah Road, but dinner was alu ke parathey a la Dipali that even my father liked. (Ma says he was mellow from not having had home-cooked food for the last three odd weeks -- he just returned from Vizag.)

I was Archangel Gabriel at a children's birthday party hosted by our neighbour and family friend and wore little pink and white wings with a shiny dress and carried a silvery 'wand'. I had fun dancing around with Santa and helping hand out gifts.

We had a singalong in the party and I was complimented on my voice and asked to sing a little solo by the professional singers and people in general were most flattering. It has been ages since I heard my voice on a mic and it didn't sound half bad.

And I've saved the best for the last: my little post that I started so long ago and never finished metamorphosed into a proper piece for Pyrta. Do go check it out in the Prose section. Thanks, Janice, for the push. :)

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Feeling Christmassy Yet?

It's surprisingly cold this winter and my handful of plants are dying. I have no idea how to save them.

Mornings need a shawl on top of other warm clothes and nights need socks. I have finally broken out the fun socks I got from my personal Santa Claus last year (my Shejomama in Miami) and can be seen with feet adorned by multicoloured checks, Argyle diamonds, bobbles, stars, bows, the works.

No Strings Attached played at JU last night. Same old stuff, same great play. Wish the boys would pass some recordings around.

Started yesterday morning on an awful note. Walked out of the house in a huff and stalked off to my mother's, where Rahul was. He didn't want to go home either so I left him there and went to Beq's. Kakima fed me apple cake and sandesh and Beq and I walked down to Sen's where we saw millions of pics from Sen's holiday in Bhutan. Now I want to go to Bhutan. At least, I don't want to go just now, perhaps a month or two later when it's warmer.

Then Beq and I went to Alpine behind Dey's Medical to buy him a new knapsack. I love the rucksack he has bought from there too.

Home and the cooking of lunch. Then a bath and JU. The day passed, they all do.

The Christmassiness of things is slowly starting to seep in at last. Our tree will be up in a few days. I've decided not to wrap up Rahul's gifts this year since he has seen most of them already and been allowed to open two! Looks like Vicky and I aren't getting anything from Santa this year but Christmas came early for us two, for all three of us actually, so I'm not complaining. I need to bring out the ornaments and Santa Claus. The lights, thanks to Diwali, are at hand.

Need to start baking today.

Christmas party at a neighbour's tomorrow. Dinner with parents after that. Wondering what to make. What plans do you have for the weekend?

Monday, December 20, 2010

A New Post

When was the last time I wrote one? I wrote three today and a couple more this week but after ages and ages.

Writing has not been a fren of mine all month. I wrote for a client who sat on the copy for three weeks before finally confessing they had decided to go in for something else.

I wrote a story last month and got all fired up because after years I had written a story I actually liked -- OK, so I had written no stories in the interim -- but that was followed by no more stories. My head's filled with them, the boy gets more than his fair share of my mad stories (recent efforts included a Ramayan for Rahul which had Vicky raising his eyebrows at Ravan telling Sita she must divorce Ram and marry him but really, divorce is a part of Rahul's world and if Vicky keeps raising eyebrows, will be a part of the little dude's life, so he may as well get used to it) and where was I? Oh yeah, no more stories.

Another dead end -- a huge one -- has been Sunny Days. I don't know if I can keep blogging here. I can't see myself blogging elsewhere but I've been writing another blog, off and on, for some years now, and I like people not being able to trace me on networking sites or photos or whatever from there. Every time I try to write here I imagine some of my readers and sorry people, that makes me go read posts instead of writing them.

(Great work there Sunny Boy, insult readers and blame them for your writers' block in one quick thrust.)

Well, anyway, so that was that. No pomes. No stories. No work. (One quick sample for another client doesn't count.) No posts. Ergo one very unhappy me.

On the other hand I have sewed and embroidered. Feel free to diss these and get back at me for saying you make me want to not write.

Here are the cats, all six of them, that I planned as a wedding gift for Vicky. I finished the last one well in time for our fifth wedding anniversary, so notabad even if I do say so myself. I know, it's a lousy pic.

