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.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
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!
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!
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
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!
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
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.
That ought to do the trick.
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.
Monday, January 24, 2005
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! :)
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
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.
Monday, December 13, 2004
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
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?
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.
He sounds pretty cute when he sings it. I tell him it's a good thing that it happened a long time ago.
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.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
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.
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.
Friday, October 15, 2004
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. :)
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. :)
Monday, October 04, 2004
The life and loves of Gueli S
So went got into the elevator after church, and there's this pretty 2-year-old blonde in a stroller right in front of Miguel. He's babbbling and doesn't see her right away, but I know that it's just a matter of time.
Amazingly the girl's mother and father are deaf to all this, while all the Pinoys in the elevator are smiling. The couple pulls out of the elevator as the doors open.
At this point the other passengers in the elevator laugh. So do we. The doors open again and we get out.
See, that's my son. So amorous. I'm not so worried about his so-called love life because I know that he's put me on a pedestal and he says that he loves me better than cheese (oh, now it's piyaya). But then let's consider his past "girl friends," and remember that he's only four:
1. Claire Agaton, a latecomer to his Junior Nursery class last year. When she entered his pre-school in August 2003, his nanny told me about his newfound affection. I witnessed it later on when, as I was driving him to school one day, we came upon Claire walking to school with her nanny. So I offered them a ride, and Miguel was all kilig at the prospect of sitting beside her! He actually shook with excitement and proceeded to caress her arm. Later on he followed her into the waiting area of the school, and a couple of hugs and kisses ensued. We were all laughing our heads off.
2. Nessie Farrad, another latecomer to his Junior Nursery class. Barely three, Nessie has a beautiful Filipina mom and an Australian father. She was an instant favorite because of her dark blonde hair. Miguel's affection for her was well known, and Teacher Gwit made it a point to always seat them together. Nessie's mom and I even developed a friendly acquaintance. Miguel was invited to Nessie's 3rd birthday party last summer. Upon meeting him, Nessie's dad gave him a terse, "So you're Miguel." His fame precedes him.
Now that he's in Senior Nursery, he's getting the hang of having girl friends. Tops among them are Alexene and Inabang, but that changes from time to time. He has his taekwondo friends too, but the bonds are not yet that strong - as in, we don't do house visits just yet.
I have to say though, that of all the girls in his life, his most favorite is cousin Sarina. She's 2 years older than him, and she always tries to push him around. But since my son is a different kind of animal, he always manages to get her goat. Well, their love-hate relationship has mellowed of late, and they're slowly becoming best of friends.
So here's to love, and here's to friendship.
And by the way, I've already told Migueli that he can only have a girlfriend when he's ready to get married.
(Duh, so does that apply to me too? Gee.)
Miguel, seeing the girl: You're so pretty (SINGING MODE) I loooove you!
Miguel, to me: I said I love you.
Amazingly the girl's mother and father are deaf to all this, while all the Pinoys in the elevator are smiling. The couple pulls out of the elevator as the doors open.
Me: Why did you say I love you?
Miguel: Because her hair is pretty. Her hair is blonde, just like Nessie.
At this point the other passengers in the elevator laugh. So do we. The doors open again and we get out.
See, that's my son. So amorous. I'm not so worried about his so-called love life because I know that he's put me on a pedestal and he says that he loves me better than cheese (oh, now it's piyaya). But then let's consider his past "girl friends," and remember that he's only four:
1. Claire Agaton, a latecomer to his Junior Nursery class last year. When she entered his pre-school in August 2003, his nanny told me about his newfound affection. I witnessed it later on when, as I was driving him to school one day, we came upon Claire walking to school with her nanny. So I offered them a ride, and Miguel was all kilig at the prospect of sitting beside her! He actually shook with excitement and proceeded to caress her arm. Later on he followed her into the waiting area of the school, and a couple of hugs and kisses ensued. We were all laughing our heads off.
Me: Why do you love Claire?
Miguel: Because she beautiful! And powerful.
Me: What's her power?
Miguel: Hugs and kisses and I love you!
2. Nessie Farrad, another latecomer to his Junior Nursery class. Barely three, Nessie has a beautiful Filipina mom and an Australian father. She was an instant favorite because of her dark blonde hair. Miguel's affection for her was well known, and Teacher Gwit made it a point to always seat them together. Nessie's mom and I even developed a friendly acquaintance. Miguel was invited to Nessie's 3rd birthday party last summer. Upon meeting him, Nessie's dad gave him a terse, "So you're Miguel." His fame precedes him.
