It was Saturday, May 12th, four days after we celebrated baby Taara's 2nd month birthday. I had been dreading that day for weeks. Raaga had a dance competition in the morning and a Kuchipudi performance in the afternoon, both requiring elaborate/contrasting makeup and costumes. On the same day, twenty five of my Telugu students also were to perform on stage, bringing alive the Telugu lines I had written for them in remembrance of 2000+ years of Telugu literature. May I also mention that I had written an adult skit that was to hit the stage the same day with seven other ladies alongside me? No, this post is not to brag shamelessly about my multitasking skills, though I am sure I would return to that aspect in future if (when) I feel particularly low in self esteem. This post is about something completely different, extremely humbling, and a lot more close to my heart.
I must have gone over the day's schedule a million times in my head.
6am: Wake up
7am: Get done with R's jazz make up
7:30am: Husband takes R to competition
7:30-11am: I handle baby T, pack everything that is needed for the day
11am: Husband and I switch kids
12pm: Finish R's makeup for the second dance, Feed T one final time before leaving the house, Rush to the venue 45min away. Make sure R has had something to eat.
1pm: Confirm all my 25 students arrived at the venue and ready. Confirm R has her lines memorized for the skit, face touched up for dance
1pm-4pm: Showtime
At about 4pm that day, walking off the stage after my first Telugu skit- the last of my day's planned events, I hit an emotional high. 25 students. 8 adults. Four performances in one day including Raaga's two dances in two corners of the Portland metro area. I pulled off a miracle without losing all of my hair. I expected to feel a hundred pounds lighter. However, I immediately felt heavier, quite literally. I suddenly remembered I had a baby that I hadn't nursed for four hours. I had all the bottles of expressed milk with me in the green room. I had silenced my phone and had not checked it for hours. Baby T was with her dad in the audience. For four hours, I had completely forgotten all about my 9 week old baby. The mom in me hit the lowest of the lows, one day before mothers' day, ironically.
As I frantically searched for a way to get to my baby in a very loud and packed auditorium, a handful of my students came up to me with flowers, thanking me and wanting a picture with me. I forced myself to smile for it, fighting hard to stop my tears. As I took leave of the students and headed towards the auditorium, the bouncer at the door would not let me in as they were in the middle of a long program inside. I could no longer fight my tears. Some of my friends that were there saw me, explained the matter to the bouncer, got me inside eventually. It was somewhat anticlimactic- baby T was fast asleep and did not really miss me or her beverage.
I considered myself a very responsible and caring mother up until then. After that day, I hesitate to make any such claims. I am especially paranoid now, after reading several recent stories of parents accidentally leaving their little ones inside the cars in the hot summer. For four hours that day, I had forgotten that I had an infant because I was overwhelmed and distracted. I was lucky that I did so while the baby was safely with her dad. What if she were in the back of my car when I was distracted? It is not like I have been the best mom of the century outside of this incident but I sure am scared as hell thinking about the what ifs.
I must have gone over the day's schedule a million times in my head.
6am: Wake up
7am: Get done with R's jazz make up
7:30am: Husband takes R to competition
7:30-11am: I handle baby T, pack everything that is needed for the day
11am: Husband and I switch kids
12pm: Finish R's makeup for the second dance, Feed T one final time before leaving the house, Rush to the venue 45min away. Make sure R has had something to eat.
1pm: Confirm all my 25 students arrived at the venue and ready. Confirm R has her lines memorized for the skit, face touched up for dance
1pm-4pm: Showtime
At about 4pm that day, walking off the stage after my first Telugu skit- the last of my day's planned events, I hit an emotional high. 25 students. 8 adults. Four performances in one day including Raaga's two dances in two corners of the Portland metro area. I pulled off a miracle without losing all of my hair. I expected to feel a hundred pounds lighter. However, I immediately felt heavier, quite literally. I suddenly remembered I had a baby that I hadn't nursed for four hours. I had all the bottles of expressed milk with me in the green room. I had silenced my phone and had not checked it for hours. Baby T was with her dad in the audience. For four hours, I had completely forgotten all about my 9 week old baby. The mom in me hit the lowest of the lows, one day before mothers' day, ironically.
As I frantically searched for a way to get to my baby in a very loud and packed auditorium, a handful of my students came up to me with flowers, thanking me and wanting a picture with me. I forced myself to smile for it, fighting hard to stop my tears. As I took leave of the students and headed towards the auditorium, the bouncer at the door would not let me in as they were in the middle of a long program inside. I could no longer fight my tears. Some of my friends that were there saw me, explained the matter to the bouncer, got me inside eventually. It was somewhat anticlimactic- baby T was fast asleep and did not really miss me or her beverage.
I considered myself a very responsible and caring mother up until then. After that day, I hesitate to make any such claims. I am especially paranoid now, after reading several recent stories of parents accidentally leaving their little ones inside the cars in the hot summer. For four hours that day, I had forgotten that I had an infant because I was overwhelmed and distracted. I was lucky that I did so while the baby was safely with her dad. What if she were in the back of my car when I was distracted? It is not like I have been the best mom of the century outside of this incident but I sure am scared as hell thinking about the what ifs.
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| At Jazz competition |
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| With her Kuchipudi group |
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| Speaking about Pothana as part of Manabadi Skit |
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| At the end of the adult skit |
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| The moment- High for the teacher, low for the mother |
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