After two or three hiatuses between starting a blog and giving it up and starting again, I had begun yet another attempt to chronicle my journey as a parent a few months after I became one. At home whole day with a baby who couldn’t talk or understand much then, there was a hell lot going on in my mind that I just had to rattle out on the keyboard. So I started to write every day about him, me, and the entire hilarity of parenting. One blog post made a friend comment that I should write a book. I wasn’t doing much else then, apart of course from trying to keep myself and baby alive the whole day – so I took that advice a bit seriously. Slowly I stopped blogging altogether, because I couldn’t cope keeping up with both – writing for immediate gratification from expectant readers and writing with no visible end goal ahead. I had no idea if I would be able to make an entire book from the thoughts I had in my mind. My aim was only one – to share what goes on in the life of a parent and make others laugh while doing that, the way I would laugh at myself. There is enough seriousness in the world anyway. There are enough books in the world with parenting advice anyway – I had read a few myself. Besides, I am nowhere near qualified to advise someone on parenting, even after three and half years of being one. I mean I can tell you what I did if that helps, and only if you really ask me, but that is all. I used to read blogs on parenting like “6 habits worth inculcating in your children” and then I would scroll down to find that the author was not even a child specialist or psychologist for crying out loud, but just another parent who had had her child a few years before I did. The habits were good, but the tone was a bit too preachy. I once went to a birthday party of a boy almost my son’s age and I had to leave before lunch was served as it was my son’s nap time. The hostess gave me advice with complete authority on how I should be letting my child get used to everything, even when she had as much experience as I had with parenting. Then there were those veteran parents who couldn’t stop singing praises about their own parenting feats and how they had brought their children so well and how we should follow them.
Enough of that “should be doing” I thought, about time. So I just did what I did, and wrote about it. I wrote because I had to and there was nothing else I’d rather do at that time. I wrote until late nights and on weekends when husband was home. I scribbled on post its, Kleenex and even my hand if I could find a pen when a thought came rushing. I wrote in the 20 minutes I got while waiting to board a flight. I never thought about how I’d get it all published, if at all it did become a book one day. At the worst, I thought I’d have written enough material to post in different chunks on my blog and a great way for me to capture my memories with my son to share with him when he grew up.
It turned out there was a lot I had to say. The more I talked to mothers around me from any part of the world, the more I felt how we grapple with the same seemingly non-issues and wish for everything to be taken more lightly.
And that’s sort of how I made a booboo was born. A book about parents (more specifically the mothers), as believe it or not, the parents are born with the baby too! I finished writing it when my son was around two, so it captures his and my life until then. Exactly on my son’s second birthday, I sent it out to publishers with a cold call pitch and a ready to share product. And now when he is over three years old, the book is ready to come out. The title was suggested by the husband which conveys how I un-learnt parenting books and learnt parenting on the job while making a million mistakes on the way. Which is kind of how we live our whole life, isn’t it?
Hits bookstores in Feb, and will hopefully entertain old, new, future and even non-parents all the same. If you don’t laugh while reading it, you get your money back. (But you will need to give me a proof for that ;))