I’m sorry if this crib sounds self indulgent, but I haven’t slept for a week.You see, my mom finally agreed to take her first real holiday in five years, leaving me to baby sit my brother’s giant one-year-old Labrador.
Though my doting granddad has come over to Damini-sit (apparently, you’re never old enough for your grandparents), the mutt, Panzer, has decided that I am the decision maker of the household.
If he wants to go for a walk at 4.15 am, it’s my face he barks into. If I work on the computer at 2.30 am and the light disturbs him, I’m scratched and bullied into shutting it down. And if he feels ignored, it’s my chappals/hairbrush/books he attacks. And, as much I love him, he’s also driving me nuts!
Yesterday, I got home after an exceptionally long day at work and found Panzer ignoring his food. 15 minutes of coaxing, three attempts at scolding, one very bad attempt at pretending to eat his food and he still looked disinterested. Finally, I hand-fed him, looked for chunks of meat in the rice and waited patiently while he deigned to eat. That’s not all. It’s also my job to feed him his vitamins and shove calcium down his throat — trust me, it’s not a pretty battle.
This is what life looks like for the next two months and I’m already worried my eyes will disappear into my dark circles. Really, I don’t know how my mom did it three times over — my big brother, me, and then our little brat of a dachshund, Caesar.
Since I don’t intend for this to become a hackneyed celebration of motherhood (what with today being Mother’s Day and all that), I’ll refrain from marvelling at my mother’s tenacity. I will add, however, that despite being sleep-deprived, over-worked and on doggy duty, I haven’t slammed any doors or sulked in silence this past week, either.
You see, while mom’s not around, I have no choice but to own up and be grown up. Mothers, with their never-ending reservoirs of energy, not only bring out the best in you, but also allow you the space to be selfish. It’s only moms who tolerate mood swings, locked doors and teenage rebellion, even in twenty-something year-olds.
Since I’m not a big believer of Days —Valentine’s, Mother’s, Hugs, Women’s, whatever — I’ll just stick to wishing my mom a happy, refreshing holiday, and hope she comes back ready to take on Panzer!