Self-flagellation is one of her hobbies

Mom returned from dropping Kuki in daycare with a heavy heart and a lighter purse. A considerably lighter purse.

The poor child was screaming bloody murder as the teacher pried her away from her mother's arms. So, of course, now mom feels like she's the worst person on earth; especially, since she headed to the mall right after.

The woman is filled with doubts again about whether she's doing the right thing. She sees power women with immaculate hair and high heels dropping their kids off in school every morning and she sees leisurely, stay-at-home moms with a string of tots planning their day around naptime, and she's not sure which side of the fence is greener.

Newsflash, mom: you can't have your cake and eat it too. (By the way, this idiom makes no sense. What are you supposed to do - just stare and salivate at a slice of cake? Who comes up with these things? Can you eat bread instead?)

Ideally, mom would like to look like Aishwarya Rai and make as much as she does without having to do anything more stressful than getting a manicure, pedicure and hair massage simultaneously.

Since she doesn't look like Aishwarya Rai, mom would like the next best thing - doting grandparents to coddle her kids, a driver to drive her around, a couple of servants, a cook or two to prepare delicacies ... while madam spends the entire day shopping, or at the beauty parlor, or deciding what to wear to the cocktail party tonight.

Wait a minute! I know someone who's living this dream life but is riddled with her own share of self-doubts, anxieties and what-ifs.
Has she stopped worrying? No.
Has she stopped second-guessing herself? No.
Does she want more from life? Yes.

Aah, life is so much simpler if you're a dog.

Or a man.

Desperate Housewife no more

This is mom's last week of freedom.

And she’s savoring every second of it.

After close to a year of looking on and off for employment, she finally struck gold. (Mom swears it wasn't this hard to find a good husband.)

In a few days, this suburban hausfrau will be sucked into the corporate realm, to enter the exciting and thrilling world of human resources. She'll be part of an exceptionally talented team of professionals whose hard work and dedication in a dynamic and innovative power environment form the cornerstones of the company's success.

In other words, she'll be hunched over a computer in a windowless, gray cubicle in a sea of other windowless, gray cubicles.

No, she's not starting a new position at a giant semiconductor company where everybody I know works or wants to work. Apparently, there are other behemoths in the valley. Who knew?

Top 10 reasons mom accepted this job offer:

• Her commute time will be shorter than dad’s.
• She can finally afford the tuition for Bright Horizons.
• Her workplace is beside her favorite mall.
• She can come home for lunch and see me if she chooses to. (Or, she can kiss the carpet goodbye, if she chooses not to.)
• Her workplace is down the street from Anu’s school.
• For a change, she’ll be making slightly more than the janitor.
• She can trade in her maternal duds for high heels and a more professional look.
• From now on, she can justify her shopping escapades as legitimate, Back to Work-related expenses.
• She can finally use the “Work’s crazy!” excuse to not stay in touch with people.
• She'll be home in time to watch Astitva: Ek Prem Kahani.

Hotel Sampat

We're so disappointed. Orbit and Kariba won't be coming after all.

By the time mom got back to her friend, she had already made alternate arrangements, and a neighbor has been commissioned to watch them for the next nine days. (And we initially thought it was only for the weekend!)

Strange things have been happening in this house. Mom's been on a killing spree the last few days, trying to rid the kitchen of ants. For someone who doesn't believe in killing for food, this female seems to have no qualms about attacking when her cubs are threatened or her family's food supply imperiled.

It all started when a groggy mom reached for her Honey Bunches of Oats one morning and found an ant invasion in progress through the entire pantry. Assessing the situation, she sought expert advice from dad. He mumbled something about mom being a pack rat and proceeded to empty the contents of the pantry onto the kitchen floor.

"Why do you buy all this junk?" he asked, holding a packet of Chex mix, now covered with crawling ants.
"Kuki likes it," said mom quickly, not wanting to admit her own weakness for salty snacks.
"And what the heck is this?" he asked, holding a green packet that clearly said henna in English and Hindi.
"My mom brought it from India," countered mom defensively, stopping dad from flinging the bag into the trash.
"Yeah, but three packets! What are you going to do with them?" asked dad incredulously, as mom scurried to put them away in the bathroom.
"And how old is this?" he queried suspiciously, sniffing a packet of tandoori masala retrieved from the back of the cupboard.
"Well, you bought it," pointed out mom, smugly.
"Oh, OK," snapped dad, "So, if your mom buys it, it's not junk, but if I get it, it is."
And so it went, back and forth, for the next half-hour, with mom vainly defending her provisions against dad, until she remembered they were supposed to focus on the ants instead.

The humans have called a temporary truce and plan to attack with reinforcements on the morrow. A professional exterminator will be called in, money will change hands and the massacre will continue.

We've discovered the hard way that when it comes to ants, there's no such thing as airtight.

Please let this be a bad dream...

Mom's mood has just been ruined for the day and the rest of the week.

Why? It looks like Orbit and Kariba's family is going away next weekend for a short trip, so could she please watch them again, if it's not too much to ask?

You have got to be kidding! Again? After 20 days of being followed by a wet nose and bad breath, drowning in dog hair, picking up mounds of poop and walking three dogs in 110 degree weather, mom has had her fill of furry creatures and is even considering getting rid of me.

When mom went to cry on dad's shoulder, he simply shrugged and said, "What's the big deal? They're dogs; just leave them out in the backyard the whole time."

Clearly, this man would never qualify as a PETA spokesperson.

So, now, mom's hitting her head on the wall, frustrated at her inability to say No to a good friend, while little Kuki's toddling around saying, "Awbit, Keeba, Awbit, Keeba, do poo-poo pee-pee carpet."

At this point, even the geckos on the back wall are beginning to look more attractive to mom.

They're low maintenance, right?