Vivian turned three months old on May 16th (or 12 months old from conception - that's a very long time..:-).
It's time for a plane trip - a nice short three-hour flight to Detroit to meet her Dadu (grandpa), and to see Uncle Alu and Aunt Michelle before they sell their lovely house in Ann Arbor.
Jo bought this polka dotted apron like thing that allows her to feed Vivian in public without showing skin. Laura had told us that the secret to flying a baby well is to feed her during take-off. Feeding apparently helps equalize pressure, and equalized pressure means the baby's ears won't hurt. Or, if you don't believe that, doing anything with a boob in your mouth makes it better.
It works like a charm. Vivian feeds and sleeps inside her new polka dotted tent. And then she wakes up and charms everyone around. And then falls asleep for the landing. Jo and I think this is a piece of cake. I conjure up images of flying to Tokyo and Auckland with Vivian just for the hell of it.
Ann Arbor is great (here's a picture of three generation of Chatterjees ). Vivian loves bathing in Alu and Michelle's very newly remodeled kitchen sink. And she takes over their bedroom and sleeps through the night. But on the last day, she skips her naps. We worry because we know that without her beauty sleep, she gets cranky.
Jo's timing is impeccable. We board the plane and they close the doors. At about five minutes to take-off, out comes the polka dotted tent. Vivian starts feeding. But wait - the ground maintenance needs to be called because an overhead bin won't close. It takes the guy 30 seconds to apply duct tape (rated for 300 mph) on the offending bin, and about 10 minutes to do the paperwork. Vivian is still feeding. Phew. But hang on - the tug that is attached to our plane to roll us out from our gate breaks. We wait for the aircraft at the next gate to leave and then borrow their tug. After a very long taxi, we finally take off.
But by now, Vivian has been feeding for ages and is full as a tick. About 5 seconds after take-off, she's done. She's so full, she refuses to suck on Jo's pinkie. We try everything. She clamps her lips shut - "thanks, but I am full".
About a minute later, my ears pop and I swallow to equalize. And Vivian starts screaming.
She gives it all that she's got. That's a lot of decibels for a tiny Bombardier CRJ tin can. Fellow passengers start plugging their ears - presumably to stop the bleeding.
We try everything - I even try to get Vivian to lick on a piece of ice - and that makes her madder. Finally, Jo calms her down - but it's an uneasy calm. We invoke Newton's First Law and don't change anything. Jo enters the Guinness Book of World Records for sitting in the most uncomfortable position for two hours without moving. I keep reading my book.
Vivian sleeps through the landing. Even though we are in Row 4, we minutely examine the carpet while our fellow passengers exit the aircraft and the leave the airport. We'd rather not make eye contact with anyone who was on the plane with us.
We get home and tumble into bed. Next morning, I take the early morning feeding for a change so Jo can get some sleep. Vivian and I are horsing around at 730am when Jo walks into the bedroom. Without looking up, I say - "Hey - that wasn't too bad". She barely whispers something incoherent. That's when I realize that she looks like a poster child for PTSD.
Today we have been on our best behavior. I tell Vivian - "Shabdhan, baba - Ma abar Mexico er dik'e takache" (Easy kid - Mom's looking towards Mexico again).
Happy three month birthday, Vivian.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
Sleeper
I didn't want to do this with insufficient data, as ephemeral as this may be. She's done this for a week now.
Vivian sleeps through the night. She's carried to her crib after she falls sleep at about 930-1030ish at night. And she wakes up between 6 and 730 in the morning. With no squawking or crying or even jabbering in between.
And she still takes her signature long nap (3 to 4 hours) during the day. She must need all this sleep because she's taken to jabbering and moving her arms and legs every waking moment.
What does she say? Mostly a wide variety of mangled sounds. Like star constellations or intelligence data on Iraqi WMDs, I am only too eager to connect the dots and make up shit to suit myself.
The other day, she looks me straight in the eye and says "Help me".
That's pretty weired for 11 week old, I think - a bit ET-like, or perhaps a previous-life experience. But I stay calm and counter "Who are you?".
She says again, more softly but clearly "Help me".
Yesterday - I see her in the morning and say "Hello Vivian".
She cheerfully replies back "Hola".
"How are you", I continue (deciding against "que pasa" mostly because that is the extent of my Spanish, and I don't know how good Vivian's is).
"How are..." she replies, before getting distracted by her left hand.
Vivian sleeps through the night. She's carried to her crib after she falls sleep at about 930-1030ish at night. And she wakes up between 6 and 730 in the morning. With no squawking or crying or even jabbering in between.
And she still takes her signature long nap (3 to 4 hours) during the day. She must need all this sleep because she's taken to jabbering and moving her arms and legs every waking moment.
