Wo(a)ndering thoughts!!!

​Being a mom is the only job where you are simultaneously a CEO, a personal chef, a punching bag, and completely ignored—all while being paid exclusively in "core memories."  Every phase of parenting is a chaotic mix of “I need a nap” and “Oh my gosh, my heart is melting.” ​Thankfully, mother nature gave us selective amnesia. We completely forget the tantrums and only remember the glimmers. ​Since my teen son (Aa) is currently tolerating my existence, I wanted to document a few recent wins before he realizes I’m not cool: ​The other day, I poured my heart out, telling him he is my absolute number-one priority in this chaotic world. He was listening with the fierce intensity only a teenager staring at a smartphone can muster. Out of nowhere, he muttered, "Yeah, you’re mine too." I told him that would change one day when he gets a girlfriend, and that's totally fine. He looked up and said, "Nah, you come first always." Brb, crying into the laundry basket...

Once upon a time, there was a teen boy—let’s call him Aa (strictly for anonymity, of course, wink wink ). Aa has a profound, soul-deep allergy to the great outdoors. Now, call me crazy, but I couldn’t fathom why! What’s not to love about sharing a single toilet with 150 other teenagers ? (Don’t visualise it. Just don’t.) Or the thrill of hiking, rafting, and sleeping in a bush and waking up to the sound of a Kookaburra. Truly, it’s a mystery why a modern teen would hate this. It’s a classic "First World Problem," isn't it? Whenever I see him pout, I think back to my own summer breaks spent in my dad’s village. It was a place where "TV" was a myth, and the entire population went into a coma at 7:00 PM. If you asked for a "snack," the elders would look at you like you were speaking Latin. In a desperate bid for survival, Aa packed for his five-day camp like he was prepping for a personal bunker: 6 Cup Noodles (The essential food group). Enough snacks ...

If you read my previous post about the Mic-Drop , this sequel will make perfect sense. After Aa’s triumphant scoreboard success, I had to document the recent incident for the record. You see, in this house, Fridays and Saturdays espcially in summer, aren't for relaxing. There is no such thing as TGIF; there is only TGIFS  (Thank God It’s Finally Sunday), because the rest of the weekend is just back-to-back cricket tournaments. Last Friday was the usual weekend sprint on Friday. Aa gets exactly five minutes to transform from his school uniform into his cricket uniform. You’d think by mid-season he’d have the drill down on what's required for the game night. Errr!1 WRoNg!! I’m the mother who knowssss—I have "History-Vision." I know he’s going to forget something because I’ve seen it a thousand times before. Like a responsible mum, I reminded him about his water bottle. He hit me with the classic: "I knowwwwww, Maaa! Stop telling me what to do!" He grabbed the...

I don’t know about anyone else, but parenting a teenage boy is basically like being a contestant on a game show where the rules are made up, the points are imaginary, and you’re somehow always losing. I used to think, "Who keeps score during arguments?" Then I had a teenager. Apparently, my home has been converted into a high-stakes arena where every conversation is a championship bout, and I am the underdog who never even makes the playoffs. I have no idea how his math works, but the scoreboard is remarkably consistent. According to Aa, the daily standings are:  Aa: 8 (and rising)  Me: 0 (permanently)  His favourite victory comeback? Proudly announces “Mic Drop! " with a hand gesture.    PC - Google images He delivers it with the confidence of a rock star playing a sold-out stadium, usually right after I’ve asked him to do something revolutionary, like pick up a sock or put his lunch box in the sink. How is it that at 13, they are already ‘ Know-it-...