10 Golden Rules -teenagers

10 GOLDEN RULES FOR THAT HAPPY HAPPY RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR TEENAGER….

1) Admit you were wrong even if you know you were right….

2) Then apologise for being right even if you know it’s wrong….

3) Accept that they know everything and you know nothing…

4) And, even if they do nothing pretend that they are doing everything they can- which is nothing…

5) Don’t seek out their company- they will find you when they are hungry or poor…

6) Avoid the “talk”- you know, the one about the birds and bees. They are better informed and don’t want to hear or talk about it with you…..

7) Never try to be their friend! Dictator-fine! Tyrant-they can handle that! Nag- that’s comforting but friend!!! Dude, get a life of your own - seriously…

8) Dress like a mum when their friends are around or throw an apron over that mini and go bake a cake. Mum’s should never be seen or heard, hence the old expression-“Mum’s the word…..”

9) Resist the urge to re-decorate their room till they have flown the nest. What seems like chaos is actually a highly thought out military manouever to repel aliens- that’s you!

10) And finally- as the good book says-“And this too shall pass.” You however might fail to keep your sanity till they grow up, but that’s another story. Watch this space…..

Nimmou Nilakantan

How to survive your son's exams

Your son's board exams start on the 1st of March. The countdown has begun…Your son is walking around as if he has Mount Everest resting squarely on his shoulders, your husbands ulcers have flared up at the thought of a payment seat in case he doesn't do well and as for you --- you are walking the tightrope between the voice of sanity and the blubbering nervous wreck you are within. Here are a few survival skills to see you through examination blues.

            1) If ever there was an oxy-moron, 'Study holidays' is it. Your son is now full time at home to study so the 8 hours of freedom when he was in school is gone forever. Now you have to wake up even earlier, not to prepare packed lunches, but to wake up that surly hulk snoring in his bed. You barely get him out of bed by enticing him with hot coffee when he totters to the sofa and collapses in it. The battle to waken this sleeping giant has begun and it is still 6 a.m. with the whole day of other battles still to be fought. All right, let's take one battle at a time. As any mother of a teenager will tell you, waking a teenager using bare fists is as ineffective as trying to wake up Rip-Van-Winkle. And the clock is ticking  … Go to the nearest store and buy 3 alarm clocks with the highest decibel alarm possible. Set them within 10 seconds of each other and shut the room door. If a screaming teenager does not emerge at the appointed hour, I'd be very surprised. That's the first battle won…

            2) Breakfast is the next scene for a crossing of swords. For years this child had to be coaxed to grab a mouthful before he runs to school. Now he lords over the table like a gourmand and demands a 3-course meal (anything to postpone the study hour!). Here you are, frantic to get him started and conscious that the first of March is fast approaching and all this hulk can think of is food. It's enough to drive you insane. This is where strategy steps in. Give him sprouts, salads, hi-fibre bread and fruit, passing it off as 'brain food' and watch how the breakfast hour is magically shortened. Pander to his needs of bacon and eggs and you have a soporific hulk slumped over his books and you might as well begin to check those investments for that payment seat….

            3) Enemy No. 1 where studies are concerned is undoubtedly cable TV. This is when you wish you could throttle all those guys with a length of cable for bringing more cause for major battles to be fought. You go to the bathroom and your son runs and switches on Star Sports. As if the run rate of India is going to have a direct bearing on his scorecard. Or you step out for a moment and you return to find him watching cartoons with a glazed look on his face. And a sheepish 'I was taking a break' explanation. As long as that TV menace sits crouched in your living room, not much studying is going to get done. If it's not cricket, cartoon or the violent movie on AXN, then it is Channel V or MTV on full volume with that fat surd singing. Don't start arm wrestling with your hulk for that remote. It's undignified and he will win anyway. This is the time to pull the plug- literally. Cut off the cable connection for the crucial two months and don't cry over the lost soap operas. Two months of abstinence is better than a lifetime of regret and believe me, having your son for a lifetime will leave you with a lot of regret….

