I am a cool parent. Hmmmmmmm.

When I was on the threshold of marriage, I had many opinions, like young, rebellious, educated women of 25 did. Now, when I think of some of them, I cringe. Even, when all alone, I look for a blanket to hide my face. Some other opinions, I still hold forth, vehemently. In a few years these so called vehemently held views will be a cause for much embarrassment, I know. But till then, let me pass of as the fire brand woman, an appellation I so love. Of the many points of view that I held, my stance on parenting was perhaps the most lucid and thought through. These views were based on my own experiences as a child and more importantly on how some of my friends were brought up. As you might rightly suspect, my observations of my parents brought forth views of – what parents shouldn’t do, and ideas I picked from my friend’s parents- things that parents must do. Of course, like a zillion others out there, I always about thought my parents are so wrong, and my friend’s, neighbor's, cousin’s, so cool.

One of the parenting guidelines I believed in – I will not break my head over what happens in school with my kid, especially, homework, exams, and all that twaddle we ‘faced’ as kids. My husband was a step ahead of me- he announced proudly to guests at home one day- my child will not be forced to study. Ahem. All this when Mish Mash was 6 months old. Mish Mash is 3 today and goes to pre school. We were glad she was going and learning stuff. As a few weeks pass, we hear from parents in India, whose kids are about Meeshu’s age or older. They ask- so has she begun writing? Are you teaching her the Hindi Script? You guys will have it hard when u come back. Its different here, in India.

Mish Mash’s dad, who had once said lofty things about what his kid will do, and won’t, is faltering and panicking. Mish mash’s fire brand mother with cool parenting solutions, biting her nails in apprehension- when will Mish Mash learn to write her alphabets? Her peers are doing it already in India- its great that she knows her shapes and colours, but what happens when she goes back and can’t cope with writing- Gaye Doodh deti hai or Gaaye humari mata hai, in Devnagri script?

So then, a pink writing board is bought home. Another piece of plastic, that crowds the little brat’s room. The father and daughter sit every evening with ‘alphabets’. While the dad goes about writing on the black board, as if it was his childhood dream to own one, Mish Mash is busy sketching gibberish  the other side, on the white board.

And I haven’t stopped panicking. Next Monday, she needs to do a ‘Show and tell’ at her school. Her dad wants her to show a plastic pink strawberry cake. I couldn't be bothered with what she showed- I have to prepare her for the elocution. Well, not elocution exactly, but well, she does need to say something better than just say- mummy doesn’t give me cake.

The feeling in my stomach is similar to that of what I felt before entering a stage to say that long speech, which dad had written down for m, for the competition. I gotta  get her to tell those lines right.

Bloody stressful, I say. And yes, so much for those lucid and well thought through parenting guidelines.