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

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.


Monday, February 27, 2017

To milk or not to milk?



At the outset, when my son was born, I had no idea what it meant to breastfeed a baby. I wasn’t prepared for the toil and labor as I positioned myself in back-breaking poses to suit my baby’s needs. Soon enough, within the first week, I ended up having sore breasts with a baby who wouldn’t latch easily to the breast. By the second week, I convinced myself that this is the hardest thing I have ever done and still the baby just cries. My initial assumption was that perhaps, he is hungry, why else would he cry. Quickly, I grabbed a few bottles of formula which he gulped down his throat. And he still cried!!!

Better sense prevailed when I spoke with my lactation consultant who suggested that I needed to let him get a hang of breastfeeding while my own body accustomed to his needs. I nailed the thought inside my head – Just get yourself to breastfeed him and believe that he will grow. And so, for the first six months of life, I watched my son grow with the aid of breast-milk which was fascinating yet the most daunting task.

There are downsides to everything in the world. And so, breastfeeding came with its hitches as well:

1.       Sore breasts are the hardest thing to deal with but good news – they don’t last long.
2.       It’s annoying to be woken up at wee hours only to pull your t-shirt to pop the boob into the baby’s mouth. Imagine doing this three to four times a night.
3.        A baby needs to be fed so often that being outside is no exception. I used to feel embarrassed while breastfeeding outside but I told myself that my baby’s hunger pangs demanded Category 1 attention. Bottom-line: Ignore world.
4.       It’s amazing to see how everybody seems to have a say on what a mother should or shouldn’t be doing. I dealt with a number of people who encouraged to me stop breastfeeding as soon as possible. Reason: He won’t wean easily the older he grows.
5.       Re-iterating the earlier point: weaning a baby off breastfeeding isn’t always the pleasant experience because it’s almost like taking the baby off the life support and transitioning him to another way of survival. (The weaning period were the hardest two months. Thanks to my mom, I was able to breastfeed for 17 months while working on the weaning process)
6.       Being tied down to the baby: Perhaps, this is the most glaring fact about breastfeeding. In a world where mothers aspires to get so much done, being tied to a baby for long time makes her immobile.

So, what’s good about breastfeeding anyway?

Perhaps, it’s not enough if you tell a mother – You have no idea what gift you are giving your child when you breastfeeding. When your greatest desire is to give your baby the best, why not just start by handing him his rights – the right to breastfeed.

I can’t write anything valuable and new about breastfeeding besides what is already on the Internet. A quick search about benefits of breastfeeding on google will give you everything a mother needs to know before she decides to wean her baby off the breast.

But what one American mom did, has blown my mind because she has altered the idea of breastfeeding to a whole new magical level. So, this American mom did a wonderful experiment - she compared a drop of breast milk and a drop of formula under the lens of a microscope. And the results were astounding. Breast-milk basically, changes composition and tailors antibodies according to the baby’s needs, right from the moment of birth, the times that the baby falls sick and as the baby keeps growing. The mom posted a video of what she found in the breast-milk and the formula. The results were beautiful proving once again, that the liquid gold that protects your baby is indeed gold for your baby’s lifetime. Video link: Breastmilk under microscope

Promoting breastfeeding isn’t being anti-formula because there are number of moms out there who simply do not pursue breastfeeding because of lack of support or work but they would have if they had the chance. While I feel sad for the things they are missing out, a part of me is in awe of all the hard work they put in for their babies and still manage to get things done. It takes sheer strength and will.

And still, there are so many mothers who simply wean of their babies too early because they are too exhausted or they believe the baby isn’t getting enough or they believe the sooner she weans is easier or somebody pushes them to introduce formula.


While breastfeeding may not be the right choice for every parent, it’s the best choice for every baby. Go on, pop that boob into your baby’s mouth and keep believing that the best is working inside of that little precious body. 

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

Monday, January 30, 2017

Watching you mommy, literally

Sometimes, being a parent is hard because not only are you expected to be caring for another person, 24*7 for a lifetime, but you also need to be putting out your best self. There is so much being written and told about how parents should only be putting out their best reflection out there because as they say, babies watch everything.

Once I became a parent, a lot of people told me, he is going to learn a lot from you so make sure you teach him everything right, don’t forget you are his first teacher. I nodded to all the suggestions, only to let them pass from my ears into thin air. I told myself cheekily, how hard is it to put my best? After all, I am dealing with a 22 month old kid. What bad things can he possibly learn from me?
I mentally gave myself a clean chit certifying myself to be packed with only the good stuff. I assumed I was doing it right –I even have a list!!!

  • Brush twice every single day – check (It’s not my favorite part but I do and get the little one to do as well)
  • Eat lot of veggies and fruits – check (meh, I sacrificed my favorite bag of chips, ice creams and pastries only to be eating apples and bananas)
  • Sleep early – check (gone are the days when I stay up late on my laptop or mobile only to put the little one to bed before 10)
  • Keeping clean – check (Okay, I admit I am not the tidiest person but having a baby made me realize I would have to do a lot of cleaning around, only to show him the importance of being tidy. Not my favorite part either!)
  • No fighting – check (I am kind of passing around on this one but each time I raise my voice, I tell myself the toddler is watching me so I have learnt to argue in low voices with my husband. Took a lot practice, I tell you!)


So, I thought I was doing all the right things until my toddler let me know of all the wrong things I had been doing. The other day, I noticed my toddler drop something on the floor, only to exclaim with the words ‘Oh shit!’

