10 Commandments to Consistently Get Along with an Abstract-Sequential Child

I got Pia's Developmental Assessment Checklist and her narrative report last week. Her head teacher, TS, said that my little popstar's love for music has clearly manifested this past 2nd trimester. He said that she can identify pitch and tone well; enjoyed the dance rehearsals for their school's Christmas presentation and showed interest in performing Math activities. On top of it all, she got a lot of WMs or well-mastered scores in the Social-Affective category of her progress report. I'm very honest about my child's tendency to be a spoiled brat, so to be told that she now has learned to reach out and mingle with her classmates is a big deal for me. 

Her First Film in the Movie House: Despicable Me 2

Technically, my preschooler's first movie on a big screen was Barbie in the Pink Shoes at SM Skydome few months ago. For those who haven't been to Skydome, it's a venue for events; it's not a dark movie theater with comfortable seats. The special movie screening happened in the middle of the afternoon so the daylight roofs of the place didn't make the ambiance dark and we only sat on monobloc chairs. But the girl enjoyed it. She was focused on the dancing Kristin Farraday the whole duration of the film. She only got a little finicky when she was asking for food and I got none. My bad. So, when I told my husband there were two movies coming out at the theaters apt for our daughter, we decided that it's time for us to make her experience the real thing.

The Cyber World Answered My Previous Post

THE CORE.

As She Grows Older, Parenting Gets Tougher

My almost five-year-old and I fought so bad tonight (technically, yesterday). I was making her drink her milk when she refused and instead, intentionally spilled it on our new couch! I felt my now-lost blood immediately rushed through my nape. It hit the spot where it told me to yell. "What did you do?!?! Why do you have to do that?!?!? Look at what you've done!!!!" And my baby girl, shocked and not knowing what to answer, cried - as loud as I shouted. Like a pinball hitting the jackpot, an aphrodisiac to my anger - I told her to go to her room and fix her toys instead while I was cleaning up.

In her room, I heard a loud bang. She opened her window and was tapping the roof of the kitchen! My jaw was clenching like a tuna from GenSan when I saw her. What made me feel worse was that she didn't know I was already furious! The unbelievable happened.

I gave justice to my stress. My slippers talked to her butt: 5 light times.

It sounded like I'm such a mean mom. Yes, stone me to death all you want, oblige me! I really felt the worst. I feel so bad for doing that, for hearing her weeping like a widow and when she was catching breath 'cause of too much crying, she uttered in between hiccups "Nanay, you're making me die." Oh God, You know how I dreaded that moment. I wanted to bury myself in darkness. I didn't know what she could have been thinking of me. Did I look like Rapunzel's fake mom who locked her in the tower? Or Ravena in Snow White and the Huntsman? I hope none of the two.

What I've learned from what happened was that kids can only remember their first offense.

We talked after the slippers-to-butt conversation and she bawled like crazy when I asked her why I got mad. She said while wiping her nose, "beecohs I speelled my milk on the couch. T'was accident, Nay." I hugged her and cleaned her up. Perhaps she knows we were not okay that she faced the wall and slept on her own. I sensed the awkwardness and showered her with kisses and hugs and sweet nothings - until she fell asleep in my arms, like she used to when she was a baby.

When you get to read this someday, my dear Sophia, I want to let you know how I am trying my best to discipline you. We're not enemies, okay? As much as I would like us to be best shopping buddies and all, I need to to do my job as a parent to you. Your father will kill me if you'll grow up with a bratty-tude. I hope when you become a mother someday, you will never ever be like me. I'm sure you can find an alternative discipline tactic. Just pray your child will not as rowdy as you are, or else you'll be like me. Hunny, I love you is an understatement.

