Monday, October 11, 2010

it's not just a job

When you choose to give up smoking because life is pulsating
When in a blink, you drop down get dirty scooping some poopie
When you allow yourself to be unglamorous - hair uncombed
When your time is not yours, sleep is a forgotten course
When you had to answer little questions in the middle of tv, a favorite book



When you’re yanked out of bed for the little one is wailing,
Or when the alarm failed to alarm and school bus is beeping
When it’s 4am and your hand is feeding and one foot is crib swinging
And you try hard to catch some sleep for in a few hours work would be knocking




When all you watch is cartoons over and over again. And again.


That you're suddenly a wiz in children's television
You’ve unlearnt how to cringe on spiders
You’re a big pillow during thunders 



When you can’t wait to get out of the office and scurry your way home
When you choose to forego dessert and bring the sweet treat to your rabbits
When your walls are big canvasses, splattered with all colors
When you have chipped furniture, chairs with missing leg, broken vases,
Sagging bed from jumping sprees and innumerable dives



When you leave the lamp on to light the dark bedroom
And you are their superhero shooing larking creatures
When everyday you clean goo, their teeth were a cave with cobwebs to be brushed
When you’re one big paranoid over safety


And you disinfect like crazy



When they bump on everything
And shniffles rule and you have to nurse each knick and every imaginable bruise
When you monitor temperature, flinch with the sound of cough,
Because you know when something's wrong and can tell right out



When they frolic in the water and swim until they’re blue
When your heart leaps out your chest as they sprint, somersault


cross the street, or say some darn thing
When they ask permission to a pajama party
Or on the cellphone texting somebody


When you get front row seats on
Little hands, tiny toes, missing tooth, sun-kissed soft hair, sparkling smiles,
Artworks, lost pencils, crayons, spilt milk, juice and crushed cookies.
When they draw you in squiggly lines with big eyes and love written all over it.

When you develop a third eye on your back with an acute sense of hearing for

sibbling squables;

When baby packing means bringing the whole house and yet you still forget a thing;



When lego parts are scattered asunder on the floor,
your lotions and colognes tumble from being a building,


And Barbie’s shoes had to be found, yes, right now.
Puzzle pieces on your dresser, toy cars in your bag, left-over oreo for your snacks
All the happy meals you can eat so the collection is complete.



When spiderman webs his way out on the roof, waiting breathtakingly for it
to web its way back. And it doesn’t. So you buy another.
When your vocabulary is constrained to “No!”, and all they say in turn is what else but,  “No!”
Or favorite word is "waaiit"
When you run out of warnings, find yourself hoarse from counting




When it’s a battle of wills during bathe time, eating time, tv time and nap time.

When you sit through your countless PTAs, study the school handbook and spot loopholes,

write excuse letters, sign on reminders, sharpen pencils, prepare mock tests,

"what's for baon?" a fixture in your subconcious;



When you’re a cook, a nurse, doctor, police chief;
First teacher, ball catcher, magician, party planner;
A toy fixer, toy sorter, crappy toy instructions analyst;
A personal shopper, bag packer, a gluer, cutter, name tag labeler,

and a project maker;

A dance/sports/speech/financial/life coach, photographer and videographer;

A meat flaker, fish thorn finder, fruit slicer, candy peeler;
A storyteller, a fetcher, washer, janitor, a hair-stylist, a stitcher;
A shoe lacer, sweat wiper, speller, editor, gut reader;

A lie detector, and trouble-sniffer, spectator at mayhem;
A heart healer,  a killjoy person, an ATM;
When you’re ask.com., the explainer, a tagalog-english translator, problem-solver;  
A listener, an unpaid psychiatrist, best cheerleader, and the biggest superhero of all,
When you're all these rolled into one.

Then you have the world’s most amazing job.
You are a mom.







Sunday, October 10, 2010

still mom's baby


in every way.

fascinatingly I watch
as she..

traipse and sing like a princess,
run and get giddy in new places.

she is a child in every way.




awed I whisper thanks as she...

pause to look at some ducks
opine that eating ducks sucks.

still a child in every way.

not encumbered by angst.
haven't grown some fangs.

yes, a child in possible ways.


sweet fairy as can be,
she is mom's bubbly baby.

every bit a child in many ways.

kaney, may God's grace always guide you.
to lose not the amazing and appreciative child in you.

please stay a child in every way.

yet with no delusions I know
that reality is no fashion show.

it can be harsh, judgmental.
might hurt your heart in style so mental.



dear kaney,
you cannot afford to be a child that way.

