Head over heels

Well, if it is not your heels then it is your head they play with!

After a gruelling work day where 14 hours out of 24 were spent staring at a monitor came home to find the kids in a playful mood.

Had to oblige them with anything they asked for as it was just day 2 of school.

They wanted me to play outside and we tried that for a few minutes and they realized how tired daddy was. So we moved indoors and the little one said "daddy, I know just what you need. We are going to dress you up and pamper you!"

Well a six year olds idea of pampering daddy involves

1- combing your hair

2- adding rubberbands to your hair that will ensure you have a reduction in hair count that is way more than what you can tolerate

3- decorations with accessories

The only difference this time was that all these things were being photographed in the iPhone. It was nice to see the pictures and be surprised at the things that make my day!

So without much further ado..

We present..

Princess Daddy!

Did not quite understand why the glasses. The little one had an explanation for that. Apparently that was the Grandma daddy with "neththi chutti" photo! (Neththi chutti is a decoration used by indian brides on their forehead). Mommy's dolphin necklace had become a Chutti.

If she finds out....

Well.. she will when reading this post!

Why can't they comb mommy's hair, I ask and the answer?

"We don't want mommy's hair to fall out. You don't have a lot of hair anyways!"

Honesty is sometimes overrated and cruel.

and yes, usually she does things to my feet. Nailpolish, pedicure etc. Sometimes I prefer the heel treatment to the head treatment, but all said and done, head over heels in love with my little angels.

They can do whatever they want in the makeup sessions.

Kids, in case you read this blog years from now.. please know that you put me through this and I did it with a smile!

I am daddy

The little one has a new fad now. Walking around wearing daddy T-shirts and claiming "I am daddy!" It is hilarious. Caught her on video when she was least suspecting it.
We had fun yesterday at Big Trees state park which was a 3 hour drive away. We also visited a mining town that has been preserved to look like the early 1900's called Columbia on the way back that reminded us of our trip to Ballarat in Australia many years ago! It was one tiring trip for the kids who did 2 mile walks and some steep climbs to get to the Stalinslaus river. Now the little one has a cold and both kids are going through Daddy withdrawal symptoms as I make my way to spend this work week in Austin. Time for her to grow up and be daddy! .

Neeyum Naanum (you and me)

Watched Abhiyum Naanum on DVD. It was a great movie. Came out teary eyed in a lot of places. First real sappy daddy movie to hit the screens in a long time.

Even the big girls were all wiping their tears, possibly thinking about their dads?!

Most of the things in that movie have happened for real in this house. The girls as much as utter a sound, daddy will be right next to them. The alert level in the house for the girls getting hurt is always at Orange, much like the San Jose Airport since a few weeks after 9/11. Daddy is still designing airbags in his sleep that will make sure that there are no scratches on the kids if they get in an accident.

If this movie captured our past and present very accurately, then it is offering a very scary glimpse of the future for daddy.

There is a lot of growing up to do, for sure.

Just remembered this post and the comments that followed! It is not going to be easy for me to see my girls say bye to me.

Funny thing is they already know that they can live without me but it is me who cannot live without them and this theme came as a self realization way before this movie was made!

Hell, I should have scripted this movie. Okay, just kidding..

Those occasional flashes of truth fade into the background in an instant and we are back to the "my child" obsession.

One thing is for sure. I treat my FIL with a lot of respect. He is the only person who could put things in perspective for me when my kids decide to get married. Not my wife, not my parents, not my kids. Only the FIL can give me advice on what it means to become a FIL myself someday.

Maybe he has no profound wisdom to offer me and will brush it aside with stuff like "achcha baba" or "chalta hai" or some such thing which leaves you staring into space going "what was that?" , or maybe he will take me aside and bare his soul on what he was thinking at my wedding....or maybe he will start a school for prospective FIL's and offer coaching classes?

Only time will tell.

Hopefully by that time, this dad will be wiser. One can always hope, no?

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Around the world in 80 clicks ...

After a long time, a tag, thanks to Gauri, originally started by HBM, whose blog I had never read till this tag started.

