This is my absolutest most favourite Saree ever! I wanted to wear this at my second wedding reception but couldn’t because of time constraints. The next (and only) time I wore it was at a family wedding and I am 5 months pregnant here.
Fast forward to post delivery, weight gain and neglect has made it difficult for me to wear this beauty again. I am dreaming of a day, hoping that I wear this again in the next 6 months but whenever I embark on a journey to achieve better health and try and get fit, something in my life goes out-of-tune and I spiral into my old habits. I think it is self-fulfilling. I keep dreading that something is going to mess me up and sooner or later, something does. Or maybe it is just bad timing, because the deeper endeavour toward a fit and healthy body should be a never-ending cycle you don’t ever break out of. To inculcate it in your day to day is the hardest part and it is the first step you take towards the betterment of you for the rest of your life.
That’s the hard part though.
That first step.
The first few days of keeping up the pace and energy despite your body and mind telling you to take it down a notch. Despite you wanting to procrastinate and live by ‘let’s start tomorrow’, you ignore all the voices in your head to prove to yourself that you can do it. That’s the win! That’s the win you have been fighting for SO long.
And I don’t remember the last time I gave myself a win. I give myself a pat on the back everytime my toddler says something smart or helps me out but I am also constantly asking myself. Is that enough? Am I satisfied? And I am not. This is not what I had envisioned myself to be.
Yes, I am a happy mother. But I am not a happy person. And that shows in my personality on days when I do nothing at home. Nothing for my daughter, nothing for my husband, nothing for my family and nothing for myself. I have so many ideas. But I have no direction. It’s kind of ironic because my name actually means ‘Direction’ in Hindi.
Irony is laughing in my face right now.
What’s the point of such a realisation at 3 am in the morning? The only takeaway from this is that it’s keeping me awake. And restless. And tomorrow, I might wake up with half the resolve that is burning in me right now. But I see myself yearning more and more nowadays. Indeed that’s a good thing. It shows I have the fire. The fire that sets off and burns momentarily because I fail to fuel it with more oxygen from my end.
How do I plan to keep up the momentum from here, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Because I have hope that the momentum this time around will linger a little time longer.
Funny the train of thought a picture of a Saree can trigger.
I promised myself last year that I would write more. Because writing for me is more about self-expression than providing information. I would rather someone reads my posts and think along the lines I do, or provides a different perspective but continuing the same chain of thought that I started in the first place. I wrote to create a stir, even if it was in my mind of one person. There was a time when I would get messages on my social media from a stranger in the middle of the night telling me how they were moved by a certain post I wrote on my blog about dealing with death. Or maybe just congratulating me about a job well done with a post that would just be me rambling on and on and taking no particular direction in the narrative. Even right now, my daughter is taking her snack break so she is watching something on the television and I am sitting beside her typing this while a song blasts into my ears from a distance. There is noise everywhere but oddly, there is also clarity in my thoughts. Something that I have not been able to achieve in the past few months, since the time I promised myself that I would write more. Ironically, I haven’t written anything after that.
I also promised myself I would work on myself. That I would take care of my physical and mental health. Physically, I’ve been in a dump. Mentally, it has not been very different. I am an angrier, chubbier, gnarlier version of my old self and I do not like it one bit. Why am I telling you all this? Because if you are in the same frame of mind as I am, you are not alone. As much as people tell you that you are not alone, you will end up feeling like nothing bad has ever happened to anyone else but you. Nothing will come close to measuring up to the magnitude of the storm you feel within yourself. And no matter how much you try and resolve it, it will feel like it is sucking the life out of you. And it will go on for a long long long time! I know, I’ve been there. Sometimes, I am there. But that’s okay I guess. Now, I do not spend all day obsessing over something that needs no resolution from my end. I still try and eat my way through my emotions but instead of carbs I binge on salads and fruits and drinks LOTS of water. This also brings me to a very critical part of my personal well-being. I cannot work on my physical health as long as the demons of my mind linger. It is a vicious circle and I am at the head of it, if being at the head of the circle makes any sense.
There is no overnight change but there are incidents that spark something in you. That is what happened with me. A few incidents that forced me to see myself in a light that I was avoiding this far. I came face to face with my insecurities, imperfections and the fact that I needed to work on myself before anything else. From the time I got pregnant to now when my daughter is 2.5 years old, I’ve been through a roller-coaster of emotions and experiences. Some good, others challenging and scary. But I’ve come out of it okay.Not stronger, just about okay.
