Star-crossed Lovers

There is much glory in being part of an ill-fated love story.  Literature and art have enunciated the lives of unfortunate pairs of lovers so much, you'd think mankind would take heed and avoid landing in such situations.  Alas, to be immortalized in a saga of pain and longing is so much more exciting than the average "happily ever after".



If you're hoping for juicy gossip in this post, please do not read any further.  The love I speak of (type of?) today has the same unlucky timing of circumstance that Romeo and Juliet's did.  It has the same sad end that Heer and Ranjha met with. The story has all your usual suspects... the lover and the beloved, the antagonists, the excruciatingly frustrating circumstances, the separation, and then the promise of reunion in the hereafter.  This story, however, isn't about two beings.  It's about me. It's about my love. It's about how its impending separation is looming over me like a guillotine, ready to sever my imagination, my artistic balance, from the rest of my body.



I'm in love with my little bake shop.  Okay, it's not really a bake shop......yet.  It's an idea, a dream for the near future. When I started up Little Miss Muffin, my very humble, home-based cupcake business, I had no idea what I was getting myself in to.  I had no idea who I was up against, or how much effort would go into setting up something like this.  Everyone around me thought it was a bad idea.  "You're a dentist, not a bawarchi!" was the popular turn of phrase.  I kept pushing forward, though, convinced that this was what I needed to feel happy.




Boy, was I right.  Thanks to my parents, sister, friends, and family, Little Miss Muffin was off to a great start, and I was as happy as ever!  It became the ultimate cathartic element in my life, and with every order, every experiment, every cupcake, I felt more and more elated.  Little Miss Muffin evolved into something more than just a hobby, and I savored every single second of it.  Good thing I did too, because nothing lasts forever. 




Zaalim samaj.  The harsh reality of life.  Darn you, cruel circumstances! 



Sadly, due to the crazy amount of traveling I had to, and will have to, do I decided to give LMM a break - a hiatus, if you may.  I packed up my equipment with a heart of lead.  What I didn't know was that I would be back to baking sooner than I had expected!  One short trip back to the "city of lights" and I couldn't resist churning out an order, or two.   This time, as I prepare for travel yet again, my heart is lighter (and fluffier!)  I know Little Miss Muffin will always be here whenever I come back.  I know you will be here, all of you, who've had a hand/finger/nail in the success of LMM.

Yes, folks.  Don't you doubt it.  Little Miss Muffin is here to stay.  Maybe one day it will transform into a proper bakeshop, or perhaps a popular chain worldwide, who knows!  That's the promise of infinite reunion I leave you with, Karachi.  That's the dream I leave you with. 

Wit

Yums: Nana godi* godi!

My Dad: Yes, beta, of course! Nana's godi is for you!

Yums jumps into my dad's lap and smugly nods her head.

My Mom: Oho! Who is Nana's godi for?

Yumna thinks about this for a couple seconds.  Then a sly smile spreads across her face.

Yums: Nani.


*godi = lap

Passing of the Storm

I know it's going to be a tough week when Yums goes to bed crying, surpasses the deranged neighborhood rooster's efficiency in awakening everyone on the street in the middle of the night, wakes up in the morning bawling her eyes out, and spends the rest of the day throwing one nonsensical tantrum or another. 

I've tried every method in the book to try and steer the menacing week ahead in a more calm direction, but on most days the storm clouds just don't clear out.  Sometimes, I feel like throwing in the towel and hiding behind my laptop screen.  In fact, that's exactly what I do, making sure to peek up over the top edge occasionally in case the bonsai grinch is hurtling towards me with her toy hammer.

Recently, my patience is at an all-time low, compunded by the two F's - flu and fasting.  I've unleashed the cracken this week more times than I can count on one hand, and I'm certain everyone on the street knows it.  Of course, I feel sick to the stomach afterwards. First comes the guilt, and in that moment the irony of it all hits me with painful clarity - I've just reinforced the exact opposite of what I want my toddler to do if she isn't getting her way.  Then comes a nauseating dread as I mentally list the pros and cons of what action I should take next.  Should I run to her, hug her, apologize, and offer a feeble excuse for my behavior (Mama's hungry, Mama's sick, Mama's just tired)?  Should I offer a Kit-Kat bribe as atonement and then pretend nothing happened?  Or should I just let us breathe in the charged and leaden atmosphere for a few minutes before I read the guilty her charges? 

Shoulda, coulda, woulda.....

Everything changes when Yums takes charge of the situation.  This doesn't happen always, but when it does, it moves me to tears.  As I sit there, high-strung and remorse-stricken, I barely hear the soft patter of footsteps approaching me.  My daughter's kiss wipes the slate clean for both of us.  In her guarded, innocent act she single-handedly offers mutual redemption.  Needless to say I crumble like shortbread and shamelessly grab the opportunity.  Okay, not shamelessly, but with a renewed determination to set things right.  I amalgamate the lists I've been making in my head, and apologize to my baby girl.  I tell her there is no excuse for my behavior, and we snuggle close, her favorite book in my hand, and a bar of Kit-Kat in hers.

Tomorrow's going to be better, I usually say out loud.  I'm not sure if it's meant for her or for me, but it's reassuring nevertheless, because three minutes into the book, she's asleep, the half-eaten chocolate wafer balanced between her lips. 

Motherhood is by far the most challenging thing I've had to do, but it's just as easy to forget that childhood's a frustrating phase too.  Yes, tomorrow will definitely be better, because this epiphany will linger long after the dust has settled.