What does she say? Mostly a wide variety of mangled sounds. Like star constellations or intelligence data on Iraqi WMDs, I am only too eager to connect the dots and make up shit to suit myself.
The other day, she looks me straight in the eye and says "Help me".
That's pretty weired for 11 week old, I think - a bit ET-like, or perhaps a previous-life experience. But I stay calm and counter "Who are you?".
She says again, more softly but clearly "Help me".
Yesterday - I see her in the morning and say "Hello Vivian".
She cheerfully replies back "Hola".
"How are you", I continue (deciding against "que pasa" mostly because that is the extent of my Spanish, and I don't know how good Vivian's is).
"How are..." she replies, before getting distracted by her left hand.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Bbhibbhian
I was on the phone with Sharath in Hyderabad the other day. "Shoroth" (as we say in Bangla) lived in Kolkata for several years and he mentioned that Vivian's name might be a bit of a challenge for some people.
What would a Bong say at the Wendy's drive-thru: "Dada - one Bbhendi's bbharghar and one co-ka-co-la. The night is bhat yong."
All the bbh's are breathy and chesty, and yes - we are a poetic people.
In Bangla, we write but don't say "a". Instead, it's an "o". My name in Bong is "O.roon".
And we don't say "v" or "w". To start with, most of us Desis including myself are somewhat sketchy about our v's and w's - we usually mumble something in between. "The wine comes from vines" is pretty hard for me. And Jo smirks when I say "vowels". It's anti-German. They "v" everything - "vat are you doing". We Desis on the other hand, take our "witamins".
Bongs add another twist - "w" or "v" become "bbh". If you are a native Angrezi speaker, put your lips together like you are going to say "b" as in "buddy", but save some breath in your lungs and exhale a bit explosively when you open your lips. But don't over do it.
So, to my peeps from the far corners of India, my daughter's first name is Wiwian. And to my Bong peeps, it's Bbhibbhian. Her first trip to Kolkata should be bbheri pphanny.
What would a Bong say at the Wendy's drive-thru: "Dada - one Bbhendi's bbharghar and one co-ka-co-la. The night is bhat yong."
All the bbh's are breathy and chesty, and yes - we are a poetic people.
In Bangla, we write but don't say "a". Instead, it's an "o". My name in Bong is "O.roon".
And we don't say "v" or "w". To start with, most of us Desis including myself are somewhat sketchy about our v's and w's - we usually mumble something in between. "The wine comes from vines" is pretty hard for me. And Jo smirks when I say "vowels". It's anti-German. They "v" everything - "vat are you doing". We Desis on the other hand, take our "witamins".
Bongs add another twist - "w" or "v" become "bbh". If you are a native Angrezi speaker, put your lips together like you are going to say "b" as in "buddy", but save some breath in your lungs and exhale a bit explosively when you open your lips. But don't over do it.
So, to my peeps from the far corners of India, my daughter's first name is Wiwian. And to my Bong peeps, it's Bbhibbhian. Her first trip to Kolkata should be bbheri pphanny.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Vivian likes Bharatnatyam
Yesterday we took Vivian to see Simran's dance recital. Jeanne had saved us second-row seats. Vivian was enthralled. She clambered up on Jo's lap and danced away. She approved by burping loudly.
Chase and Priya were in the audience. Chase took some great pictures of Simran. The girls were dressed in beautiful bright costumes with ghunghroos (bells) on their feet. Bharatnatyam is the classical dance of South India dating back 2000 years.
All that dancing did Vivian in. Last night, she slept for nine hours straight.
After the show, Jo asked Anu how soon Vivian could start taking classes. We are thinking next week.
Chase and Priya were in the audience. Chase took some great pictures of Simran. The girls were dressed in beautiful bright costumes with ghunghroos (bells) on their feet. Bharatnatyam is the classical dance of South India dating back 2000 years.
All that dancing did Vivian in. Last night, she slept for nine hours straight.
After the show, Jo asked Anu how soon Vivian could start taking classes. We are thinking next week.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Happy Birthday, Mom
Jo - happy birthday, dearest.
Where were you the last time the earth and sun were in this configuration? Returning from camping at South Llano. And going to Japan on a whim. And then a quick trip to Kansas City. Followed by Seattle and Alaska. Yes - that was May 2006.
Something happened after Japan, though we didn't know till after Alaska. This morning, I told her it was your birthday today. She smiled.
love
-me
Where were you the last time the earth and sun were in this configuration? Returning from camping at South Llano. And going to Japan on a whim. And then a quick trip to Kansas City. Followed by Seattle and Alaska. Yes - that was May 2006.