Here are some mangoes I sewed to match the coasters. This one got better light so you can actually make stuff out.

And here are some hankies I made for the Cal blogmeet. Feel free to guess which hanky went to which blogger.

I also made a pretty pair of felt baby shoes but unfortunately I packed them before I remembered to photograph them, so you'll just have to take my word for it that they were cute.

I also baked a chocolate tart (finger-licking good), a quiche (buttery goodness), brownies (with Godiva dark chocolate), orange pound cake (smelled heavenly too) and choco-rum cakes, among other things. They all, I am happy to report, tasted very good. Despite some of them scaring the living daylights out of me.

Anyway, hopefully by now you've forgotten that I was rude to you. Either that or you've thought up enough nasty things to say about my babies to not feel sorry for yourself any longer.

Talking about babies, have you seen the beauties produced by Sreetama Ray? To think they were about to make a lawyer out of her.

And that, my children, is an object lesson in how to write a respectably long post going on and on about how you cannot write. Just don't insult your readers while you are at it, of course.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Fox in Socks

Evie very thoughtfully gifted Rahul a copy of Fox in Socks last weekend. If you don't know the book, it is one gifted to the pre-school children of people you wish to do harm. I have had to read the blasted book from cover to cover thrice at a go and I fear my poor tongue will never recover.

Returning the kindness, here is a little version of Fox in Socks and the other characters doing Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Haffun, Evie.


I give my maid Sundays off just so that we can all, in theory, sleep in. (I nudge Vicky out of bed to put the garbage out.)

Bloody-minded neighbourhood people started testing mikes at 11 last night and started lousy slow songs at 7.20 this morning.

I wish I were in the Vizag colony I grew up where the only sounds in the morning were the cacophony of the birds, the blasts of the siren and the roar of Caltex burning. At least one could sleep in.

P. S. This is very interesting. I cannot seem to find a good link of the HPCL/Caltex fire. I'm told it is one of largest industrial disasters in Indian history.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Jingle all the LAY!

It's funny how a three year old can sing a song perfectly and mangle it into bits the very next year and giggle at how he doesn't 'know' the song. When I say it's funny I don't mean I am laughing. I mean I am wondering what I ever did to deserve this.

Rahul's report card arrived the other day. His school assures me he can recognise his alphabets and connect them to their phonetic sounds. The homicidal feeling started to grow in me, like it can only in mothers who have patiently repeated "R for Rahul, see, R says RRR for Rahul" only for him to look blankly and call R an O three seconds later. When I reached the bit about him counting quantities and keeping his teacher happy with his pattern-writing -- seriously, writing? writing?? -- I decided that what my son and I needed was even less involvement with his education from my end. He, clearly, lives up to my uncle's explanation of finding it quite unnecessary to display school knowledge at home.

There are moments when I have a horrific vision of being mum to a twenty year old who can't spell his own name far less out of school but come, at least he has the sense to be fascinated by tweetle beetles. A chap who knows his tweetle beetles from the dead spiders under the dustbin who curl up like crabs and ostensibly scuttle sideways cannot be considered entirely ignorant.

He makes up words all day long now. He puns and twists his sentences and every time I swell with pride, dammit, he sings nonsense words for every song and every rhyme and insists he doesn't know any better. A big favourit du jour is Puff the Magic Dragon. He is mangling the song now as I write, putting in great effort with the "OH!" and balancing a multitude of things on his pirate ship. No wonder none of his toys survive his love. I just found a new helicopter in the dustbin although I have not yet been able to ascertain just what it did to earn his wrath.

I seem to be absolutely useless when it comes to teaching him his letters and numbers, so I restrict myself to teaching him to sing, cook and sew. He has a useful voice although it seems to lack power like Vicky's, so I occasionally try to get some actual tunes out of him. He is a nuisance in the kitchen but helps me sort rice and dals, mix batters, beat eggs, pour out pancakes, that sort of thing. It is, of course, not safe letting him grate the cheese. He hasn't tried to lick the grater yet but it's only a matter of time. In the meanwhile alarming amounts of cheese disappear if he is 'helping' me in the kitchen. And, of course, if I am working with dough it is taken for granted that he gets his 'hafta'. He used to make me tiny parathas and rotis which I fried and roasted, but nowadays he makes snakes and dragons.

