#LaundryGoesOddEven – With Dad(in-law)


It has been more than two weeks since I blogged and my heart is ripping with guilt for ignoring my amazing rant window! But I am back now, with more perkiness than ever (hopefully). BlogAdda sure as hell knows how to get a girl on her feet and scribbling! They have returned with the efficacious Ariel campaign – #LaundryGoesOddEven, once again highlighting the eminence of gender equality. This raving promotion of dividing laundry duty between the male and female members of the family has seen many prolific phases.

Laundry was once apprehended as the pinnacle of chores, for a woman. She was branded with the responsibility of finding the missing pair of sock and getting screamed at for not having washed her son’s or husband’s favourite shirt for the following day’s big event. That scenario is almost non-existent now, and men are practically volunteering to do the laundry. They feel burdened to display exemplary behaviour to their children and are keen on staying in their wives’ good books.
Predominately, it eases the frustration and arguments in the household, providing a healthier environment for the kids. They naturally acquire the habit of helping out their parents and coercion becomes needless.

I took up the #Laundrygoesoddeven challenge with my dad (in-law), who was more than willing to pounce to my rescue. He is famous at home for marking the calendar with all sorts of events and this challenge just offered another opportunity. Evidently, he is in charge of striking out the dates with green and red markers, with me taking on the even days and him, the odd ones. I have to say, it is incredibly rewarding to influence a male member of the family (other than my hubby). I have developed a salubrious rapport with him and it dissolves unnecessary awkwardness.

Figuring out how to work the washing machine was a bit taxing on him, but ultimately, he caught on due to the alternating routine. Secretly, I clicked pictures when he wasn’t looking and even snagged a video as well. I think it is safe to say that he isn’t comfortable with disseminating to the world about his activities or it’s maybe just timidity.

I believe we are all tremendously grateful to the Ariel Matic team for bringing about a revolution in the Indian household. They cast the spotlight on doing the laundry (one of the basic chores) and ‘sharing the load’ with the female members of the family, who have primitively fulfilled the chores. It is high time that the men do their bit as well, and might I say that they have! The weight of responsibility has sunk in and clasped tight in their brains and it has given birth to a positive family scenario. Hopefully, there should be no bad blood between the Pati-Patni duo now. I daresay that we are on the path of eliminating gender equality.


I am taking part in the #LaundryGoesOddEven Challenge by Ariel India at BlogAdda.

Celebrating #YummyMummy!

Pregnancy is a beautiful period of exploring the new phases of your body will endure and also, that of your baby. The feeling of giving life to another human being, to take responsibility for this new person is truly overwhelming. When I took the test first, I was thrilled beyond belief. I ran out of the bathroom, screaming my head off. But here’s the funny thing, apparently, I was already two and a half months pregnant and I didn’t even know! Thinking back to the point when I might have gotten pregnant, I was rock climbing and hiking in the vast fjords of Norway.

Having cruised through the first trimester effortlessly (or recklessly unaware), the second one rolled in. Since I was decked up in Sweden throughout my pregnancy and delivery, I had to prepare anything that I wished to eat at that time. I recall waking up one morning at around 2 am and cooking chicken majboos (An Arabic dish, where the rice is cooked with exotic spices, tomatoes and chicken stock, topped with charred and baked chicken). And how can I forget the southern fried chicken, along with southern buttermilk biscuits? Not to brag or anything, but I have gobsmacked myself as it tasted scrumptious!

Sadly, that was not always the case, I slept through most of the day, as winter had the longest nights (sunset was at 3:30 pm). I didn’t entirely follow the midwife’s orders, so naturally, I did not bother to squeeze in the healthy routine! My meals usually constituted toasted brown bread, corn/chicken/broccoli soup and boiled veggies. And I am talking about all the three meals, devastating, I know! My husband would take pity on me and make biriyani every week or something new and excitingly fun. Really, though, he was like my literal rock, massaging my aching back and toes.

In between all that misery, came a moment which I cannot describe to this day. She nudged me from the inside and I can still remember the feeling, like when you are in the elevator and it drops all of a sudden (or something like that?!). It is that indescribable intimate connection that the mother and child share.

Towards the end of my third trimester, my mother arrived and suddenly, the air was breathable, the rooms were cleaner the food was tastier and I didn’t have to thrive on leftovers after she stepped into my elaborate apartment. She would cook anything and everything I wanted and what more could I ask for? And like that, days rolled by in a gleeful haze.

The D-Day arrived on the 24th of April, I remember the entire procedure- the breathing exercises, the long strolls near the hospital lake, the amazing bunch of midwives and nurses who took care of me and pampered me like a child. The whole experience was effortless and incredible.

After five hours of panting, huffing, puffing and pushing, fast forward to the moment the nurse placed Safreen on top of my chest. She was a little dirty as she was smeared with some blood on her tummy. I could hear the rapid heartbeats of hers. It felt like her heart beat entwined with mine, just like how it used to be when she was inside of me. And at that moment, when you hold her in your arms, NOTHING MATTERS. The pain would be an alien concept to you and you will realize the true meaning of happiness and love.
My hubby was quaking with fear as the midwife handed the scissors to cut off the umbilical cord. I mocked him by clapping mutedly. Honestly, I was chilling out with my delivery crew, throwing away high-fives to the nurses and midwives. In my opinion, that is what you should feel, VICTORY.

Through this post, I want to tell you that you must worship your body, tend to its every need, celebrate it and live life to the fullest without the slightest worry on your shoulder (let your hubby do all the worrying!). Being pregnant is nothing but beauty, so you are beautiful no matter how you look! Just stop for a second and feel.



“I’m writing about my wonderful journey of pregnancy for the #YummyMummy blogging activityat BlogAdda in association with Marico Bio Oil.”