And then I heard this podcast by a friend which talked about the very thing that prompted me to rethink everything about my life. The only difference is that what she talked about in her podcast happened to me two weeks before released it and it’s uncanny how it all lined up. Maybe, it is a sign. My subconscious is telling me to make the change. To take charge and make the change.
So, I promise myself again. To take care of my mental and physical well-being. I am starting on a weight-loss journey which is super difficult for me because I have a very complicated relationship with food and my emotions. But if I write about it, post on social media about it, I will be compelled to share more with my audience and to make myself look good, I need to show results. That will be my push. This is mighty superficial of me but I am hoping this tactic works with me because most of everything else has failed.
I will also promise to share about my path to weight-loss. In details, with numbers. Right now, I am not comfortable sharing it but I promise I will because I will not stay at it for very long.
I also promise myself to do everything I love. To get back to photography. To relearn the craft and to re-train myself. To write more. To love more and to forgive more. To love and forgive myself more.
P.S. The podcast I was talking about is https://beingmammabear.com/2019/07/23/mamma-bears-musings-podcast-ep-1-why-it-is-important-to-look-in-the-mirror/
I never could figure out how I was feeling after the death of my father. If I can be honest, I had no time to process it. He passed away at home within seconds of a heart attack caused by a bad fall. I was with him. We all were. Within seconds, it all changed. And it never hit me.
It happened late in the afternoon and I spent the remaining day receiving relatives and friends who had come to pay their last respects. I had no time to digest the fact that this would be the last night he was going to spend in his home with his family. Less than 24 hours after he passed away, the following morning I had fallen off a staircase and fractured my ankle. An hour after that when we were to leave for the cremation grounds for the last rites, I got locked in a bedroom and the locks got jammed. I was driven to the grounds in a frenzy after the door was opened somehow because my mum wished that I give my father his last rites. I am the only child and everyone respected my mother’s decision so they waited. They waited while I limped towards my duty.
When I did it, when I lit the fire, a wave of emotion washed over me. The final realisation. This was it. I hugged my uncle and cried. That was me crying, weeping for the first time in 24 hours knowing full well what was happening.
I have relived that moment in my head over and over again this past couple of weeks. That moment when I watched my papa go away. And although at the time I knew I had lost the most important man of my life, the enormity of the loss did not hit me till a few days ago.
It’s been four years since he is gone. And I blame myself that I did not accept death in its face value. I assumed it was a journey and people just left us in life to move onward in their respective journeys of life. As long as it was others, I was fine with believing this. Believing that death is the next great adventure.
Maybe. Maybe not.
Death is finality. There’s nothing that can be undone. The person is gone forever leaving behind a trail of memories and unfulfilled dreams.
What I would give for my father to be at my wedding or to play with his granddaughter! All these thoughts come to me now. 4 years after he is gone. Why? Because I always hoped against hope that I would see him someday. I know it’s stupid but maybe being stupid is justified in this case. Right in the aftermath of the passing away of my hero, I battled grief like no other. I tried to cry very little, especially when I was with mum. I decided to write an exam that was due in a month and I got immersed in studying. I also had a fractured ankle which led me to be distracted more often than not. Physical pain does that. It swerves you off your mental trauma. But that’s the thing with trauma. It returns with a vengeance and it piles up with time if it is not resolved. That’s what’s happened with me. I failed to grieve my father, his memory and that haunts me now. So instead of making me stronger, thinking about him breaks my heart. One piece at a time. And it shouldn’t. His memory is supposed to give me strength and here I am, broken because I cannot deal with emotions properly.
What are the chances that writing about this will make it better for me? Maybe it will, I’m gonna give it a go then. Here goes:
You went away too soon. We needed more time together. You deserved more time with your family, your wife, your brothers and your friends. You should have been here to be with your granddaughter, playing. You should have been here with your son-in-law, discussing taxes. The world is changing and you should have been here to see all that. But you are not and no, that’s not ok. I have been telling myself that it’s ok but it’s time to admit that it’s not. I have lived with the lie of being ok for months but not anymore. It’s not great for my existence that I lead myself to believe that now. So I am telling myself this. That you are gone now. Physically. But all those good and bad times are here to stay. So instead of hoping like a lunatic that I maybe can create new memories with you, let me just rewind and play all that has happened. This acceptance will take me long but I know it will happen. Help me through it please. I want nothing more than to be a happy soul whenever I think of you. If this works, I swear I’ll write to you more often. I love you Papa.
