About Me

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Hi guys out there! Well, stories have been my first love because they make life. We all have stories to talk about, stories untold, stories locked in our hearts. I have been writing stories ever since they influenced me. Here I am with three fiction novels in my kitty. If you have a story you want to talk about, you can always write to me. Here you'll find my blog posts too which are sometimes funny and stupid because I choose to write what prevails within me. About me on a personal note: I love to write at any time. Some day, I want to be the person who creates a tiny difference in the book world. Apart from that, I do have commom interests just like anybody else with an extra tint of passion for books. You can always write to me here chitalmehta1987@gmail.com or check my website here - www.chitalmehta.info

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

The Nasty Fall

When I woke up today morning, the weather forecast said there would some heavy rains and some ice. I quickly ignored the warnings and started to get my fresh cup of coffee to kick-start my morning. It was my son’s playschool day. Because he only goes for three days, I usually try not to miss any of them, unless there is a heavy snow storm that I can’t pass.

Today, my morning began with a series of erroneous combinations. First, my husband announced that he had early meetings so he would be out of the door soon and would also take the car. He asked if I would consider keeping my son at home, given the weather? I shook my head incessantly, as I eyed my son waking up from his deep slumber.

My son and I stared at each other, knowing well that we both loved the space we got from being apart for short periods of time. So, yes, rain or no rain, we were sticking to our plans.

You have to look out for the ice, said my husband. I nodded, not really listening to it. What ice? I thought, I have seen rains in India and I know it can’t be that bad.

After my husband left, I convinced my son to step inside the shower after a ten-minute pep talk. It took another thirty minutes to convince him to step out of the shower and eat breakfast and get him to wear his clothes. Phew, by now, I really just need another cup of coffee.

My ordeal doesn’t end here. I now load my son with double layered clothes and heap him up with a jacket, gloves, a hat, socks and shoes. There, now my son looks like a mini-eskimo.

I do the same for myself, a jacket, gloves and hat. Clutching an umbrella, a tiny schoolbag and a bloated toddler, we tumble outside the door just in time to see my Uber driver parked right across the street. Wow, I thought. Today is my lucky day. Rarely does a driver turn up in sight without asking for further instructions.

Now, the rain is falling very hard and I am just focusing on how not to get drenched. First, I pick my son and buckle him in the car seat. I shut the door and turn around to reach the other side of the car.
But I don’t make it, not immediately at least. I take a couple of steps and find myself skiing on a thin layer of ice that covered most of the road. Bam! I landed on my bottom which is what I call, a nasty fall. I have never fallen like that ever before.

Within seconds, I pick myself to check if I have broken bones. I am glad there are none. After I return home, I have forgotten all about the fall because the pain has disappeared. Phew, that was close, I thought to myself.

I was so wrong. A few hours later, the aches began. For the rest of the day, I could hardly move. In addition, common cold gave me a visit. So, here I am, perched on the bed, wondering if my day could get any bad than it already is. But I remind myself to look for sunshine, which is a long way to go. For now, I have to make do with snow, ice, rain and a whole lot of cloudy days. Long way to go for sunshine. miss you, summer. 

Saturday, December 9, 2017

Parent plans vs Toddler plans

So, just a week before my fifth anniversary, I tell my husband that we have to do something this year and not just sit at home and while away time. Before my husband could protest something in the lines of (But I only get a weekend to rest), I was quick to remind him of the past anniversaries that ended up being quite uneventful.

 And so, I let him know that I was determined not to let this year slip by me. Besides, it was important to mark the occasion. We were completing five years of married life in which we had managed to keep our sanity intact in the midst of driving each other crazy due to our erratic, intolerable habits which only spouses can understand. Not to mention, that we had also managed to create a little human being who was currently having his own plans for the upcoming big weekend.

The toddler must have heard about our plans. Why else would he unleash his own plans exactly at the wrong time? Five days before the weekend, toddler wakes up midnight, his skin radiating heat and face flushing red. I touch him and feel him five more times to make sure it’s real.

Oh my god, I think to myself, it’s really happening.

