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

Preserving Mankind with Kojie.san Men

I never really liked a man who has cleaner toenails than I do. I had few boyfriends from the past (naks!) and they are all what you call typical male species. More than two over-the-top movements and they smell like they should take a bath; you can't pinch them in the face because your hands will just slip from too much oil. Those are the kind of men I fancied before. Well, it didn't change. 

R, 6 years ago

I married a man who doesn't care about what products to use for his body. But he practices proper grooming. Good thing he was trained in the academy to do so - proper haircut (not dancer-ish from Eat Bulaga), clean fingernails (trust me, I have seen a lot of men with super dirty fingernails, some even have their pinkie nail grown so long: GROSS.), primped shoes (he can't leave the house with muddy and dusty shoes. Cute.) Those are just normal things a man should do to himself and I'm lucky he's not lazy to NOT do it. Sometimes, we go to a salon for a footspa. And I always tell him not to let the salonlady use that pink toxic thing on his toenails as it'd look so fake. His big ginger-ish feet with pink toenails? Bad, bad sight.

Nowadays, a lot has been said about a man's sexual preference when he sings an Angeline Quinto song or when he has polished nails or if he's wearing skinny jeans. Others call it metrosexual. I call it choices.

Thoughtful Tuesday: What Really Matters

When I was younger (I'm basically young as I am only 28 but years, years back), I only gave importance to the things that make me happy. Mostly material. Mostly pink. Mostly laughing friends. Mostly romantic boys. Now that I feel that I'm wiser and stronger, I have learned to know the things that matter most. Mostly non-material. Mostly pink but shared with my daughter. Mostly friends, laughing or whining about how talkative I am. Mostly my husband - sometimes crazy, sometimes snobbish, sometimes romantic. Real, simple and delightful things that can definitely make you experience what life should be all about. As the poster above said, it shouldn't be at the mercy of the things that matter least; things, which can be non-existent at all. 

Fashion Friday: Disheveled Ballerina

There really is something about little girls, ballet flats & tutus. LB (Little Bebeng or Little Ballerina) isn't an exception. She now has 3 tutus in pink, violet & red. Since she was a baby, I like dressing her up. She's my little doll. I didn't care about what other mommies have to say about how I dress her up, it was just a joy to see my tiny fashionista. She was one year old when I made her wore a polo shirt from Baleno & white shorts from Moose Girl. She looked preppy. SIL said "di'ba bawal sa bata ang polo shirt?" Smiling but a bit annoyed, I said "sino nagsabi na bawal?" Maybe she meant that regular babies do not wear such clothes as it might suffocate or irritate them. But my then 11th month old Sophia wasn't complaining. My arms in fan mode were in maximum level, you know. I was ready for some serious sweaty armpit challenge. Haha!

I didn't like her top but she chose that.
Pretty hairbow from Celestina & Co.

She'll be turning four this month; for a year whenever we dress up, I always have my combative self on as she manipulates her closet and tells me what she wants to wear. Sometimes I let her wear her boyish shirts from Ninang Suzie's travels (SG & Vietnam souvenir shirts). But there are times that I totally disagree with her mix&match of pants & top. Floral & animal-print together?! Imagine my Toni Gonzaga jaw shaking. I get dizzy when we argue so I've learned to choose my battles. Now I have discovered that it's all about mind-set. I lay down her clothes on the bed before bath time so she has something to look forward to. And I sell my styling to her, a la fashion mavens Liz Uy & Jenni Epperson. Like, "nice leggings no? Cyril (her classmate) will really like it, too." There we are, a peaceful mother-daughter tandem. Until, "Sophia, will you stop moving!?" Sigh. Or so I hoped. Fixing her hair is such a big production number. That's another story to tell.