The last time I wrote anything on the blog was over two months ago. And that too was a ‘sponsored’ post. Let me break it down to you. Most of the content you see on a blog, if in the end it plugs a certain product, 99 percent chances are that it is paid for. Nothing wrong with that. That’s exactly how new-age advertising and marketing works. That’s how customer reach is widened and the audience gets to know about a new product or a service.
However for me, personally, the fun and the release that came with incessant writing did not come with posting paid content on the blog. Ofcourse, it meant that I was finally earning some money, if not good, while doing something that I enjoyed. But in the process, what I enjoyed doing started to become too daunting a task. Deadlines were supposed to be followed, a format to be kept in mind, keywords to be inserted and dozens of back and forth checks with the brand before the post finally went live on the blog. That was not fun at all!
Someone who had read my blog from the time I started writing 7 years ago, pointed out to me that the tone of my posts had changed. That I was too cheerful.
“Woah! How’s that a bad thing?”, I asked.
“Well, that’s not the real you! You are anything but cheerful when you blog. You are sarcastic and sassy and sometimes, over emotional. Never cheery. What’s wrong with you?” she exclaimed.
Damn it, she was right.
This remarkably sane friend who has made an appearance in my anecdote at a point of convenience while I was trying to make a point. She IS right. She IS also very imaginary but that’s not the issue here.
My writing is the issue right now because I am suddenly hyper aware of being judged.
I am a critical, overbearing and an overly friendly person who will do anything to not be on your bad side. But I cannot tolerate bullshit. When I read crap online, I am always the one orchestrating a backlash.
And then I read the content I’ve created recently and I want to seriously punch myself in the face. But I also want to give myself some benefit of doubt. I am the Bruce Banner-Hulk version of blogging gone awry because I’m constantly oscillating. Never fierce nor angry nor aware. But I’m mighty miserable because at this rate, I’m sure I’m gonna run out of ideas. My creative well is drying up and just like how these similes are getting more juvenile, I am too!
It’s time I let Banner-Me take a backseat and let Hulk-Me take over the blog for awhile. Hulk-Me was writing posts before sponsorships and campaigns happened and I was Happy and the reader was Happy.
As Captain America would now promptly tell me, “Dr Banner, now would be a great time for you to get angry!”
“That’s my secret captain. I’m always angry!”
AAAAARRGGGHHHHHHH *furious typing*
I am writing after a loooong break! Why the long break you ask? Just. I found myself surrounded by a lot of toddler energy and my daily schedule went out the window when teething woes got added to the list.
While we are on the topic of teething, let’s talk oral hygiene. I’ve prided myself of having gotten though 29 years of my life without a single visit to the dentist. I never really needed it. I thought I was blessed with gifted gums but turns out my mother was a tooth fairy. She gave me good genes and a healthy oral hygiene routine, the knowledge of which I would happily pass on to #BabyHashtag.
#BabyHashtag started cutting teeth really early. By the time she was six months old, I could visibly see two white bits on her lower gum. They sprouted up within a couple of weeks and the next month came along another set of pearly whites on the upper gum. By the time she was 9 months old, she had 4 teeth and was biting everything in sight.
As was tradition, we went shopping for the baby every weekend. There was always something that we had to buy for her. Call it, new parent mania or whatever, we had it. So one of our shopping trips when she turned 6 months old, we bought her the booster seat and we also bought a set of training toothbrushes for her. These training toothbrushes for babies by Pigeon is essentially age appropriate gum and tooth cleaning aids that are shaped like toothbrushes so that the baby can learn how to handle them.
The third yellow toothbrush in this set is a miniature toothbrush and #BabyHashtag started using it a little after she turned one. Initially we did not give her a toothpaste, it was just the brushing she got used to. We guided her a few times, later she started mimicking us. Trying to use the brush like we did. It was endearing and heartening to watch her try and succeed after a few misses.
When I was trying to decide whether or not to introduce a toothpaste for her, I was sent the Mamaearth Berry Blast Toothpaste.
