A Day At The Park

Everyday I tell myself about being stronger. And then the universe laughed at me and decided to test that theory-.

The eldest boy had a school excursion yesterday. And I thought no one should be left behind, so we took the trip the three of us. Suddenly I found myself plunged into a good day that turned hellishly tiring. 

First we went to see the kidney stones of Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo, our country’s first president. 

It was there, put on display at Kawit, Cavite. There for everyone to see what a hundred-old kidney stone look like. 

The trip went on awesome and fascinating.. 

Basically here's this amazing man, who five minutes beforehand,
I thought was just ordinary guy on a horse

 I’ve long held a fascination with old things – in particular its history and the stories of hardship, hope and tragedy that hide behind walls, windows, doors and secret passageways. 

Inside the mansion was eerie but because it was packed by noisy kids (and adults), the feelings were more awe-inspiring rather than otherworldly.

I huffed and I puffed back up all the stairs. Had to stop three times because I'm dreadfully unfit. And hugely overweight. But I did it.

This one is spooky enough. 

We continued the trip to the Manila Ocean Park. We walked our legs off, continued to trudge around, being amazed on all their new attractions. Ladies, remember to wear a strong bra on the Megarider. It's a roller coaster ride inside the park.... very rickety. 

And then we set foot at the Trails of Antartica. Brrr!

"Son, these are real penguins...not ducks"

Official Christmas Photo, Manila Ocean Park 2013

Next: Birds of Prey!

The kids cheered at the large birds flying overhead and they were all so happy. 
So very off-the-cuff, spur of the moment happy. 

It’s like being inside the bird cage of Jurassic Park.

The whole trip was amazing. I'm happy that, as parents, we were able to let our children feel amazed, be informed and experienced these kind of activities.

It was all up-lifting.

Except that it burned my budget for the next week.

::

How about you? when was the last time you took the kids out?

Where I Screamed My Head Off

People are way too serious about death. I am serious about death. It hurts, it's unfair, it's scary as hell, it's despiteful, all that's true. But sometimes the only way to get through it is to recognize the ridiculous in the horrible. Because what will it all matter in a hundred years. Because life is silly. Because we're all just temporary. And because what else can you do.

I say a lot of times that while I am hopeful and a great believer of God’, I am also a realist. I don’t do fantasy or make-believe. I know cancer. Not all of it though but I know it’s alive and vicious, will go to remission for awhile but fired back at an instant.

So while I am at where I am at, I could use some breathing space, right?

So my house looked like this last Monday.

Meet the audience: a son, daughter, few nephews, nieces,
and a bunch of neighbors's kids. 

Me: What the hell is going on in there?

Kid: Ma, manood tayo ng Conjuring

Me: Is it okay?

Kid: ….

Me: **covers all the mirrors**

So I’m sitting there next to my little girl with pillow on her face. I even saw the beginning of it but I had to ask again and again if the ghost will appear yet. Now, normally my philosophy about everything concerning ghost movies is "If I can't see it, it's not my problem."

But of course, my older nephew leapt at the opportunity to regale us with the plot of the movie.

"Well, you see, they moved in that creepy house and that's where the dog would back all day. Before she will be discovered dead the next day. You can see where the tapping is heard, all because that’s where the killing happened..."

Half an hour later, we were all screaming. I think my uterus ruptured, or my eggs cracked. I don't know.

Once everyone was able to calm down and stop shrieking, after a few seconds of silence we would burst into screaming again.

Now I can't stop thinking about that cellar scene. It’s where the possessed Carolyn out to get the child and Patrick Wilson with his Elvis-like flip haircut and sideburns, is stuck in a hole saying his exorcism rites while Vera Farmiga’s Liberace-style collar ruffles is lulling her to think of their best time as a family.

So there.

I feel like I could be a good movie critic, though, because while other critics will give you intellectual point-by-point breakdowns on things like story arc and character development, I base my evaluations on emotional impact alone. Did I laugh? Did I cry? Did I sink into a near-death phasmophobia or extreme fear of ghosts and require six months of bi-weekly visits with a psychologist afterwards before I could sleep through the night again?

Oh I love you and hate you, Conjuring.

You scared the hell out me.

Its A Choice

Sometimes I stand on the street, look around at all the people, and wonder which of them are gays, lesbians, or transgenders.

Maybe quite a few, filled with the terror and angst it takes to hide their true selves so that others won't find out. It'd be so, so hard. I can't imagine. And may be some others so okay with it they flaunt it in their neon green nails, studded shirt and spiky hairs.

I don't know so many things. But I am big on social justice, equality, fairness and right to express self as it pertains to identity and mental health. But sometimes all ours kids ever get told is“no” and “you can not do that” and “behave". That thing you do with words is outstanding. Only twenty-six letters in the alphabet and you arrange them just so.

Hubs and I have been parenting our children for nine years, now. It's a privilege, it's wonderful, it's frustrating, disappointing, tiring. I've learnt a lot about parenting, mostly through trial and error. We muddle through, think that it will get easier as they get older. I'm starting to realize it's harder.

