The magic behind 1-2-3

On Friday I accompanied Arya to the Science Museum – this was a trip organised by her nursery and all the children who went were there with either of their parents. It is always a great experience for a few reasons, namely:

• it’s reassuring to know that teachers do a bloody good job facing a bunch of screaming, crying, temper throwing kids every day with calm, strict and loving manner; kudos to them because I barely stand a full day with two girls

• it’s reassuring to know that other parents more or less do the same as you do while raising the future conscious citizens of the world by giving them carrots and a snack, shouting to them to always walk nearby, explaining to them with a blushing on their cheeks that you shouldn’t point at a woman standing right next to them and say:” Look, she’s got red hair”

• you always find out something new about your child like that she has a best friend at school that she absolutely adore (and the feeling is mutual) and it’s not a girl but why you never noticed, guessed or found out earlier. We see what we want to see

• it’s always great to use these crowded places to teach your kids a lesson and give them a dose of fear of being lost (in a controlled environment)

The list is long but one small thing that fascinates me is the power of 1-2-3?.

It worked on me when I was little and I dealt with it same way as it is managed by kids nowadays, probably around the world. Funnily enough I never practice it on Arya. I think perhaps I don’t feel like counting and waiting patiently for the miracle of “three”. When I say now, it means now or the corner.

My sister uses the technique very often and the highest number varies depending on how pissed off she is and how much of lee way she’s giving her boys. If for example, she asks her son to clean his room NOW but they are still playing she would count to 10 and very often slowing down while getting closer to the 10 but the voice is getting louder and the pronunciation more through the clenched teeth.

If she however expects them to get ready to school but the are messing around it will be a quick 1-2-3.

And the magic is – by the time the counting is over, by the time the highest number is spelled (which is communicated prior to the counting) the receiver of the counting obediently actions what’s been requested of them before the counting started.

It’s like the kids never want to find out what happens after the counting is completed. They stretch their luck within the permitted limit but hardly ever abuse this privilege.

What happens after the “three” know one knows because no one dares to find out.

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Failure • Guilt • Mum

It’s been 7.5 months since the second one welcomed this world. She’s already crawls and stands, the older one – climbs and I fall on my face…

I’ve been back from my maternity leave two months and today I’m on sick leave today feeling exhausted, with massive headache and belly aches and I’ve got my mum who helps me.

And yes I do feel like I’m a failure. Shall I write down the failure anxiety list:

• I don’t spend as much time with Ghaya as I did when she was a baby

• I use my maternity leave on Mondays each week to have at least one extra day with Ghaya but that means that I’m not working as hard as others

• I can’t stay longer at work because I pick up Arya from school

• My mum helps me because I can’t manage on my own or afford nursery for Ghaya

• I drink wine in the evenings

• I’m almost 40 and I haven’t achieved my career goals yet

• I feel too weak to carry my baby

The list continues but it’s pretty boring. To the observer all blurs into one same-all same-all.

To me every single bullet point is just a bullet. And it’s got a point. The point where feelings of failure and guilt max out and devour the soul.

The Reason to Not Sleep

Sanj is away traveling for business and I’m with a baby and a toddler running around trying to cope with the chaos.

Yesterday evening, I’m trying to put Arya to sleep. She’s currently sleeping in my room (we moved her bed in) so that I don’t run between two kids.

When it takes long I ask: Please Arya, let me go to have some rest.

Arya: But you can stay and rest on your bed.

Me: Arya, please sleep.

Arya: But I’m terrifiting.

Is that how you spell it?

Conversations with Daughter

Arya: Mummy, I don’t want to watch this pwogwamme

Me: What do you want to watch then

Arya: I want to watch a pwogwamme about me.

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Maths lesson:

Sanj to Arya: I’ve got two sweeties in my pocket and mummy gives me two sweeties. How many sweeties do I have now?

Arya to Sanj: Show me your pocket, dad.

Why strain your brain if you can gain

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Face painting lady: Do you want to be a princess?

Arya: I want to be a bat.

My daughter… real bat-ass!

Depressed? So What’s So Funny About It?

A few months ago I googled “funny books” because I felt a need for a laugh. I came across “Furiously Funny” and I decided to give it a go especially because it tackled depression. Having gone though it myself I thought it would be a great experience to see how the author managed to use humour through this gloomy emotional state.

And it was hilarious. I must say. I even recommended it to my friends who I knew also had gone through depression.

But then I got into a rather boycotting mode. Angry even. No, why on earth should I try to take distance to my own mental illness, find something funny in it as a sort of coping mechanism or to pretend that I am coping. 

Then I googled “funny books about depression” and all the searches showed lists of titles whose authors were mostly women (Goodreads).

We really try our best to put our best face forward, we women, aren’t we… 

I became very negative about this phenomenon. It is a problem that one laughs at their own mental disorder. What has it come to? Because it’s still so unknown, untouched, misunderstood, we try to grab any safety wheel to swim on the surface and being funny about it became a trend a sort of dilusionist gimmick that is supposed to help us survive.

Laugh is the best medicine (I realised it helps with migraines) but ridiculing your own illness is not. What’s needed is a fully fledged support mechanism, science, 

I say NO. 