It is fluoride free, 100% natural and MadeSafe certified. It’s the newest product in their baby care range and I was all too excited for it. I also got another brand’s toothpaste in the banana flavour just in case she rejected this. She happily accepted the berry blast toothpaste. The other toothpaste we bought sadly never saw the outside of the packaging it came in. It’s cute to see her brush working up that little lather and getting totally excited by it.
Like I mentioned, the Mamaearth toothpaste is fluoride free so it’s ok if your baby swallows it while brushing. They naturally and instinctively try to mouth everything that either looks interesting or smells good. She’s taken amazingly well to the zingy berry flavour and brushing is well, a breeze.
The mood around me has been generally sombre this past week. It was a dampening ill health situation at home with the baby and on the national map, the Asifa case has left everyone shocked. I’m not getting into the details of the gory incident. Graphic images and minute details of the whole episode have been shared endlessly over all social media platforms. But to what end?
Or that moment in history that will change the course of life as we know it?
Definitely, it’s not the latter. These periods of momentary outrage are not what bug me. In this time and age where faceless trolls thrive on the internet, outrage over issues like Kathua and Unnao are not unheard of. What is most common in these situations are that there is no end in sight when it comes to rape.
Being the mother of a daughter, incidents like these shake me to the very core. More often than not, I’m left thinking if I’ll ever be able to make sure that she is protected. I cannot be breathing down her neck all her life and follow her everywhere if that’s what protecting her would mean.
I’m not here to provide a solution to a crime that is so deeply embedded in our social strata, it’s alarming. Abuse is not confined to the downtrodden or the middle class. It is prevalent in the upper echelons of the society as well. In most cases, when it’s abuse by someone who is a known person, the episode is let go and the case forgotten because ‘log kya kahenge‘ (what will the people say). I have known women, so many women, who were subjected to abuse as a child in the hands of a known relative or a family friend. At the time, it felt comfortable to them. And when they were old enough to understand what had happened, their confessions to their mothers were stifled by the family elders because ‘bahut puraani baat hain, bhool jao!‘ (‘It’s a matter of the past, forget it and move on)
It is poisonous. Nursing that feeling of being wronged and violated over the years. It is toxic. Not everyone can come out of it with conviction. They succumb to being abused. Mentally, physically and emotionally. It makes them endure toxic relationships in their life as if they are normal. And despite the fact that they know deep down that the relationship they are in is abusive and destructive in nature, they will live with it because they end up feeling that they deserve it. I’m not making this up as I go. I’ve seen this happen with dozens of abusive and imploding relationships around me. Not just spousal relationships, every other familial connection gets affected.
So how are we, as new parents, going to change anything?
By teaching our kids some simple things.
- Irrespective of whether you are the parent of a boy or a girl, teach them about consent.
- The power that they hold by teaching them to say NO when needed.
- Everything about the good touch and the bad touch.
- When you want to talk to your toddler mid-tantrum, get on your knees to look them in the eye and try and understand what’s pestering them. They will learn to communicate better with you and trust you more as they grow up.
- If you have older kids, do not shy away from conversations about sex education if your kid is inquisitive. There are books now that help break this down for your kids in the gentlest and smartest possible manner.
- Teach them that no matter what or how close they are to anyone, violation of personal space is never okay.
- Have open and comfortable discussions with your kids, especially when they are older.
- Reassure them constantly that you are always around if they want to talk.
We as parents have to constantly work towards finding the light amidst total darkness for our babies. We know the world out there is the worst but we have a life to nurture, let’s do that with all the positivity that we can find within ourselves. Let’s be the change, however miniscule it may be.
Disclaimer: When I talk about abuse and rape, I am not polarizing it as a crime that targets only women. I know men have been subject to abuse as well. My focus and concern however stems from the fact that I have a daughter and in light of recent events, I want to be make sure we are doing everything we can in raising her in a safe and solid environment.
If this is the first time you are reading a post on this blog, let me introduce myself. I am Baby Hashtag. My mother publishes posts on this blog (whenever she is over her procrastination) but I take over the posting duties from time to time to give people an insight into my colourful world.
I’m pretty darned sure I’m not from this world. Try as I might, I do not seem to fit. Something about me, according to mumma, is other-worldly. I think her exact words were “She’s not human, she looks like an angel!” Before you go judging my mother, be informed that you are in queue. I am well ahead of you in the judging train. She’s got some major melodrama in her that osciallates between sobby to sassy and then back to sobby within a second.