My Little Girl Loves Me

Today is a very typical day for me and LB. Monday. School day. Woke up, fix bed, breakfast, argue, clean up mess, argue, bathe, dress up, argue, school, finally some alone time for 2 1/2 hours, back to school for the student who wants to play for extra 30 minutes, argue, went home, late lunch,argue and goes on. BUT! We spent today with less arguments. Yes, like out of 10 usual arguments we have every.single.day, we only had three. Not bad, eh? Disclosure: I am to blame for the arguments half the time. I just don't let her win, that's why. And upon realization that she's indeed growing up fast, I changed gears into how I talk to her. Yup, there's still baby-talk. I can never do that when she turns 13 already. I still smell her kili-kili if I want to (or when she wants to!). However, there's this hint of adult-ish conversation happening around at home once she starts talking. Momma, she's definitely my daughter! OA sa daldal. :D

So earlier at school, I observed how attentive she was during story time; and cheerful the next when she saw me outside waiting for her. She even blurted out a very bonggang "I'm so proud of you, Nanay!" For whatever reason she said that, I'm super thankful she did. Ooh, I'm now teary-eyed. LB's not a baby anymore. But I feel just how much she needs my care and love. That every time she's about to go home, she's excited to see me! Kahit madalas kaming mag-away, she clings to me like a koala bear does to a Mongol pencil (Haha! so 90s).

Oops, she did it again!

What have I gone wrong?

We went to MBF's baby R's 1st birthday party today and LB's dead tired now, snoring. I got a bit tired, too, but I had so much fun being with my friends: MBF, J, P & Y. Baby R, my godchild, is such a happy, calm one-year-old. We NEVER heard her cry the whole time we were with her. Her cheerful disposition is contagious. However, there was one who had to kill the joy. Sadly, it's my badass preschooler. :'(

During the party, I didn't notice any sightings of mean girl blood going on. But, yeah, smartypants manipulated me again at some point. Still forgivable, though. 

We then transferred to the after-party location. Things went so fast and the worst had happened: LB slapped Baby R's face. 

I crushed. 

Nanaygosyante of 2013: January

2013 has started beautifully in our family as we had our first family trip of the year in Baguio City, riding in our newly-acquired pre-loved car then going home to a rented 2-storey, 2-bedroom apartment that we can at least call our own. So this blog would love to share its beautiful changes, too. One of the many beautiful happenings is the new section, meant for all mompreneurs in the country, called Nanaygosyante of the Month. Nanaygosyante is pun for two Filipino words --- nanay & negosyante; basically the Filipino translation of mompreneur. I admire women, most especially mothers, who decided to be their own boss and run a business; while managing home and family. I am also a big supporter of online shops, which I have showed through featuring them here for the past months and hosting a giveaway; that I hope had helped them promote their business. 

My pilot Nanaygosyante issue features an acquaintance back in Highschool, whom I've been with during our dalaga days --- having a drinking spree with our ex-boyfriends. Well, I married my ex-boyfriend and hers had a different ending. Nevertheless, she is a picture of a happy family woman in calm and bliss. Ladies, meet Mona, the mom behind Kaelyn’s Closet.

When Little Bebeng Met a Little Gentleman

I feel guilty for not going to church every Sunday. It is my obligation as a Christian parent to bring my child to Sunday School to learn about the Bible and Jesus. LB basically knows who Jesus is and what He can do for us as I have mentioned here. But I think it'll be more exciting if she'll meet Jonah, Samson, David, Peter, Paul, Mary and Martha --- characters and heroes a lot better than Woody, Merida and Puss. Anyway, we really wanted to let the sunshine touch our skin as we've been in house arrest and locked up in our own home after our umbrellas were stolen at the facade of the house (yes, we were scared!); so we went to Marikina Sports Complex (MSC). 

Aside from the really nice running track it has, MSC designated a small part of the place to be its playground for tots who can't jog and run continuously in an oval with their parents yet. That's where I brought LB. As we were walking towards the gate, I can feel her excitement and she even asked me "Nanay, are you happy?" So I said "YES!" with a grin. She replied, "oh, I can't wait!" She's becoming more kikay as days pass by. Too much Barbie, perhaps. About 5 meters from the playground, we've heard shrieks and giggles from the kids playing --- LB ran to its direction and just let happiness enveloped her childhood. Bliss.

Crazy Children are Beautiful

Source

Why do I get so cranky? Is this just my period or I've been possessed? I'll scream. Please.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There you have it. Thank you. Now let me tell you something. Get a chair and listen. This is my story.

Confessions of a Non-Supermom but Aspiring Parent Achiever

When I was a gradeschool student, I knew and was aware that I was a fast learner. Bragging aside, I belonged to the smart pack of the class. I was a consistent first honor and the Top 9 in the National Elementary Achievement Test of our batch. I also joined Regional Press Conferences.