I once rashly promised him his own sewing getup because he was constantly getting among my sewing supplies. He kept reminding me about it (no problems with the old memory there) so I eventually gave him a wool needle threaded with a length of blue wool and let him 'sew' the plastic mesh dishcover. The beginning was not promising but who knows, I may yet have a grateful daughter-in-law come thank me one day for creating a man who knew how to do the useful things.

Unlike a certain Mr Niyogy whose skill tends towards things like making arrows. Seriously, arrows. He ordered bamboo from Guwahati. Spends his days sanding and painting and tying on feathers and shaping arrowheads. Arrows. Because, you know, they come in so useful in the average household. Excuse me while I go wonder what I was thinking taking him to Shillong. Next vacation will see us firmly established in Digha (or Puri) like every self-respecting young Bengali family.

The boy just interrupted to show me a scratch on a pencil that is apparently "E for Bheblu". Don't tell me Bheblu has an 'e' in its middle. Not unless you want an arrow through yours.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Ayaandada, Krishdada and Chhotto Baby

They came to town, you know, bringing along their respective mothers. 'Radsmashi' came too, to make up one mad, merry gang.

The preparations were chaotic despite all the planning and lists I had made. I had decided to sew the girls my 'geefs' to them and you'd think I would be done in time given that I knew they were coming from, oh, months ahead? But no, till the last possible moment I was sewing like a maniac, working on baby shoes and writing out postcards. And only then did I start on the cooking and baking.

The brownie I baked for the kids (with Godiva dark chocolate, yum) came out well, while the rum chocolate cakes for the menfolk seemed to do fine. For the girls I decided to take the easy way out (I thought) and went for a large quiche and a small chocolate tart. The idea was to pre-bake the shells and then fill in the quiche on the morning the girls arrived. Imagine my horror when I saw the sweet shell 'dissolve' in the oven leaving me with a bubbling mass of butter... Luckily, something was eventually saved from it all and I must say that damn tart tasted delicious after it was filled with the ganache. The quiche was an easier baby and came out looking gorgeous, bless its buttery bottom.

Dipali's car arrived soon after and the famous Arun and I zipped smartly off to the airport from whence emerged a Rads. Since I had muddled up the arrival timings despite her sms it was a good thing I reached early! Chattering all the way home we had bhuna khichudi for lunch -- where she roundly scolded us for 'terrorising' the boy -- and she incidentally made the boy's day by bringing him a whole set of firefighting vehicles, from helicopter to police car.

We went shopping at Dakshinapan after Rahul's nap. He skipped along with Radsmashi who received a first-hand introduction to commerce as practiced by Bengali government employees ("It's not about the money!") Vicky and I then took Rads to have her first Cal phuchka. It wasn't by our neighbourhood genius but his lower-grade substitute was adequate and our only real grouse was that we had to leave space in our tummies for the big dinner at Dipali's afterwards.

Evie came by to pick us up, all togged up in sarees, and then we were at Dipali's, hugging travel-weary Ro and Kiran, teasing Ayaan and Krish, coaxing Tarana out of her mother's arms. I seem to have earned Ro's eternal indignation by dropping everything and rushing over to greet Tarana first while Ro who was holding her waited to even be acknowledged. Hee. In my defence, dude, have you seen your daughter? It was a mad medley, that evening, with Dipali rushing around trying to get dinner on the table for the hungry kids, the kids in question running around trying to play while dodging the adults, the aforesaid adults running around handing out and receiving gifts, helping lay the table, running after the kids. Did I say it was mad? It was lovely.

Rads and Rahul and I stayed over at Dipali's that night, so I had the memorable experience of putting the boys to bed together. Krish, like the utter sweetheart he is, fell asleep holding my finger in no time flat. Ayaan, like the little dynamo he is, wriggled around in bed until he too fell sleep suddenly, like he were switched off or something. And Rahul, like little owl he is, kept popping his head up to have one last laugh with Ayaandada (Krish was already asleep) until my last snarl had its desired effect. It was painful sitting quietly in the dark room while I could hear the girls chatter outside but I was more than compensated by the three little boys snuggling up to me as they slept at last. When they are all forty and swaggering about the place I shall remember this night.