Back to feeling alien. Please note that I don’t feel alienated, I just have a strong feeling that I am different. Befuddled? I have a few stories to back me up here.
This one here though is my favourite:
What would any kid do when their mom leaves a bowl of porridge unattended and within reach? Go for it right? The day in question is the day when my mom did keep the bowl within reach on the floor and entered the kitchen to attend to a vessel full of milk on the stove that was ready to boil. It’s physics or some mystery force that makes the milk boil over and spill that exact moment when you blink. So Mumma’s eyes were hard set on the milk watch. And here I am, the entire floor to myself, still not strapped in my booster seat. And the bowl of porridge was mockingly staring at me. I could have gone bananas, could have made a grand mess.
But I didn’t.
I decided to watch mom as she stared at the milk vessel. Creepy right. I surprise myself sometimes.
Mumma exclaimed that day, “Why are you being weirdly cute?”
I of course had no answer to that but I saw her point eventually. So when we came back out of the kitchen after the milk drama was done, I dipped my hand in the gooey porridge and smeared it all over my clothes. Mumma called me a weirdo even then. A naughty weirdo this time.
She whisked me off to the bathroom for a quick rub in and that’s when I decided I was going to answer one of the most important calls of my life. Nature’s.
I froze in my spot for a good 100 seconds. Lots of poopy happened and thankfully for mumma I was diaper clad (cloth diaper if you would like to know) and I simply walked into the bathroom.
It was in the midst of the post-porridge-poop shower that she said I was an alien. Cos she had seen her fair share of babies and kids growing up and no one was quite like me. I’d like to think I’m special that way.
Mumma talks to me every night before tucking me in.
Not cheesy things.
Never cheesy things.
She is mostly kissing me silly, making me laugh and ending the insane laughter fit with the usual, “You are such a cute weirdo, you cannot be human!”
It’s ok if I’m from another world, I’m loving this whole adventure of learning this world’s new ways. I love it here so far. Also, lentil porridge is a bad choice for a body scrub.
Call me vain, but I’m super proud of my skin. Not because I work really hard on keeping it healthy and supple. It already is. Dark marks and itchy skin happened to me well into the last few weeks of the pregnancy and honestly I could not care any less about them. Like pregnancy weight, I thought I would lose the bad skin problems too. See, there’s the catch. I never lost that pregnancy weight. Nor did the dark spots on my face and body go away.
Well I did think to myself that I would take more than usual care of my skin. But then #momlife happened and I did not find it in me to spend the one hour that I got to myself when the baby napped, doing skin regime-y things. I had other things to catch up on. Like my sleep. And food.
Thus began my journey into being absolutely careless about my skin. Within 6 months of parenting, I had quit eating healthy and doing any exercise because I was exhausted beyond words. One can only imagine, what a toll it took on my health and skin.
Only a couple of months ago, I decided to quit whining and jump the wellness bandwagon. There were two things that needed my immediate attention. And that was my skin and my body. Today, I’ll address the skin issues.
Like I mentioned earlier, my skin is fairly healthy and I can go on outdoors without makeup on any day. There’s no breakout but the only skin issue that has troubled me is uneven skintone. I was eating unhealthy and sleeping erratically. The dark spots only got worse after that. But I found a set of products that has helped me considerably deal with this. You know where I’m going with this.
I finally gifted myself a skincare regime.
Here’s what I did:
1. Wash face and neck with mildly cool water
2. Pat dry and repeat the face rinsing a couple of times.
3. Pat dry and use a sheet mask for 10-15 minutes. I used a variety of Face Shop sheet masks.
4. Apply the Mamaearth Bye Bye Blemishes Face Cream all over my face and neck followed by a mild sunscreen for days I decided to venture out.
I also added C3 charcoal face mask my Mamaearth once a week as an added step before the rinsing.
While I did not any significant lightening of the dark spots on the face after 4 weeks of application, I see that they have slightly faded. The skin, however, has become supple and soft.
The product is made from natural ingredients and is toxin free and hypoallergenic. It is also enriched with vitamin C which makes skin healthy. So that’s a win. It might sit differently with different people so I would suggest you try it out once to see how you like it. The product is a tad bit greasy for me as I have a normal skin tone so I will probably repurchase this as summer ends.
The product is priced at 599/- is available on major ecommerce websites along with the Mamaearth website.
