Thats not my Amma.

So I sat and thought (and thought and thought) about what my first post should be about. I wanted it to be an introductory post for those who do not know me. About what kind of Amma I am, and why amma in the first place. But I am horrible at introductions.

And finally, as always, inspiration struck while reading to Baby V (2 of my favourite creative outlets. And inlets)

Here is Baby V introducing me in Usborne books style. This is also a list of the most surprising and unexpected ways in which motherhood changed me. I was prepared for the sleepless nights and physical changes. What I wasn’t prepared for was the way I reacted to these changes.

Much as I would hesitate to admit, I still cant resist beautiful and colorful clothes. I still love shopping for clothes (although Ive gone up by a size or two) . However, they are no longer sparkling clean. I was prepared for unkempt clothes. What took me by surprise was that, at any given point of time, I, in all probability, would be sporting atleast 2 body fluid stains and 1 food stain on whatever I am wearing. I dont intend to keep up this fashion trend forever, but all in good time.

So pregnancy gave me beautiful, voluminous and luxurious tresses. And once the baby popped, so did my hair. I, who scoffed at pony tails and buns, now understand the comfort and practicality of the “mom bun” and short hair crop.

I’m an introverted extroverted introvert (go figure!). However, during the reading I did when preggers, I chanced upon how important it is to keep talking to and communicating with your baby. And I can see the difference it is making. So, there is never a dull moment at home. Either Baby V is babbling or banging things or I’m singing or talking to her. Almost every waking moment. Our once silent home, is now a cacophony of our antics; and it is lovely!

Although I take great pains to keep our home cosy and wardrobes clean, and extra effort to keep Baby V’s things in order, I hate tidying up. There! I said it! There is no greater pain than putting away blocks 29 times a day. My kitchen counter is certainly not neat. My house is a mess. A beautiful mess. And I would rather spend my day playing with V, or tidying up with her than straighten cushions.

As you may have guessed, by my excessive use of commas, and my picking up blocks 29 times a day, I may have a slight obsessive compulsive disorder. I would love to be the relaxed and chilled mom, but for now, I worry constantly, about Baby V’s nap schedules , her food, her toys, her books,….you get the drift, don’t you?

This was the one change that scared me the most and took me by the greatest surprise. All through pregnancy, I worried incessantly- about how I could take responsibility of another person, and how I was going to mess it up. But suddenly, once she was here, I knew! I knew what her cries meant, I knew how to put her to sleep, I knew when she was uncomfortable, I knew when she was okay, and most importantly, I knew when I did not know, and that was when Id ask for help.

Im gonna write this at the risk of sounding like a prose version of Disney’s Mother Knows best. Although I’m far from perfect, and my parenting style may be exactly the same as or starkly different from anyone else, I know Baby V best. When I need help, I always ask. Advice, help, discussions? Always welcome. Judgement? No. And this applies for all the ammas, ammis, moms, mummies, mothers, aais and maas. When it comes to your baby, always always trust your judgement okay?