“Wake up, I need the thermometer. I need some Tylenol. I need the fan down,” I speak in loud whispers across the bed, to my husband who is sleeping soundly.

Not so long enough, we conclude that our toddler has a fever coming down. Okay, we tell each other, it’s no big deal. It’s just a fever. All kids fall sick. It’s the most normal thing to happen to any kid.

But the toddler was not planning to get back to sleep anytime sooner. He clung to me and started wailing, signaling me to sit on the rocking recliner. Okay, yes, that might put you to sleep, I think positively. Five minutes later, he says go downstairs. I want to play.

Alright, I agree to his wish. After all, he is the sick kid and needs all the attention. We are just halfway through a game of cars. He yawns and signals that he wants to be in bed. Okay, I cheerily carry him to the bed. There, he says, let’s go down again.

What? I stare at the toddler. We were just there a second ago. I will NOT go down again. I resisted but the toddler wailed and howled, knowing that I was losing patience. What sort of a game was this? I thought to myself. He does everything to make me angry and I don’t even get the chance to be angry.

He smiles slightly as if telling me, this is the toddler game. My wishes are your commands.
Anyway, from there, four sleepless nights followed, a trip to doctor who determined that the toddler had now developed a viral fever which was nothing to worry about. He just needed loads of liquids, loads of rest and comfort and in three days or four, he would fine as new again.

Whoever said that dealing with a sick toddler was easy was nuts. While we fought back sleep, with our toddler shoving down toys from our backs, we eyed the clock night after night, wondering when this was going to end. Toddler, on the other hand, enjoyed every bit of attention, hated the meds, fought hard to spit food out, fought sleep and fought to keep his parents awake.

Come Friday, things began to look good for all of us. The fever, that had possessed the toddler, was finally ready to bid goodbye. Sleep was beginning to look like a possibility after all. We slept and slept and slept throughout.

The anniversary weekend arrived. Even without saying, I knew that our plans for the weekend were washed away because we were still in recovery mode.

Besides, what was the big deal about marriage anniversaries anyway? Mark the occasion. Didn’t we do just that as we stayed awake late at nights, debating whose turn it was to look for the temperature from our scorching toddler’s forehead? Didn’t we indulge in long, nostalgic conversations as we fought sleep night after night, as if we were on a picnic night? Didn’t we make each other cups of coffee and tea as we told each other that this was just a phase and we would be out of it soon?

We had been there for each other. That’s what marriage is about after all. Yeah, I was like the fox from ‘The Fox and the sour grapes’ story. Wait, I raised my hopes high, there is another weekend coming after all. Surely, our anniversary plans could be shifted.

“Why don’t we do something the next weekend?” I told my husband.
“Well…,” he considered.

Before he could answer, I could see the sly expression on my toddler’s face as if saying, yes, next weekend. Let me see how I can ruin their plans. Fever-check. Constipation-check. No reason crying-check. Ah, the good old common cold. Surely, that’s enough to change their plans.

And he chuckled looking at us even as we went to greater lengths to plan for the upcoming weekend. 

About the Author : Chital Mehta loves to explore new books. After becoming a mother, she started this blog to share her experiences as a mother. Apart from being busy with her baby, she makes times for writing, reading and watching movies. She has authored 4 fiction novels. You can find details on her facebook page :Chital Mehta facebook

Write to her : chitalmehta1987@gmail.com

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Being a parent, Perfect or real

I cried today along with my toddler. He does cry very often because little kids do that to get attention or to get a message across. Also, they seem to have a meltdown every now and then. So, crying comes easily to them since birth. For long, I told myself that I can deal with all the meltdowns and be calm because I read somewhere that it’s important to be cool and composed with kids all the time.

But I broke the rules. I raised my voice. I broke down. I cried even as my toddler shed tears. We did have a good reason but to someone reading this, it would seem silly. It did seem silly to me as well, that is, until it happened to me. My son has his rough days sometimes because of constipation because kids can be picky eaters or maybe he simply doesn’t want to poop or maybe I messed up his diet (I am trying hard to beat the guilt). A google search suggested that it was normal for kids to constipate and that they grow out of it soon. So did my doctor tell the same thing. It sounded reassuring but not for long.

