Life is really unfair.

How else can I see these?

• When I enter the house my baby looks beyond me to check if my father is behind me and then run into his open arms ignoring mine

• That my baby shouts gleefully ‘Appa appa’ when she sees Surya on TV or a magazine cover

• That she says ‘Thaaatha’ more than she says any other word

• That she wants to sleep in her ‘Paataa’s’ lap every other afternoon

• Saves her special dance for her ‘Chitha’

• That she finds my make-up skills inadequate and dabs her face with more powder on her own

• That she sends more SMS than me

• That she is a ‘Dahling’ and ‘Vaalu’ at the same time to everyone

• That she thinks her body and her dress are the place for art

• That she cries and brings the house down on being fed but thinks chalks and my lipstick are okay foods

• When I’m rushing to leave for work, her insane tantrum to comb my hair

• That she thinks that my washed and ironed dupatta is a prop for playing ‘bhuuu’

• Her demands at midnight to hear ‘Yellow….yellow’ rhyme and train sounds or to wear her ‘Spiderman’ shoe inside house for dancing.

• That my mother most of the time starts to call my baby but ends up calling out her younger son's name due to long habit (sometimes even I do this)

Sigh!

But who cares about these things when you are holding your life in your hands?

I don’t even remember all this when the baby calls out “Ammei” from across the room and come running to me when she is scared of ‘rummmbu’ (ant), happy because her favorite song is on TV, cranky, hungry, in ‘doo’ mode with someone, to get me a unasked sombhu full of water with everyone else chasing her, to do the pithukuli dance routines, to keep safe her stolen ‘mammam’s, to show and complain about her ‘vooa’, to play any weird laada-mooda games of our own invention or just suma. When I have her snuggly tucked on my chest and hear her slow breathing and have her milky sweet breath on my neck and face, I feel safe. I feel life to be so unfair in an entirely different way. Can you understand that?

To quote another blogger “A day as a mother is worth a million as a rock star”.

I agree.Touch wood!