The Happy Gardener

 Sometimes the great furnaces of life and pressures of transformation forge mighty and powerful swords. Or gems of great beauty. Sometimes all you have to show for it is a pile of ash. Or a lump of coal. *And so it goes* * This phrase shamelessly copied from the great Kurt Vonnegut, because there is no other set of words that capture that particular sentiment better. All the water under all the bridges  has been rising : hushing my words  and drowning my thoughts, making me weightless  and stateless. Who cares what happened before? I am drifting away from the shore most things don't matter anymore.  

It's that time - a new year: new beginnings, resolutions, changes, renewed hope and all that good stuff. And I'm in a mood for a fresh start as well. But for the phoenix to rise, there must be ashes and dust. Burn, baby, burn. Then again, all things - good, bad & mediocre must come to an end. Or to a pause, at least.  So it's time for a little sabbatical (let's call it that for now) for this blog. I won't flatter myself that I will be missed. After all, I've posted less than 200 posts in the past 8 years. That is less than 2 posts a month. But still, to all of you who stumbled upon this place by accident or loyally checked in after every post & left comments or were somewhere in between, I sincerely thank you. Even though my intent was not to build a following, words, in the end, are meant to be read. Thoughts that are voiced are meant to be heard. But now, my friends, it's time for some sound silence. I wish you all - merry adventures and peace

Since the last post, I've probably written and edited a few dozen posts - of course, all in my mind. Some during the day, some while driving but most of them in the dark watches of the night as I sang "Baa Baa Black Sheep" or "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" for the millionth time while I rocked LB hoping she would fall back asleep and stay asleep for more than 30 minutes before randomly waking up again. This, then, is motherhood. Speaking of motherhood, here are what I think are the major changes for me - what I've gained and what I've lost. Of course, there's the obvious I've-lost-the-happy-carefree-anything-goes-attitude-but-I've-gained-a-love-like-no-other. But I'm talking of personal changes beyond that - the somewhat unexpected. What I've lost : - 95% of my sense of humour ( yes, I will stick to the British spelling, thank you very much) - My sense of perspective - My almost life-long streak of never having seen what 3:30 AM look

My dear darling LB : You are five months old already! That is *incredible*. When I think of around this time last year when your dad and I just found out that we were pregnant, it seems unbelievable that a year has flown by already and what was once just a big question and wonder in our thoughts is now a living, thriving little individual. Then again, life before you or at least before the thought of you seems ages ago.  There is *so much* that has happened and that I have experienced in these 5 months that it is beyond me to be able to express all that in words. Some of it, I haven't even fully wrapped my head around. But let's just say this - I wouldn't trade this for the world. It hasn't been all roses and smiles and contented sighs. Turns out that being a parent is like being shown the truest mirror and finding yourself falling severely short of your expectations of yourself - at least that's the way it has been for me. But luckily for me, I've had the mo

So I have to tell you about last week. After a trying Monday ( I don't remember the exact details but I'm guessing it involved less sleep and more crankiness than usual), I woke up on Tuesday and told myself that it is a brand new day and things will be different. Turns out, I was mostly right. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Here's what happened. It started out innocuously enough. I fed LB, gave her a short amount of time to make sure that food settled in, and chatted happily with her while I strapped her in the car seat. The plan was to take a ~ 3 miles walk in the stroller. I'd mapped out the route and made sure I had everything that I needed. Water - check. Sunglasses - check. Keys, phone, ipod - check, check, check. Pacifier, in case she starts fussing  - check. And LB was consideration herself. She cooed happily at me, smiled and seemed happy with her lot. I took the stroller out first, made sure all the paraphernalia was in place , took LB out in t

Adventure - yes, I used the right word in my last post. I just needed to add a mis in front - at least, that's how LB (which is how I will be referring to this offspring of mine heretofore) sees it I'm sure. When LB was still baking, everyone would repeat that oft-heard cliche - how having a baby changes everything and how you learn to appreciate the small things in life again. I used to think of these as poetic, philosophic moments - like appreciating a sunset, a warm, sweet-smelling breeze or the morning birdsong. Turns out that's not it at all - it is fantasizing about clipping your toe nails, or being in a clean shower or having enough time to wash all the shampoo off your hair. I realize now that having a baby is a little like having a cold : you know how when your nose is super stuffed up and you are having a tough time drawing a breath from that mountaintop of pillows you made, you want to kick yourself for every non-cold day when you didn't appreciate your n