Lunar Lesson Part 1 - The Phases of The Moon

These days, Jr seems to be reading a lot of books that deal with the moon. Albie and the Space Rocket by Andy Cutbill has been a favourite for some time now. But now it seems Moon, Ramu and I by Geeta Dharmarajan has also been added to his bedtime reading list.

So it made perfect sense to plan today's activities around the phases of the moon, edited to suit my 2 1/2 yr old. We watered it down to feature just the Full Moon, Crescent and New Moon.

                                                         
                                                          Scotch Tape Resist Painting


This has long been a favourite activity of ours. But this time, we modified it to suit our theme. Also, I've come to finally accept that Jr simply Does.Not. have the patience to fill up a whole page with finger painting. And that prodded me to invent the (*drumroll please*) Bubble Wrap Bom Bom! Or that's what my son calls it :) It is simply a wad of newspaper scrunched up and wrapped with bubble wrap. When dipped in paint and dabbed on paper it leaves the most satisfying circular patterns, much like finger painting.

So without further ado, here's how we did it.

Materials Needed

1. Paper and pencil
2. Stencil to trace out a circle
3. Colours of your choice. I picked out some black and blue paints and crayons in shades of blue and white
4. Scotch Tape
5. Bubble Wrap (optional)
6. Glitter and Glow - in- the - dark  paints (optional)

Now let's do this!

Begin by tracing out the shape of the moon. I used the lid of a Pearlpet jar as template. Once that's done, stick Scotch Tape all over the 'moon', making sure that you stay as close to the borders of the 'moon' as possible. The point is to make sure that your 'moon' is completely protected from a toddler going berserk with paint.

Once that's done, tape your paper down to the floor or table. It helps to make a sort of border with the Scotch Tape because that will end up looking like a 'frame' once you're done (you'll see what I mean in the final pictures). Then let your kid go wild with the paints! We started out with blue before moving on to black. Jr was completely grossed out at the very idea of finger painting and after trying for about 40 seconds he yelled for a paintbrush.

Once it was time to use the bubble wrap though he really got stuck into it. He climbed right onto the table and whacked that "Bubble Wrap Bom Bom" around for all it was worth. Extra points every time the bubbles popped! :D

Once I managed to wrest the paper from my over enthusiastic son, I peeled off the Scotch Tape over the moon. That's the tape on the white triangle between the two sheets of paper.You can see how it has been painted over like the rest of the paper. The moon is speckled in the places that were not covered by the tape. But I think it looks super pretty!

We then peeled off the Scotch Tape 'frame' around the papers, and used crayons to fill up whatever blank spaces we could find. And finally Jr got busy putting glitter stars all over his paintings. I then took over and painted the moons with Glow - in - the - dark paint for good measure.

                                               
                                                       And these are our final paintings!

I'm planning on using the Scotch Tape 'moon' we peeled off in another painting, as the New Moon. Jr sat with these two paintings for about an hour, and no force or Earth could have made him stick around to paint another moon!

As always, I'm more excited about our artwork than my son is. I've been moving them around the house all morning... from the fridge to the living room to our bedroom. They are currently in Jr's playroom with his astronauts and rockets.

These pictures sure are ghastly! Blame them on a smart phone that has been battered senseless by Amma and toddler. I'll update with better pictures as soon as I can. 

Our experiments with Flintobox

Jr is a relatively quiet fellow who definitely prefers his books and cars to running around on the playground with friends. He also loves watching the same rhymes over and over again on my phone, curled up in the fetal position on the cold floor. While we have significantly reduced the amount of time he spends with my phone, I despaired of ever finding another activity that kept him as hooked as mindless rhymes on cracked cell phone screens.

And then I stumbled upon Flintobox on Facebook. "No more struggles to keep your child away from TV or gadgets while preparing dinner or quickly finishing up an office file" declared the website. And I was immediately hooked. Anything that promised to get my son away from my phone had my attention. 

