“I moonlight as a DJ”
Tags: Parenting, Breastfeeding, Humour, Motherhood

It had been forty minutes and my bum was starting to hurt. How much longer now? The fluffy pillows I saw at a distance on my bed were beckoning to my exhausted soul. As I bounced on the big, blue yoga ball as though my life depended on it, the ridiculousness of it all just started to dawn upon me. All this, and more, just to get my baby to sleep. I looked at said baby, down in my ring sling (for the uninitiated, that’s like a joey pouch for babies). My baby, looked back at me with his big, greyish-green eyes. Eyes that were totally wide awake. Sigh.

Fast forward to now. The joey is now turning into a toddler kangaroo, who has a baffling (and cute?) affinity for cows, dances to anything that sounds remotely rhythmic and has a line up of stuffed animals that accompany him to bed. Before you ask, yes, my days of bouncing on the big, blue yoga ball are long gone. As our toddler’s communication skills are increasing every day, he can now clearly tell us when he wants to sleep. He’ll pick the lucky animal for the night and kiss his father goodnight (or night-night as he says it). He will then proceed with the chosen animal to the bedroom and if I don’t follow in three seconds, I am summoned. “Amma, come”

My new challenge at bedtime is quite interesting and tests my competency in many areas. Apart from the required obvious musical skills, I am also needed to sharpen my creativity, presence of mind and patience. Did I mention patience?

I follow my sleepy toddler armed with his animal for the night and we plop ourselves on our floor bed. The opening act of the night is also the easiest part of the night – a customary cow story. After many hits and misses I have made up an exciting, aptly timed and barely believable story about a cow and my offspring going on a trail. If I don’t start the story as soon as we start nursing, I receive a sharp nudge. Totally deserved. The story ends with the story-version of my son going to sleep. But the reality-version of my son is still awake.

It has begun; my performance for the night. I clear my throat and mentally go over the playlist. I start with something safe, like a nursery rhyme. Three words in and I hear those dreaded words, shattering my ego and my paper-thin patience;

“Amma, no, no, no, no.”

I take a deep breath. I’ve prepared for this, I have got this. I ask him what song he wants to hear. He looks at me, chuckles and continues nursing. Well played, my son, well played. I switch gears and move to a peppy-ish number. It seems to have been well received. I look at him, his eyes are closing slowly and the pep in my voice multiplies. Wrong move. He’s opened his eyes and is going to say the words again.

“No, no, no”

Raise your hand if you’ve ever yelled ‘DJ sucks’ at one of those college festival DJ nights. I have, multiple times and with immense enthusiasm. I can now empathise with how DJ Suneel would have felt that night. This is ‘DJ sucks’ raised to infinity as my nipples are getting twiddled with, I’m holding my pee in and that salted caramel ice cream in the freezer isn’t going to eat itself.

Six unfinished songs later we have reached an impasse. I have exhausted my playlist. That’s when he decides to throw me the curveball – “Amma, new song”. I have to think quick. His drowsy eyes tell me that the right song will help him sleep in seconds. Should I make one up or sing a random, slow bhajan? I decide to go with random, slow bhajan as songs I’ve made up in the past haven’t gone down too well with his refined musical taste. I look at him as I hum the names of Krishna and I know I have made the right decision as he drifts off to dream about cows in my arms.

Almost every night, I walk out of the bedroom waiting to tell Arun about what had happened in there. “I had to sing like fifteen songs today!” Arun doesn’t understand if I’m tired of it or enjoying it. I shrug with a smile to have him believe I don’t know too.

As the words of my song trail off into the silence of the night, I gently move my son on to the bed and kiss his forehead. My heart is full and in that moment, every night, I do know.