ENG ENG

Scene: Dining room. Miguel approaches my bro as he eats his dinner. My mom and my future sis-in-law look on.

Miguel, like he's up to no good: Mommy, stand here behind Ninong.
(As if Dennis doesn't hear. I oblige anyway, standing behind him with my index finger at the ready.)

Miguel, giggling: Ninong, close your eyes.
(Ninong closes his eyes.)

Miguel, singing a bit out of tune: Eng, eng eng eng eng eng eng eng...eng eng eng eng eng eng eng.
(Ninong starts to laugh; the ancient song brings back childhood memories.)

Miguel: Mommy, touch Ninong now!

Me: Miguel, he's not supposed to know.

Miguel, to Ninong: Ninong, close your eyes! Eng, eng eng eng eng eng eng eng...eng eng eng eng eng eng eng.

(We're all suppressing our laughter as Miguel grabs my arm so that I brush my finger on Ninong's shoulder.)

Miguel, squealing: Who touched you?

Ninong: YOU!

Miguel, collaspsing with laughter: No, it was mommy!
(My bro grabs him and hugs him.)

Epilogue: Miguel does the same Eng Eng Game to Essie and Lola, each time a helpless bundle of giggles. And you know what? NOBODY guesses that it was ME poking them in the back! What are the chances?

Disclaimer: Post might be incomprehensible if you are not a Sulit. For a free demo, see my son. Batteries not included.

This is how we play

If you weren't a parent you'd think that my son gets the most preposterous ideas. But honestly, last Saturday when he motioned towards my bed and said, "let's make a tent," who was I to say no? Shame on me as an artist if I say that it can't be done. And shame on me as a mom if I say that I' m too lazy. Therefore:

1 can of ribbons + Miguel's blanket + assorted plush toys =




Take note of the joey on top, but don't ask me what it's there for. In the bottom picture there's a can in front of him containing a paper with orange markings. That's the "campfire." We've already roasted and eaten Bugs Bunny - plus 4 beetles.

That's the nice thing about kids - you just don't know what to expect.

The next day, I left him playing with Ninang while I transferred files on the computer. 30 minutes later my sister calls me to "come quick!" because



My sister looked even funnier with 6 cards stuck on her face. They were playing "higher, higher," where you and an opponent each stick a card on your forehead and guess which of you has the higher card. Well it became a card-sticking contest. His face was so oily that...you know what I mean. I was kind enough to spare my sis from the cam :)

Chasing time

(Drama queen takes center stage)

This morning I was late for work.

This morning I was late for work because my 5-year-old had a crying spell.

What was supposed to be an uneventful morning with me heading off to work on time turned out to be a lecture session on how to take care of your toys. The nanny told me that my sis got mad at him the previous day because he had destroyed the Gundams that she had bought him just 2 weekends ago.

He loves robots! He already had 3 Gundams, but as a reward for making it to yellow belt, 2 weekends ago my sis took him out and bought him 2 more. She bought and assembled them. Afterwards I even took out my super glue and secured the non-movable parts, just to make sure that they won't get lost. But he has this way of playing with action figures that result in lost and broken limbs. And despite my warnings not to roughouse with his toys, that's exactly what he did. I looked inside the toy box this morning and found what could be the robot equivalent of the aftermath of a terrorist attack - broken sockets, severed joints - all beyond repair.

"No Gundams for one year!" I declared. At which he burst into tears.

Then the long lecture about nobody wanting to give him toys if he doesn't take care of them. I stole a glance at his Zoids, which have seen some injury but have thankfully survived after a session with my super glue. There is hope yet. At least if his Zoids survive, he might have more of those until the Gundam moratorium ends.

The crying didn't end for quite a while; in fact he was hyperventilating as I took him into my arms. I assured him - and he knows - that Ninang and I still love him, but he has to learn to take care of his toys before we give him even more.

Sigh.

And when I woke up this morning I thought that everything was just fine.

So why is this a piece about time? Because I don't know what goes on with him when I'm at work, or otherwise out. If the nanny didn't tell me I'd be clueless. Then my mind leaps forward and I wonder what would happen to him when he goes to big school next year. Would he tell me what happened during his day? Would I be there when he needed me? All this growing up and letting go is starting to worry me.