What We Don’t Need in Life

Arya going out to the garden:

-Mum, I’m scared there’s a spider in the garden.

Me, after analysing the situation and concluding, pointing at a little squiggle hanging off the invisible thread stuck somewhere to a tree: This is not a spider Arya, I think, it’s a wriggly worm. 

Arya: Mum, can you take it away? I don’t need wriggly worms in my life.

Temporary Existence 

For the past few months, for a reason I can’t reveal yet I have switched myself of social media life. After a long period of constant posting, instagraming, commenting and promoting I suddenly became inexistent. My mind, in its own world, hasn’t been craving the pleasure from being seen, liked, or shared. And it felt good in a sense because I know deep down that I will return to this reality at some point soon. I will return but changed, somehow social media evolved. When you stand by as an observer you learn a lot and the point of view transforms. So let’s just wait and see how. And comment then.

However, while I existed not on the virtual platform I also disappeared from interpersonal social life. And that my readers, although fully and entirely my choice (mostly due to the reason I adore mentioned and which I can not yet mention) – has felt lonely. Loneliness that’s what I have been surrounded with. Cold, isolated, scary existence, without myself or people around. 

I truly hope this will end shortly because I can’t live without people.  

I Don’t Want to Be Boring

The other day, when I had a chat with my work colleague about children she announced: “I do want to have children but not yet because I don’t want to be boring”.

I laughed with endearment and thought at th  first split of the second that I should feel offended or at least defensive. But I didn’t.

I certainly didn’t consider this an insult but this one little innocent statement definitely made me think.

Now, that I am a mother, am I boring? Am I really boring? And I can answer this with absolutely no hesitation. Yes I am. I am perceived as boring. My days of partying are over, I go to sleep at the same time as my daughter, I skip company’s drinks because I rush to my daughter, I don’t remember when I last went to the cinema with my husband, let alone friends.  What friends? I already have had a handful and now I don’t even make an effort to go for an occasional girls night out.

Socially I am dead! I also lost my mojo one could think. I would rather say on the other hand – my mojo transformed. Yes, it transformed. Now I have a mummy mojo and although there’s still a hole in my soul unfulfilled wig the things that I love and either sacrificed or lost energy to re- take up, I devote myself to my long awaited mother persona. 

And I am the least fun human on the planet at the moment but it is so worth it…

No one Around

I haven’t been writing. I’ve been tired. More emotionally and mentally than physically.

I’m tired and apart from that – almost no access to my phone or a computer apart from work and when Arya falls asleep so not really able to keep the update. I fall asleep right after her. I love my baby with all my heart and I can’t bear being away from her just for my own pleasure or leasure although I so badly need it.

I haven’t been here for a while also because otherwise I would complain or ask for her and I don’t do that. I wish I did but I don’t want to sound like a whining woman (who my husband surely thinks I am)

Arya’s the only one I’ve got. She has been since she was born but with time more and more.

I can’t bear weekends because I feel so lonely. I can’t sit down with Arya at the table with a cup of tea and chat? I can’t have a man and woman nice evening together with a man telling me that I’m still pretty and that he would like to take me somewhere nice and then follow through. I can’t even speak about it to any of my very few friends because they’ve got their lives and I’m the strong one who can always cope and my life is not that bad afterwards. In fact it’s pretty good. I finally have my perfect family…

I can’t count on my family either. And in the moments like this I want to hide my face in my hands and burst out crying spasmatically. 

Arya is my life. And I say it with tears of bliss; if not her I don’t know if I would be in flesh here and now. But I also am a woman, just a human. It’s all about balance but it never is.

Normally you don’t read posts like that in blogs which you expect to tackle only the essence of awesomeness. These are posts in those self-deprecating, pessimistic holes of the Internet. Well life is not an Instagram Profile. Definitely not mine.

I have no one. Literally no one around. 

Moodleys Talk – Coffee

Me to Sanj: “Do you know what Pret calls Americano?”

– Amo?

I’m upset because recently whatever I start with “Do you know.. ” he knows all ready.

So I say: “I can’t even have a conversation with you because you know everything”

Sanj: “No, Agusia you can tell me stuff about SQL but I know about coffee because I was a coffeetician”

I can’t even (and if you know me, you know that I have a face for it). Sanj knows this face so he develops confidently: “Yes. Coffeetician. It might not be a word yet but it will catch on”.

Life is Not what You See

Does whatever people observe relates to us: 

• follow us like a curse or a magic spell once spoken and 

– although we realise it has been true we will never be able to turn it around because it’s inflicted upon us with the power of always powerful words

– Or, brought up in a “don’t say it or you jinx it” culture we think we are doomed and we “decide” that from now on we will be what we were “doomed ” to be, JUST TO FOLLOW

• is just a reinforcement of who we are and what happens around us happens irrespective of what they say because they just observe a fact about us

• gets imprinted in our minds and from the moment the spell was cast on we are programmed to do as it was said.

Irrespective of how many algorithms your mind create you must realise that

 life is what happens in your mind and soul it is…  
Life is not what you see and since it’s not, and I’m a very visual person and take pleasure from what I see, I therefore dream and it’s amazing…