Flintobox is an award winning startup that sends you gorgeous, well thought-out activity boxes every month. Each month deals with a specific theme (colours, space etc). These boxes are packed with fun activities that children from 3-7 can either do on their own or spend quality time with their parents over. That sounded right up my alley so I wasted no time in ordering February's box as a sample.

About 10 days later we received a beautifully packed Flintobox with Jr's name emblazoned on the side. The theme for the month was Space, and each item in the box was specifically designed to teach young kids more about things space-related in a fun and engaging way. The box contained :

• Two cardboard tubes, concave and convex lenses for a DIY telescope.
• A fun jigsaw puzzle full of planets and rockets.
• A box, rechargeable flashlight, stickers and printouts of constellations that can be put together to make a projector.
• A story book about space.

I was very impressed by all the items in it, and couldn't wait to get started. The instructions provided were clear and simple, the pictures were bright and engaging and everything was beautifully packed. So our Valentine's day was spent with Flintobox as Jr and his father happily assembled the telescope. The skills required for this were too much for my 2 1/2 yr old, and he had his work cut out for him simply trying to peer through his "teyekkope" with one eye closed.

However the Build Your Own Projector was a huge hit with him. He had absolutely no trouble in following every step -  from punching out the stars in the constellations to decorating the "projector" with the stickers provided. He absolutely loves this, and we have spent many happy moments projecting constellations to our walls and ceilings. The kit also comes with blank papers that we can punch our own designs on, and Jr has really gone to town on them!

The jigsaw puzzle was a little beyond his abilities too, but I loved it.It was evident that each box contained activities suitable for kids of different age groups, and different interests. However the story book wasn't up to scratch.

So although we still have a long way to go before my son is fully weaned from my cell phone, I would say the Flintobox was pretty much a hit with Amma and Jr. I have packed away everything except the projector for now, to be taken out once Jr is a few months older. 

But we will be having a lot more Flintoboxes around for sure!

That's Jr and his father using our Flintobox telescope to check out the neighbour's Valentine's Day activities :) 

Details

1 Month's subscription - Rs 1095

3 Month's subscription - Rs 2985

6 Month's subscription - Rs 5370

The Flinto Blog is also a great resource for entertaining, educational activities to do with your child. The Moon-Phase Hopscotch game looks like a fun way to spend the afternoon with Jr.

Dipping my toes in blogging waters. Again!

Hello,


So I've been gone a long time. Almost 2 years or so. And in the mean time, my son has grown into a bright, curious toddler who absolutely loves books, cars and possibly plants. So this means I (like most mothers of toddlers) have had to morph into librarian, gardener, engineer, teacher, inventor and scientist. Or something along those lines.

It has been a fun journey so far, with more flops than successes. But these days the successes have slowly begun to outnumber the failures, to my unrestrained delight. Jr may or may not share my enthusiasm, but I am positively thrilled at the strides I am making. Hey... I can finally do a craft intended for a 3 year old! Those who know me know what an achievement that it.

So here in these pages I hope to keep track of the activities we do, the products we love and the books we adore. And maybe, just maybe, I can find the time to do this on a regular basis.

Gotta go now. Jr is trying to figure out how the gas cylinder works.

Sigh...

How I Dream Of Writing

 How I End Up Writing

One Happy Year

And so last week my baby boy turned one. As always, the party didn't even come close to the gala celebration I had started planning somewhere in my second trimester. Which turned out to be a good thing.

While I am already legendary for taking impractical ideas further than they should ever go, even I was rather impressed with my performance this time around. I could barely keep up with all the brilliant ideas zooming and crashing around my head. Maybe we should have a carnival theme....or go insane and have a true - blue Mallu theme, with the baby in a lungi! (No, for the three happy minutes that I dreamed of this I did not find it weird at all. Now I wonder what was wrong with me.)

