Awww

One of the perks of parenthood :)

Disgraced tooth fairy

I blew it.

This morning when Miguel woke up he went to my room carrying a tiny ziploc plastic and asked, "Mommy, why didn't the tooth fairy leave me a gift?"

I blinked. I froze. I didn't say a word. I really am so lousy at lying.

Looking at me straight in the face, he clambered up my bed and asked, "Mommy what are you hiding?'

...

He asked me the same question over and over again, and I looked at him, asking myself if he was ready to handle this. Well, more like I was thinking of how to get myself out of an embarrassing situation. First attempt: "I guess the tooth fairy forgot. Why don't you write her a note and put it under your pillow again tonight?"

But no. He kept asking me the same question, "Mommy, why are you smiling? What are you hiding?"

Sigh.

I hope you other tooth fairies out there won't get mad at me, but I actually told him the truth. Didn't seem like a bad thing to do either because more than once he's already asked me if I was the tooth fairy. But the only bad part is that I didn't just get stripped of my fairy badge; I busted my mom as well. Because she was the one who provided me with a Sudoku book for Miguel one time when he lost his tooth.

For a moment tears welled in his eyes and I asked him, "Are you sad because there is no tooth fairy or because you didn't get a gift this time?" He paused at first, then replied, "Because there isn't a tooth fairy."

"Tell me the truth," I asked.

"Because I didn't get a gift this time." We laughed.

Just like his mom, he's a lousy liar too.

Best Mother's Day gift yet

I gotta hand it to my son, he knows how to make a girl happy.

More than a week ago, he already told me what he wanted to give me: "Mommy, for Mother's Day I'm going to give you a realxing spa." He figured that he can borrow Ninang's foot spa and let me have a treat. No way was I going to stop him.

On the day itself, while the rest of the family was either munching away or swimming after our big Mother's Day lunch, he organized the spa for me. What a delegator! After asking for Ninang's permission to use the foot spa, he asked Aida to get the spa, Yaya to get the hot water, and then asked for a glass of grape juice for me.

And what, you may ask, was his contribution? "It comes with a free car show!" he said. Which meant that as I lay back in his bed, my head propped up with pillows and my feet in a warm foot spa (his is a trundle bed, which is quite low), I watched as he played with his remote-controlled car. After the car show, there was a robot show too - meaning that he tied some ribbons around 2 robots and I watched as he made them fly and crash through the air.

And oh yeah, after my feet soaked for 20 minutes, he handed me a towel and then gave me a foot massage! That was the cutest foot massage I've ever had, if you can call it that :)

By the way, his original plan was to give me the foot spa in Lola's room, so that I can play PS2 while I relaxed. I nixed the idea, but it was a charming thought. I enjoyed the car show much, much more.

Oh, and I know you're going to ask anyway: he got the idea from Cartoon Network, which had a Mother's Day promo, and one of the prizes was...you guessed it...a relaxing spa.

A message from my cerebral cortex

sometimesidon'tknowwhogetsmoretraumatizedthesonorthemother
don'tworryi'llbeokaywe'llbeokaywilljusthavetomakeafewmoresacri ficesoverthecomingweekswe'lladjustwe'lladjustwe'lladjust

42/100

Portent

So there was my son, frolicking with little girls in the blue-tiled kiddie pools of the swanky Rockwell Club. As early as now he's chasing girls. Well, only because he wants to splash water and play around with them. I imagine it's going to be the same deal 15 years from now.

We were there for our neighbor's 7th birthday party, and what a bash it was! In harmony with the Hawaiian theme, they had straw hats, plastic leis, colored sunglasses...and of course little girls in bikinis :)

It really is amazing to see these kids grow up together. Back when I was still working part-time, I used to take Miguel for a walk around the neighborhood at 5PM. Chasey's house was one of our stops and we'd stop to talk or play. Other times we'd meet at the park. Much later on Ninang would bring him over there for indoor play time. Now he and Chase are going to big school.

As another parent and I sat watching the kids, we commented how girls socialized much earlier than boys. Chasey has a best friend already, and we watched the 2 girls whisper and hold hands and run away from my son. And still my son would chase them. And try to kiss them too, sometimes.

Oh no.

I imagine it's going to be the same deal 15 years from now.

39/100

"I don't want to go to Ateneo"

Me: Why?
Miguel: Because they have so many rules.
Me: Like what?
Miguel: You must put your books on the left side, and your envelope on the right side.
Me: Well that makes sense Miguel: so that when you need your book, you know that it is always on the left side. You do not even have to look. And you also know that the envelope is always on the right side. What else?
Miguel: You have to put down the handle of your bag and put it under your table.
Me: Well, I guess so that it does not block the lane so that people can pass.
Miguel: And I don't like to walk on the blue line!