I stared at him with my mouth wide open, my head, teeming with the thought – where in the world did he learn this from? It didn’t take a genius to realize that he had picked it from the one person he was watching all the time – his mother. Oh, but wait, isn’t that me?

I traveled back, down memory lane, realizing that I used the words ‘oh, shit’ almost any time when something bad happens or when I drop something. I had been using it for so long that the words almost came automatically. Never once have I felt the need to stop using it. Until the moment, I heard it from the mouth of my 22 month old toddler. It is the phase when he is still learning to use his words, somehow the word ‘shit’ didn’t feel good coming out from his mouth.

Since then, I have been trying hard to get him to stop using it but toddlers are like repeat machines. He goes on and on with the words, as he looks at me, his eyes keep telling me “I am watching you every single minute. You better watch your words.”

That’s when I realized, that the long lectures I got from my parents about discipline, the manners that  my teachers tried so hard to imbibe me with, the mark sheet that I got at the end of every year to let me know that I had passed to the next level – all of these didn’t matter. Because my real score is here - I thought I was scoring good only to know that my scores were going in negative.

It’s been more than a week that my toddler has been using the words ‘oh, shit’ religiously every single time he drops something. I keep telling him, “I have been trying to teach you so many other good things. Why is it that you picked this one thing from me?” He gave a flicker of smile as he continued with his little game of pouring water into glasses.

He seemed to be saying, “I’ll pick everything that you give me. It’s up to you what you want to give me.” I dropped my charger to the floor. I tongued the words ‘shit’ inside my mouth, but what came out loudly was ‘Oh, no’. Phew! That was close.

My toddler looked at me, ‘See, you are mending your ways. And this is just the beginning.”

And that’s when I realized that I am being watched, literally. I held my heart in my mouth, grasping the fact that I will be watched for the rest of the years that would follow. 

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

Sunday, January 1, 2017

me - the PARTY MOM



The word ‘Parties’ takes a new form for someone who has stepped into the motherhood phase. Parties are not just about hanging around with people, dancing to loud music over cocktails. Instead, they now involve participating as a team with little humans who find great pleasure in staring at colored balloons, wearing funny party caps as they feverishly wait for the birthday cake to be served. 
Yes, these are the only parties that I have attended for almost a year or so. I also know that birthday parties will require my constant visitations in the coming years as well. Every parent knows that birthday parties of other children (sometimes their own too) become a frequent and the most regular outing.

Do I love these parties? Absolutely! For every mother, the only two magical words are ‘Kitchen closed’ which these parties aid to. Plus, it allows the toddler to whack-smack-be pals with other kids too. And then, there are return gifts. Who doesn’t love them? So, yes, I am a big fan of birthday parties.

Last week, my husband announced that we would be going to a birthday party and that I should work on three things – prepare a gift, dress myself, dress up my son. I have made a few mistakes in these areas but I have learnt from watching other parents. Anyway, once the morning sun rose as usual, the two men of my house woke as well, with their hungry stomachs. I busied myself on filling their tummies, bathing and dressing up the little one, with a scream here and there, I hopped into the shower and dressed myself in five minutes (being a mom made me realize that mini-timed showers do exist!) – I glanced at the watch wondering if I could grab some breakfast. That’s when husband informs that it’s almost time to walk out of the house.

I tell myself that I can skip breakfast, perhaps, I can treat myself to a sumptuous lunch. I hear my toddler giggle beside me, his eyes speaking the words, don’t be too sure about that. Why not? I thought aloud, you’ve slept ten hours straight, you are well fed, you’re in a good mood today – I am sure I’ll have a good time. With that thought pasted on my mind, we hopped into the car and drove off, appearing cheerful and merry. What could possibly go wrong here?

Once we reached the venue, my toddler slipped out of my hands to explore his surrounding while my husband and I chatted away with other parents, discussing about how it is sometimes, nightmarish to live with kids and at the same time, how we adore all their impish tricks. Thirty minutes later, everybody summoned for the cake cutting; balloons, candles, chocolates and excited kids filled the room.

My toddler, who has now sprung into my arms, is getting slightly discomforted by the crowd. I distract him by singing the birthday song into his ears while the cake is being cut. He calms down when a piece of white cream covered-chocolate layered cake comes around. I smile and chat with another parent while he nibbles at the cake. Somebody announces that it’s time for food, ah my favorite part.

After piling my plate with delicacies, I settled into a chair comfortably with my toddler beside me, tugging at a balloon while eating mouthful of food. A few seconds later, after I had three mouthfuls, he started wailing loudly. I offered him food, which he spat right on my plate. Toys, balloons, chocolate – my last resort (video rhymes, too). Nothing worked. He simply wanted me to get out of there.

Husband, the savior, comes to my rescue – offers to take the toddler off my hands so that I can eat in peace. As I gobble mouthfuls of food while I smile cheekily at other parents (oh yes, everything is fine), husband is standing right beside me appearing helpless while the toddler seems to be screaming out his lungs – I need to be here with this woman.

 I give up my plate of food, my appetite drowning in the screams. I pick my toddler and head straight to the car where I buckle him up in the car seat and drive around the empty parking lot. I checked his reflection in the rear-view mirror, he is now calm and composed, letting out a huge yawn.  His sleepy eyes seemed to be telling me ‘Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you’ as he drifted into a deep slumber.

While I waited for my husband (who was having his meal in real peace) and drove around in circles, I thought about a story, the fox and the sour grapes. For some reason, I felt like the fox that day. I looked at my son’s sleeping yet surprisingly beautiful face and thought aloud – you’re not going to win every time, remember. Someday, at some party, I’ll finally get my share of food.

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