It unknowingly changed in high school, though. I abhorred Algebra and never got to memorize the Periodic Table of Elements and Chemistry. I felt that it was so irrelevant to my life! However, I did what I thought I was good at. I secretly contributed poems to our school paper. I think they published one.

I did fairly in highscool so I kind of took revenge in college, being on the Dean's list twice and once on the President's list. I regretted the fact that I was so close to being a Cum Laude but as fate dictated, I got a low grade in Sociology. Of all subjects! Anyway, I'm still happy I wore that black toga. I once dreamed of going to Graduate School because I aimed to be a professor. But I got pregnant two years after graduating from college and was already a working girl. Things changed.

A Letter From a Bipolar Parent

Dear Sophia,

Let me vent out. I just want to tell you how pissed I am at how you always cling to me even when I want to poop. It irritates me when you ask me to teach you how to play the games on my 2-year-old C3. It can never be as good as your Tatay's iPhone so don't whine if the characters don't move as you slide the screen. My nape aches when you insist to eat banana instead of rice and monggo.

Today, we went with Lola Leny and visited the apartment for rent that she recommended. It's painted in pink, just like what you wished for. But when we were there, you don't seem happy about it. I will get it in the blink of an eye, not because it's pink but because it doesn't flood there. It's near everywhere - hospitals, supermarkets, wet market, ride going to malls. The only problem is, it only has one bedroom, which Tatay will surely disapprove of. Now I'm so torn. I just want to give us our own kingdom.

And yet you stress me so much about your 4-year-old issues.

When you threw up in the dining area earlier tonight and I saw bits of chocolate, I wanted to scream. No, I wanted to poke my tonsil and throw up, too. You just made me feel like a bad mother. I bought you that chocolate-flavored wafer because I know you could have made a scene if I didn't buy it. And now, it caused you a suicidal cough. As far as my migraine is concern, that was such a show. I felt the back of my head throbbing and your little voice seemed so far away as I saw you hugged the toilet and puked for eternity. I wanted to faint but I know you needed me. A sudden thought passed: A 20-year-old you getting drunk and hugging the toilet. I can't even.

You said it's us when you saw this.

Babe, as you peacefully went to sleep tonight after a book about monkeys and a prayer about your cough, I realized I shouldn't be this to you. What, this? This - strict but spoiler. Damn (sorry for the word, young lady)! But it's hard to be a military wife. I am your father most of the time. But should act like a mother 'cause I am. That makes me a Bipolar parent. I am a mix of two at the same time. And I despise it. As much as I want to coo you when you're sick just like any doting moms do, I need to be firm and stern in making you take your meds. I needed to use my iron fist as to make you avoid sweet foods to lessen the risk of extreme coughing at night. There are times that I only want peace and quiet with you, reading our books and just sitting beside each other. But your blood has your Tatay's warrior genes, you want some rough play that I can't give. Hence, my patience twine snapping off.

Okay, enough with my rant.

I'm very sorry, my dear girl Sophia. I know you somehow feel insecure as I am always at this computer instead of watching your toons with you. Yes, I will limit my time with this pink evil and dance with your Hi-5 friends. You're only four and don't know how to differentiate EASY from HARD when playing games on my phone; so yes, I will do my best to patiently teach you how to "kill" (ugh! How can you say that to a 4-year-old?!) the red snake in Diamond Rush. Lastly, I will never force you to eat something you don't like. Because I myself can't eat balut, "helmet" (grilled chicken's head) and mussels even if Tatay will tell me to do so. I will respect that.

I only have a request. Please stay as protective as you are when Lola pretended that she's going to beat me up. I was in tears of joy when you did your best to shield me from her and you suddenly cried when you realized you can't do anything because she's bigger than you. I know I'm bad to play with your feelings. I just wanted to let Lola see how much you love me and wants to take care of me even if you're your usual masungit self. It was all part of our theatrics. I just hope I won't go wrong along the way of raising you up, so I know I can make you become a better version of me.

I may have my librarian of a face when I tell you to sleep, eat or clean up; but in the deepest corner of my heart, it always has its best intention for you. I love you to bits. ♥

We'll go to church tomorrow (er, this morning) 'cause I only borrowed you from God,

Nanay

P.S.

Never marry a soldier if you don't want to be a Bipolar parent like me.
But they're hot, I can't blame me if you will. ;)

P.P.S.
No, I'm not really Bipolar - sick and all. I hope I made that clear in the 5th paragraph.