When day two rolled in, there was simply no relief with my son clutching his tummy in pain. I kept calm for as long as I could, telling myself that this was just a rough day and that, we would grow out of it soon. Midday, when nothing I did worked, I called my husband and cried – “he won’t poop. I don’t know what to do.” My husband promptly said he was coming back home to rescue me. (My son thinks I am a supermom and I think my husband is a superman while in reality, we are messed up humans).

Quite often, my husband has commented that writing a blog about parenting and being a parent aren’t the same things. A part of me thinks he may be right.

When my son finally found relief after a long struggle that involved (car rides, laxatives, juices and list of rhymes), I breathed a sigh of relief. Even as I winded down for the day, I realized a few things.

1.       Its okay to cry in front of your kids (It’s impossible to show your best self all the time).
2.       There will be times when you can simply be there for your child but can’t do much.

I know I didn’t have to deal with a whole lot today. But I do know, there are lot of parents dealing with so many other things when it comes to kids. I can't say enough for the courage they carry in their eyes every single day. Perhaps, as the saying goes, “There is no such thing as being a perfect parent, but one can only be a REAL parent.”

Monday, September 25, 2017

Sneeze, cough, Sneeze, cough

The last few weeks with my toddler were spent in a series of sleepless nights and gulping down yucky meds. Not letting worry get the better of me, I told myself that things would get better. After all, children get sick all the time. Still, the sick days are like a whirlwind where you can’t wait for things to get better. So, when a fever appeared and relapsed and when the cough wouldn’t subside, I indulged in a google search.

Google, like my good old pal, suggested me a list of things I shouldn’t be doing. I already felt better after reading it as if Google was the doctor or magician I was looking for.

Wash your child’s hand often – Okay, this is easy, I told myself. I just have to wash his hands each time we entered the house and before meal times and when he got himself dirty. How hard can this be?

After I washed his hands before meal time, my son managed to get his hands on some paint and colors and flour. So, after two more rounds of hand washing, we managed to get some food into our tummies.

Pollen high in the mornings so stay indoors – So, google says that it’s not a good idea to stay outside until 10 a.m. in the mornings because the pollen count is high. I tell myself that I’ll engage my son until 10 with games, rhymes and books. Even as the thought played inside my head, at 7 a.m., my son is beside the door waiting for it to open.

"But the pollen is high. Let’s go out later,” I said.

My son stared at me as if I were nuts. He banged on the door twice and threw his shoes to send the message across. So, out we were in the air that was supposedly laden with pollen.

Once outside, he climbs into a play structure that has a small puddle of water on it. There is simply no way of keeping a toddler away from a puddle. There simply isn’t.  As I let out a scream inside my head, my son is happily wetting his hands in the puddle. Oh, but there are a million germs in there. What’s going to happen now? Should have been predictable by now.

A few minutes later, he is attracted to sand and mud that is lying on the ground. He is laughing and enjoying the feel of mud in his fingers. Instead of watching the delight on his face, I worry about the dirt under his fingernails. If this goes on, how will you ever stop sneezing or coughing? I wanted to ask him.

When I finally decide it’s time to head inside, my son gets pissed at the idea and starts to protest. In a toddler’s dictionary, protest has many forms. Right now, he chooses to spread himself on the ground, where millions of people have walked with their shoes on. He stays there for a minute longer until I pick him from the ground and think to myself – so much has happened this morning since I gave him a shower. Why did I bother because I would be doing it all over again in sometime?

A couple of days later, I decided to ignore google suggestions and let my toddler have fun in dirt, come sneeze or cough. Shortly enough, the sick days have disappeared for now but his passion towards open play in nature is not taking a backseat anytime soon.

That’s when I learnt – “The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful”

Monday, August 7, 2017

My leftover ice-cream

It’s so easy when children are young. Like it’s very easy when they are newborn. It’s still easier when they are still learning to walk. It remains easy when they are just learning to talk. And then, all at once, it gets harder when they start to remember things, when they start to demand things, when they start to have preferences of what they should do and what you should do. You start to realize all of your moves have to be pre-planned because of the dire consequences it may have.

