Parenting and Icecream Sticks—The Hidden Connection

My mother always warned me about the demands of motherhood, but nothing could prepare me for the demands that would follow once my daughter started schooling.

There is a particular subject called Work Experience, that curriculum designers claim is aimed at developing job skills in children, but I am sure it has an ulterior motive—that of exposing the inadequacies of parents.

My daughter, Nidhi, has her Work Experience periods on Thursday. The foreboding of an impending Work Experience period hits me by Sunday.

"Nidhi, did teacher say anything about the Work Experience this week?"
"No ma. How many times will you ask?"

I resign myself to asking her thrice a day. The teacher, who I am sure is part of the crafty scheme I described earlier, declares the items required for the class only on Wednesday. We get to know of it in the evening when Nidhi returns from school at 6.

"Ma, this time it is easy. She only wants icecream sticks. "
"Oh, wow!"
I briefly contemplate buying a nice dessert of icecreams (with sticks) for the family. Would be nice after dinner.
But I can hear a soft murmur inside me, 'No, it can't be so easy.' It must be the voice of experience, or it must be my sixth sense.
"Eh? How many dear?"
"Fifty."
"FIFTY?"
The soft murmur inside me is replaced by a wild thumping, accompanied by some sweat.
I try to smile when I look into her eyes that are growing big with anxiety.
"You will get it no?," she says.
I smile reassuringly.
"Yes, yes. I'm sure we will get it somewhere."

I quickly turn around. I would have to distribute icecreams in the entire building to get fifty sticks. I can picture myself giving my neighbors icecreams with the request, "Aunty, sticks rakhna. Nidhi ka work experience hai." The thought is not very pleasant, so what if the Patils are a cooperative lot. (Their sons had Work Experience in their time too.)

Jon, my husband, seems to have taken the news well. After all this is not Nidhi's first Work Experience period.

We set out soon after, armed with some money and our mobiles.
Have you ever tried shopping for icecream sticks? Well, I hadn't, till then. I have taught teachers-to-be, under graduates, and school children too, but I must say, I was oblivious of the role of icecream sticks (fifty of them to be precise) in the education of children or else I would have been better prepared.

We checked with our local baniya first.
"Bhaiya icecream stick milega?"
"Isekreeem ka danda? Kaun rakhta hai?"
We looked at each other with understanding. His son was too small for Work Experience.
The next stop was a bigger general store.
"Tha. Khatam ho gaya," he informed us matter-of-factly.

Oh my God! We should have thought of this earlier. All parents of the six divisions of third standard children of St. Agnes School (name changed) were shopping for icecream sticks, and fifty each at that! The urgency of the situation hits us hard.

"Okay, I'll go this way and you go the opposite way. Call me when you get something," John called while getting into a nearby rickshaw.

We went separate ways. We visited some thirty shops between us that day. All the shops that had icecream sticks had only a few of them because the early birds got there first. By 9.20 p.m. and after some umpteen calls to check each others icecream stick count, we finally managed to collect fifty, actually sixty, in case we heard or she got the number wrong! We reached back trimuphant by about 9.40 p.m.

Nothing can beat the joy of seeing sixty icecream sticks together. We wrapped them in plastic, and packed them in a tough box. As an extra precautionary measure, Jon declared that he would drop Nidhi to school the next day.

We then settled down to a quiet dinner. Dinner conversation revolved around the challenges of parenting. Our aging parents observed that the challenges of parenting are quite different now. After dinner we celebrated over icecreams (with sticks). A sense of accomplishment reigned in the house. And all was well till the next Wednesday.

Hail All Ye Mothers!

Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My Mother.
~Ann Taylor

I marvel at many things day in and day out. I marvel at the numerous stars that spot the skies, I marvel at the lines of ants that march to the orders of an unseen commander, and I marvel at the discoveries of man that take him to heavens heights and to the bowels of a quark.

But I marvel most at the mothers that fill the earth. I marvel when they have kids, I marvel when they keep them, I marvel when they attempt to educate them, I marvel when they make up the weirdest of stories for them, I marvel when they take up a part time 9 to 5 job in addition to the full-time, day-n-night service they inherit when they are mothers, I marvel at their patience, their perserverance, their magnanimity, their ... The list goes on and on.

And that is exactly why, when I thought it was time to blog my thoughts, ideas, and experiences, (thanks to Mandar,) I thought my blog should be dedicated to our breed of mothers.

So if you are a mother, prospective or present, take some time to send in your thoughts, your experiences, your opinions. Let the world and its occupants marvel at the phenomenon called MOTHERS!

I plan to post in some of my experiences as a mother, some moments that made the experience worth it, some poems that I wrote for my brats, etc. So watch this space.