***
Photo courtesy of Kaleigh Somers

Sophia's Kite

I never remembered flying a kite when I was a child. MIL told me R did when they were in Bicol. I asked him about it but he said it was not the real tugatog ng paglipad moment. It was more of "run, little R, run" than the kite flying with colors. So when we scheduled this provincial tour, I made a mental note that my sweet girl should fly a kite. I want her to experience those little things that can really make a great impact to her childhood. As much as I want to shield her from the harmful UV rays of haring araw, it would cause such trouble to explain to her the importance of sunblock. Buti na lang kikay siya - she personally asked for her pink shades and has automatically looked for where there is a shaded area. Thank heavens the weather cooperated. It was definitely a perfect day for flying a kite!

My husband is not the jack-of-all-trades kind of guy, neither a handy daddy. Never siyang nagpasikat sa akin na lalaki siya. Hindi siya nagsisibak ng kahoy, nag-iigib ng tubig, hindi niya sinungkit ang buwan at bituin para sa akin at lalong hindi siya nangongolekta ng kotse, motorsiklo or rubber shoes para mapatunayang lalaki siya. Kaya hindi na ako nagtaka na hindi siya marunong gumawa ng saranggola.

But because he's currently the father of around 200+ military men, he asked his troops to make his princess a kite. And the troops did. They even made one for themselves. Nakakatuwa! 

Parenting is NOT a Competition

I am a 4-year-old parent. Yes, basically new. I have my own ups & downs parenting-wise. Being someone in "authority" (but should not look that way) is not an easy feat. I never see myself as a strict mother, but being married to a military guy who is always away means I should also stand as the father. Which also means he can't share the burden of disciplining our BRAT --- cavaliers' kids. Rhambo being away is not a new complaint anymore. Or, a complaint at all. I have learned to live with it. I have learned how it is to be a SOLO parent --- geographically. I have learned to decide on my own, with bits of advice from MIL & Mama. These mothers are good because they have raised their children in solo-flight. My mother lost Papa 1993. MIL lost FIL 1999. My mothers are widows.

Four Years of Wisdom

Dear Sophia,

When you were still inside my womb, I already knew you will be a handful. You don't have at least a quark of a gene that will make you the most behaved kid in the universe. You cause riot and hyperventilation to all the people around on whatever place you go to. Your teacher's description about you is so you --- bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You can be the real Energizer bunny, baby. 

Six Months and Having Fun

Up until you were about to sleep tonight, you made me feel like I'm such a terrible mom. I can't make you say po and opo to me. I guess because you think that there's no po and opo in the English language. Actually, you're right. But you are a Filipino. I can't even make you mano to Mama Amor & Lola Leny. Maybe you think they will feel old when you do that. Let me tell you honey, they are old whether they like it or not. So, please just do it without me instructing you. I do it all the time even if I just finished doing my business in the john. They won't know, don't tell. Or at least say hi, especially to Mama Amor; instead of "you have my lubong, Mama?" Mama Amor is not a courier or a factory of biscuits, she's your grandmother! She gave birth to your Tatay. She was proud of you when she read your assessment. And little girl, when Lola Leny gives you anything; whether it's a shower gel, a new dress or a bunch of bananas, please say thank you. My mother worked hard for that dress or shower gel or bunch of bananas. Have a heart. You make me feel like I didn't teach you that. 

One-year-old Cake Monster!

Okay, I know you are only four and that you still have a year or two to at least read what I wrote for you here. And probably five to six years before you completely understand my point. You are my daughter. I will never, ever make you do or let you feel something that can cause you pain. You would experience a few bumps on the road with your journey with me, but those are life-changing lessons. You won't be the brave and strong girl that you would be without those. As much as I would like to shelter you from things that could hurt you, it is inevitable that you will cry. Buckets of tears, my emotional little diva. You might debate with me someday, that some moms love their child in a different way. But I am not them. I am me. You see, I don't let you watch news yet; as I know in my heart I can't explain those things to you when you ask me why there are blood on that woman's body. Unlike other moms who are proud that their tots watch TV Patrol intensely. Please have your cartoons forever, in the meantime. I know you won't complain. However, let's stick to our rules, no? If it's not Tom & Jerry, you can't glue your eyes on Cartoon Network. Actually, Tom & Jerry can sometimes be nasty, but Oggy and the Cockroaches are worse. Oh no, don't try to whine! That's mandated by the higher office --- your father. 