A tag that was ciculating amongst the mommy blogs over the last one week. Read at least 12 posts on this chain on my blog reader, enjoyed all of them and just when I was thinking, "hmm why won't they include a few daddy's in this loop?", Gauri sends me an email.

The people who get this tag are Terri, Anu, Animom,
Swatantra,
violet,
and Witchyangel.. if she chooses to accept this tag and come back to blogging! Hey, one can always try...I know you read this blog every once in a while.

The rest of you that were obvious choices have either completed an entry, don't want to blog and only comment or have not declared to the world that they are soon to be mommies. That said,

Here is the first five things that came to mind when bringing Jr. and the little one to the brains foreground:

1. The little one comes running to me when I pick her up from school. The smile on her face when she comes and gives me a hug, the pride in her eyes as she looks back at her friends at the sharing table that says "He is my daddy and he loves me, see..." that has got to be way up in the top. Almost always makes my day. (jr. doesn't want to leave the playground these days, but she used to do the exact same thing three years ago). There is unconditional love there and sometimes makes me wonder if I was like this at 3 or 6 years of age. My parents told me, yes. I definitely love my parents, but this glow is something very special.

2. Watching the little darlings grow up and the challenges they throw me! Last night mom and grandma had gone to the airport to drop a cousin with clear instructions for me to put the kids to bed. That was when Jr. started wiggling her tooth. She spent the next forty five minutes in front of a mirror wiggling it and made me disappoint the ladies. It was so much fun watching her wallow in self toothery! (that is another thing I love about being a dad. get to coin terms like self-toothery)

The video taping finally distracted her and got her away from the mirror

3. The things they say and do that is just outright gorgeous, funny or ridiculous, but all of which end in a big hug or a kiss.

The on demand fake crying, the angry looks that melt into a smile, the tantrums that make mom's mood swings look like tyres on a rope from a banyan tree, the list just goes on..

4. The constant thought of these gorgeous creatures leaving us someday after they are all grown up. Dad's IQ in the eyes of his girls has fallen more steadily than the stock market over the last six years. The "Daddy you are sooo smart" has slowly given way to "You don't know anything daddy!" while his patent count has steadily increased and even online IQ scores seem to suggest otherwise.

Guess, IQ is in the I of the beholder.

5. The obsessiveness with which they support me. They are my biggest fans. They will defend me against anyone and everyone, including but not limited to mommy and grandma. If she feels that daddy is being cornered the little one goes to the extent of screaming "why don't you go cook or watch TV or something and leave my daddy alone!". Jr. will promptly redirect the ladies to their laptops and ask them to leave me alone. From reading this blog, to watching and appreciating the few things I cook, to admiring my music, they are really my biggest fans and somehow I never disappoint them.

What more could you ask for?

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Happiness is..

The first time I actually participated in any underwear purchasing was sometime in high school.

Till then, it was totally done at the parent's mercy, mostly my dad's. They would guess our sizes and buy us underwear. The sizes would be +/- 10% and if lucky we would grow into it within the year! If not, we will suffer through it till a parent or grandpa figured out that something went horribly wrong and correct the mistake.

Around the time in high school, there was one trip to what was Hari Textiles in Mylapore where an old gentlemen who owned the store engaged us in this three way conversation:

Dad : Sir, payyanukku size 70 jatti oru ara dozen edunga. (Sir, get my boy 1/2 dozen briefs in size 70cm)

OG (older gentlemen) : (Looks up and down, it was more like up at my dads face, down at my waist then up at my dads face again. Scratches his chin with style that would make Dumbledore proud and pronounces his verdict) Payyanukku 75 podunga sir! (make him wear 75 at least)

Dad : Ille Sir, 75 romba loosa irukkum. Neenga 70ye kudunga. (No Sir, 75 will be too loose. Give him only a 70cm)

Me : (my happiness literally hanging in the balance) Why don't you let me try it on and I can tell you if it is comfortable!

Dad and OG seem to look at me with disapproval. That worries me because as agreeing adults, they could suddenly unite and come to a consensus. The fact that there was no 72.5cm option to average out their opinions made me even more wary! What if they settle for 70?! So I put on one puppy look for OG's sake.