It's just that I'm realizing - for a long time now in fact - how our roads are diverging, be it ever so slowly. I tell my friends, we are like "one becoming two." Before I used to carry him in my womb wherever I went. Then out he popped into this world, but I was always at his side. Then came part-time work, then full-time work, then my office relocated, then he started attending preschool. And there are still more paths to tread, for him and for me.

Don't get me wrong; I realize that all these changes are necessary. It's part of our growing up - he as a child and me as a mom. And I do feel proud as I watch him walk away from me and into the classroom whenever I bring him to school.

But our bond is there, and it's strong. We share so many habits, so many mannerisms, so many experiences. We're connected in so many ways that sometimes I don't know where he begins and I end. But thankfully he's different from me - funny, playful, uninhibited - and don't forget all that testosterone.

I just love him so much it makes me sad that I can't share in some of the things that he goes through. Sometimes I just feel like I'm chasing time, trying to squeeze in everything I'd like to or have to do. Have to. Like to. Have to. Like to.

Two diverging paths. One becoming two.

Yeah, guess who's the one having a crying spell now.

P.S. This is so Robert Frost

Just in case you forget what it is

My genius of a son got stung by the spelling bee one day and grabbed his magnetic letters. He tried putting them on our wooden cabinet, but to no avail. "Where do I put them?" he asked. "On the ref," I said. Hence....





Unfortunately there are not many other smooth metal surfaces in our house, or else I would have a smattering of labels on this post. So I wonder, if he had spelled out D-O-G, would it make the ref a dog? As in, "Miguel, please close the door of the dog!" or "I put your juice in the dog." On the other hand, what if the dog had a smooth metal surface, and the ref was covered with fur? He'd have a field day with that one. Maybe I'm starting to sound absurd, but I'm sure this is the sort of thing that he'd enjoy.

He-yaa!

No, that's not a greeting. That's the shout of a yellow-belter.

Yes, Miguel is a "yellow belt" now! He informed me about it last Friday, and I knew then Ninang had gotten the word from Teacher Gina. He took the promotion test last May 29, along with 2,000 other students it seems. We were very confident, and Teacher Gina was so encouraging. He practiced his routine at home several times a day, with or without any prompting. Though he started taking taekwondo classes in July 2004, it was only during summer that the serious training kicked in - 3 times a week for 2 months.

It gave him a lot of self-esteem, especially since mommy, ninang, ninong and lola were always praising him every time he did a routine. Well, forget about the axe kick he did on mommy's face one night as she was about to go out on a date - it was an accident, sorta, and he didn't get away with it anyway.

So here are the pictures from the promotion test taken by the proud stage mommy. What can I say - kids really look cute in uniform :)

Monsterpiece theater

Bedtime conversation:

MIGUEL, WITH DRAMATIC FLAIR: Once there was a prince and princess who lived in a castle full of monsters. Monsters in the closet! Ghosts under the bed! Bats in the school bus! Vampires coming out of the toilet! Then pirates and robbers attacked them.

ME: And then? Who won?

MIGUEL: The pirates and robbers and monsters and ghosts and bats and vampires.

ME: Aw, Migueli, you ought to end it better. I like the way it starts, but I don't think that people are going like a story where the prince and princess lose.

MIGUEL: Then the fairies came and attacked the monsters and ghosts and bats and vampires. The end.

The end indeed.

Action figure as art

Let me tell you about Miguel's latest art attack.

One night he comes into the bedroom with a bond-sized piece of cardboard.

"What are you doing?" I ask.
"I'm going to make an art attack."

He asks for the tape and colored glue.

"Where's Spiderman?" he adds.
"But hon, if you put him on the art attack you won't get to play
with him anymore!"

He rummages in the drawer for Spiderman anyway. Then he starts taping the action figure to a bond paper mounted on the cardboard. It looks like Spiderman is being strapped onto a gurney and is about to receive a lethal injection. I comment that it looks like a medieval torture device, like one used in the Inquisition. Should I be worried?

He starts singing a theme to himself. As if life were a movie, and he's just providing the soundtrack. He does this a lot when he plays, and more often than not the tune comes from our national anthem. No kidding.