Finally I decided on a Rainbow theme because that's what I'm tripping on right now, and I suppose its a fair enough guess that I won't be having a rainbow themed 30th birthday. So for about a month, a typical early morning conversation between my husband and me sounded something like this:


Me : ''Babyawakeupwakeupwakeup.......I have the perfect centrepiece for the buffet table!''
The Husband : ''zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz&^^*^^$^%$%$"$£!"!!$$% !!'
Me: ''We'll have a chocolate fountain....''
The Husband : ''Its 6:25. On a Saturday morning. You woke...''
Me:  ''And every now and then we can make it spew Gems. You know, a rainbow coloured chocolate fountain!''
The Husband : ''How old are you again?''
Me : ''Eh?''
The Husband : ''Who's going to get a chocolate fountain to throw out Gems instead of chocolate?''
Me : ''I don't know, but I'm not the one who loafed around an engineering college for...''
The Husband : ''And what buffet? I thought you were making a traditional Kerala spread. You were asking me to hunt for banana leaves in Delhi!''
Me : ''See?! You don't love me anymore!''
The Husband : (snooooore. grunt.)

And so April passed calmly enough thanks to my saintly husband. But the first week of May was a whole different story. Husband happily skipped off to San Fransisco, thrilled to be putting a few continents between him and a rapidly unravelling wife. And I sat back to enjoy watching my baby twist his newly arrived grandmother around his tiny finger.

All went swimmingly well until two days before the event. Just as my house was filling up with two sets of grandparents and an uncle my water purification system went bust, the guest bathroom door got jammed and my precious, antique sofa set completely fell apart! Add Delhi temperatures to it, and it wasn't a pretty picture. And then two of the guests called to say they couldn't make it. That was bad - I had only invited three guests.

Dad :  ''Wait... 3 guests? You throw a birthday party for a kid and only invite three of his grandparents' friends?''
Me : ''Aaah. Hmmm. Eh?''
Dad : ''What about his friends?!''
Me : ''He's 1 year old! I'm his best friend and I'm right here!''
Brother :  ''Well its a good thing anyway. We don't have sofas, remember? Or drinking water! Hah!''

By then I was a depressed, morose mess. I had dreamed of this day for so long now, and had desperately wanted it to be picture perfect. Absent guests and broken sofa sets were never part of the lovely dream.

But then I slowly acknowledged that my baby really couldn't care less about any of this. His party had started two weeks ago when his grandparents arrived to pamper him senseless. For two whole weeks he had people who adored him fly down from all parts of the country just to get him to drool over them. He was the hero and it appeared that nothing could sabotage that.

And so I got down to enjoying what turned out to be a party to celebrate one year of parenthood and grandparenthood. A party we threw ourselves for exceeding our own expectations.

It was better than anything I had planned. It was perfect!

"Your Son Is Just Like You!"

My baby boy scorns all toys that are not noisy. Also, he refuses to reach for anything apart from his diapers, wipes, the remote control and my phone. I'm hoping this is temporary.

His other favorite plaything - noses. Other peoples' noses. He's developed this sudden fascination and squeals and giggles as he reaches for the biggest, shiniest nose he can find. We were at a wedding yesterday and as we stepped up to the happy couple to congratulate them, my son shrieked and lunged for the groom's nose. When he saw that his Amma was about to play spoilsport he held on with both hands and screamed delightedly at the top of his all too impressive lungs. This soon developed into a free for all that included a highly thrilled baby, a polite but not-thrilled groom (who I have never seen before and will be avoiding for a very long time) and a very embarrassed, blathering me. I managed to pry my baby's hands away by bribing him with my ponytail, and hastily made my apologies as he happily tugged my hair out with both his pudgy hands.

My own Amma was watching all this happily from the audience. And as I huffed up to her she beamed, "Serves you right!" And I knew exactly what she was talking about.