OG : Jatti ellam try panna mudiyaadhu thambi. Venumna ippidi vachchu kaataren..(you cannot try on a brief. I can place it on your waist and show you). goes on to place the 70 along my waist!

Doing some instant Pythagoras calculations in my head using my waist size, distance between my navel and my you know whats, with some coefficients of elasticity of common cotton fabric thrown in for good measure, horror of horrors, the thing looked like it could be a close call!

Me : I will go with 75cm!

My Dad looked disappointed, either with me for not taking his side or at OG for having the balls to contradict him in front of his son...

Dad: Sure'aaa da ? (Are you sure?)

Me : Yes. Sure!

Dad : Okay Saar. 1/2 dozen kudungaa (give half a dozen). Make sure you give him only dark colors. He likes dark colors. (For once he was right. In those days, there was a strong liking for dark colors).

My dad would treat buying underwear for me or my brother with the same seriousness as he would buy brinjals and okra in the Mylapore vegetable market. Approximately eyeball quality or quantity, start bargaining, purchase!

Five minutes later, after settling for a 10% discount as repeat customer, we both walked out happy! Dad with the 10% price reduction and me with the 6.66% size addition.

Since that day(to the present), 99% of the brief purchasing has been done at the same Hari Textiles store in Mylapore. One thing has been constant. It has always been the same VIP brand with a simple red tag across the front of the waist band which said "VIP" with the size in cms written on the side.

99% because I did stray from being loyal to HariTex and VIP during a three year continuous stint in the US of A. If you are making a trip every two years or every year in some cases, you can predict sizes and purchase accordingly. Three years on the same size with cheese pizza as your main diet can cause some serious issues. So there was a "brief" fling with Jockeys.

The rest of the purchases, all in 1/2 dozen or dozen quantities have been made at that Chennai Landmark. Well, it should be a Landmark, because that place and that man have single handedly ensured that many TamBram boys have retained some semblance of a sperm count, in spite of their dads doing the undie shopping for them during their most important years!

In short, a whole generation of TamBrams owe their existance to that store and that salesman. Now why do we reminesce about those good old days?

The recent India trip in September, was wrapped up with a last minute trip to Hari Textiles. (it is almost always the last minute wrap up purchase item!)

Now that yours truly has almost transformed into his daddy over the years, the conversation went like this:

Me : Sir oru ara dozen VIP kudunga!(give me a half dozen VIP briefs)

OG : ?!?!

Me : Sorry. Size 90 oru ara dozen kudunga. (Sorry, give me half dozen size 90cms)

OG : ?!?! (does a Dumbledore again)

Me : Enna Sir yosikkareenga ?(what are you thinking?)

OG : Endha kaalaththula Sir neenga size 90? At least 100 venum! (in which eon were you a size 90 ? You need at least a 100 centimeters now!)

Was a little upset that OG put me aside like a little puppy and in a protesting note stated..

Me: Ille saar. Naan ippo 90 dhan podaren (No Sir. I wear a size 90 now) and go on to pull out the VIP tag from behind my belt buckle to show him the "90 cms" written in size 12 Helvetica.

OG : Neenga 90cm potta romba tighta irukkum. Not healthy. Sadaa irritatedaa iruppenga.. (if you wear 90cm it will be too tight. you will be constantly irritated)

Me : (looking at San who is about to split her sides laughing, and also knowing that OG ranks somewhere next to Master Yoda on the inter galactic intelligence scale, somewhere higher than even my all knowing dad!) Neenga sonna sairyaa dhan Saar irukkum. Size 100-e kudunga. (If you say so, it will be right. Give me the size 100.)

Some people never learn, and some people here is just an indirect reference to myself!

After coming back from India, a week or two went by before one of the new 100cms was picked at random from the brief drawer.

That entire morning went by with me walking around work with a noticeable difference in my level of chirpiness! So much that at the lunch table a friend commented "What is up with you? You seem to be very happy and comfortable today!"

The "comfortable" word connected a lot of dots in my head instantly. It was noticeably obvious. The secret to the local happiness was found. It was the luxury of 10 extra centimeters of elastic around the waist and Pythagoras working his mathemagic away from the hypotenuse.

Happiness was,is and will be, wearing the right size underwear!!

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