After opening all the caps of the glue bottles, I decide to go for my shower, just as I planned. When I come out about 20 minutes later Spiderman is covered with tape and glue, with matching glue and marker drawings in the background - not to mention on Miguel's shirt. Thus ends Spiderman's long and colorful career as an action figure.

The following day the art attack is proudly displayed on our inside bedroom door:



If you look closely you will see a red marker drawing of someone "attacking" Spiderman on his left. So whaddya think- should I be worried?

The rose

Upon the prodding of my not-so-new seatmate Ace, I will tell you about the rose. (Sige na nga! Gusto ko na kasi mag-blog eh!)

Yesterday morning I came in and there was a red rose on my desk, with an anonymous note. Terse, succinct, anonymous. (Two months ago, I got a similar note that read "Hi!" - with smiley, but no rose - taped to my conputer.) I first suspected that it was a joke by Ronan, who came in earlier than me. When I asked him to 'fess up he said, "Ibibili ko na lang ng mineral water kasi ubos na tubig namin sa bahay no!" Taruz! My second suspect was Omie, who's capable of playing a joke on me as well. But Ronan pointed out that she was on leave for the past 2 days.

So. We have a rose. And 2 anonymous notes. In the afternoon the kids - that's what I call the new batch of employees, mostly new grads - got wind of it and had fun speculating. At one point I even said that I planted it myself - hehe. But Ace took the initiative to investigate whodunit. Wala lang, intrigero kasi sya. He suspected one of the practicumers, so showing exhibit A, asked pointblank if he gave it to me. At first he denied it, but on second thought said, "Pwede na rin!" Riiiight. Don't worry poNg, I know you didn't give it. Doesn't matter anyway.

So that's it.

Told Mike about it through text, and he responded, "that wasn't me hon." Of course I knew it wasn't him - that's not his style :)

Introducing...the bed

Yesterday I got Miguel his first bed. Well technically I just had Dennis's old trundle bed transferred from the "pink" room. It all started Sunday, when during his supposed naptime I told Miguel that he would have to get his own bed soon. I suggested that since he didn't have his own room yet, we could probably put in a separate bed for him, next to mine. To this he replied, "I want my own bed now!" I was pleased to hear him say that, but since we were all set to swim after the nap I promised to move in the bed that evening. But the day was quite busy, so at bedtime, around 10 pm, he still didn't have his own bed. And he reminded me, "Why didn't you keep your promise?" Oooh.

So the next morning, after I had sent him off to taekwondo class, I announced to my mum and bro that I was transferring the trundle bed to my room. "That's temporary, right?" my brother asked. "Of course," I said. I'd rather give him a decent bed in his own room, but that's not up to me at the moment. To be honest I jumped at the opportunity to get him his own bed. He does love me with a passion and I love him to pieces, but sometimes I pause to ask myself if our affection goes too far. No malice intended but I do suspect that he's already on his way to discovering his sexuality.

Questions about the marriage vs. family bed will come up in the future and I want to head them off as early as now. I moved out of my parents' bed in grade school and since then I've always believed that kids ought to have beds, and rooms, of their own. Besides, too many smells in one mattress or one pillow always bothered me. And while Miguel always smells nice at bedtime - well, I'll always accept him even if he doesn't smell so "fresh" - I do want him to learn to stand (or sleep) on his own.

It didn't take long for me to take out the 6-foot-long writing desk from my room. After a bit of sweeping Aida and Flor rolled in the trundle bed. Got rid of the rocking chair too. It was a vestige of his babyhood, but I kept it for so long because it was so comfortable to sit in while we talked. Did a bit of rearranging and then surveyed the room. Two beds. No more side table. No more lamp. No more rocking chair. Looks good. I was going to be an hour late for work but I think it was well worth it. I couldn't break my promise a second time, could I?

When I got home my sister had rearranged Miguel's bed so that the head was against my bed and one side against the wall. I was pleased to learn that he had already used it for his nap; he was so excited to be a big boy. That night we slept in our respective beds, but in the darkness he asked me to hold his hand while he drifted off to sleep. I was only too happy to reach my hand over the edge of my bed to do so. In fact he fell asleep much faster than he would if he had been beside me.