            4) This powergame is one that all teenagers excel in- 'power over mum'. Here you are straining every nerve and sinew to ensure conditions at home are conducive to study and here he is finding some excuse to chicken out of hard work. So begins the tussle for supremacy. Your goal is to ensure that he studies 8 hours a day and his' is to ensure that he doesn't. You try to make life so easy for him so he isn't distracted in his pursuit of your noble goal- he twists it around to make you his slave. He refuses to make his bed (it will waste 5 minutes and I can do 2 sums in that time), doesn't put his plate away (I'm concentrating, don't disturb me), doesn't have a bath (I'm just about to crack that equation), in short, he is turning into a slob under the guise of a future monster. Relent now and not only will you have an unwashed teenager hanging around indefinitely, but you might still have to pay for that engineering seat. Make him do a few chores. It relieves the stress of studying continuously and gives you a breather from being nurse, nanny, jailer and mother rolled into one.

            5) As the exams approach, you find you lose a few vital things-

a) your friends

b) the phone

c) your sanity 

And not necessarily in that order. As you reach for the phone, your son charges up to you and grabs the phone. He has to make that important call to his friend to discuss that physics problem. He spends one hour discussing cricket and five seconds on the problem while you anxiously wear your fingertips to the bone drumming it on the table.

Your friends no longer drop in for informal chats or cups of coffee. They take up too much space - physical space. Your son, while studying, needs to pace up and down like a caged Bengal tiger. As he beats a well-worn path from bedroom to drawing room, you have no choice but to remove all physical objects from his path. Exit all but understanding best friends. As if that is not enough provocation for murder (in one fell swoop you have lost the phone and your friends), he turns you into his personal lackey as well. 'Mum, I need this Xeroxed now. Mum, that mixie noise is sooo loud. Mum, can I lie on your bed and study. Mum, make me a hot cup of tea, and so on and on and on, till you are hanging by a thread to your sanity.' Remember that payment seat and keep hanging in there…

            6) Exams are barely two weeks away and the stress is mounting. Your house is now like a tomb- a deathly silence prevails but for a few incoherent sounds from your son's bedroom, which you hope is his diligent mugging. The radio is silent; the TV dead, the phone never rings except for him to discuss more physics- in short, your life, as you knew it has come to a complete standstill. And suddenly your son says he wants to quit studies and join films. Your first reaction would be to beat him to pulp and lay him to rest along with all his study books piled on top of him. Desist- this is pure exam nerves and this is what years of motherhood and coping with various crises has prepared you for. Remain calm through his wild ramblings, take him for a long car ride and then steer him gently back to his books. You may now go to your room, lock the door and have a quiet nervous breakdown…

            And finally, take heart. You are not alone. There are millions of suffering mums all over the country facing same nervous crises that you are going through as you anxiously await D-day. So, why don't you do the same- write down your experiences, get it out of your system and hopefully instill a little courage in other fellow sufferers.

And, yes … ALL THE BEST!

Nimmou Nilakantan

(1320 Words)                                                                        

HOW TO SURVIVE YOUR MOTHER IN LAW'S VISIT

You have just received that dreaded phone call. Your mother in law is arriving by the next train. Stop! Don't touch that Valium. It will wear off after 24 hours and she is visiting for a month. Instead follow a few basic survival skills.... 

1      Within a day of arriving, she has managed to turn the house upside down. The children (those traitors) are clinging to her like limpets, husband has regressed to infancy and wears a stupid grin on his face the whole day and the servant has a mutinous light in her eyes, which bodes no good. Stay calm- this is the time to enroll in the Yoga class, fruit preservation course, learn German in 4 weeks or go to the Spastics society and do voluntary work. That should get out for most of the day and keep the fights at bay. 

2      Most mothers-in-law attack the cooking. They intuitively realise it is the Achilles hell of our armoury. We have her son and his sons but what we don't have is his taste buds cultivated in early childhood and memories of 'khichidi the way only Ma can make it'. This is a formidable weapon that mom-in-law has and she makes full use of it when she visits. 'My Subodh loves the way I cook bhindi...' she starts. This is you cue to give the bhindi and flee. Resist, and you will be impaled by the same bhindi at the dinner table. Ma-in-law will sniff as she deigns to eat that bhindi, your husband dare nor sniff at it for fear of his wife nor dare appreciate it for fear of his life. Makes for a terribly uncomfortable dinner. Believe me, it's better losing this battle and winning the war...