(There are blue lines painted on the corridors for prep kids to follow when they walk. I know, I know. Talk about overkill. But I just told him that you need them to keep order because it's such a big school and there are so many kids.)

Pause.

Me: Do you think that Ateneo is OC?
Miguel: Yes.
Me: Do you know somebody who is OC?
Miguel, suppressing a smile: Me?
Me: Who else?
Miguel, laughing: You!
Me, laughing: See...
Miguel, quickly snapping out of it: But I still don't want to go to Ateneo!
...

This conversation happened at around 4:45AM, he waking up earlier than expected. I got home past his bedtime last night and we didn't get to discuss this except briefly through the phone. Imagine, I joined him on his bed for a few moments after he woke up, and not long after he said, "there's something I have to tell you."

Anyway I had already cancelled the bus service for that morning; I brought him to school myself. I still have to find out later how the day turned out for him.

37/100

Big school blues

I never realized how having a son in Ateneo could take over my entire life. Can you imagine what it does for his?

For example, I've been waking up no later than 5AM for the past 3 days. And I've been going to sleep not earlier than 1AM. That's because I've had to cover, label, bookmark, laminate, and pack all his things in preparation for the first few days. And to think that I already did advance preparations over the summer.

Glad to say that everything has been accomplished. Today he was required to bring EVERYTHING to school - for the teacher's inspection, I suppose. I think that I passed with flying colors.

Now I call home every morning to ask how his class was, and to find out what his assignments are. Being the mom of an Ateneo student requires commitment. As my cousin says, you need to be OC to make it in this school. That goes for both parent and student. And considering that Miguel is a third generation OC, well, I guess that you could say that he's pedigreed :)

All that aside, he seems to be adjusting well to big school.

36/100

Quickie post 1

(For Friday, June 2, 2006)

Thank God for photos! I'll do a post a day for a hundred days, no matter if I'm late.

We had a nice party with the cousins, Chloe and Chino, Chasey, and Arianna and Roque. So I guess that all my kiddie guests could be considered Miguel's cousins. We had swimming, balloons, cake, games, and lots and lots of chips. And oh yeah, the food. We were constantly grazing until dinnertime.


Note to self: next time get a party host.

Miguel told all of us his birthday wish: "I wish I could spend more time with mommy!"

I didn't know if I should feel flattered or embarrassed. Nevertheless, my sister was right: I think he's gonna get his wish.

32/100

Moving out

(For Saturday, May 27, 2006)

Today Aida altered the curtains for Miguel's room. I told him, "Hey, after the curtains are in place, all we have to do is move in your bed." His response: "Let's move it in today!"

Whoa.

I didn't realize that he was so ready for this. So I left instructions for our househelp to move in the bed while we went to watch a movie with the beau. One movie, several video games, two cream puffs, and 2 kiddie meals later, Miguel and I went to see his room - finally complete. After his bath I found him playing contentedly in his new room.

I guess that having the toys transfer ahead of him made him eager to cross over. Or maybe it really is about time.

By bedtime, I knew for sure that he really liked his new room. He got my extra blanket and asked me to help him make a "tent."

As we agreed beforehand, I stayed with him until he fell asleep. We kept a nightlight on in his room, and we kept the doors of the adjoining bathroom open.

As I lay down alone at last in my roomier bedroom, I couldn't help but feel a tad poignant. It was so quiet. I realized that I coudn't hear him snoring softly any more. Neither can I hear him toss and turn in the middle of the night. But my boy's growing up.

And for that, I'm proud.

26/100

Energy Liger is in the room

I've been moving furniture into Miguel's room over the weekend, and it's starting to take shape. Every now and then I asked Miguel to look at the room and tell me what he thinks. Yesterday he said, "Mommy, the more you move things, the less fun it becomes" - referring to my room. I told him, "Miguel, we're transferring the fun from my room to yours."

So late last night I moved more of his toys to the new room, ever-conscious that I was moving out the "fun." Surveying my more spacious room, I have to half-admit that he was right. The robots and action figures are gone, transplanted to a new shelf in his room. That includes Energy Liger, his most prized Zoid, the one that I positively forbid him to break (although it has sustained a few minor damages.)

So now, instead of toys, some of my favorite framed pictures are now displayed on my buffet table. (I don't know what else to call it; it's the same kind of cabinets-and-drawers set that you'd find in a dining room. I had it custom made just so I can display photos on top of it.)

I do feel a bit sad about that. Didn't I write before that he's such a part of me that sometimes I don't know where he begins and where I end?

But move on we must. I'm just as excited to see him grow up and create his own identity and do things on his own. Like this morning when I told him that I found the perfect place to put his clothes hamper - beside the bathroom door. "No," he said, "I want it here between the 2 cabinets."

He ran back into my room, and came back with his personal clothes hamper, dumping it in the place he assigned for it on the other side of the room. Well, who am I to argue - it is his room after all.