Now that he's in Senior Nursery, he's getting the hang of having girl friends. Tops among them are Alexene and Inabang, but that changes from time to time. He has his taekwondo friends too, but the bonds are not yet that strong - as in, we don't do house visits just yet.
I have to say though, that of all the girls in his life, his most favorite is cousin Sarina. She's 2 years older than him, and she always tries to push him around. But since my son is a different kind of animal, he always manages to get her goat. Well, their love-hate relationship has mellowed of late, and they're slowly becoming best of friends.
So here's to love, and here's to friendship.
And by the way, I've already told Migueli that he can only have a girlfriend when he's ready to get married.
(Duh, so does that apply to me too? Gee.)
Monday, September 27, 2004
So-late
Last Friday I was late for work.
Well, my mom needed a ride to her meeting in Pandacan. Not along my route but not really out of the way to Makati either. I told her, if she ever needed a ride in the morning, I'd rather drive her than have her take a cab.
Maybe I just want to spoil her. Or maybe it's just a case of "do unto others...."
Flashback. One recurring image forever burned into my mind is of my mom rushing off to work in the morning. Day after day after day. From the time I was in grade school, until high school, I'd be sitting in the dining room having breakfast while she'd be hurrying out the door.
And I'd ask myself, "Why's she in such a hurry to get away from us?'' I guess as personnel director for a large university, she had to set an example by being always on time. But I did question her priorities. And I did feel rejected, even by as simple an act as going out the door.
Don't get me wrong; she is probably the best mother anyone can have. I actually have a couple of friends who would trade mine for theirs. My mom is so calm, so patient, so giving, so selfless, so prayerful. The best compliment I can ever give her is that she's a true Christian, a living saint. I even said that if I can have one-tenth of her goodness I would be happy. (If I had one-tenth of my dad's charm I'd be happy too.) All our past disagreements notwithstanding, she is my idol. I wouldn't know what I'd do without her now.
So what happened? How did I change from hate to love? I guess one day I finally realized that in spite of all her shortcomings, she is a good person, and she did what she believed was best in bringing us up. That she is who she is and that I could never change her. So I just changed my attitude towards her. It's amazing how much we clicked after that.
But about being late for work. There are several reasons why I might be late for work. Sometimes I want to blow-dry my hair. Sometimes I decide to change my outfit. Sometimes I just want to eat the champorado and tuyo rather then munch a sandwich in the car. So many trivial reasons for being late. (Usually 30 minutes, so I try to stay an extra 30 afterwards.) So in my hierarchy of reasons, driving her to gritty Pandacan is just so worth it.
Yeah, sometimes I'm late because when I'm on my way out, Miguel will ask me if I had breakfast. When I answer yes, he'd say "You have to eat 2 times, one on your own and one with me." So I go down with him, get him settled at the table, give him his vitamins, then wait for him to get started. By which time he'd be willing to kiss me and let me out the door. Don't worry, when I have a meeting I always make it clear to him, and he understands that I have to go. But I don't want him to feel rejected just because he remembers me always rushing out the door. I don't want him to have that same kind of memory. In my hierarchy of reasons that too is so worth it.
Well maybe someday I'll figure out a way to manage my time better. But for now you can sue me, 'cause I'm a mom.
Well, my mom needed a ride to her meeting in Pandacan. Not along my route but not really out of the way to Makati either. I told her, if she ever needed a ride in the morning, I'd rather drive her than have her take a cab.
Maybe I just want to spoil her. Or maybe it's just a case of "do unto others...."
Flashback. One recurring image forever burned into my mind is of my mom rushing off to work in the morning. Day after day after day. From the time I was in grade school, until high school, I'd be sitting in the dining room having breakfast while she'd be hurrying out the door.
And I'd ask myself, "Why's she in such a hurry to get away from us?'' I guess as personnel director for a large university, she had to set an example by being always on time. But I did question her priorities. And I did feel rejected, even by as simple an act as going out the door.
Don't get me wrong; she is probably the best mother anyone can have. I actually have a couple of friends who would trade mine for theirs. My mom is so calm, so patient, so giving, so selfless, so prayerful. The best compliment I can ever give her is that she's a true Christian, a living saint. I even said that if I can have one-tenth of her goodness I would be happy. (If I had one-tenth of my dad's charm I'd be happy too.) All our past disagreements notwithstanding, she is my idol. I wouldn't know what I'd do without her now.