My baby's growing up so fast.

P.S. At around 3 am I woke up to a cluttering thud that I can only describe as "TUGUDUGDUG!" Miguel fell off his bed, got back on, and as I lay beside him, fell asleep. Then I went back to my bed, a smile on my face.

We're linked!

Hello all!

It's been a very busy 2 months, and yes I've been neglectful. But a post from May regarding her new site finally brought me back to my blog. While I was browsing through it I finally found out how to add a link, so now I'm sharing it with you. Just click on the link at right.

Now you can click your way to my friends' accounts at Livejournal, and find some great posts. May, I included your new site, but made an error in the URL until I get your permission to post this link. Happy browsing, everyone!

Almost married

Ha ha! Don't get excited just yet. No this isn't my wedding but a commercial shoot - my almost-15-minutes-of-fame as the bride. "Almost" because I was exposed for barely a second, and even so I was just a shadow in the background. By the way, the bridesmaid is Wengderwoman, a.k.a. Weng, my officemate and fellow talent. Oh well...at least I enjoyed the dressing up part.

With that I'd like to welcome the Santiagos to my blog. I posted this one for you - it's been a while since I posted pictures, and I did promise that I had some on this site. Happy reading and viewing, guys!

Moving experience

Check it out at inhale, exhale: just press # 6

Yep! My sister finally moved into her own room - after more than 2 decades of sharing a bed with my mom. Last week I saw a strange sight - my mom sleeping alone in her room, the TV off. I thought that my sis was having a late night out, but then it dawned on me - she's in her new room! WhhOW!

Okay so forgive me for going overboard, but for the longest time the joke in our house was that my sis's bedroom was just a storage place, so cluttered that you couldn't even sit on the bed. Heck, you couldn't even see it. Come to think of it, you still can't see it - for now. But at least her new bed in her new room really functions as one.

I used to share that room with my cousin Lina who moved in in the 70's. She came from Surigao and was in Manila to take up 7th grade, then high school. I must have been in 2nd grade at the time. I remember I was just so glad to move out of my mom's room and have a bed of my own. And I just adored Lina! I always looked up to her as my surrogate mother, because she always made me drink milk and take Clusivol syrup at night to fatten me up, to no avail.

My memories of that room were of Andy Gibb, Nancy Drew, stuffed toys, disco music, and of course Lina, who gave me a crash course in girly ways. I watched her try on dresses, tested her shampoos, assessed her red heels, observed her putting on eyeshadow. She was the one who watched out for my menarche and taught me how to use a sanitary pad. I still remember her first crush - his name was Chris Fautts - and how she couldn't sleep the night before her prom because she was so excited about her date with him.

Her mom came into town a lot, and they would take me along on their shopping sprees, buying the same shoe style in 3 different colors. And Tita Nep always treated me to 3M Pizza at Metrobank Arcade - a tradition, as it were.

Much, much later that room became my painting studio, and the balcony served as my private garden. Of course I had to pack away my easel when guests came into town. But I always enjoyed it when they admired my plants. I remember one summer in the late 90's when Lina and Tita Nep came for some business, which meant that they were going to Divisoria to buy stocks for Lina's store in Surigao - shopping again! Anyway I had an abundance of plumbago, in the plant box and in pots, and they were blooming like crazy all at the same time. The balcony was a riot of blue plumbago with touches of yellow margaritas. Tita Nep couldn't help but admire them, and I suspect she kept the balcony door open not just for the sunlight, but for the fantastic sight.

So many memories about that room. Can't help it, we've lived in this house for almost 30 years now.

Today it's my sister's room. I like the way the sunlight comes in through the windows in the early morning. The room is bright and airy, and I hope it doesn't get cluttered up so it can stay that way (attention barbiegirl!) Gueli has even parked his toys there, and enjoys playing blocks on the mat, or tic-tac-toe on the bed. We're making more memories even as I write.

Just the other day he woke up early, ran to my sis's room, clambered up the bed and said "wake up little rosebud." Then he kissed her. I know that she loved it.

