My Little Adult

"The chemist salesperson looked at me strangely when I asked him for a small size diaper pack and home pregnancy test in the same breath." The hubby was teased mercilessly amongst his pals and I was quite a balloon, but there was no way out : yup, it was a miracle pregnancy barely 4 months after Avyukta was born. Since the 1st one was an IVF, one attributed the good news to God, Dr. Nalini Mahajan and hubby( and in that order.) Paradoxically, even after wanting the pregnancy- I almost resented the new life within me- for taking away the attention from my precious 1st born, for having to wean him early ( secretly I couldn’t have yelped louder with joy- I hated ‘breastfeed is the best feed’ prophesying that I heard everywhere.)
Softer movements in my tummy, an extremely uncomfortable pregnancy; I became gigantic and got used to being asked ‘Are you sure there not 2 in there?’ I would spend hours watching my tummy- was it different from the 1st time, even strangers were stopped to ask " Whaddya think- girl or boy?" My Dr and family waited anxiously outside the OT ready with fetters coz I had threatened to run away if it was another boy.

My little adult was made her angry appearance on 3rd Feb, 2005 exactly 1 year 1 month and 8 days after my 1st baby. Fiercely red, she fed , burped and slept with frightening proficiency. I had no guilt in offering her the bottle by the 2nd day ( albeit when the Dr was away). I mean it was OK, na? I had a small baby to look after as well. So as I was gratefully playing with baby Ta on the 5th day after popping out another one, my hubby who was tending to her came in rushing and gasping ‘ Look at her…’ I hurried into the room and there she was : HOLDING ON TO HER BOTTLE with firm hands and staring defiantly at me. While the others oohed and aahed about this ‘bahut tez hai hey ladki’ I stared back at her and that moment defined the future of our relationship.

I mean, I know, I am her mom. I have a C sec ( read ugly, fat and strech marked) tummy to show for that and all the necessary proofs but truthfully, I am still trying to figure her out. She doesn’t look like either of us ( this wasn’t an IVF baby so no room for error) but she is a lot like me. Only it took me about 30 odd years to show defiance, like myself, dance in front of the mirror and sulk manipulatively.
Talk about High Emotional Intelligence- there is not a person Mimi cant get along with. Her gleefulness and joy is infectious and she has her Dad wrapped around her little finger. I am usually at the fringes of their affection but she knows when Mama needs that special hug. As irascible as me, I am the only one who can calm her. For the record, Mimi doesn’t respond to baby stuff and talk and she skillfully palms off some chewing gum off me and chews it like any teenager would.

My Mimi detests wearing anything frilly but cant be called a tomboy. I anticipate she will never grow up to be a tomboy. She could successfully defend her elder brother in a fight with any other children but loves to wear my lipsticks and now eye shadow. ( I swear I bought my 1st one just 2 years ago). She cycles like a pro and carries off my high heels with equal ease. As I tease her about her growing bum ( the glorious inheritance of the Chopra khandaan) she stands in front of the mirror and critically examines it. She has a fantastic sense of humour and responds sportingly to Mama calling her ‘Padduraam ‘ or ‘Donkey’. In fact, whenever we spot a Donkey on the road, she is the 1st one to point out’ Look Mama, there is Mimi’.

Mimi (touchwood) has no fears. She can be locked alone in a lift without electricity and she walks out with nonchalance- why did you lock me up? She jumps from the highest point in the house with aplomb and doesn’t even wait for applause before trying another one. Her first stint at the beach- she was almost swept away with a large wave and when she emerged coughing from the water, I could see it- the thrill in her eyes of having experienced something exhilarating. If I try to stare her down or scold her , she shouts back and informs me that I shouldn’t be shouting at her. ( I have finally figured out that the best way to deal with her is to shout back and tell her that I don’t appreciate her treatment of me). It takes her all of 2 minutes to recover from pain and despite usual childhood sicknesses , she is remarkably healthy.

I think, secretly every woman yearns for a daughter. And while ostensibly all people claim ‘it would be so nice to dress up a girl’; I don’t think its about that. ( if your 2nd one is a girl, you would empathize- they’re always in boyish pants and T shirts). Girls have a way of giving a part of them to you। They hug just because they want to; they know that its time to buy a pink lipstick ( not brown again, Mama) ; they pick up your latest dupatta and admire it; they share a chaat with you ( even at 3); you can finally gnaw at a chicken bone without discomfiture ( for the new comers the Lord still stays vegetarian and the son inherits abhorrence for killing anything moving); Mimi will not accept a chicken piece without the bone and prefers the tougher meat morsels. And like any other woman, I want to bring up my daughter to be everything I wanted to do but couldn’t do .
As my hubby and I worry about the times ahead and wonder how many men is she going to drive crazy coz she is an exceptionally spunky girl, I sing softly to her 'राज कुंवर जी आयेंगे, मिमी को ले लायेंगे’ she looks at me and confirms 'U cry? When Mimi goes?' I look at her mistfully and tell her I will miss her terribly and she…looks back at me her special look ( reserved for Mama) and then jumps up in glee ‘ And I ‘m not gonna come back’.