Thursday, June 28, 2007
(Project Courtesy: S's school)
Before anyone thinks I am a diehard feminist, what with my food blog being “Bong Mom” and the other one called “Desi Momz”, let me do my father’s day post fast and fast means right now. Not that I don’t want to be a feminist but at this point of life I would rather steer clear from any of the “the isms” and expend my energy in something else.
Also before the men folks in my house who randomly skim through my blog and who might even kindly generate some revenue by clicking on the super exciting ads that I have entrusted google to put on my page get mad and leave huffing and puffing let me sing my paean to them. Since I am under pressure I am not going to say anything unpleasant about them, no nothing, zilch, nada…. It’s going to be all praises and goodness and this post is going to ooze sweetness as if I am an honeybee on a good will mission.
Sorting by first name, I would start with my Dad or Baba as I call him. He did a pretty good job as a Dad I think, one look at me and my blog and you would know.
But what I would really like to highlight is his role as a grandpa or “dadai” as the little one calls him. If there ever was an award for “Best Grandpa” he would win hands down. He does things for my little one that I would have never ever imagined he would or even could.
Next is the “other” dad, the hubby’s Dad. Now since you don’t know much about D you can’t really judge whether his Dad did a good job or not and you shouldn't believe whatever I say. But since this is supposed to be a “feel good post” let’s give the man his credits and leave the rest for D’s blog if he ever has one.
Now comes the in House Dad who can “make or break” it. Since he waits patiently while I click and edit my food photos and does not complain if he has to chew on stale sabzi while I save the exciting dish for next day so that I can get my coveted “day light” photos …I better say stuff which I would never admit verbally.
How good a Dad he is only S can say. What I see is how much he puts in to do his share of Fathering. The fact that he changed the smelly poo-poo diapers more times than I did, that he took turns to stay up at night to cradle a colicky baby, he took a week off from work to settle S in her daycare, that he takes care of S’s morning routine and drops her off at school , that he always spends part of his evenings with her playing or fighting whatever they choose -- proves that he had a major contribution in raising S to be the 3 year old that she is.
The fact that I cannot gloat in the glory that I alone toiled as a Mom while Dad was only at work is pretty bad by itself. That I can never tell S “You know your baba did not know to do the diapers” does nothing to boost my ego either.
It also makes me pretty boring because I cannot regale her and the crowd with stories like “Only once I had asked your Baba to feed you and instead of the formula he gave you Cinthol Talcum Powder instead”.
So S will never get to hear such entertaining stories and I will not get to be the all sacrificing filmy “ma” but she gets a great Dad and that’s a darn good thing, I say.
Leaving you all on this sweet note for a short break… see you all again next week with some Bengali Food posts.
Till then enjoy the pics.
A month or so back a very close friend of ours (the only friend who knows this blog exists), packed their bags and left for India. They wanted to be close to their family, they said. They were happy leaving, but we were sad.For us, they were like family. On the last weekend with them we tried to drown our disappointment by doing what a true Bengali would have done in such circumstances...yes eating of course.
Lebanese food in the above place in Silver Spring, Maryland. My first experience in a Lebanese restaurant. Food was very refreshing but a bit too tart for my liking.
Gam bhulane ke liye (to drown our sorrows), we had these colourful liquids at a Thai Place nearby. Food was very good but the pics terrible so have nothing to show.
We miss you K, M and little M who ws the perfect sister for my S.