Tag Archives: Mamma

Wednesday Words – Playing Mom

My Kids love role playing, but it’s always hard to catch them in action. Remember they are smarter than me. πŸ˜•

Playing Mom, Abhishek, Tisha, Otu, Renne
Playing Mom

Yesterday was different. I had a Spy.  😈

Everytime they are playing in their room, and I would happen to visit, they will go completely quiet on me. You must think that they are scared of me??? Nope. Not in any dimension, of any world. πŸ™„

They use to enact me. My every word, every move. :mrgreen: That’s why they go quiet with a sheepish smile on their face. Specially Otu. He repeats every word coming out of my mouth, with the same tone, like making a joke of me. Devil!!! The moment I’ll come out of their play room, they will laugh out loud, as if they have succeeded in their small mission of hiding their naughty plans from me. 😐

Coming to yesterday’s events. My Spy…. Yes, I was coming to that. My dear Hubby. He obliged me this time, by intruding into the enemy lines and bringing me back, important strategic information from across the border. πŸ˜‰

These were the observations….

Tisha: Boys (talking to her two naughty brothers), sit properly. Renne, don’t move.

Renne: Okay.

Otu: OK. Mamma.

(OMG, Tisha was playing MOM. Tisha was playing Me.) πŸ˜†

Tisha: Boys. Mamma is cooking food. Don’t cry. Renne, what do you want?

Renne: Chicken.

Tisha. Otu, what do you want?

Otu: (long pause) Egg. No. Ice cream. πŸ™‚

Tisha: Ok, baby. (seeing her Papa also sitting in the corner), boys, I am making tea for your Papa. Okay Boys…. Renne….. sit properly.

Playing Mom, Abhishek, Tisha, Otu, Renne
Playing Mom

Swirls water in her glass, and serve tea to Papa and boys. Papa Happy.

Papa so proud, as if telling me, look my daughter makes tea better than you. 😎

Tisha: Ok boys, get ready. Pick up your bag. Go to school.

Boys obediently took their bags. Stock it up with all the toys they found lying around.

Otu, Renne: Bbye Mamma (to Tisha).

Tisha: Bye baby. Bye. I love you. See you soon.

Playing Mom, Renne Singh, Otu Singh, Tisha Singh
Playing Mom

If you are thinking, Oh! how cute. How sweet?? How nice your kids are???

This sweetness is all for role play. Once real food is served, you won’t find a single one of them, sitting peacefully at one place, including their father.Β  πŸ˜›

 

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What My Kids Want From Me?

 

What My Kids Want From Me?
What My Kids Want From Me?

I was watching β€œEverybody Loves Raymond” (yeah, I still watch the reruns), lying leisurely on my couch. When abruptly my daughter Tisha declared β€œMamma, I want something”. Something as in something to eat.

Boy! There is nothing more terrifying than this ‘something’ word. Something means they are not sure what they want to eat. Off course, they don’t want a proper food food. So you have to go through the whole charades of showing them everything you have, and asking them one by one, if they would like to eat that. Most tiring thing is you will always hear no, till the time you feel like crashing on the floor.

Having no other option I asked –

Me: you want egg?

Tisha: No.

Me: Chicken?

Tisha: No

Me: Biscuits?

Tisha: Noooooo

Thankfully, Otu (My 2 yr old son) came to my rescue.

Otu: Grapes. Mamma, grapes.

Grapes given to them. I came back again to my dearest couch and resumed the show. When….

Otu: Mamma, plate.

So, now they want grapes in separate plates. Given. Few seconds passed, I sat and….

Otu: Mamma, spoon.

Now, who eat grapes with a spoon? Well, looks like my aristocrat son Otu does.

Spoon given.

One minute passed.

Β Otu: Mamma, hanky.

Β Even when he is eating grapes, that too with a spoon, he somehow managed to get his hands dirty. :O

Wearily, I said β€œGo ask your Papa. Why didn’t you guys go to him? He is also sitting here. Call him.”

BTW he (my hubby) was also there, just sitting quietly with his laptop, doing nothing. As always. Giving me ‘The Look‘ on hearing his name.

Β Otu: (again) No. Mamma, I want hanky.

Given. Sigh….

Me to hubby: Why can’t they ask you for everything and leave me, at least for 5 minutes? Why don’t they come to you?

Hubby: because, you are lucky. πŸ˜›

(He meant it sarcastically, believe me.)

I started thinking, was I like that with my mother? I remembered my mom saying to me umpteen times, how I have never let her sit for a moment. How I was always calling her for my every little needs. I didn’t went to my Papa, even when I wanted something from him. I always went to my Mamma first and then she used to take my case forward to Papa. I was not scared of him, he is not at all scary :). It was just that I always believed my Mamma understand what I want much better than anyone else. She was my first person.

Back to my lucky phase, my kids. I realized, how they come to me for their tiniest needs. When they are hurt, or happy, or just showing off. They will scream Mamma, and suddenly it will be the only thing that would matter to them, to get the desired reaction from their Mamma. To see, how she kisses their fake wounds and heal them, or to see how she laughs with them, or admire them each time they learn something new. I realized how much it meant to me, that they are calling me first, and not their Papa or to say anyone else in this whole world. Just me. I am the most valuable parson of their life. I am their first person.

I am lucky. πŸ™‚

And, what do they want from me? Well, Everything.

Mamma!!! What’s this?

Mamma!!! What's this?
Otu

Β My two-year old boy, Otu while reading his book….

Otu: Mamma, this? (points to a butterfly in the book)

Me: It’s a butterfly, Otu.

Otu: Mamma, this?

Me: It’s a dog.

Otu: Mamma, this?

Me: It’s a boy.

Again, comes back to butterfly.

Otu: Mamma, this?

Me: Butterfly.

….

and again, and again….. and again. So, after reading out Β wholeΒ page around ten times.

Me: Mamma is tired now. Go play with your toys.

Otu: NOOO……… book. Mamma, this??? (Translation: No, I want to read book. Points again to something in the book)

Me: (cursing under my breath all of those who have invented books, language and questions.)

Me: Otu, look Renne (his twin brother) has your car. Renne is playing with your car.

Otu, now running after Renne to get his car back.

Me: (Relieved, with evil smile on face)

Point to Note:Β Don’t ever take parenting advice from me. J