3      Another area the mum-in-law barges into with all the finesse of a rhinoceros is the 'children's upbringing'. You conceived them, you carried them and you delivered them through much pain. Surely, any human would recognise this achievement and regard this area as sacrosanct. Any human but Ma-in-law. She went through the same thing (and according to her did a far better job) so it is no big deal. She begins at the breakfast table on what is good for them. You have decided that cornflakes and a slice of papaya is the best nutritive balance, but she brought up hubby dear on fat aalu parathas floating in ghee. The children (turncoats!) who meekly ate cornflakes every day suddenly clamour for grandmother's parathas. Grit your teeth and make it. Feed them parathas for a month and they will be happy with cornflakes for the whole year. (Remember it is better to win the war than to win the battle...)

4      Now we come to that endangered species- the servant. Having ma-in-law on the scene is like having a poacher with a 12 bore shotgun aiming his sights at a tusker. There is something about the mother-in-law that upsets the delicate ecological balance. When she is not in sight, everything is in perfect harmony. But within a day of her arrival you are staring at extinction (of the servant species) in the face. The worst part is you are caught in the middle. Go into the kitchen and you hear a barrage of criticism against the "buddi" (as your servant cheekily refers to her), who orders her around. Go into the drawing room and hear a litany of abuse against the slipshod ways of the servant and veiled criticism of your judgement in hiring her. There is only one thing to do. Get those earplugs and change your hairstyle, so that your hair covers your ears. And yes, don't forget that vacuous smile...

5      Evenings are a torture ...from being the centre of your children/husband's universe, you are suddenly relegated to the painting on the wall. The children come home from school and home in to their grandmother like bullets from a gun, leaving you with arms outstretched and nothing to hold. This hurts and worse is yet to come. As soon you hear the car door slam, you make a move to the door. Too late-'she' is already posted there ready to greet her conquering hero. And he, the silly putty that she has reduced him to, meekly surrenders himself into her arms, while you watch and vainly hope something heavy falls on her. There is no point in chewing fingernails over this one. Take comfort in the fact and soothe yourself with Newton's third law ---for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Store all these scenes in that hidden camera of your brain. And play it again after a month ... this time when hubby hugs you make him kiss you as well to make up for the earlier deprivation (a dozen red roses thrown in wouldn't be too bad). You can react to his affection any way you want- now there is no Ma-in-law lurking and you are in command.

6      The days of lazily lying in bed in your husband's arms are just a mirage. With mother-in-law firmly entrenched in the house, the day begins at 6 a.m. with the loud ringing of the puja bell to shatter your peace and reproach you for lolling in bed. Even if you managed to drown out the bell, you just cannot shut out the powerful voice belting out prayers at full volume. It takes a person of sterner stuff to lie in bed through this religious assault. You rise filled with ungodly thoughts towards your mother-in-law. Don't take direct action (it could land you in hell, be warned!) Instead go to the puja room and pick up the flower basket and on the pretext of replenishing it, flee to the garden. As you inhale the early morning fragrance, you can expunge all thoughts of the monster within and chant with a look of piety and devotion, 'Just three more weeks and I'll be free...'

7      The TV too can be a bone of contention. You want to watch the sizzling scenes on 'Bold and Beautiful'; they have just reached the part where they are about to fall in bed and make passionate love and you have been dying to see it. Enter ma-in-law. Without so much as your leave, she picks up the remote and zaps to SUN TV. For the next hour you fume as your home is filled with the noise of high Tamil drama. No, don't touch the remote (you might succumb to that urge to hit her on the head with it). Announce non-challantly, you are going to buy veggies and disappear to your friendly neighbour to watch that scene. Far better to steam in your neighbour's house than to steam in your own...

8      And finally the day of her departure dawns. 30 days of rigorous imprisonment are finally over. So what if by now, you are not talking to your husband, you harbour un-motherly feelings towards your children, your neighbour is fed up with your early morning visits, your garden has not one flower in it and your maid has a Rs. 200 bonus for just being able to take a large dose of mum-in-law. You survived and the next time you'll be ready.

