A Desi Mom!

“You are SUCH a Desi Mom”.  At her wits’ end one day over one of our daily routine arguments, my daughter hurled the words at me in exasperation and stomped off upstairs to sulk in the sanctuary of her restroom.  

What??  Hold it right there buster.  Was that supposed to be an insult?  Tsk, tsk, tsk…. you poor baby!

I have had better punch in a fizzled-out coke.  As I happen to be a Mom with so many deep roots in India as to shame a Banyan Tree into drooping its branches, I naturally fall under the proud race that is commonly referred to as Desis.  Given this fact, I hope you’ll understand why I clucked my tongue at my daughter’s receding back with pity.   As exits go, it wasn’t her best.  Poor child!

To my surprise, subsequent conversations with fellow Desi moms brought to light an interesting fact. Apparently all our children have been drawing from the same well of insults all these years, pitiful as it is.  After one of our recent ‘sob and tell’ parenting woes sessions, we discovered that we had all, at some point, been at the receiving end of some form or the other of the following accusation. 

1. ·        Why do you have to be SUCH A MOM? (a cry of agony)
2. ·        YOU DESIS! (in utter disgust)
3. ·        God!  You are such a Desi. (also uttered in extreme disgust)
4. ·        God!  You are such a Mom. (???)

In keeping with the spirit of the theme, they also use ‘You Asians’ every now and then.

Lately, I find myself pondering a lot about what it is about a Desi Mom/parent that brings out such eye-rolling exasperation in our kids.  Why do we push our kids into tearing out their poor, unoiled hair roots so much?  Here are a few reasons from the top of my head.

• A Desi Mom loses more than her sleep over a ‘B’ grade on her child’s report card.  At times she loses control over her bowels too.
• A Desi Mom believes in regularly checking with her fellow Desi moms about all the academic and after-school pursuits of their offsprings.  After all, she does not want her child to be deprived of any such advantages.
• A Desi Mom manages to find time every day to fit at least 3 lectures to her children about the importance of Studies, especially science and math, in one’s life. 
• A Desi Mom will silently thank her stars when the US public school system offers to take responsibility for talking about puberty and other unmentionable subjects to her kids in school.  She also breaks out a sweat when her child gets home and wants to discuss those unmentionable subjects to her.
• A Desi Mom is a stickler for organization.  Her children never are. 
• A Desi Mom hates the word ‘boyfriend’ as fiercely as she does ‘dating’, ‘drugs’, ‘alcohol’ and ‘cigarettes’.   She will not hesitate to give her life to protect her children from these evil ‘boyfriends’.
• A Desi Mom loves to play dress-up whether her child wants to play or not.  She will hound her daughter every single busy school morning until she picks a shirt that reveals no more than her upper collarbone for this world to see.
• A Desi Mom is inquisitive by nature.  She insists on knowing the background of every human that interacts with her child.  She doesn’t understand why her child thinks it is insulting.
• A Desi Mom strongly feels her children do not know the value of money.  She worries about their materialistic attitude even as she showers them regularly with unnecessary games and gifts.  ‘Money does not grow on trees’ is a phrase that all Desi children are familiar with.
• A Desi Mom expects no less than complete obedience/respect from her children even when she packs them off to a school that encourages them to ask questions.  ‘Because I say so’ is a phrase she uses often at home.   

Well!  That is just from the top of my head. 

While I believe a lot of the characteristics that I have listed here may belong to an unlabeled, regular 'Mom" as well, I believe we Desis are blessed with just a little bit more irritable traits than others to earn the very unique 'Desi Mom' title from our children.  Here, at the end of this very weird essay, I am proud to raise my cup of rasam in a salute to all my fellow 'Desi' moms. :-)  

Go Desis!   

Am I smarter than my 4th grader??

I know that I should be grateful about this. After all, bribing government officials in India is no joke. It is an expensive business for anyone and more so for the middle class. Looking at the historic, exorbitant rates of bribery, I am positive that nothing less than utter desperation or blinding love could have pushed my middle class parents to do it and I am leaning towards desperation in this case.

I have no proof but my gut feeling says that my parents coughed up big money all those years ago to pay off the Education board of India to let me graduate from College.

Why do I suspect foul-play in my education? Many reasons really but when the first time I held my daughter's homework folder and my stomach involuntarily heaved in protest, I knew something was fishy. Forgive me for asking, but shouldn’t I be able to do a fourth grader’s homework with my eyes/ears/mouth closed given that I am a college graduate? Well, I can't, hence the allegation against my parents.

Here is a small sample of the problems that I commonly face on the homework front.

Math – Nothing gets my tear glands working faster than fractions, especially the word problems. The other evening, I was faced with my daughter’s wide, adoring eyes and the following problem.

A first grade class took a poll to find out their favorite ice cream. 1/4 chose chocolate, 1/4 chose vanilla and 1/2 chose strawberry. 2 kids are lactose intolerant and can't eat ice cream. If there are 22 kids in the class, how many kids liked each flavor?

