As I sit down to blog, my mind flits across so many cues. So I decide, what the heck?, let me just write the way my mind feels now. Like a drunken monkey.
Am I two-faced because:
I can detest someone as a professional and still love them as a person;
I can respect someone immensely for their work, yet feel cold towards them as a person;
I can find a million faults in my closest friends, yet don’t feel any negativity towards them;
I can find a million virtues in someone I dislike, and still not give them a chance…
Does this make me two-faced, or just someone who can balance things well?
A colleague asked me if something I mentioned in an earlier post referred to her.
I was not only a little taken aback, but also intrigued that she wanted to know.
For one, what if I had said it was her. How would she have taken it? And isn’t it best to assume the best about yourself, unless explicitly stated otherwise?
**S, this is about you :)**
I haven’t shared this blog with my family — who try to read every bit of crap I write, in support of the career choice I’ve made. I like the privacy of writing something personal in a public forum.
But I guess that’s an oxymoron. Privacy on a blog.
Still social networking sites and blogs could well blur the line between professional and personal interactions. A line that I used to take arrogant pride in maintaining well.
Not till a couple of weeks ago did it hit me that I don’t hug and hold and pet and pamper Nilah, the way I used to Oviya. Yes, I do everything that is NEEDED. Feed, change, massage, bathe… Needed, done.
I am so conscious of upsetting O, that I am guarded in displaying my affections with N.
Then my buddy Amira (3 kids wise) recounted how the first time she held and hugged her second born was when he was 1 year old. When the older one was asleep, and the husband was away. She held Karim for a couple of hours, giving him all the exclusive attention due to him.
Until then I thought being the youngest was the best thing in the world. ‘Cos, I am the youngest of four, and never tire of the pampering I receive.
But on second thoughts, I never had my parents’ focussed attention.
Now I make it a point to hug N at every given opportunity. If O is around, I ask her to join in. Or sometimes, I remind her that when she was this small Amma and Appa were all hers, EXCLUSIVELY.
I still pay O more attention, because the lack of it will affect her more than N. However, I am slowly trying to bring in a balance. For starters, I ask O to not disturb N and me during feed times, so that her baby sister is fed properly and doesn’t stay hungry or cranky.
Baby steps. Tiny, little baby steps in balancing the 2 girls in my life.
The sutures have healed, the memories of pain are distant. And already a wicked little voice in my head is asking: “Wouldn’t it be nice to have one more. Just one more…?”
I don’t want to think about it. I want to pretend that it’s a long way off or not happening at all. But it is. M — my ‘bestest’ friend (as O calls her) in Doha — is packing up. Who will I call for advice? To crib? To take out shopping… who will I bully, though she is a couple of years older to me. I just don’t want to think about it. I will have to eventually, when I reach for the phone one of the evenings and realise she is not around to answer my call.
We have made the most ‘Gulf-Mallu’ (GM) of all decision (second only to buying gold). We are buying a WHITE TOYOTA as a second car, and for exactly the same reasons that we laughed at others for. Good Resale Value. And we are only half GM. How did this happen to us. Do you automatically become a GM after 10 years in the ‘Gelf’.
And talking about 10. We came here for just 1 year, in 1999. And every year we stayed on for just 1 more.
… the Monkey in my mind will continue to wander.