The Happiness Quotient

  A picture  is worth a thousand words. When the above picture,went viral, it received brickbats and bouquets. 
 At face value the picture is nothing but heartwarming. The children are happy as happy can be.
 The real smartphone eludes them, but they make the best use of and find happiness in whatever comes their way even if it is a slipper. We adults spend our lives hankering for more...bigger, better, fancier...it goes on and on. 

Making the most of what you have is what happiness is really about.

 

This post is part of BlogchatterBlogHop link.

So Proud of You.

I was born to middle-class parents who were raised by hard-working and god -fearing ladies and gentlemen. Here I pay tribute to mom's side of the family.  Mom was the third of nine siblings. Two were taken in their youth.  The oldest was a boy and the only son of his parents. Two of the sisters joined the convent and two remained unmarried.

Nana Dorothy and Papa Joseph raised their nine children in a four-roomed house in suburban Mumbai which must have not been quite enough for them. Nana reared pigs and kept poultry in her backyard.  Papa worked at the Port Trust and did voluntary work in the church. The church was close to his heart as it was to his home.   The family saw some very difficult days but coursed through.  As adults, every one of them was able to fend for themselves. My uncle, Berchmans also my Godfather bought a pressure cooker for his mother with his initial earnings. He stood by the family in thick and thin. Generous to a fault, he spoiled rotten his nieces and nephews plying us with presents and treats.  He was simply such a lovely man. Also very pious, he devoted large chunks of his time to church work. I have vivid memories of him calling the family to recite the rosary at 8.30pm every evening. We sat around the dining table and prayed the rosary. He inculcated in his children Savio and Cheryl Ann values that he stood for.  None of his nieces or nephews called him uncle.  He was godfather to three of us but was called 'Godpa' by the rest of the nieces and nephews. 

My grandmother trained her daughters well. Their housekeeping and cookery skills were more than adept. There was aunta Signa, the oldest daughter who turned out some marvellous chitaps and fugias. (traditional East - Indian fare)  and cooked well. She suffered an amputation of her leg but that never turned her into a 'homebody'. She was up and about doing household chores, engaging in outdoor activities and generally living life to the fullest.  My godmother Majorie generally cooked up a storm in the kitchen and sent our taste buds into a tizzy. Her talents went beyond the kitchen, to the beautifully embroidered cushion covers in the living room and the embroidered bedspreads in the bedroom. She was extroverted, generous and jovial and enjoyed a good laugh.   Aunta Grace was a stickler for neatness and cleanliness and put together some amazing croquettes and cutlets.  Aunta Baby(Bernadette) dished up the worlds best pani puri, while my mom juggled housekeeping with a teaching career and managed to turn out some amazing dishes. Mom also supervised my brother David's and my homework.  She sewed as well as she cooked. I can proudly say that many of my dresses were embroidered and tailored by her.  

The aunties who joined the convent were talented in their own right. Sr. Regina or aunta Rega as we fondly addressed her and who left us a year ago spent a major part of her life in Bangalore and knew how to cook South Indian cuisine like the back of her hand. Generous, kind and loving she won the hearts of many.  Sister Pamela's salads are good looking and tasty. She makes a mean Cassatta and gives the words 'cut finely' a whole new meaning. I don't know why hwe addressed them as 'aunta' and not 'aunty' but the name stuck as we still refer to them as 'aunta'. 

Aunty Colette, my godfather's wife, a gentle and patient woman was as talented as the rest of the family.  She did magic with Marzipan, fashioning flowers and fruits with her bare hands. They were so beautifully crafted and tasted so good that you stared, drooled and wolfed them down at the same time.  An excellent seamstress she tailored many of her own clothes as well as her daughter's.

One by one they passed leaving behind a legacy of virtues, values and talents unsurpassed. My mother and aunty Pam yet keep alive the flame of this wonderful family. 