When my son turned two and a few months more, he learnt that running is an amazing experience so much that the moment the doors are opened, he throws himself across the grass and the air. He doesn’t really care if I am behind him. That’s just the way toddlers are. They don’t care. But this can’t be entirely true. Even when my toddler gets to his highest degree tantrums, there are times when flings himself across my neck into a tight hug. He melts inside me, making me wonder if life could forever be filled with such wonderful moments.

All good things considered, there are still moments when I just can’t stand my toddler. A toddler has, in his full capacity, to drive an adult go crazy to any extent. Anyway, the point is, my son has learnt to remember things. So, he remembers where I place candies, what the freezer contains, what the section below the freezer contains, what the shelves contain and where the chocolates are mostly hidden. At first, I didn’t think much about this but when it got really bothersome, I tried switching places.

At one point, it got really worrying because he remembered exactly the new places where I kept all the unhealthy stuff.  I told myself that I had to do the right thing – get rid of all the candies, ice creams and chocolates. Of course, it’s hard but that’s what parenting is all about anyway. It’s always the hard ways.

After being completely snack free, I realized that I deserved a little treat for being the good parent. So, one afternoon, I decided to indulge myself for a stick of ice-cream hurriedly because my toddler would wake up any moment. Just as assumed, I was only halfway through the bar of ice-cream when I heard his cries. And I thought to myself – “How do you do this every single time to mommy?” That’s just the way it is.

So, here I am, a few minutes later carrying a half-sleeping toddler, resting on my shoulder while I hideously gobble my leftover ice-cream (so that he doesn’t get to see it). The last time I had to hide and eat an ice-cream was twenty years ago.

And it begins all over again. 

Friday, July 21, 2017

Quit playing games with me, toddler.

When my son turned eighteen months, I was battling with my mind of when would be the right time to put my son into a playschool. At that point, I was getting tired of the new tantrums my son was lashing out at me.

Fast forward 8 months, I am now partially immune to most tantrums. I think I have built the thick skin to deal with screeches and scratches. After hearing to umpteen advices from peer moms and a million other people (who are simply interested to offer tidbits of advices), I decided to do what I thought was best (Hey, isn’t mother’s instinct the answer to everything?). A month ago, my husband and I dropped my son to a new playschool. We still have rough mornings but then I began to notice that the roughness was seeping into every part of the day.

As of now, my toddler talks a lot which are babbles and babbles (no sentences yet). Though I am tired of hearing the same question (Doesn’t he talk sentences yet?), I crush the urge to respond – no, he doesn’t. But we speak fairly well with the special vocab he has developed. Also, you know sentences are the next best thing to words and he’ll get there eventually.
So, I wondered, if my son were to have a conversation with me about his transition into playschool, what would we talk about?

Me: Here is the thing, you have been going to this new place for quite some time. Why are you still acting up each time we drop you? You have started being rebellious inside the shower (which used to be your favorite thing), you start pouting each time we put shoes on and what’s with the constant surveillance on me? Can’t I pee in peace and privacy?

Toddler (staring at me wide-eyed): Why did you send me there for?

Me: Why, to help you make new friends and learn some new stuff.

Toddler: is that all?

Me (biting my lip guiltily): Uh, also cos I could use some time for myself. You know, I get to do things like dreaming inside the shower and also watch some good movies and hear good music.

Toddler: Well, you sound selfish.

Me: That’s not entirely true. I also want you to explore the world outside.

Toddler: But I never told you that I wanted to. I like being at your side, letting you chase me until you start gasping, pulling your hair and doing everything that you hate.

Me: But you seem to be having fun at your new school.

Toddler: Well, I am a 2-year-old. What do you expect from me when you put me among my peer group who play bubbles and trucks and slides and songs and lots of silly games? That reminds me to let you know that you’re bad being silly.

Me: See, that’s the thing. We have a win-win situation here.

Toddler: No, that’s not the way I see it.

Me (in a pleading tone): Why can’t we make it easier for both of us?

