And the days pass by...

* Peanut seems to be settling into big school reasonably well. Jumps into the bus happily enough in the morning. Fingers crossed.
* Vijay seems to be settling into new job reasonably well. Jumps out of the car when I drop him off happily enough. Fingers crossed.
* I, on the other hand, may be losing it just a teeny-tiny little bit. My daughter goes to bed at about 11 p.m. I try to write for a little while, but even plotting ( read: Facebooking) takes upto an hour. Midnight I try to sleep. About a couple of hours later, the twins wake up, considerately doing it turn by turn. They finally awaken, strangely refreshed at 6 a.m. and insist that I play with them, which of course I do. The part time maid comes in at 7 a.m. and rescues me and poor K ( who is also up at night helping manage one twin), but by this time, Peanut has to be awoken and made to get ready for school, which of course, needs to be done primarily by yours truly. I drop her off at the bus at 8 and get in a small jog before going home, feeding the twins and getting ready for work. By nine, I'm out, dropping Vijay on the way and then reaching my own workplace. I determinedly climb up 11 flights, fully conscious that this is the only real exercise I ever get. I reach the 11th floor, walk in - it's about 9.40 a.m. usually. I determine to take my boss up on his offer of letting me work from home whenever I want, and think that today I must leave at about 3 p.m. When I next notice the time, it's about 5.30. I rush out and get home by about 6.15 p.m. and it's already getting a little too dark to go out with the kids. Peanut opens the door for me and smiles, but Pickle and Papad start crying as soon as I come into view. I take my kids one by one and play with them and feed them, feeling bad for having left them crying in the morning and trying to pack in as much of their babyness as I can into this time with them. Some evenings I go out with one, two or three of them and visit my 95 year old grandfather who stays with my Bua in our complex. My grandfather is very unwell and insisting it's time to go. I exhort him to stick around and at least read my book which he agrees would be a pity to miss - I've given him about 50 pages and plan to try and drag it out. I visit Vani - who's also moved into the same complex - for a planned few minutes which becomes an actual half-hour minimum and before I know it, I'm late for dinner. I get home and eat with Vijay and then it's time to put Peanut to bed, Pickle-Papad already having been knocked out somewhere in the interim. And so the cycle starts all over again.

And occasionally, there's a little blogging.

It's a pretty good life.