Emergency instructions

Last Sunday I was paying for medicines and what-not in Watson's. I had instructed the nanny to get a pack of tissue, and as she came back with the item she asked, "Where's Miguel?" My heart skipped a beat, but then I realized that there was no way for him to leave the store unnoticed since I was near the entrance. After a quick scan around the store, we saw a flash of red - his shirt - running between the aisles, and nanny went to fetch him.

As he came back to me I squatted at his level and asked him what he would do if he lost me or nanny in the store. He said he didn't know, so I laid down a few ground rules.

1. Don't leave the store.
2. Look for a saleslady or guard.
3. Tell them that you've lost your mom and give them your name.
(He's already memorized his name, address, and phone number.)
4. Give your mommy's name and describe her.

"Can you describe your mom?" I asked him. He gave a naughty smile: "Peeling face." NOOOOO! That won't do. (Maybe sometime I'll tell you all about that glycolic peel I went through last week.) I paused for a while, decided on a spiel then drilled him. After about 10 minutes he got it down pat.

Me: Describe your mom. How tall is she?
Miguel: Five foot two. Plus heels!
Me: How much does she weigh?
Miguel: 110 pounds. (Really, I'm only 107)
Me: How long is her hair?
Miguel: Shoulder length.
Me: What color?
Miguel: Dark, and straight.
(And the clincher...)
Me: Looks like?
Miguel: Rita Avila!

That ought to do the trick.

Nothing

Overheard last night:

Miguel: Ninang, have you ever seen nothing?
Ninang: No.
Miguel: Close your eyes. (Ninang complies) What do you see?
Ninang: Nothing.
Miguel: HaHAhAhaHAHahA! :)

Don't believe in Santa Claus

On December 23, Miguel asked me to accompany him to the living room because he wanted to show me something. He got on the sofa and pointed at a quilted pillow with an image of Santa (yes, we have one of those).

Miguel, jabbing at the pillow: Don't believe at this thing.
Me: What do you mean?
Miguel: Don't believe in Santa Claus!
Me: Why?
Miguel: Because there's no...there's no such thing as a Santa Claus.
Me: So who gives all those gifts?
Miguel: Other people aside from Santa Claus!
Me: So you don't mind if you do not get a gift from Santa this year?
Miguel: Then I'll just get a gift from other people aside from this one. (points at pilow)
Me: You don't want to get a gift from Santa?
Miguel: I never saw what Santa Claus looks like.
Me: So you don't mind if you don't get a gift from Santa? That's okay with you?
Miguel: It's okay I'll just get a gift from other people besides Santa.
Me: Okay.

I caught it all on mpeg, so this is pretty much verbatim. I'm still amazed that he came to this conclusion on his own at the age of 4. And what's more, it doesn't bother him at all. So this year he didn't get a gift from Santa. And you know what, it is so okay.

La la, it's May!

My friend May got married last week. It was a very intimate wedding, with maybe about 120 guests. Breaking from tradition, the couple dispensed with the bouquet and garter toss - a decision that we all applauded. Then they gave a few remarks towards the end of the dinner, and I quote May gushing, "This is one of the best weddings I've ever attended!" To which her new hubby replied, "Maybe because it's yours, sweetie."

Sorry May I couldn't help it, but I took Marlon through your engagement blog the following day when we were back in the office. It's just that I'm so happy for you. As I read him the entry of how you met Alcuin, he said, "Nagkita muna sa utak!" So true. A very good match, and I hope it lasts forever.

So many things went through my head on the days immediately before and after the wedding. Things like, how happy I am for you - did I say that already? - and how honored I was to be your veil sponsor. During your little speech you said that you were so happy because half the room was filled with your most favorite people in the world. (The other half, we guessed, was Alcuin's.) And I couldn't help but agree, because you are one of my favorite people in the world.

At the reception, I was with those who had known you much longer. They talked about your being masungit, and I said, maybe three or four times, that I had never known you to be so. Finally Agnes said that you had mellowed down somewhat. I coudn't help thinking that she was making an excuse on my behalf. But then again, maybe you have "mellowed down." As if it matters to me!

Yet truth is, you really are my friend. It's easy to say that we met because of work, that we gel because we both write and paint, etc, etc, etc. But honestly, there doesn't have to be a reason.

May, you are a wondeful person, I'm so deliriously happy about you and Alcuin, and just count me into your fans' club, okay? 'Nuf said.