Toddler: It’s not my job to make your life easy. Wait, I think I have an uncontrollable desire for a candy.

Me (in a defiant tone): No way. Why would I let you rotten your teeth?

Toddler: Okay, then let me set my timer for ‘highest degree’ tantrums.

Me (nervously): Wait, there is no need for that. I’ll get you the candy.

Even as I hand the candy, I tell myself that I am not doing this again. Tomorrow, it’ll be my day and I won’t let you play games with my mind. But of course, that never happens.

About the Author Chital Mehta loves to explore new books. After becoming a mother, she started this blog to share her experiences as a mother. Apart from being busy with her baby, she makes times for writing, reading and watching movies. She has authored 4 fiction novels. You can find details on her facebook page :Chital Mehta facebook

Write to her : chitalmehta1987@gmail.com

Friday, April 21, 2017

Terrible twos – it happened to me!

It’s a Wednesday morning rush hour inside my house. After shoving my husband out of the door for work, my son and I gear up for the day. It’s the ‘library’ day which comes every week. We both love it because that’s where we get to stay away from each other and get our much deserved space. Or so I thought.

Anyway, I throw the diaper bag over my shoulder as I scream to my toddler to wait for me outside the door (once they turn two, they simply CANNOT stay still). A few minutes later, we shove ourselves inside the car that has arrived for pick up. The UBER driver makes small talk with me, asking the same question I have answered a million times to different people – How old is he? I beam with a smile as I glance at my son who was once a tiny baby but with the miracle of time has converted himself into a wiggly- adorable toddler. I simply tell the lady, two.

Is it fun? The lady from the driver seat probes me further. My instant answer is YES. It’s so much fun now after the initial years of struggling through sleepless nights, bottle washing, the whining and constant crying and the clinging. I said the struggle period is finally over and I am looking forward to breezing through the rest of parenting years.

To this, the lady smiled defiantly, telling me – He just turned two, right? The real show begins now. I wanted to ask her what exactly she meant but by then we arrived at our destination and we were already bidding our goodbyes.

Once inside the library, where we usually come to attend the toddler session, my son is all smiling and happy. So am I. We sit for thirty minutes listening to stories and rhymes and some music and dance. Towards the end of session, my son is already dragging me to the door. Apparently, he needs to run (I will never understand the endless fascination that they have to be on toes all day).

We are out of the toddler room, into the library area which connects the children’s area to the section where big people come to read and research (that’s how it looks but I wouldn’t know what they do!). After another thirty minutes of jumping and running on tables and desks with a few furtive glances from strangers, I signal to my son that we have to leave.

For some reason, my toddler didn’t get the message or maybe he did. He decided to boycott me, right there by stretching himself on the floor. At first, I smile at him, trying to keep myself cool. I try to lift him off the ground and he wiggles and wiggles back to the floor. I smile a little more, I try to offer a candy (against my rules that I break so often) and I offer him to watch a YouTube video (another of my rules broken). But nothing works!

The scene for the next ten minutes is as follows – I am running like a mad woman behind this toddler who gets immense joy in having me chase him while I carry a heavy backpack on my shoulder and a heavy car seat as well. All this in the midst of a library, where silence is a priority. But now, my son and I have managed to turn it into a circus.

I try to rationalize my thoughts because this is the first time my son has thrown a tantrum such as this. I yank and grab him which leads to screaming and yelling and hitting. By now, I am throwing nervous glances to see if I am being watched. It feels like the entire world is watching me and all I want to do is curl into a ball and hide. But I cannot escape.

And then, something good happens. A man (who had probably witnessed my helplessness in capturing my jumpy son) offers to carry my stuff so that I could focus on carrying just one thing – the toddler. I looked at him, my thoughts filled with relief – wow, you are truly God sent. And off we went, out of the building, putting an end to the chaos. Within minutes, we are buckled to our seats as we wait to reach heaven which is home (the only place where I don’t have to worry about a screaming, jumping, yelling and a cranky toddler).

Fingers crossed for the year of terrible twos. Perhaps, three might be a breather stage.