Two-year-old Character Actress

Speaking of your father, he is not just a playmate. Well, he comes home every now and then when he can, so do not think of him as just a picture. I can see your eyes gleam with delight whenever you see him here, that I know you are in-love with your look-alike. You can't deny that, sweetie. The ears and the rambunctious attitude make you a little Ramon, hence, Monique. You two are my most favorite persons. But when you two come together, on the bed, inside the room --- I can instantly hate you both. You make my job as a domestic helper tougher. Can we all agree that once you mess up the bed, we won't go to sleep? Jeez, I'm stuck. I know you like sleeping late. Girl, if you want to eat your breakfast, you have to sleep! Or else, it'll be called midnight snack. 

Three-year-old Ballerina

Sigh. You are growing up too fast. We were in the supermarket and instead of asking for a hotdog you pointed to a broccoli. You are beginning to astound me with your choices of food. You love macarons, adobo and broccoli. You are definitely a little foodie. I just hope one day you won't ask me to cook steamed mussels for you as I don't eat those. I thought I would be too lazy to cook because I don't have an audience whom I could fish compliments from; but now you are beginning to be my food critique. I hope you won't get tired of my menudillo, pininyahang manok, sweet and sour tilapia, ginataang sitaw at kalabasa, tuna spaghetti and your most favorite --- pork adobo. For now, these are the dishes that can make you look like a teenager eating and tired from a soccer practice. I hope that after a few months, I could introduce you to a wider variety of viands. Say, ginisang munggo? I love that paired with fried daing na bangus. I want that, 'nak. Pretty please?

My Four-year-old Slipper-less Bystander

Nanay wants you to be a better version of herself. I can't demand you to be a prim & proper lady as I am a babaeng-bakla. But I guess it can be more fascinating to see you talk in more mannered way than I do. You are a pretty girl. No doubt about that. So if you will arm it with intellect, grace and faith in God; I know that wherever you will go, you will be okay. That's too early for me to wish that for you though. Let us think of something attainable. Hmm. Here, for your 4th birthday, I wish that you'd wear your slippers without me telling you about germs going inside your feet. I know you can do that! How about a new pair of Hello Kitty flip flops if you would grant my wish? Fair deal, right? 

I love you my wisdom. ♥ 

Regretful I scolded you tonight before bedtime,

Nanay Bebeng

Orange Away the Colds at Bay

One of the most "natural" ways for colds to go away!

Philippines has only two weather conditions --- rainy & sunny. Yes, right? A smart 5th-grader can disagree if typhoon is another type of weather. But whatever it is that the country has, we are prone to having colds due to allergens (which are due to pollutants that are in default settings with our lovely Republic). No, I am not here to advertise any non-drowsy allergy-relief medicine. Though I will if they will ask me to do it. Of course, let's talk if the medium is Php. Hahaha. As if. Well, I may be a modern mom, but I make sure that we will not depend on drugs whenever we feel sick. I have this sort of "barrio lass" inside me, going organic. Like, I used to try on boiling oregano leaves and making my little daughter drink its juice when she has cough. But I just can't make her get used to it. 'Cause I can't even drink it myself! So I concede, I just make her take a Lagundi-based cough syrup, a lesser evil than something so drug-ish. So when she has colds, her usual sickness (thank God!) aside from bruises & burns (LB is a little Parkour athlete), I just tell her to drink lots of water and I encourage her to do her own OJ. Mmm, yes, I finish all the tasks of doing so but I make her feel she did it all by herself. Fellow parents, Nido Milk is true to their words that the time you say YES to your children is the time they start learning. 

LB posing with her almost-full glass of fresh OJ
(which is actually a sunkist. ;p)

So here, even if it's a bit messy and there's more juice that'd gone to waste than what she actually poured in the glass, I'm proud of LB. That means, she really wanted to get well the soonest and that she trusts me. When I tell her to finish her milk so she'll become taller, she does. So when I told her to drink her OJ so she'd get well immediately and that I won't be there to take care of her 'cause I'll be at the office, she drank it in one count. I couldn't utter a better phrase to praise her, but a modest & uncool "Great job Pia!". Oh shucks, perks of motherhood. How about you?