Life Desk :
Friday, 9pm: I am working on an article, simultaneously worried about my mom’s health and mentally cribbing about not getting enough family time, with my husband mostly busy with his office commitments.
My mind travels to the time when we started dating. Things were so simple. We always made time for each other. But today having climbed up the corporate ladder, taking out time is a rare luxury for both of us.
Consumed in these gloomy thoughts, I notice my little one playing with her dolls and spinning cute little stories animatedly. Looking at her, I wish to be a child again when commitment, deadlines, financial burdens were terms I didn’t even know existed. My daughter notices me looking at her and shows me her doll dressed in a shimmery dress. I force a smile. She comes to me to fix her doll’s skirt. I do it half-heartedly and she goes back to playing.
With a disheveled mindset, I unlock my phone and start checking my emails, Facebook and Twitter, racing my fingers fast through the screen, wishing to find something that can fill the sudden vaccum I am feeling. But nothing is able to settle the storm inside of me. My daughter comes again to get the skirt fixed. I get a little annoyed but I comply. She goes back and opens her Lego box and spread the pieces all over the bed frantically looking for something to add to her existing game. I hate the sight of clutter but my mind is enough cluttered to pay heed to it.
I try to distract myself with an unfinished book by my bedside but I fail to focus on the words. I remember how excitedly I had ordered this book online but haven’t managed to go past page 30. She comes again with her doll, wanting me to fix the skirt again. This time I lose control. Irritatedly, I throw her doll at the far end of the room and retort, “Why do you have to remove her skirt every time if you can’t put it back.” She is clearly scared but tries to justify, “Mumma she is now back from the Royal ball and it’s bedtime so she doesn’t want the skirt.” I get annoyed. To distract myself, I go back to my phone.
I think about all my mommy friends who take vacations with their friends leaving behind the kid and how I may never be able to do that. But I can’t blame the circumstances; I am myself too weak to detach myself from her needs. After a while she comes to me again. “Mumma are you ok? I am sorry if I hurt you.” Touched by her gesture, I hug her and smile. She is happy and goes back to her toys.
My little one is happy with her toys and I start to enjoy watching her play. She animates a story that is about happy beginnings and joyful endings. That’s when the beauty in the moment strikes me! My little one is happily mucking about in the present, while I am worried about my past, present and future, overlooking the simple pleasures of life. That moment, I switch off my phone and sit with her to be a part of her beautiful stories.
-TNN
Friday, 9pm: I am working on an article, simultaneously worried about my mom’s health and mentally cribbing about not getting enough family time, with my husband mostly busy with his office commitments.
My mind travels to the time when we started dating. Things were so simple. We always made time for each other. But today having climbed up the corporate ladder, taking out time is a rare luxury for both of us.
Consumed in these gloomy thoughts, I notice my little one playing with her dolls and spinning cute little stories animatedly. Looking at her, I wish to be a child again when commitment, deadlines, financial burdens were terms I didn’t even know existed. My daughter notices me looking at her and shows me her doll dressed in a shimmery dress. I force a smile. She comes to me to fix her doll’s skirt. I do it half-heartedly and she goes back to playing.
With a disheveled mindset, I unlock my phone and start checking my emails, Facebook and Twitter, racing my fingers fast through the screen, wishing to find something that can fill the sudden vaccum I am feeling. But nothing is able to settle the storm inside of me. My daughter comes again to get the skirt fixed. I get a little annoyed but I comply. She goes back and opens her Lego box and spread the pieces all over the bed frantically looking for something to add to her existing game. I hate the sight of clutter but my mind is enough cluttered to pay heed to it.
I try to distract myself with an unfinished book by my bedside but I fail to focus on the words. I remember how excitedly I had ordered this book online but haven’t managed to go past page 30. She comes again with her doll, wanting me to fix the skirt again. This time I lose control. Irritatedly, I throw her doll at the far end of the room and retort, “Why do you have to remove her skirt every time if you can’t put it back.” She is clearly scared but tries to justify, “Mumma she is now back from the Royal ball and it’s bedtime so she doesn’t want the skirt.” I get annoyed. To distract myself, I go back to my phone.
I think about all my mommy friends who take vacations with their friends leaving behind the kid and how I may never be able to do that. But I can’t blame the circumstances; I am myself too weak to detach myself from her needs. After a while she comes to me again. “Mumma are you ok? I am sorry if I hurt you.” Touched by her gesture, I hug her and smile. She is happy and goes back to her toys.
My little one is happy with her toys and I start to enjoy watching her play. She animates a story that is about happy beginnings and joyful endings. That’s when the beauty in the moment strikes me! My little one is happily mucking about in the present, while I am worried about my past, present and future, overlooking the simple pleasures of life. That moment, I switch off my phone and sit with her to be a part of her beautiful stories.
-TNN