If this is the first time you are reading a post on this blog, let me introduce myself. I am Baby Hashtag. My mother publishes posts on this blog (whenever she is over her procrastination) but I take over the posting duties from time to time to give people an insight into my colourful world.
So last night I heard mumma tell papa over the phone that I was being a picky eater the entire day. To be fair, all that was offered to me was boring regular, everyday food. Where is the variety? If you know me enough, you would have guessed it that I like variations. I like to decide. I don’t like to be handed things. I would rather pick them.
So many times, I’ve made it pretty clear that I would like to decide for myself what I want.
If I had to list them, here goes:
So I have a play area. Or rather, I have a corner in our bedroom that has all my toys stacked up. I pull them all out, spread them all over the floor and that becomes my play area. Mumma would happily want that I get busy with any one toy for about 15 minutes so that she could sip on her chai in peace. You think I’d let that happen. No way. I need a solid half hour of pulling-pushing-lugging-assembling-breaking-reassembling all the toys I have in front of me only to realise that the one I want to play with is lying on the bed all along. While all the inspection happens, mumma HAS TO be seated beside me because I want her to. It’s not like there is anything else that is more important to her than me. Is there?
About that toy on the bed. If it’s on the bed, it needs to stay there while I play with it. It will not touch the floor, cos the floor is lava. And Yes, mumma sits with me on the bed as well. Because, I decided she would. Also the hot chai goes forgotten cos there will be no hot beverages near the toddler.
I’m a jumpy toddler, remember???
If a book has been picked out, it HAS BEEN PICKED OUT for a very specific reason. There are books that are read at mealtimes. Then there are books that are read in the car or during long journeys. And there are books that are read after meals. There is a system. And nobody, I mean nobody mess with the system. Introduction and acceptance of new books is subject to the size and content of the book. There’s no particular bracket or sorting system. I am the king. I decide. And it stays that way. Until the day I decide to change it.
3. Clothing and accessories
I did not really have any problem with clothes growing up. Mumma loves dressing me up and I’ve loved changing into different outfits. They would go up as high as five changes in a day. No complains against that. What pisses me off is the need to accessorise. A hairband or a hat or a hair clip or bow. Apparently something needs to be propped up on my head all the time. Nuh uh! Not gonna happen. I shall pull out every thing that comes in contact with my hair. That has been the order of things since I was 7 months old, it will continue to be like this for a lot of time to come.
If I don’t like it, there is no way in hell that I’m going to bite it. Mumma tried to force feed me a LOT when I started out with solids when I turned 6 months old. 2p days of me not downing any kind of food made her desperate and she turned to baby led weaning. Best. Decision. Ever. I’ve loved handling my own food, discovering my own likes and dislikes over the next few months. But then there was a bad bout of viral after my first birthday and we were back to being fed and it was boring food. I was older, I wanted more. After days of hinting to her that I wanted to self feed, mumma understood and we are back with me eating on my own. Not just that, I have a meal with more than one food item and I am loving the variation so far. It sings to the decision maker in me. It also helps mumma understand the kind of food that I enjoy eating more.
Ofcourse there are things I still have no say in: (I throw a tantrum everytime they happen, but I’m usually outwitted by a dsitraction)
1. Diaper changes:
There was a simpler time when Mumma used to put on a pant style diaper on me and that would take 5 second tops. Easy peasy. But ever since these cloth diapers have come in, I have to lie down EACH time it needs a change. I’m not complaining about the cloth diapers. They are the best. But this whole diaper changing business is irritating. The faster we potty train, the better.
2. Welcoming(?) strangers home:
I don’t get it why people come to my home. Different kinds of people. Some serious looking, some wanting to be friends with me, some offering to pick me up just for a few seconds. I don’t want to warm to people yet. I’m chill with the family around and a few regulars I see on a daily basis. But they are all out. No one comes home. And I cannot do any thing about it. So I cry. I wail when I see strangers come home. Everyone tries to shush me, they say it’s ‘disrespectful’. Imma gonna cry every opportunity I get or at least till I learn what ‘disrespectful’ means.
3. Going out
If it were up to me, I would be outdoors all the time. But no. Running out the door waving byeeee to everyone who’s seated in the drawing room is cute only to the point till I am acting. It I really make to go outside, the door will be shut and I have to pretend-cry to my room.
I’m still the master of most of my choices. And that’s pretty cool.
Let me tell you one thing I’ve learnt over time.
Being cute works better than throwing tantrums.