Despite staying up to nearly 3 am around Dipali's dining table we were up with the lark and even got milady to work making us ginger tea. Ayaan was up and he got Krish out of bed in short order. Rahul had moved into the next room with Ro, Tarana and me in the middle of the night (he woke up and thought I who had put him to bed had turned into Kiranmashi who was actually with the boys then) -- he woke Tarana up by snuggling up to her. Such an adorable sight. The rest of the morning passed in the flurry of breakfast and getting the kids ready and bathing ourselves.

11 am saw us at New Market, where Kiran and Vicky were roundly scolded by a shopkeeper. Rads hunted around for elusive shadow work cloth and junk jewellery, I tried not to buy up New Market (an internal struggle I face every time I go there) while Ro impatiently waited for us to get done so we could go to Good Companions. GC has special memories for me and I find for Ro too because we both wore clothes from there as children. Ro shopped to her heart's content while I kept Tarana occuppied and tried to stop Rahul from throwing Ayaan out into the street for commandeering Rahul's helicopter (never mind that Rahul had done the same to Ayaan's aeroplanes a few hours earlier!) Ayaan though made his way right back into Rahul's good books at lunch by giving Rahul first a little plate and then keeping that plate filled with goodies from Ayaan's own plate.

Come to think of it, the kids impressed me on so many fronts. Krish was a little gentleman through and through, undemanding, uncomplaining, helpful and polite. Ayaan knew so much about places and the people living in them. It was he who explained to Krish and Rahul that Rahul was speaking in Bengali and that people in Calcutta spoke in Bengali and that Nagpur was the heart of India and Mauritius was an island and oh, so many things. I cannot believe he is only an year older than my little illiterate who refused to speak any language other than Bengali. And Tarana, with her "Nay!" (No!) and her "Gee!" (Give!) and her "Buddy" (name for people) and her "Mama, mama" ate her food with such gusto, played with Aunty Rads and flirted with Vicky and the SRE and just charmed the birds off the trees. Rahul wasn't too bad either, come to think of it. :)

After lunch at Kewpie's I packed my boys off home and went saree shopping with Rads, Evie and Evie's two daughters. With her usual partiality Evie bought her older daughter the prettiest tangail but refused to buy me the dhakai jamdani I fell in love with. Just because Evielet #1 is her own daughter... You would think a mere 3.5k price difference wouldn't matter, right? We all had coffee after this and then I went home to get ready for dinner at M4's while Evie and the Evielets went to drop Rads at Dipali's.

The spread M4 had put out was simply unbelievable. It's the kind of grub I haven't seen since the last time my pishis cooked together. Flakey bhetki paturis, tender malai tiger prawns, mutton curry, pomegranate salad. There were options for the vegetarians but I never made it beyond the salad. I had sung for my supper earlier, forgoing the adult chatter upstairs by feeding the boy with the other kids downstairs. Rahul was in a foul mood and wouldn't eat so I tried to distract him with the story of The Very Hungry Caterpillar (EO and YO had the table mats from Rahuls's party). All the other kids joined in and I suddenly found I was designated storyteller, having to tell them one after another. I have to admit it was fun though.

All too soon the evening ended and I sent the boys home once more. The late night chatter was more relaxed and we kept telling each other that we really should go to bed but we ended up sitting around till past 3 yet again. And then there was another mad scurry in the morning and whoosh, suddenly the Bombay lot had left and there were just Rads and I being fed consolation alu and dhaniya parathas by Dipali. Vicky and Rahul arrived soon after and things got a bit more cheerful. Eventually we all went back to our place where Rads the namkeen addict lunched off paneer parathas, packed some kancha golla and patishapta for her family and then we were back on the road to Dum Dum. The weekend was over.

The funny thing is, I miss the kids the most. The mums (except for Rads who is travelling) are available online and over the phone. The kids, though... well, I just miss them.