Nimmou Nilakantan              

(1227 words)                         

How to Survive Menopause

The Worst Period of your Life

Menopause is not terminal- however; there is every chance that you might kill somebody. Here are a few tips on how to survive the worst period of your life……

DON’T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF……

An easy enough dictum to live by but impossible to follow when you are sweating by the bucketful in the middle of the night and have to get up to change the bed sheets. Here you were in the prime of adulthood, having left behind those nightmare memories of diaper changes and endless night feeds till somebody pulled the plug out of your cushy life. Welcome to the world of the big M where a hot flush does not signify a full hand in poker or thundering success but a dripping nightgown and an all consuming rage. Now is the time to bring out the skimpy lingerie that lay gathering dust at the back of your cupboard because a) it made you seem like a Sumo twin and b) it made your overworked husband break into a cold sweat at the prospect of a night time romp instead of flopping in front of the T.V .Take that cold shower and dress sexily. Not only does it keep you cool but its amazing how losing all that water makes you a couple of kilo’s lighter. Strike one for Menopause….

THOSE MOODY BLUES OR THOSE BLOODY MOODS….

Whichever way you look at it, just blame it on Menopause. Never mind that you were always irritable or who knows (apart from your mother) that you were born moody and apart from rare instances of genuine good humour, you were always capable of snapping off someone’s head in the blink of an eye. The high attrition rate of the domestic help is a sure indicator of those bloody moods and husband and kids bear mute testimony to those moody blues. But, just blame it on Menopause…. It’s the perfect alibi and a trillion other women all over the planet will attest to the fact that it made monsters out of them. If murders can be committed while sleepwalking, then surely moodiness can be attributed to Menopause and since it can last for years, go ahead and behave exactly as you please. You are laying the ground for senility which is the next phase and lurking just around the corner….

BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS….

While it makes for an awe inspiring speech by a world leader it is the usual sequence of events for the menopausal woman. Here you are enjoying the freedom from the monthly curse when without warning it strikes again and usually when you least expect it. You go to a party and sit on a white sofa.  Suddenly you feel that sinking sensation that you last associated when you were in the 1^st standard and could no longer hold that pee in anymore. This time you break out into a cold sweat and as you raise yourself a half inch and furtively peek, your worst fears are confirmed and you feel your eyes welling over… The only comfort you can draw is that it will be a great story for your host to tell her grandchildren. Be prepared. Like the knights of yore who put their women in chastity belts before embarking on long journeys, put in all the gear necessary to prevent such accidents. It is rather hard to walk away from a puddle of blood with aplomb unless you have just decapitated a chicken…

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

Ok, you were never a beauty but now you look in the mirror and see a beast! And all that talk about inner beauty makes the last few hairs on your head stand up. It is totally unfair that women have to bear the double whammy of menopause and losing everything but weight. The skin sags, the hair thins, the hips balloon and horror of horrors, sometimes acne strikes again. With hormones going crazy one begins to resemble a mutant teenager assembled in a mad scientist’s den. And while your husband ages gracefully with that thick head of salt and pepper hair, that trim physique enhanced by slightly broader shoulders and just the beginnings of a belly artfully concealed by those silk shirts, here you are unraveling like Snow White’s mother in front of, no not the magic mirror, but menopause. This is not the time to go to the local beauty parlour for that makeover. Nothing short of black magic is going to work so delve deep into your mother’s age old beauty secrets. Down those supplements, up that soya intake, enroll for that yoga class (ditch those Bollywood dance classes, one wrong move could snap those osteoporotic joints) and just open your third eye- you know, the one that sees inner beauty….)

JOIN THE SISTERHOOD OF THE BIG M

The Koreans had the Moon Moon cult, the hippies had their marijuana and you have the Menopause. You are not alone. In this age of broadband (and your stage of broadbeam) wi-fi and internet connectivity, reach out to your sisters out there. Form a bond of blood, literally. Call yourselves what you will but build a platform to address all those endless woes of menopause. Young moms band together in playgrounds and apart from eyeing young Dad’s enjoy cribfests about their offspring. It’s your turn to re-live the horror minus the brat and the dishy Dad. Just let it all flow out……

As the wise old book says “And this too shall pass…”. It would be easy however if society would make some allowances for the menopausal women just like they do for senior citizens or the disabled. You know, something like giving a pass with a big M stamped in red. Armed with it you are empowered to break queues, be rude, eat without paying at restaurants etc, all the things you yearned to do in adult life but just didn’t have the guts to. In Biblical times there was Moses to part the Red sea with a wave of his hand. Today’s modern woman has a much more potent force in her hand- no, silly, not a 9mm Mauser, but yes you guessed it- Menopause!!!

Nimmou Nilakantan