If you ask me, can they not have a glass of lemonade each and be happy? Huh? Is Ice cream really necessary for the happiness of first graders? Somehow my daughter was not convinced with this argument of mine.

My evening’s homework woes will, by no means, end so quickly. Usually, right about this time a missile of a different sort like the following will attack me:

The entire third grade class is going to the zoo. There are 3 buses for the field trip. Each bus has the same number of kids. If there are 90 kids in the third grade, how many are on each bus?

Helllllllloooooo…..? What is wrong with the society today? If every parent took the responsibility of driving his or her own children to field trips, I wouldn’t have to sit and bite my cuticles off over the bus situation now, would I?

An important point to observe here is that I am very easily persuaded to double or triple the monthly allowance in lieu of escaping to the powder room in the evenings to avoid any contact whatsoever with Mathematics and yes, my daughter is very much aware of this weakness of mine.

Science – In the name of all that is sane in this world, why would I want to know Earth’s distance from the Sun? I am not planning to go there now, am I? Duh!

Grammar – Now, I know I have heard of irregular bowels but what is this ‘Irregular Verb’? And wait; aren’t pronouns, proper nouns, prepositions, helping verbs and conjunctions banned from the language dictionary yet? Have mercy, lord! I thought I had learned all there was to learn about grammar from Professor Higgins’s (My Fair Lady by George Bernard Shaw) teachings “In Hartford, Hertford and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly happen.” Obviously, I have miles to go before I can even think about resting. (Sigh, sigh…..)

Social Studies – Okay, I know that the big, bad English people came a long time back to America to shoo away the natives and set up colonies. Hey, I watched Disney’s Pocahontas too, you know. But come on, how much information can you absorb from a cartoon movie? Is it my fault that Disney forgot to include important details of the Civil war and Declaration of Independence in its movie? Talk about irresponsibility!

Anyway, there it is finally. My homework woes for all the world to see. So knowing what you know about me now, would you call me smarter than my 4th grader? Before you answer, please do keep in mind that I hold a college degree from a very reputable educational institution. That has got to count for something, right?

Could we get some help down here PLEASE?

Today I am pondering about ways to meet God.

Before you trip over your keyboard looking to bolt out of this place, let me tell you quickly that this is not the beginning of a long philosophical discussion. In fact I have as much chance of saying something intelligent about philosophy as I have about Science. Shameful but true.

My husband once bought a book called ‘Self Unfoldment’ and urged me to use it to start my spiritual journey. I got lost within the first 100 yards of my journey and ended up tucking the book safe behind my dozen recipe books in the Kitchen. I showed it with pride to a friend the other day as the only book in my cabinet that has no finger smudges or rips or pencil marks.

I have a couple of questions that I want to ask God. How do I find Him first? If I stand on one leg and meditate, will he show himself to me? Considering the success that the sages from Indian mythology had with this method, it might be my best bet. In that case, I better make a quick stop at a local drugstore to pick up some Bengay first. You see, I get cramps in my legs if I stand too long on two legs. Imagine my problems if I stand on just one leg!

On the other hand, it might be smarter to simply text God. “OMG, SH.YS. HV FW QK QSTS 4 U” should do it. If you can’t read it as ‘Oh my God, show yourself as I have a few quick questions for you’, consider yourself a little behind current times, my friend.

Okay, okay…...before you go scratching the wall, here are my questions to the Almighty.

If the purpose of my existence on this Universe is to wash dirty dishes, do laundry, tie shoelaces and drive my kids around town:

1. What was the big idea giving me only one pair of hands?
2. Where is my superpower – the ability to beam in and out of places? (Now you see me, now you don’t)

At the risk of inviting a fierce black bolt of lightning to strike me, I will have to say this. Big flaw in your design, my Lord!

Your design specification list for a Mom should have started out with 3 pairs of hands to effectively multitask - the first pair on the shoulders {as in the existing design} to wash dishes, the second pair on the waist to fold and iron clothes and the third pair on the ankles to help tie shoe laces for kids. Considering the fact that we also cook, shop, network and volunteer to sell popcorn for the PTA, we could ideally use a couple more pairs of hands but hey, I will settle for 3 if you can manage it.

When we were watching Star Trek the other day and Jim and Spock pressed a button on their shoulders and said ‘Beam me out Scotty’, I almost jumped out of my skin with excitement. Here is the solution to one of my problems. Here is how I can avoid entailing my estate to the County. Here is how I can pick up both my kids at 5.00 pm sharp from their swimming and tennis lessons respectively from the opposite ends of town without accumulating a dozen speeding tickets in the process. In the next few days I risked alienating my children by pressing an imaginary button on my shoulder often and declaring ‘Beam me out God’. Guess you weren’t listening.

As a time-starved Mom who is forever on the verge of a breakdown trying to be at 2 places at the same time (thereby breaking all known traffic laws of the State), I probably speak for all moms when I say ‘I WANT THAT’.

If you are listening up there, could we get some help down here PLEASE? Hello…..?

-Meena Sankaran