Thursday, December 09, 2010

I dare not agree!

Both Vicky and I have a bunch of cousins of what is deemed 'marriageable age'. So I tend to have a lot of conversations about marriage and its requirements and their requirements with both my mother and my mother-in-law. One such phone conversation recently was going very well, I thought, as I nodded and agreed with most of what the mother-in-law said. She was talking about a prospective 'boy' and how eminently eligible he was because of, oh, the usual reasons.

Then she said, "And you have to consider, he has no mother. Having no mother-in-law to be bossed around by can only be a good thing..."

What makes her such a delightful person to know is that she says something like this with not the slightest sense of irony to her own daughter-in-law!

Monday, December 06, 2010

A Reversal of Roles

I was feeding the boy his lunch a few minutes ago and it was all quite picture perfect... He was eating up his 'tanka maach' (tengra fish) and rice like a champion and I wasn't spilling anything and I was feeling pretty good about life.

Right up to the moment when he leaned over, looked lovingly into my eyes, caught up my chin and said, "Funny!"

I thought he was the joker in these parts but clearly I was mistaken...

Sunday, December 05, 2010

This feels unaccustomed...

I know it's not been that long since my last post, but my life took an abrupt turnaround in that cute way it has, and, well, I'm still coming to terms with the changes.

On November 30, you see, my agency and I parted ways and it was a couple of months earlier than I planned to. This should have been a great development in theory because this is the holiday/party season, I have friends coming to town next weekend, other festivities on the cards and I have a great many baking and sewing projects lined up. In theory, the extra time is delightfully welcome.

In reality however, I find myself waking up in the mornings with my usual sense of urgency and it is somewhat deflating to find that I do not need to complete my chores before 10 am or that I will not need to find myself clothes that coordinate or... you get the drift. Ma and I went shopping at New Market on Friday and I wore a kurta with jeans, pinned on matching earrings and then -- just because I could -- I added completely mismatching shoes and handbag. The sense of freedom was sporadic and I kept feeling awkwardly dressed, which, indeed, I was!

I cooked a hot lunch for two days and drifted off to sleep on the others. My baking projects were filed away this morning because I won't have the time this week and I strongly suspect that I was starting to get depressed. After all, I worked for two years exactly at this place and although I had planned to leave because I couldn't cope any more with all the juggling and also I wasn't feeling motivated by the work any longer -- Sujatha, now you know why I was so interested in that article you posted -- the fact remained that mentally I simply wasn't prepared yet to stop working. The good news though is that the week ahead promises to keep me far too busy to allow myself to welter in a half-understood morass of self-pity.

The odd thing was, I really had expected Vicky to understand my confusion. After all, he has made the switch twice before, and he knows the pros and cons of shifting from an office environment to working out of home quite as well as I do. But this wasn't his week to do the whole understanding husband thing. He was his usual self and at times like this, that wasn't enough. Or, maybe, I'm just being even more demanding than usual? But if I don't demand from him, who should I turn to? My father, retired six months ago, knew how I felt and that was comforting.

I have some writing I need to send in, both pieces have been waiting for a month. I do have a lot of time to spend with the boy. There are a lot of things to do and given that I spent much of last week catching up on my sleep deficit, I will perhaps feel more sorted out. I just need to stop feeling that my 'weekend' is ending and I need to hurry, hurry to finish the laundry, clean out the flat etc etc ad nauseam.

I could go back and edit this post, you know. Make the changes to suggest that I'm loving this life already and have loved it from the first minute. That the boys welcomed me back home with open arms. (Rahul did, Vicky, for understandable reasons, did not!) But this is an exercise in banishing my demons by naming them, something I haven't done here in a long while. So I'll let the post stay. Happier ones are in the pipeline. You can just sit back and wait awhile. I'm sort of 'netless, and no doubt that is rubbing in the change harder than necessary. I mean, my laptop no longer connects to our router and using the Mac usually means Vicky sitting around glowering until he gets it back (now you know why he didn't want me back home!) so my time online is somewhat limited. I'm slowly slipping into a routine though, so it won't be very long.