So what happened? How did I change from hate to love? I guess one day I finally realized that in spite of all her shortcomings, she is a good person, and she did what she believed was best in bringing us up. That she is who she is and that I could never change her. So I just changed my attitude towards her. It's amazing how much we clicked after that.
But about being late for work. There are several reasons why I might be late for work. Sometimes I want to blow-dry my hair. Sometimes I decide to change my outfit. Sometimes I just want to eat the champorado and tuyo rather then munch a sandwich in the car. So many trivial reasons for being late. (Usually 30 minutes, so I try to stay an extra 30 afterwards.) So in my hierarchy of reasons, driving her to gritty Pandacan is just so worth it.
Yeah, sometimes I'm late because when I'm on my way out, Miguel will ask me if I had breakfast. When I answer yes, he'd say "You have to eat 2 times, one on your own and one with me." So I go down with him, get him settled at the table, give him his vitamins, then wait for him to get started. By which time he'd be willing to kiss me and let me out the door. Don't worry, when I have a meeting I always make it clear to him, and he understands that I have to go. But I don't want him to feel rejected just because he remembers me always rushing out the door. I don't want him to have that same kind of memory. In my hierarchy of reasons that too is so worth it.
Well maybe someday I'll figure out a way to manage my time better. But for now you can sue me, 'cause I'm a mom.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Closet feminist
This morning I took down about 20 books from my son's shelf. Disney books. Actually they're hand-me-downs from my cousin, and I'm always glad to get free books cause Miguel devours them like crazy. But a few from the Disney series made me raise my eyebrows. Let me quote from one called "The Ugly Stepsisters":
And two pages later:
Hello! Calling Margaret Sanger! Gloria Steinem!
Well what did I expect; it's based on a fairy tale, isn't it? But then this book has so many ridiculous stereotypes that I had to explain to Miguel that it wasn't the right thing to print in a book. I was actually bothered.
Of course, of course. Don't blame the cousin who gave the books. After all she did give the seemingly inexhaustible "365 Bedtime Stories," a lifesaver when your child negotiates for 5 stories before bedding down every night. And don't forget "Richard Scarry's Best Year Ever," everybody's all-time favorite, guaranteed to elicit more questions than answers because of the details in the illustration.
But because of a politically incorrect Disney book, circa 1986, this feminist is coming out of the closet. Uh, just for a while. Long enough to explain to my son that just because a woman is ugly, it doesn't mean that she's mean as well. Well the part about needing a husband to be happy I didn't even want to discuss.
So at 4 am there I was, closet feminist slash neurotic mom quietly stashing Disney books into a box, hoping to protect my son's mind from misguided thinking. Not to mention that it was a lot of bad writing.
Which leads me to the question: Do you know what your child is reading? Sometimes we're so quick to accept something because it has some "seal" of approval. So mommies and daddies, beware of Disney Corp, purveyors of wrong thinking and bad taste! What bugs me is that they had the cheek to call those books "educational." (Oh well, at least they've improved in the last 18 years.)
So does that mean that I don't intend bring Miguel to Hong Kong Disneyland someday? Oh hogwash, of course I'll bring him!
The Prince watched them and wondered. How could his kind, beautiful Cinderella have such mean and ugly stepsisters?
And two pages later:
"I wonder how long they will stay," said the Prince. "They don't seem to be very happy, even here."
"If only they each had a husband as nice as you," said Cinderella. "Then they would be as happy as I am!"
Hello! Calling Margaret Sanger! Gloria Steinem!
Well what did I expect; it's based on a fairy tale, isn't it? But then this book has so many ridiculous stereotypes that I had to explain to Miguel that it wasn't the right thing to print in a book. I was actually bothered.
Of course, of course. Don't blame the cousin who gave the books. After all she did give the seemingly inexhaustible "365 Bedtime Stories," a lifesaver when your child negotiates for 5 stories before bedding down every night. And don't forget "Richard Scarry's Best Year Ever," everybody's all-time favorite, guaranteed to elicit more questions than answers because of the details in the illustration.
But because of a politically incorrect Disney book, circa 1986, this feminist is coming out of the closet. Uh, just for a while. Long enough to explain to my son that just because a woman is ugly, it doesn't mean that she's mean as well. Well the part about needing a husband to be happy I didn't even want to discuss.
So at 4 am there I was, closet feminist slash neurotic mom quietly stashing Disney books into a box, hoping to protect my son's mind from misguided thinking. Not to mention that it was a lot of bad writing.