I pray to be there when you need me.
blow your awwchie like you were three.

let me be there to wipe your tears.
hand you a hankie and aid fight your fears.

may I live long to teach you to be strong
to respect and love yourself and be whole

may I be ready then, god,
to accept and nurture the coming years

may I be ready, please,
                                           to let go and allow her to spread her wings.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Shopping for a teener = exasperating

We were rolling eyes alternately.
I think I died when he said, "This is ok. I like it."
Then he had to bug me that we needed to hurry home
for he's to watch his fave anime.
"It's the last episode!"
How many times have I heard that?
You can't rush shopping. You just don't.

waxing poetry

1. On what the inspiration was on his current artwork - a cello propped on a tree against a landscape (will post peg):

My choice of a musical instrument to draw was this cello. Imagine playing it overlooking
a mountain and lush greeneries, cool breeze. It just engulfs you, the music is engulfing.

He rambles on even when I'm only half-listening (my bad) during dinner, watching tv.

2.  On the taco feast given to him as a birthday gift by his best bud's mom:

Tita Jette ur a really great cook, the ground beef was nicely cooked, its taste was heartier
than the others I tasted, the salsa was nicely mixed, I could taste everything from the onions
down to the tomato sauce, and once I assembled the taco, it gave a very unique flavor,
it had the perfect amount of sweetness and was rather one of the best I ever had.

Yes, he was indeed soo happy with it that there was no pause in his glowing praise.

He's a taco monster.

Will his friend's mom cook for him again? She'd love too!

I'll let you in on a secret. Migz's mom, Jette, approves of Bas as her son's friend right at the onset.
Remember, how mothers could be wary of what type of friends her children could be keeping.

My Bas, according to her, is polite and well-mannered, speaks well and personable.
Imagine my disbelief erm pride ha ha! *winky-wink*

You know, I sometime think that my son is hopeless in foresight and practical sensibilities.
And despite my endless yakking, he doesn't seem to get it. And that boys have different
brain zones altogether (may have scientific basis read somewhere).

3. And how can I forget this classic more than a year ago. We were set to venture out when
I asked him if it was raining or not. He looked out the window and said:

"The dark clouds are devouring the sky."

I swear a simple yes or no would have sufficed.
But Bas, waxing poetry on that ordinary afternoon made me want to cry.
Over-actingmuch. Ha ha!

My vocabulary was not this good when I was his age.

But I remember to being always the one to write on birthday and farewell cards given to teachers
on behalf of the class.

lesson in patience

I am not a patient person. Motherhood taught me just about an ounce and I still struggle with the virtue. I can be patient the first time, but on the second and third, my fuse bursts.

For me, stupidity is not an option much less a pathetic excuse. Everyday life is no rocket science, doesn't need a brilliant mind. All you have to do is read instructions and be considerate of somebody's own space and time.

But I guess God has His smart way of outsmarting me. Or to phrase it positively, open my eyes.
Just yesterday, a virtual stranger and nobody told me: "Kapag ganon, huwag ka nang magalit,
turuan mo na lang."

*dumbfounded me* Okay.

Who does he think he is? What does he know?

I couldn't shoot back. He's a decidedly kind person and for the life of me I was catatonic-speechless.

That's rare. Hit a nerve. Unbelievable. Me and my heart of stone.

This morning, I had a test of patience with my daughter. I was calling her and she suddenly
opted to be deaf. Grrrrr.

I failed the test but had this realization. Will strive to do better in my patience barometer.

So help me God.

Monday, August 16, 2010

what a decade meant

one mystery in rosary.
a bar in quezon city.
ten years of kannae-y.

baby steps no more.
wall drawings are gone.

sweet smelling breath a memory.
tea parties getting to be a rarity.

no more barbies and bratz.
disney princesses are a thing of the past.

we now visit comic alley.
toy kingdom is history.

anime convert, she is.
her brother's influence, that is.

but some things remain unchanging.
in a decade that's not stopping.

she still likes popcorns.
and zac efron.
and that old pillow.
and swirly ribbons.

bubbles always bring cheer.
days are like christmas morning.

with her sparkle and gaiety,
her letters to me are worth keeping.

in her secret diary,
she has no idea she is funny.

at ten, I still...
fix her hair,
kiss away her awwchie,
help solve her little problems,
explain life and its riddles,
and prod her to gobble her greens.

I wish she will not grow up too fast.
boys to not occupy her sweet, untainted heart.

Monday, August 2, 2010

conversations with bas

I feel that this would be a series, peppered almost everyday as I am with funny, thought-provoking one liners from my son who was born a motor mouth. daughter is another story.

last saturday, as bas labored on his project using the image movie maker (they were taught this in grade v and me an adult can hardly make the program's head and tail, I tried once):

B : I am tired, how is that possible?
Mom : bas, you're a mere mortal.
B : what, I'm a demi-god (start of our usual good-natured banter).
Mom : no, you're not. you're a mortal, lowest of the mortals (exaggerating. gotta pull him back to earth, you see).
B: a demi-god.
Mom: mortal, bottom of the pyramid.
B: ok, how can the pyramid stand without the bottom?

I hate you, son. :)
we were laughing to death afterwards.

but it got me thinking.
more than its scientific truth, its meaning resonates more loudly in social terms.
it's no laughing matter at all.

hopefully, with bsa's daang matuwid and our collective participation,
the pyramid equalizes somehow.