Reading

Miguel has been reading voraciously for the past few months. I remember how amazed I was when he first tookthe cut-out alphabet letters and said, "Let's spell pot." (M-A-R-I....nooooo!) He then pronounced each letter sound and spelled pot, cat, bat and a whole lot of other words.

Turns out that Ninang has been drilling him with letter sounds every morning as she brings him to school. So naturally she wasn't as surprised as I was when I told her that he was spelling on his own initiative. I excitedly got out the phonics books so that he can practice, but he quickly tired of them. It turns out that his tastes are more, uh, mature. (I once told a friend that Miguel liked adult books, and my friend raised an eyebrow. Apparently he thought that "adult" involved an "X".)

Miguel's favorite books now are those hardbound coffee table books from Reader's Digest (yes, my mom bought loads of them!) with titles like "How Did It Really Happen" and "Great Mysteries of the Past." I'd come out of the shower and he'd have a book in front of him, reading words no matter how long or complicated. Now he's an expert on the Titanic, Atalntis, Stonehenge, The Big Bang, Space Exploration, Mary Queen of Scots, the Taj Mahal, and not to mention Pompeii (see previous entry). Okay fine, he'll probably turn out to be a nerd just like me but at least he's got a sense of humor (again, see previous entry).

My bedside is starting to look like a library, with books piled so high that they obstruct the lamplight. Every night he insists that I read all the books until morning, or "until you run out of laway." Sweet little bugger isn't he, but how can I say no?

Pompeii

Let me tell you about the most ridiculous song Miguel has come up with so far. It has a pretty repetitive, uncomplicated tune and he sings all the lines in the same rhythm, except for the fourth line.

The ashes were falling
The children were dying
The people were exploding
Pompeii, happy Pompeii

Pompeii is exploding
Mount Vesuvius is erupting
And the children are dying

He sounds pretty cute when he sings it. I tell him it's a good thing that it happened a long time ago.

Show and tell

Let me tell you about the time that I forgot to get Miguel a show-and-tell item.

Well, what can I say? I forgot. Last Sunday I was asking my sis what object Miguel can bring for show-and-tell - it had to be from Korea. She suggested that I drop by the Korean store, and buy a snack. But on our usual trip to my uncle's house I just totally forgot.

Come Monday, the nanny tells me that Miguel went out of his classroom crying. He approached her and asked, whispering, if he had his assignment. She wasn't even aware that there was an assignment, because it was just texted to me - Miguel had left behind his assignment notebook the previous Friday.

The teacher's assistant tried to reassure him by getting some Korean chips from his classmate and saying that they were actually his. But Miguel knew that they we didn't buy them and wouldn't accept them.

Yes, there are days like that too. Broke my heart when I found out that night when I came home. Even these little things like Korean snacks for show and tell - you can't take them for granted.

Two nights later we were accompanying Ninang around the neighborhood and passed by the Korean store. I wanted to make it up to him by buying something, even though it was late. But by the time we had pulled into the parking lot, he strongly insisted that "we don't have to buy anything any more." I was really surprised, like I was wondering if I had scarred him for life or something.

Sigh.

Guilt.

You really can't take anything for granted with your kids. Remember that. He's just so precious to me, I don't want to disappoint him because of my stupidity.

Footnote:
Tried to make up for it by making him a bird costume for Jacob's birthday party today. Will find out later how that turned out. Will also take the day off tomorrow, to make up for all the shooting days and late nights. So ciao for now.

A message from limbo

Hi guys! Sorry I haven't been posting lately, but I know that you've been checking out this site. Muchas gracias! At least I know that I'm still getting your attention these days.

It's been the longest week for me. Three-day shoot on location, then continuous overtime the following week. Well, I did manage to sneak in some R&R here and there. But overall I'm pretty tired and sleep-deprived. All you moms there, you know what I mean.

Next week will be another long one, but I hope to make it up to Miguel by then. His teacher informed me that he will be the bida in his class's taekwondo exhibition next Friday. Attention, stage mothers! More stories when I come back, I promise.

I really need some sleep.

Riza, if you're reading this, send me a message won't you? Here or via email. :)