Which leads me to the question: Do you know what your child is reading? Sometimes we're so quick to accept something because it has some "seal" of approval. So mommies and daddies, beware of Disney Corp, purveyors of wrong thinking and bad taste! What bugs me is that they had the cheek to call those books "educational." (Oh well, at least they've improved in the last 18 years.)
So does that mean that I don't intend bring Miguel to Hong Kong Disneyland someday? Oh hogwash, of course I'll bring him!
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Ang saguise, banagnag
When Miguel was about 2 he made up his own lyrics to the song "London Bridge is Falling Down," and it goes like this:
This song even came with matching actions, and I've already shared it with his Senior Nursery teacher.
Well last night he and Ninang were playing with the Busy Beetles set, an M.C. Escher type of click-and-lock toy. They made an elaborate design, after which he declared, "that's a banagnag!"
So ladies and gentlemen, we proudly present to you...banagnag!
Don't ask me what saguise and baleleng are, 'coz he hasn't decided yet.
Ang saguise banagnag,
banagnag, banagnag
Ang saguise banagnag
Bunda, banda!
Ang baleleng baleleng,
baleleng baleleng,
Ang baleleng baleleng,
Bunda, banda!
This song even came with matching actions, and I've already shared it with his Senior Nursery teacher.
Well last night he and Ninang were playing with the Busy Beetles set, an M.C. Escher type of click-and-lock toy. They made an elaborate design, after which he declared, "that's a banagnag!"
So ladies and gentlemen, we proudly present to you...banagnag!
Don't ask me what saguise and baleleng are, 'coz he hasn't decided yet.
Friday, September 10, 2004
Over breakfast
So this was how our morning conversation went.
Miguel: Mommy, when are we going to get a new monitor?
(for the computer)
Me: (Silent, coz it's supposed to be a birthday gift to me)
Ninang: We still have to order it. I think it costs (PhP thousands). Will you help us buy it?
Miguel: (Excited) I can buy it. I have lots of coins in my piggy bank!
Ninang: (Laughs)
Miguel: But I don't have enough.
PAUSE
Miguel: I only need one more coin.
I love this kid.
Miguel: Mommy, when are we going to get a new monitor?
(for the computer)
Me: (Silent, coz it's supposed to be a birthday gift to me)
Ninang: We still have to order it. I think it costs (PhP thousands). Will you help us buy it?
Miguel: (Excited) I can buy it. I have lots of coins in my piggy bank!
Ninang: (Laughs)
Miguel: But I don't have enough.
PAUSE
Miguel: I only need one more coin.
I love this kid.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
How to eat
Let me tell you the perfect way to end a food binge. It's called High and Mighty Pie, from Chili's:
"Heath candy pieces in creamy vanilla ice cream piled high
on a crushed Oreo cookie crust and drizzled with chocolate
and caramel sauce."
Must've been 6 inches high and 4 inches wide. Took four of us to finish it.
My binge started on Friday night and ended on Monday. Puttanesca, barbecue, hungarian sausage with blue cheese pasta, lengua, beef pastel, Uva salad, assorted cheeses, red wine, four kinds of chocolate cake, Becky's brownies, mandarin brownie-meringue, nachos with cheese dip, calamares, crispy chicken salad, corn dog, and of course my high and mighty pie. Nothing beats a four-day birthday celebration.
Have been eating a lot the past few weeks because of frequent overtime. (My theory is, if you have to work hard, you should at least eat well.) Gained 3 pounds in the process. Then yesterday I conveniently forgot to take my anti-thyroid pill and guess what, I'm down two pounds.
Life is sweet.
"Heath candy pieces in creamy vanilla ice cream piled high
on a crushed Oreo cookie crust and drizzled with chocolate
and caramel sauce."
Must've been 6 inches high and 4 inches wide. Took four of us to finish it.
My binge started on Friday night and ended on Monday. Puttanesca, barbecue, hungarian sausage with blue cheese pasta, lengua, beef pastel, Uva salad, assorted cheeses, red wine, four kinds of chocolate cake, Becky's brownies, mandarin brownie-meringue, nachos with cheese dip, calamares, crispy chicken salad, corn dog, and of course my high and mighty pie. Nothing beats a four-day birthday celebration.
Have been eating a lot the past few weeks because of frequent overtime. (My theory is, if you have to work hard, you should at least eat well.) Gained 3 pounds in the process. Then yesterday I conveniently forgot to take my anti-thyroid pill and guess what, I'm down two pounds.
