3 Grad parties
1 Satyanarayana Puja
1 Ist birthday bash
1 25th wedding anniversary
1 Varalakshmi puja to do
25 or more to attend
1 Weekend at the beach
1 Chess camp
Back-to-school shopping for school supplies
Back-to-school shopping for clothes for middle-schooler
Back-to-school shopping for munchkin
1 Thank-you dinner to host
1 End-of-summer party for tweens to host
1 Mathcounts team to arrange and prep
1 PTA meeting to decide on
2 Diwali dances to choreograph
3 Emails to reply to for Fall schedules
2 Deadlines at work
1 Bridal shower to organize
1 Summer picnic
1 Friendly neighborhood evening fiesta
To meet 2 Flute teachers and pick 1
1 girls nite out – date with Matt Damon
Stressful decisions on ‘what to wear’ – especially considering there’s an overlap of women in almost all of the desi events. Start the closet-rampage, as saris without blouses, and blouses with missing mates are discovered, only to find the absolute perfect one and realise no way that I could fit myself into it. The blouses have this sneaky way of shrinking on me. Crib and shout at anyone who dares cross my path. Bringing deafening silence on the top floor of home. Wish I could just wear ostrich feathers and be accepted with grace. Finally landing one only to be annoyed by some dumb lady who’d go ‘hey Rads, didn’t you wear this sari once already?’ wth!? or something more idiotic as ‘oh, that is so last year’s fashion’ – argh! My only retort’s that worked so far has been ‘would you rather see me without one’? Ive had shock, fear, annoyance and awe register – am yet waiting for that one bindaas brash head-on collision who does have a comeback! [it reallys isn’t hard, as mine isn’t the best one on earth, but retorts and comebacks come to me in slow motion. Born in the 70’s I stick true to my era of slow-mo movie styles]
Sulking away by the end of the day. Dealing with munchkin’s tantrums on ‘need-to-wear-a-new-dress’ EVERY single time or day. Having to convince son to wear something a little more respectable than his usual basketball jersey and shorts. Giving up on husband as he insists on his ‘campus-look’ at every event.
Dealing with crazy-screaming-cuckoo tweens and their massive appetites.[A mom-pop grocery shop would empty in the blink of an eye] Having to listen to their music at decibels that would bring the cops on sirens. Keeping the munchkin away from the huge tweens who refuse to see below their necks and bump into anything under 4 feet with no feeling or guilt.
Visit the mall to spend agonising hours on ‘what-to-buy’ for all the celebrants, and realising I’ve spent an incredibly ridiculous amount on the ‘others’. Feel terrible and in an effort to feel better fall for the temptation of a pedicure and maybe a new outfit with a “since-I-do-all-the-work-I-deserve-it” attitude.
Meeting the bride and all the friends I’d lost touch with over the past few months and having a blast dancing the night away. Feeling absolutely happy for her and the dude and grinning all the 3 days. Konjufying with the 1 year old, she’s a darling alright!
Start the annual search for the Varalakshmi CD on the night before, not finding it and succumbing to playing it online – thanks to google. Getting extremely exasperated that I can’t get the boorelu to stay within and not pop in the oil, cribbing to mom and in turn getting mad at her for some insane reason. Start the kumkum-vethalapakku route on the Friday with munchkin in tow, and drive like a madwoman dressed in pattu sari perhaps well into midnight.
Pouring over all kuthu songs in tamil [which KC has graciously collected for me] and finding an appropriate one in telugu to do a mix of both. Finding that eluding one semi-classical number that doesn’t put folks to sleep.
Deal with parents of kids at school who refuse to be gracious and modest or accomodating while I arrange for the team meetings. Lose my temper and say ‘take-it-or-leave-it’ and wonder why adults don’t behave like adults.
Losing a few pounds with all the stress and gaining them right back with all the yummy sundal, cake, desi food thats just way too hard to resist despite the sexy Guess jeans hanging in my closet which fit my every curve not so long ago, but refuses to go past my knees these days, mocking at me every morning.
Learn to say ‘no’ – just repeat after me ‘sorry, we cant make it’
Let me start now. Somebody, quick, ask me a question. I shall work on the ‘no’ starting now. 🙂