The Curious Case Of Domestic Blindness

My husband often says that my parents spoiled me. He has absolutely no justification for his claim except that they never forced me to learn my mother tongue, Malayalam. He proudly narrates how his mother fined him when he came back from boarding school if he slipped into English, making him fluent in Malayalam. I’ve counter-argued that he should employ the same methods himself and teach our kids Malayalam, but then this cunning linguist insists it wouldn’t work because it wouldn’t be the “mother” tongue in that case. I know the real reason he won’t try it. He just can’t be bothered adding something on his pitifully small parenting to-do list.

I don’t speak Malayalam fluently but there is just one phrase that I know and say perfectly because it’s seared in my brain. Translated it means – It’s not enough to have eyes, one must see.

The listener of this phrase in my household is most often meant to be my husband. But luckily, just as he suffers from domestic blindness and the inability to see anything right in front of him when not in a work setting, the poor, differently-abled man also seems to suffer from domestic deafness, so he continues to believe that I can’t speak a word of Malayalam!

Why is it that the only phrase I know in my mother tongue is this one? It’s because I remember hearing it multiple times growing up. Which probably means I suffered from this curious case of domestic blindness too, at some point. What then has changed? I think I can scientifically attribute my improved eyesight to motherhood.

I believe my eyesight has improved dramatically as a mum. I can spot when a hiccough is about to turn into a throw-up… and with more agility than I ever knew I had, I can dive halfway across the room to prevent it spilling onto the floor. It’s not just eyesight, all my Spidey senses seem heightened. I could sniff out a stinky diaper before the deed was done, my hand is more accurate than a thermometer and the list goes on!

When I was a kid, I often dreamt of waking up one day and discovering I had superpowers. Turns out that motherhood has made that dream come true for me… though sometimes it feels like a nightmare. I think I speak for most mums when I say that this extra sensory perception of knowing what’s needed by our kids and in our homes becomes a yoke for us. The invisible workload that mothers carry (even in the most equitable households) requires superhuman strength, patience and sacrifice. Mothers invariably end up picking up more than their fair share of the domestic load simply because they can. No matter what fancy designation the father holds in the office, at home, it’s often mums who are product researchers, food safety auditors, risk compliance officers, inventory and logistics managers, executive assistants, travel desk coordinators, counsellors, coaches, cheerleaders, nurses… you get the general drift!


So what can we do about it? I have a few suggestions that I believe will help lighten the load that all mothers seem to carry.

Make this invisible workload visible. Pointing out what needs to be done in the house to our partners and our children will eventually help them realise things that they take for granted don’t just happen.

If mums have the option, the opportunity, and the good fortune to, they should find a job or start a business, no matter whether it’s paid or voluntary, full-time or part-time, remote or onsite. It could enhance their sense of self to be seen as more than a mother. I know it sounds counterproductive but I’ve noticed that having an additional responsibility takes away the time a mum can devote to her domestic duties. When Mummy isn’t there to do it, Daddy (and the kids) are often forced to step up.

Use notes, apps, planners, calendars and all the paraphernalia available. It helps when we don’t need to rely solely on our memory and writing things down can help make planning and delegation more efficient.

Meditate. Because of the mental load mothers carry, our minds are always working overtime. Give them some space to just be silent and devoid of thoughts. It also ends up helping us with our emotional overload, especially for mothers who are prone to anxiety, perfection and people-pleasing.

In the same vein, we all need to find time for ourselves to do things we enjoy – our hobbies, our workouts or even getting a well-earned massage.

Sometimes, to teach our partners and kids to be considerate, we have to be positively selfish. So, all mums out there, I have some advice for you – sit back and absolutely refuse to intervene until your husband can hear the baby’s screams, your son can find the school library book that needs returning, your daughter can comb her hair to her satisfaction. Wear earplugs, uncork some wine, kick your feet up and take a load off! You’ve more than earned it.


Welcome Odin!

Odin entered our family rather suddenly. While Charlie was a foster fail (though many people suspect that it was always my intention to adopt him!), my husband had separately promised my daughter that she could have a dog when she was 10. The idea was to get a puppy and teach the kids to care for him and in turn, have a dog who played with them and was their constant companion. While my kids were lovely and patient with Charlie, often walking him and feeding him treats, he couldn’t reciprocate by playing with them because he was just too old.

