Like a Haryana Buffalo

Daadi Meets Deven

Daadi arrived with Yogesh on Saturday, none the worse after their 28-hour trip (which, according to Yogesh, was much better on Air France/Delta through Paris-CDG than the prior trip on Air India, despite the fact that neither one of them parles-vous Francias).

It’s been such a pleasure to watch her interact with Deven. I feel like the protagonist from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, when he transforms into the nice Grinch – my heart expands “2 sizes” every time I see them together. Her face instantly loses 10 years when she looks at him, and she makes these cute high-pitched sounds that I’ve never heard before, not even when she interacted with other friends’ babies. She coos and chirps to him, excited when he smiles or moves his head or even just wiggles his legs and drools. He of course takes it all in, grins, giggles, and warbles back to her, chews his fingers and toes when she smiles at him, and listens as intently to her speaking in Hindi as he listens to me speak in English.

When Daadi stayed with us last year, it was a fight every time we wanted her to leave our home with us (we live on the 3rd floor & up a loooong flight of stairs, so it’s understandable). But this time, the day after she arrived, she was dressed & ready to go ‘baby shopping’ on Sunday afternoon – she has a purpose now! You see, we had to go to the craft store, as there was wool (yarn) to be bought so she could knit sweaters for Deven, after all!

Business Travel Blues

In my 20’s, traveling for any reason was great – particularly international travel. To Taipei for a 2-hour meeting, Shanghai for a conference, Seoul or Mumbai for vacation & school trips – all manners of flight were fun. I earned frequent flier status on United (1k) & American (Diamond); as well as @ the Hyatt, Marriott, and Inter-Continental hotel chains; my passport was full of stamps; and I felt ultra-important click-clicking my high heeled pumps through unfamiliar airport terminals, listening to the sounds of other languages over the loudspeakers.

Flying was fun – you could arrive at the airport 30 minutes before an international flight; be whisked through security (as a Very Important Frequent Flier, the flight staff would bend over backwards to help you feel Very Important), and sit down with a mimosa before takeoff. Even when I traveled in the consulting business a year ago, flights & hotels were OK because I didn’t have a desperate desire to get to my own bed in my own home and nurse my baby.

But now, as I sit on a flight for my first 36 hours away from Deven (en route to San Diego for a 2-day training), I’m almost sick to my stomach. I miss him like crazy already, though I’ve only been away from him for 2.5 hours. The flight staff haven’t been bad to me on this trip, but here’s what I’ve noticed already:

• The gate crew was incredibly surly and condescending to an elderly woman (Why? She was just asking for gate confirmation, for Pete’s sake! Would it have hurt them so terribly to be nice, or at least respectful?)


• The mom traveling with a toddler girl was treated very well by other passengers, particularly when the little girl started waving “bye-bye.” Oh, how I wanted to hold Deven when I saw them! Is it normal to be jealous when seeing other moms with their babies?


• I’ve endured a 15-minute wait for a stale 1-day old sandwich and over-sweetened tea from the airport Peete’s; sandwich of course made with nutritionally-absent white bread and sugar-added cranberry sauce on the turkey. Sigh.


• The onboard staff giggled and ignored customers waiting in line for the bathroom, clearly ‘antsy’ and needing to go. They would not allow us steerage-class passengers to head to the forward lavatory because that needed to remain empty for the 1st class passengers.


• My own physical limitations – I’m traveling with the breast pump (and breasts that were ‘empty’ as of 4:45am) – but I know I’ll need to fill the little bottles and baggies that I brought soon, or else this training course is going to be very uncomfortable. :-)

Coming Home

…Writing this portion of the blog the next day as I head home from the training, I’m really excited to see Deven (and Yogesh and Daadi) ASAP – and yet am glad I came. The training I attended was a sales training by the well-known Miller Heiman group; taking it with my VP Sales and another colleague was educational and energizing.

Work is already piling up back at the office (I have one major account already plus 2 more great potentials, each of which requires intense care & feeding). But, as this training helped me realize – I was meant to be a ‘working mom’ – not a stay-at-home. I’m looking forward to jumping back in, helping these clients solve some tough problems, and feel the energy (pun intended – I sell solar & energy efficiency) when we partner together.

As expected, I felt incredibly lonely last night falling asleep in the hotel bed by myself, but after the midnight-bathroom visits of pregnancy followed by a multiple-awakening-per-night son, I can’t say I minded having my first night of completely uninterrupted sleep in almost a year. :-)

After 3 calls to the hotel concierge yesterday, I finally got a mini-refrigerator in my room (apparently they don’t put them in all rooms any more); so the whole pumping-regularly routine wasn’t so bad. I was really worried about the TSA liquid restrictions (no more than 3 ounces, milk only if with a baby, I’ve heard of moms being forced to dump breastmilk, etc.) but in the airport returning home, my fears were unfounded. The screeners were polite and didn’t even examine my cooler-pack of expressed milk too closely. Phew.

My parents are returning from their 40th Anniversary Alaska cruise & Denali vacation as well, and I’m excited to see them again and hear all about it. They’re going to stay with us again through 8/28, so we’re giving the nanny a few days off, and I’m looking forward to a long weekend of family time.

Of Breastpumps and Buffalos


When Daadi first arrived, one thing we made clear was that I planned to breastfeed at home (and out), with little reservation or modesty. It’s just too difficult to always move to another room, or find a blanket to cover up – when Deven cries, I’m much more of a “whip-it-out-and-you-deal-with-it-if-you-don’t-like-it” kind of mom. And, when she first saw me breastpumping after feeding Deven, she was intrigued. She immediately likened me to…you guessed it…a Haryana buffalo.

After Yogesh picked himself up off the floor (where he’d been convulsing in laughter), he translated her words, and the reasoning:

Why? Well, it turns out that the Murrah cows in Haryana state are known to produce more, creamier, milk than their counterparts from other states. They can nurse their calves and still produce extra milk. India’s vast appetite for ghee (clarified butter) often comes from Haryana buffalos. It’s not the first time I’ve been called a cow; but it’s certainly one of the most entertaining.