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Like most kids, Araatrika my daughter hates MILK.
Feeding her a glass of milk could mean 1 to 1.5 hours. She wouldn't hold the glass in her hand which meant aches and pain in my arm, shoulder and neck. It was a messy affair to say the least. I would lose my temper...I would shout...She would CRY and be so sad. I was the MILK DEVIL in her life.
My husband hated it as much as my daughter. He firmly believed I should let go of the MILK, he said "it over-rated and can be easily substituted with something else which is less time consuming and is SAN the drama". He totally put his foot down on this and said I will not "dirty my hands" in this milk business.So now, the responsibility of being the MILK DEVIL was only mine.
I wasn't sure, if I should let go of the MILK at such an early stage of her growing-up years as much tempting as it may have sounded to put an end to this misery for the both of us.
And then one day, everything changed..... I STOPPED
I was crossing her play room, curious to see how she pretend played as a mother with a baby toy on her lap....I stopped. It started with "agar apko arengi (read energy) chahiye toh dudu pena padega" which quickly turned into anger and screaming just like I DID while feeding her the milk. They were mostly threats and dire consequences of what will happen if she doesn't finish this GLASS OF HOLY MILK IN FRONT OF HER
I WAS DAMNED....I SAW me. Not like I haven't been told by my family before about my temper but this was something else.
THIS HAD TO STOP!
No, don't worry the milk still continues. I STOPPED.
What my parents, sister and husband couldn't do in years. She did in ONE moment.
How did I conquer? Watch-out for this space, coming up in PART-2