                                                             *************************
Circa 1989 : Amma was not pet-friendly. In fact she absolutely refused to believe that a 6 yr old girl could be completely responsible for a puppy, despite what Enid Blyton had to say on the subject. So I just had to work around that, didn't I? I did, by collecting head lice in a little plastic bowl. My great plan was to breed them, and thus prove to Amma that I can definitely take care of pets, several of them, in fact. So I sat down one afternoon and combed a whole lot of lice (oh I had plenty to spare) into a round plastic jar.... and promptly forgot all about them. Some time later Amma walked in to find lice crawling all over the dressing table. Fireworks exploded all around, and I walked around with a sore bum for a week.

Circa 1993:  Still working on convincing Amma to get that puppy. By now we had moved to a house on the banks of a river, which opened up a whole new world of possibilities. This time I talked some fishermen into giving me a handful of mussels. Pets, you see. I had the bright idea of hiding them in the wardrobe. And then I went off to have lunch, and forgot all about them. A week later Amma followed the stench to the wardrobe and found a pile of green, stinky, worm infested mussels among her silk saris. I was done for.

Circa 2008 : I was working in Bangalore at the time. Amma called up one afternoon, panicking over the bomb blasts that were ripping the city. "I can't talk now! Apparently a bomb went off near my bus stand, I'm going off to explore! Oh and my phone will die any minute. Don't worry ma, I'll call from a booth. Sometime".

                                                               ***************************

Over the years I have attempted to run away with beggars, caught trains headed in the wrong direction, made a long list of dubious friendships, earned a reputation for being chronically accident prone, and generally tried my very best to get my Amma to strangle me. She never did.

Now she's sitting back and waiting to for the show to start.

"He's going to be just like you", she smiles.

Proof of Identity

When I was in the 7th STD, I turned in (what I thought was a brilliant) essay on my ambition. I wanted to be a housewife. With three children and two dogs, reigning serenely over a house that was drenched in sunlight and stuffed with books. Oh and I also wanted to write.

My essay was not received the way the others were. Even as I type this, I'm still seething at the way our English teacher took my composition book to other classrooms to laugh at my expense.

But I'm wandering off the point of this post.

My point is, I've always wanted the life I have now. No more worrying about deadlines, a husband who is more than everything I dared dream of, and a wonderful baby boy. I finally did it. I should be thrilled.

So why am I feeling all blurry around the edges?

Maybe it has to do with the way I cannot recognize this new woman who gapes back at me from the mirror. Who has gone in the space of one year from seemingly-anorexic to definitely-wannabe- fertility goddess.

Perhaps it has to do with the stage whisper that I overheard. The one about how I pissed away my education "for nothing, to be nothing".

Or the way my heart crashes near my swollen ankles every time my husband reassures me that he really doesn't care what I look like. When did that go from being comforting to downright scary?

But what brought it home was the way the pen pusher at the local village office laughed at my attempts to change my maiden name today. Apparently they don't let you do that because husbands can and do change, while you can only have one set of parents all your life. So my husband and son have the same surname, I don't. What the hell!

I spent over an hour convincing said pen pusher that I have every right to take on my husband's name. I even waved a page from Femina that gave details on just how to go about it. No go. I'm allowed one name, one identity all my life. I'm always somebody's daughter, they couldn't care less that I'm also a wife and mother.

After a whole morning spent running from one government office to another clutching a file full of 'identity proofs', I staggered home sweaty and exhausted. And screeching at me through the window was my 8 month old son. This was the first time I had spent hours away from him, and his tiny heart was broken. He squealed till I walked into the living room and then he flew out of his grandmother's arms straight into mine, puking in delight down my neck. And after I was done apologizing profusely for sneaking out, we were back to our favorite game - trying to teach him to say Amma. As always, he stared at me as I said "Ammmmmmaaaa" and then dissolved in helpless laughter as if it was the funniest thing he's heard all week. And it probably was.

There we were, rolling on the toy-strewn bed, laughing, squealing, cuddling. Was I really feeling low only a few minutes ago?

I'm his Amma, the best he's ever known. And I intend to do my darned best to stay that way.