This tribute would be incomplete if I did not mention my uncles - Uncle Steven, aunta Grace's husband and father of my cousin Sinclair and uncle Constance husband of aunta Signa and father of my cousins, Jude, Cabrini, Belinda and Vanessa. Sadly Jude and Vanessa are no more with us. Jude, your wit is sorely missed.  Both uncles,  Steven and Constance were jolly, honest and upright men and are sorely missed.  Uncle Steven was the life of any party or wedding reception as he shook a leg to Marathi and western tunes with equal aplomb. and sang the night away. Uncle Constance will be remembered for his kindness and humour as much as for his pork roast and chicken lollipops. Last but not the least, was my dad - a big burly man with a song on his lips who claimed that he had met my mom while he was on his way to the seminary. I guess dad seriously  believed that laughter was the medicine as he kept us in splits. 

A page from the homemaker' s diary.

Today's Times of India carried a piece by journalist Jug Suraiya titled Unpaid COOs and here's a page from one such unpaid Coo's diary...read on. 

As a regular homemaker, my day begins pretty early. The 'cheerful' buzz of the alarm awakens me to the sights and sounds of the day. it is 7am and ever so cold these days. I reluctantly drag myself out of bed. My youngest has already left for college at the unearthly hour of 5.45am.Being quite adept in the kitchen, he rustles up breakfast for himself. I have much to be thankful for.   I remind myself to practice my breathing exercises and then trudge to the kitchen.

My 'ginger -infused' warm water is all ready for me to glug down. (Thanks to my significant other)While tea happily brews on the stove, my significant other is busy pottering around in the kitchen, preparing his starters as in a smoothie. Now that water and tea both have been drunk, it is time to get down to the business of taking on the day. 

The firstborn needs breakfast and a lunch box. I get started on those. I must keep in mind his likes and dislikes and prepare something. Preparing a lunch box is by no means an easy task. Most days, I am like," what do I give him today?"  Significant other chips in and am I grateful for that! Once done, there's our breakfast to be prepared - When you are looking to lose weight, you have to weigh the benefits and damages of one food item against another.  Looking at shedding some flab, the latest on my breakfast menu is overnight oats.

Breakfast over, we await the arrival of the maid. Punctuality is hardly her thing. Ten could stretch to ten - thirty. Every maid is differently made. The last one did a pretty good job but attendance was weak. It's vice -versa now. After she is gone I get to work on the lunch. Cooking is not really my cup of tea these days. Planning the daily menu sometimes drives me crazy.   I would rather blog about how much I hate cooking but with 3 grown men in the house, cook, I must. I have come to rely heavily on Facebook and YouTube for recipes and yes, they have been quite a help.

. " I wish my bank balance would fill up as quickly as my laundry basket", said another harassed homemaker. Tackling the laundry is another detestable chore. I guess I find it so detestable because that teetering pile is staring at me right from the time I open my eyes. To further my annoyance significant other provides the background chorus - "the basket is overflowing, when are you going to load the washing? tra - la, la, la, la..."   I categorize delicate wash, hand wash and normal wash and load and unload the washing machine almost every day of the week.

After lunch, it's a catnap followed by tea. The significant other leaves for work late in the afternoon. He is one of those lucky ones who loves what he does and is able to fill the home coffers too. My husband is a pianist who strikes the right chords for pleasure and paisa. I am mostly left to my own devices after he leaves, as the youngest who is home by tea time or even earlier is usually immersed in social media. Despite unfinished chores, I do look forward to that 'me time'.

Post-tea is when I usually plonk myself in front of the computer to catch up on my daily dose of writing and surfing. There have been intermittent work from home jobs. I enjoyed the little financial independence that I derived from those. I sincerely hope something comes up soon.   It is at about 6pm that I head out to the neighbourhood joggers park for a brisk forty minutes walk. Back home after the walk and some grocery shopping, I treat myself to some telly time.

An early dinner is part of the 'lose weight, keep fit programme' and that is what I  strive to do. Dinner is over by 8.30pm  and I am back to completing the laundry. The firstborn returns from work at around 10pm and significant other around 11pm. I am pottering around the house until then. Firstborn has some unearthly timings which we still haven't quite adjusted to. He heads to the gym at 10.30pm  returns 12.45am and then sits down to dinner.

As parents, we are wont to worry about the hours he keeps but "you must learn to sleep" says he. Sleep I do but only after we hear the key turning in the lock at 12.45am.

Oh yes, I have a houseful and there is always plenty to do but I am thankful that I have always been spared the agony of juggling homework with a job outside the home.