Even before Charlie died, we had debated what type of dog we would get next. My husband isn’t a dog person but loves the look and nature of Labradors and Golden Retrievers. While I love ALL dogs, I was sure that I wanted an Indie. I love the no fuss-ness of these hardy street dogs. After Charlie died, I was sure that I wasn’t ready for another dog yet. But while visiting the shelter where Charlie was buried, my resolve weakened a bit because there were just so many lovely, happy Indies there. Kids can sniff out weakness and they immediately sensed that I was warming up to the idea of another dog. So they started upping the pressure, trying to bring forward the date of the promised adoption. I also thought that if we were eventually going to adopt a dog, waiting a few months for my daughter to turn 10 made no sense. I visited the shelter a few times with them to let them see which dog would best suit the family. There were the obvious stars – the handsome Rudy, the playful Fluffy, the street smart Johnny, etc. But I noticed the timid dog hiding in a corner. It was obvious he wanted to be petted but didn’t have the courage to push his way through. When I went up to him, he gingerly jumped up, almost terrified of hurting me. I knew it had to be this one.

I picked Trixie (that was his name at the shelter) because I felt he would suit my husband the most. My husband doesn’t enjoy being climbed on and pawed by playful dogs. I felt that this timid dog would be the right fit for him. The kids just love all dogs, like me, so they would be happy with any one. The problem would probably be getting them to stop at one!

The lady who runs the shelter was surprised at my choice. She mentioned a few times that he was scared around humans and other dogs and it would take him a few months to fully adjust to being indoors with a family. Call it instinct or stubbornness, but I was very sure of my decision.

When the kids walked in from school one day and saw him, they went mad with excitement, charging at him, showering him with kisses, while this poor, terrified dog whimpered, growled, cowered and trembled in equal parts. Over the next few days, I had to teach the kids to tone down their screams and shrieks and their outpouring of love. But that’s all it took. Within a few weeks, Odin, as he is now called, was comfortable, happy and secure. He knew just how much he was loved.

At first, Odin didn’t quite know how to “play”. We had plenty of dog toys lying around that were left untouched. But then as he grew more comfortable, his nature took over and there were suddenly tug-of-war games with other dogs in the dog park and playing fetch with my kids. He also responds and reacts to squeaky toys and balls and often goes scampering around the house wildly, much to the delight of my kids. House training was never difficult. He instinctively knows that he isn’t supposed to pee or poop in the house and has only had one accident when he had an upset stomach. He has learnt to ‘sit’, ‘give paw’ and ‘wait’ for his food and is generally obedient. My kids are trying to teach him to lie down and jump up on command but he only listens to that when they have treats, so I don’t think it counts, but they persevere nonetheless. The one instruction that he doesn’t listen to is not to sit on the sofa. I have had a dog in the past who used to scratch down the front door, chew up cables, and rip up the curtains and bedsheets when I left the house, so the first thing I did was install a security camera in the living room. While Odin initially howled every time we left him alone at home, now he waits for the car to turn the corner and immediately runs up and plops down on the sofa. Because I can see him through the security camera and talk to him, I often bark out instructions to get off the sofa. He’ll jump up alarmed, and then settle down on the sofa again less than a minute later, when he realises that I am still safely far away. He also followed my voice once, walked up to the camera, stared it down defiantly and then deftly hopped back onto the sofa. When I return, a telltale sign of whether he has been on the couch is the way he greets me. If he runs up to me, it means he wasn’t. If he sneaks away and hides for a few minutes, waiting for the storm to pass, I know he’s been sitting there without even checking the camera footage.

Every morning, when I get up and leave the room, Odin goes into the kids’ room and wakes them up by nuzzling them and lies down on his bed there (he has three beds in the house so he can choose where he wants to sleep!), supervising them while they get ready for school. After they have left, Odin knows he can take over… his patience usually lasts just long enough to allow me a cup of tea before it’s time for his breakfast and walk. He’s divided his day and marked out time for everyone… the mornings are for the kids, the rest of the day for me, and in the evening, for my husband and me together.

The most changed person in the household has been my husband. He’s constantly worrying about me underfeeding Odin (he keeps reminding me that he is thrice the size of Charlie). Odin, of course, has spotted the weakest link in the house and feeds my husband’s worry, especially while he eats his dinner. With a deadly combined attack of stares, whines and barks, he makes sure that he always gets some meat or chapatti. Odin also doesn’t believe in giving him personal space. He has the knack of shoving his wagging bottom into my husband’s lap to get his share of hugs and pets. Sometimes, he sends the newspapers flying, often knocks down a glass or cup on the table, but that has not deterred him from asking for the pampering he rightfully deserves! And when my husband comes home after a long time, he runs up and greets him like an enthusiastic show horse – front legs up in the air, flailing about in excitement and almost whinnying. When I first noticed it, I winced and waited for my husband to complain. Instead, I heard a thrilled, “Wowwwww! He jumped on me! I think he loves me too!”

I’m so glad my decision was right. I cannot imagine a more perfect dog to add to the family than Odin. He has the right mix of goofiness and grace, mischief and obedience, energy and patience, and endless love and loyalty to fit into my wonderful, mad menagerie at home.

Odin with his family