Hello Kitty Forever

In my I ♥ Hello Kitty post, I have told you how my fondness with the royal feline started. Now that Sophia's aware of her existence, I am going a bit crazier about that kikay kitten, especially that there will be a big event in NBC Tent tomorrow - er, later. I won't be there, sadly. How frustrating. 

n their Sanrio Gift Gate Philippines Facebook fan page, they have posted teasers as to how much the items were priced for the warehouse sale. And it made me feel more thwarted. I know that we have enough Hello Kitty items everywhere in the house that one can tell that we're fans, but I really can't help not to buy things that has HK's face. 

You get me, right?

Sophia's 1st Assessment: Good in Manipulatives

She spent her 1st day in the drawing board.

Whenever my Little Bebeng (LB) brings home her assignment notebook, it causes me panic as to what her teacher had written there. Well, she was scheduled to have her first assessment last August 17th. I thought it was something else. I'm scared to see that I'm being called for juvenile delinquency! Haha. Nah, she's too young for that. And I will tell her father dearest to be present for that event in case it happens. Just so he'll feel what his parents felt when we were in highschool. Oh, maybe I will accompany him and bring a first-aid kit. I don't want him to get sick and suffer from hypertension. Yes, a stretcher or stand-by ambulance might help, too. Okay, I'm exaggerating things. Sophia is a good girl. Well, she has these attacks I would like to call "wriggler attack" that definitely resemble to the movement of a wriggler. In Filipino, a kiti-kiti. She has tendencies to be all over the place. Some says it's a good sign of being healthy as opposed to a kid, lame & sitting in one corner, very close to be a wallflower. But sometimes, LB was beyond being active.

During LB's first day in school, she was all giggling & smiling. She didn't do all the tasks that she was supposed to do but I'm relieved that she didn't do anything offensive. Her 2nd day was different, she refused to join in the circle, where they were all singing and dancing, and chose to play with puzzles. She wailed like a baby cow prepped for slaughter house until it was time for snacks. She wanted to eat her baon right away without doing their routine. Her teacher's rule: you can't eat until you pray. And like a mother hen worried for my favorite chick, I asked her teacher if I can help her. Teacher said yes, but only if she will pray. So the rest of her classmates were half way through their food when she finally prayed with her teacher that goes along like this, "Aming Diyos, Salamat Sa'Yo, sa mga pagkaing ito, Amen." LB's face lit up when I entered their classroom to help her with her food. But I left her the moment I saw she can do it by herself. It has always been my motherhood mantra to teach her to be independent. Since then, it was a much easier life for the two of us. Their school director was right. She tends to run over the lives of the adults around her. She thought that she can do things as she pleases because once she throws tantrums, us, the adults around her easily give in. I slightly blame myself for not educating her nanny then. And well, MIL said she didn't want to go through all the nag & sermon so she lets LB does her things. As the mother of the kid-on-jury, I must do everything to make it right. Even if it made my heart bled so many times, I never gave in. So far, so good. Well, there were occasional bouts of arguments, but that's how a normal mother-daughter relationship should be. I think it's healthy. It can't be goo-goo and gah-gah all the time, you know.

In Sickness & In Health

I've been on a bed arrest for a day and did not do anything online, not even on my phone. That means, no checking of email, no Facebook, no Twitter, no joining of blog giveaways, no blogging, and most of all, no RSVP-ing to the two events I should have been attending to today. The said events are the New Beginnings' Progressive Parenting Talk in partnership with Glam-O-Mamas and the The Bourne Legacy special screening in Shang Cineplex, made possible by Nuffnang & Mandaue Foam. I got the Progressive Parenting Talk pass just by registering in Glam-O-Mamma's website. I won the Bourne Legacy tickets for two by blogging about Mandaue Foam which you can see here.

I was really disappointed to the author of this blog yesterday when I can't even get up to fetch myself a glass of water. I was dizzy & vomiting. I hate being sick. So even if my nose is still dripping something I abhor to smell & see, I turn on the pink machine and told myself to tell the two events' organizer that I can't go.