Life is sweet.
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Frou
These are my new frou-frou slippers. Orange, sequined, and beaded. Given by Lisa. The last time I had flowery slippers I must have been 6 years old. So I felt out-of-character when I tried them on this morning. Miguel was watching.
Miguel: Cool.
Me: You like it?
Miguel, with feeling: I like it.
Me: Why do you like it?
Miguel: I prefer that for girls.
So my son has an opinion.
What gets me is that he has this concept of femininity, although I'm not so sure where he got it from. I may be kikay at times, but I'm certainly not feminine.
Like the time that I put on a dress so I that can have it altered. He said, "Mommy don't wear that, you look fat." Then I tried on a dress my size and he said, "Mommy, you look sexy." Bravo, anak, bravo!
Sometimes I wonder when it'll be time for me to put a bit of physical distance from him. Potential issues about sexuality, young as he is, also crop up now and then. Like when he hugs me just a bit too tight, or kisses me just a bit too long or too hard. And don't forget that he wakes up every morning with an erection. I don't know how many times I've explained heart rate and blood flow to my 4-year-old.
I asked other mums about these sort of things, and it seems that all their boys go through such an Oedipus complex. I guess I'm just more uptight about it since I'm a single mom.
Funny how a pair of frou-frou slippers can get you thinking.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Ode to instant noodles
Three-thirty in the morning I found myself in front of the stove. If you ever find me cooking at a time like this, it means that I'm pretty desperate. Only a hopeless case of hay fever can make me do this. It's something I've resorted to since I was a teenager.
I find comfort in this ritual. The house is dark and quiet, and ghosts could be lurking in the shadows. Everyone else is dead to my presence. I may as well be the ghost. But every inch of my sinuses is clogged and I'm totally miserable; I just need to get my fix. Antihistamines are a weak alternative to my stovetop solution: hot instant soup, and lots of it.
You can't make me eat additive-, preservative-, msg-laden instant noodles on an ordinary day. But this morning, I'd never opened a pack of instant soup with so much eagerness. I pore over every detail of the empty pack as if it were the front page of the newspaper while I wait for the water to boil. URC-Nissin, it says. May they live forever.
The water boils and I pour in the noodles. Add a packet of oil and dried flavorings. Then I count to 180, too impatient to look at the clock.
Finally I pour the steaming broth into a large bowl. There's so much anticipation as I breathe in the vapors, as though they were a mentholated mist from a humidifier. At that moment you can put me on that billboard for Lucky Me Instant Noodles. There's nothing else in this world except me and my soup. Talk about consumer insight.
The soup is warm and savory, and the noodles equally so - except that they're slippery-wet. Quite a pleasant feel on the mouth. Warm, wet, and slippery. Almost as pleasurable as kissing.
All too soon the pleasure is over; the bowl is empty. I sit back in the armchair and draw in a breath. I can taste beef mami all over my sinuses. The vapors cling to my face - I can even smell them. But again, I don't care. I just breathe in and savor the relief.
That, my friend, is comfort food.
I find comfort in this ritual. The house is dark and quiet, and ghosts could be lurking in the shadows. Everyone else is dead to my presence. I may as well be the ghost. But every inch of my sinuses is clogged and I'm totally miserable; I just need to get my fix. Antihistamines are a weak alternative to my stovetop solution: hot instant soup, and lots of it.
You can't make me eat additive-, preservative-, msg-laden instant noodles on an ordinary day. But this morning, I'd never opened a pack of instant soup with so much eagerness. I pore over every detail of the empty pack as if it were the front page of the newspaper while I wait for the water to boil. URC-Nissin, it says. May they live forever.
The water boils and I pour in the noodles. Add a packet of oil and dried flavorings. Then I count to 180, too impatient to look at the clock.
Finally I pour the steaming broth into a large bowl. There's so much anticipation as I breathe in the vapors, as though they were a mentholated mist from a humidifier. At that moment you can put me on that billboard for Lucky Me Instant Noodles. There's nothing else in this world except me and my soup. Talk about consumer insight.
The soup is warm and savory, and the noodles equally so - except that they're slippery-wet. Quite a pleasant feel on the mouth. Warm, wet, and slippery. Almost as pleasurable as kissing.
All too soon the pleasure is over; the bowl is empty. I sit back in the armchair and draw in a breath. I can taste beef mami all over my sinuses. The vapors cling to my face - I can even smell them. But again, I don't care. I just breathe in and savor the relief.
That, my friend, is comfort food.
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