21/100

Mirror

I've had this picture for a while. It's from graduation day at Gueli's swimming class. When I first saw it I was amazed at how much he looks like me.

What does it do to a parent to have her child look like her? Does it make her love the child more? Love herself more?

Funny thing is that the moment he was born, I thought he looked like his dad. Maybe all these years with just me has made him more like me.

But as early as now, I already tell him, "You are not your mommy. And you are not your daddy. You are Miguel."

Sometimes we make the mistake of thinking we're just like our parents. Well maybe that's not so bad since there are things about them that I admire. But there's some good in knowing that you're different and accepting yourself as so.

Or maybe I'm getting ahead of this identity crisis thing.

15/100

Neuro

Yes, I think I'm getting neurotic. Less than a month to go before Migueli enters big school. I've already arranged for a school bus service. I've bought the uniforms and am having the pants altered. I've wrapped the textbooks in plastic cover.

I even scheduled a visit to the opthalmologist 'cause I suspect he might need glasses. I just need to label a few things, buy undershirts, socks, P.E. shoes, and a school bag.

Good grief! I even read through the student handbook (certified nerd here) and found out that a "jug" is not necessarily a container for liquid.

I tell you I'm really getting neurotic right now.

And I still have to finalize the plans for his birthday next month.

6/100

Zzz Day

Last night Miguel went to sleep on his own.

Big deal, you might say. But for me it really is a big deal. I'm looking to move him into his new room by the end of the year at the latest. My sister's old room is almost empty now, thanks to my brother's housecleaning due to the upcoming wedding.

But I digress.

Last night I came home from work just as he was trying to sleep. After a kiss and a hug, he asked me if I would read him a story before having my dinner. I agreed, on the condition that he go to sleep after one chapter (we're reading book 1 of The Chronicles of Narnia now).

At the end of the chapter, I called the nanny to keep him company in the room, but he said, "Why don't I go to sleep on my own?" The suggestion made me do cartwheels in my mind. Acting very calmly, I tucked him into bed, turned out the light, left the door half-open as he requested, and went downstairs to have dinner.

Ten minutes later as I'm eating my fish and veggies I hear tiny footsteps on the second floor landing and a sweet voice: "Mom-my!" Getting up from my meal to meet him, Miguel tells me that it's too dark in the room. Take two. I go back to the bedroom, turn on a lamp, tuck him in, close the door, and go back to my meal.

After another ten mintues I pass through Miguel's future room, into our connecting bathroom. I can hear him playing in my bedroom. He hears me puttering around the bathroom and opens the door, quickly shutting it the moment he sees me. I decide to go check him out. He is lying on my bed, saying that it's too bright and that he can't sleep. I decide to turn off the lamp and turn on an insect-trapping lamp that's dim enough to serve as a night light. He asks if he can sleep on my bed, and I say sure. I tuck him in a third time.

Five minutes later, as I'm about to take a bath, I hear only silence in my room. Finally.

After my bath I enter my room to see a cute bundle on my bed, surrounded by pillows. I smile. I'm gonna miss it when he's in his own room, but I'm thrilled at the thought of his independence. One day he's not even gonna want to hang around me. Well hope not. I enjoy being on his pedestal, and I kinda hope it'll last forever.

I decide to wait a few minutes before I move him to his own bed.

Won't be long now.

Smells simply glorious

My son threw up on me last night.

Well, not exactly. He threw up on my hands. I forgot that when a kid has a cough, DO NOT give him a cup of milk just before going to bed. He awoke 30 minutes later with a coughing fit, sat up, and promptly threw up. Luckily most of the stuff ended up in my hands instead of on the pillows.

Little bugger went right back to sleep right after that. And me? Here's the best part of my job description: wipe off puke from bed, take off pillow cases, wipe son's face and hands with soapy facetowel, dry him off, soap and wipe the bedsheet, wash pillowcases, hang out to dry (the pillowcases, not the son), wash yucky facetowel, spray disinfectant on stinky bed. Yadda yadda yadda.

You know the routine. And all the while the little angel is snoring on the bed.

Thing is, I really feel that this is the essence of parenthood. That when your child is sick in the middle of the night, who else should he throw up on but mom? Last night was a mild episode; when he was younger and really sick I'd have him in the rocking chair with me all night and he'd throw up on my chest at 3 am. Smelled simply glorious. All the way to my undies.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not being sarcastic. Well, ironic maybe. It's just that I know of a couple of single parents, and unfortunately - perhaps through no fault of theirs - they never got a chance to raise their kids. In other words they never got the privilege of carrying the smell of their son or daughter's vomitus at 3 o'clock in the morning. Doing so says something of your bond, or so it seems to me.

So if anyone picks up a faintly nauseating scent on me today, don't wrinkle your nose. It's my badge of motherhood, and I carry it with pride.