My ‘Game Name’ at the moment is Goofy Mom. I feel it describes me so well. I’m a mom and I’m goofy. What’s not to like? I’ve often been a little illogical and thought of myself as a fumbling, funny person until I’ve met people goofier than I am and said ‘hey, I’m not even the best at this!’ That’s when I remember the lovely thing about us simple folk. We’re not here to make our mark! We just like to make our mess, clean it up and carry on!
On the subject of being goofy, here’s a nugget. My younger son who’s an adorably assertive one year old loves bananas. I always pack him one for breakfast but just today, I forgot to. The lady who looks after him while I’m away came and picked him up but the banana stayed right there on the table. When I realized I told my husband and he said it’s fine to let him go one day without having the banana. Nope. I made him drive to the lady’s house and wedge the poor fruit in her door handle because she wasn’t home yet. Poor hubby must have hoped the neighbors weren’t looking. I just googled ‘goofy’ to make sure my behavior is in line with my game name. It says ‘goofy : foolish or harmlessly eccentric’. Sounds about right!
Another honorable mention would be that I almost missed enrolling my son to kindergarten this year! Big one, you say?! While my husband very gallantly shares responsibility with me on this one, I must be honest. It was all me. I had a plan B of course, in this case, which is why plan A slipped right out of my brain. I had enrolled both kids at child care which covers kindergarten but is a far more expensive option. So ideally I should have been more alert for kinder enrollment dates. All’s well that ends well though. Our smart lad managed to get a spot at the kindergarten of our choice despite the best efforts of Goofy Mom. But this did teach me one thing: It’s good thinking to plan for backup but plan B is plan B for a reason. Give plan A your best shot!
I’ve done some other things that give me good reason to stake my claim on this moniker. I embarked on a 20 hour journey by air with only my kids for company, then 3 years old and 4 months old respectively, to meet my loved ones halfway across the globe. The much frowned upon decision turned out to be a wonderful holiday, a reunion with family and friends celebrating new babies, my dad’s 60th birthday and traditional festivals that I had missed celebrating with my family for many years. It also renewed the romance between my husband and me, something that pregnancy and fussing over babies can suck out of you, pun intended.
Goof on moms. It’s the only way to keep our inner child alive on the journey of raising our children!
PS: This is only my Game Name. In the real world I am more switched on than I like myself to be! Moms will understand!
This write up is a response to yet another writing challenge I have entered, this one started by Tara Nicholle Nelson, renowned transformation expert.
She stood among them, a cat among the pigeons. Nodding along as they bantered on about neighborhood gossip (don’t know anyone, not interested!), how their kids are eating more veggies after starting school (nah, mine isn’t!) and the latest bargains on Amazon (ha! Finally, something!). Casually one of them began to opine about the importance of mothers picking their children up from school every day and how much they miss out on if they choose to ‘chase their careers’ instead. No one looked at her, not with their eyes at least. But her face flushed with the subtle dispraise, this was a pang she was getting used to.
Just then she caught sight of her sunshine boy, bounding out of the school gate, gorgeous bangs flouncing in the breeze, his heart full of excitement because ‘Mummy’s picking me up today!’. The day was lovely again. And there was also that Amazon deal what’s-her-name mentioned earlier. Touché!
Hidden away in the back of a drawer in the room at my parents’ home that my sister and I occupied together through many joyous childhood years, is a collection of newspaper cuttings. I am so embarrassed to reveal what they are! They’re pictures of stills from the film Saathiya that were published in the ‘In Cinemas now’ column years ago. Aah Vivek Oberoi! Did we love him! Deep inside we still do. Who wouldn’t kill to be his Rani at the time! Maybe it was our age, sixteen going on seventeen, or maybe it was the story of fledgling love, or the music, those glorious colors of romance captured on the silver screen. But that’s one piece of cinema that has endured the changing shape of my thoughts over these years. I loved Saathiya and I always will. We always will. And that little assortment of cut-outs will always have a home in the back drawer of our cupboard and our hearts.
What I should have said was that I am happy it isn’t meant to be. That would have given me closure. Now here I am, in the middle of the day, drowning in a cold pool of ‘what ifs’ and ‘why nots’. I loved the feeling back then, it moved me to tears so many times, tears of happiness and sorrow, all in the span of a few days. And that’s a lot to say for a true blue stoic. I was so happy that it happened to me, it was my prayer answered, but it changed my conversation with God. It opened my eyes, cleared my mind and showed me the key to a beautiful future. What I should have said out loud was ‘Goodbye’.
If I tell you the truth, will you still love me? I know you will, because your love is unconditional, I’ve felt it. But will you still look at me the same way? To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I like the way you look at me even now. Maybe you’ll look at me as someone who has been desired, and desire me more. Maybe you’ll try seeing what another saw and appreciate that you’re the keeper. Maybe you’ll begin to wonder what I’m thinking about, like I wonder what goes on in your mind all the time. Maybe you’ll begin to love my flaws instead of counting them. Maybe I should tell you the truth and find out.
But that’s not my real name. It’s not what the Almighty will call me by when the Day comes. Why don’t they get it? Why is the appearance of a united front more important than unity itself? I hope no one’s watching me type.
These are the thoughts that used to plague me every morning as I would set my coffee down beside my laptop to log in with my new name as user name. It isn’t new anymore but it used to feels new every day. Soon I would delve into the rubble of the previous day’s work and pick up where I had most eagerly left off. Good Morning, Impostor Syndrome!
And then the coffee started to do its job, and so did I. I’m not that bad at it, really. I’ve been recognized for my work and my contribution has seen validation on numerous occasions. Just like my new name, I have come to accept my role in the larger scheme of things. Once your labor bears fruit, the fruit is all that matters. After all, you can call an apple an orange all you like, but dig your teeth in and you’ll know what you have. And the thing about apples is, they never fall far from their tree.
I’ve been a closet writer for many years, hoping to blog my way to confidence and success with the written word. Always on the look out for some inspiration to get started (my website’s name should drop a hint there!). Come meander along with me and we could find our horizon someday.