Something happened after Japan, though we didn't know till after Alaska. This morning, I told her it was your birthday today. She smiled.
love
-me
Happy Tenth
On Fri, the girl turned 10 (weeks). We had achieved double digits in a somewhat ad hoc but widely used numbering scheme. Time to loosen up.
For Saturday, we decide on a double header: dinner on the patio at Whole Foods, followed by a jaunt through Jagruti's birthday party. Yes - it's ambitious. But the evening goes well. Vivian holds up under a complicated system of frequent hand-offs between several women.
On Sunday, Dadu (Grandpa) makes it from Hyderabad to Ann Arbor with only the loss of toothpaste at the Frankfurt airport security check. And we take Vivian to Opal's. We sit out on the deck. A band is playing downstairs. A kids' party is in full swing upstairs. All in all, enough distractions keep Vivian busy for a quick beer and about half of a Divine brownie.
On Monday, Vivian decides that napping is for the birds. By the time I get home from squash, Mom is a bit ragged. Vivian and I step out for a quick stroller ride. The rains have come and gone, and the air is nice and cool. Quick, my ass. Forty five minutes later, I stumble back home, ready for bed. Vivian is, on the other hand, very alert and happy. No sign of sleep.
She finally passes out, we all sleep. Tuesday morning is slow (except for a call from Dadu at 730am). We finally crawl out of bed at 1030am and drive down to Juan's for breakfast. Vivian charms the Don and generally has a good old time. We get back home and Vivian embarks on a marathon five hour nap. I go off to see if I can hurl a slightly digested taco on the soccer pitch.
It's Tuesday evening. The clouds roll in. The meteorologist warns of rotating thundershowers (a new term for me) and tornadoes. We plonk the little girl in her stroller and take off to Jorge's for a quick margarita. We sit out in the covered patio. The storm comes. Vivian loves the terrific racket of huge raindrops on the tin roof. But then the rains stops and it get all muggy and nasty and Vivian's had enough. "Two Mexican restaurants in one day?", she conveys. So I down my fresh drink and the remnants of Jo's unfinished first, and we hit the road.
But the rain isn't done. We pull up the cover on the stroller and walk back in the rain. Vivian thinks it is hilarious. I can sense the disapproving gazes of good (and dry) Rosedalians as we walk past their homes. We get home and dry off.
We spare the kid a third trip to a restaurant, and instead, Mom makes a quick run to Amy's for a shake.
But it could happen. Girl - this is what Mom and Dad did before you - we ate out - a lot. Happy 10th.
For Saturday, we decide on a double header: dinner on the patio at Whole Foods, followed by a jaunt through Jagruti's birthday party. Yes - it's ambitious. But the evening goes well. Vivian holds up under a complicated system of frequent hand-offs between several women.
On Sunday, Dadu (Grandpa) makes it from Hyderabad to Ann Arbor with only the loss of toothpaste at the Frankfurt airport security check. And we take Vivian to Opal's. We sit out on the deck. A band is playing downstairs. A kids' party is in full swing upstairs. All in all, enough distractions keep Vivian busy for a quick beer and about half of a Divine brownie.
On Monday, Vivian decides that napping is for the birds. By the time I get home from squash, Mom is a bit ragged. Vivian and I step out for a quick stroller ride. The rains have come and gone, and the air is nice and cool. Quick, my ass. Forty five minutes later, I stumble back home, ready for bed. Vivian is, on the other hand, very alert and happy. No sign of sleep.
She finally passes out, we all sleep. Tuesday morning is slow (except for a call from Dadu at 730am). We finally crawl out of bed at 1030am and drive down to Juan's for breakfast. Vivian charms the Don and generally has a good old time. We get back home and Vivian embarks on a marathon five hour nap. I go off to see if I can hurl a slightly digested taco on the soccer pitch.
It's Tuesday evening. The clouds roll in. The meteorologist warns of rotating thundershowers (a new term for me) and tornadoes. We plonk the little girl in her stroller and take off to Jorge's for a quick margarita. We sit out in the covered patio. The storm comes. Vivian loves the terrific racket of huge raindrops on the tin roof. But then the rains stops and it get all muggy and nasty and Vivian's had enough. "Two Mexican restaurants in one day?", she conveys. So I down my fresh drink and the remnants of Jo's unfinished first, and we hit the road.
But the rain isn't done. We pull up the cover on the stroller and walk back in the rain. Vivian thinks it is hilarious. I can sense the disapproving gazes of good (and dry) Rosedalians as we walk past their homes. We get home and dry off.
We spare the kid a third trip to a restaurant, and instead, Mom makes a quick run to Amy's for a shake.
But it could happen. Girl - this is what Mom and Dad did before you - we ate out - a lot. Happy 10th.
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