Ladybug's field notes

It all started with a picture I posted with a glass of beer in front of me in Facebook. A childhood friend (male) felt inspired to call me up and give me some "good advice" on how I can delete the picture in order to be a good mother to my son. He added, "You anyway hold a full-time job and travel. Is  that not bad enough for your son that you feel like posting these kind of pictures?! Always remember, now you are a mother first!" with extra emphasis on NOW!  I think my son, Gogol (Agneebh) was about 11 years old then. We had a good laugh talking about that incident and the advice on hiding the fact that I drank occasionally, as he cleaned the fridge and I cleaned and deveined prawns while sharing space in the kitchen today. As we discussed more such examples and giggled some more, the late-teen boy felt I must write a blog-post around my tryst with such advices. So here you go!  I became  a mother as a 25 year old and was comfortable wearing my skirts and t-shirts....

My Jethima (my much older Aunt) and I shared a special bond. She pampered me and let me eat jam which I loved but could only have limited occasional amount at my own home which my mother ran in a tight budget. Jethima or Jimma as I called her was special to me for many other things too. She would let me read "n" number of story books. I could sing and dance at home. Dirty her drawing room. She did not think I was particularly naughty. I was, but it always helped when others (very few)  did not think so. However, that one day, when she came out of the bathroom, after I had used it, she did not look pleased. She called me to her room and whispered in a hard voice, "Are you menstruating? I saw some clots in the bathroom floor. Was that yours?" I was 13. I said, "No." She probed further. I had never seen her being steely like that. It broke my heart as I said "...but Jimma I would then need pads, right? And I would have to throw them too and you could h...