And like me, millions of parents watch their kids every day. But I'm not millions. I'm one. And my son, he's all mine and the way the tendrils curl around his ears when his hair gets too long is so gorgeous that I want to punch something. What is that?

Thing is, I do not want any of my children to know life harder than it already is. So I pray that they will live straight lives, make straight choices. And hopefully make them realize the impact of their choices.

I hope to explain them the difference between gays, lesbians and transgenders like one day I will tell them the differences between sex and drugs, God and the devil and love and fear.

::

What do you think of Charice's transformation?

"For me, just love me. I am a person. If you think I am boy or a  girl
or if I look like a boy, then fine. I am Charice. I know what people think, I don't care
This is the look I want. The only thing that you can do is move on."

Lest We Lost Them

He went missing for nearly half an hour…was not where he was supposed to be. I thought I lost him forever, thought I would never see him again and my whole body went heavy. I started panicking straight away. You know when your kid is missing and time moves like slow concrete and you think,

"This is it. I will never see him again."

Very hard to breathe.

Twenty minutes I walked around, calling his name. Started to cry, rushed out onto the shore shouting his name. Like, SHOUTING his name. All the possibilities exploding in my brain.

But just as we thought of calling the police, he was found. Was crying and frightened, said he was very hungry. A sort of mixed emotions rushed in.

Utterly, hopelessly in love with this guy so hard

"He's alive? Great. Now, I'm gonna kill him."

This happened last Friday, at the beach. Hubs, as usual, had a job to attend to and cannot afford to come. But I took the two children anyway and was hoping to end the day well tanned and relaxed.

He's only eight - almost nine. I give him freedom and trust, rules, boundaries, jobs. I tell him ... I know it's hard being a kid. Sometimes I'm not such a great mother and I bend at the pressure of it all, this constant being in control of these humans that came out of my body.

So I’ve decided to take the kids in the pool instead. The whole beach seems such a huge place to look for a lost child. In the pool I could always jump to the water for him, or yell or shout like crazy in case he get to the deep area.

When you have children, that's the main thing anybody wants to know:

"Are they good children?" Over and over again. Ended up telling everybody that my children are precious, no matter how naughty and badly behaved they are some days. They pull me up and out every time.

But the thing is, you don't choose your family. Life chooses them for you.

I hope my children grow up and die old.

I hope they will be best mates.

I hope they live big, real, fruitful, rich lives full of laughter and pain and heartache.

I hope if they do get lost in the jungles of life, they know their way home.

::

Do you have a lost child story? Can anyone relate?

Those Big Fat Lice

Warning: This post covers extremely delicate and sensitive information. It may trigger you to feel itchy.

Something really, really bad happened here recently. It was hard to know whether to write about it on my blog or not. When I found about it, I was so ashamed. I felt sick, embarrassed and well, itchy. Dealt with it as best I could.

But I'm ready to write about it now.

MY LITTLE GIRL HAD HEAD LICE.

Who, me?

We are not really lice family. But I noticed it first with the little girl furiously scratching her head one day. Continuously digging her head with her little fingers. Although she seemed not mindful of it, but I was almost sure of one filthy, vermin-ridden shocking truth: she got nits. So I checked her hair.

Positive.

And there was a very likely chance that all of us had headlice too. Except for Hubs who had recently dyed his hair. I remembered a rumor I'd once heard that hair dye kills headlice.

So what does a mother do?

Every night, while asleep I turn her to one side and begin to look for the eggs. The back of her neck was embedded with bites, which her long hair hid.

How utterly revolting are the eggs - and so tricky to miss. You can get every single egg but if you miss just one?

It's the one egg, to rule them all. And it hatches and you start all over again.

The next day I bought what is needed. A wire comb. Every night, combing and sifting Yana’s hair has become a routine.

Last night, like a serious hunter I searched for them with my flashlight. The bulb on the ceiling offered too little help. I wonder where to borrow head lamps next time.

Really why does headlice exist? Do they serve any purpose? No wonder Buddhist monks shave their heads ... they're never face with the moral choice of killing headlice.

Tell me you're jealous of my life.

The Weight of a Woman

There’s no business like show business. Everything about it is appealing. And of course, nowhere can you get that happy feeling.

This line is from a musical Annie. And it also says that there are no people like show people – those happy, flashy, extravagant, over-the-top people who have seamlessly mastered the art of acting, singing and dancing.

They look so powerful and seem well put together. But if you dig deeper ever so slightly the surface, the glamour perhaps the high profile status is torn down and changed into much more humane and common and totally relatable. You see them on cam and you tell yourself how perfect they are. Like all the puzzle pieces just naturally fall into place. You can just tell by the way they talk and carry themselves. It really is a sight to behold, actually. But behind the spotlight, they turned into wives and mothers who are also scared, broken, scarred and worried by life’s imperfections.

These women are beautiful as well as amazing.

And they both have children with severe autism.

Kris Aquino is a celebrity here in the Philippines. She is at the moment a single parent, who loves his two sons so much, including the special child Joshua. He is diagnosed with autism, learning disabilities and Attention Deficit Disorder.

In fact, she has already allotted a big trust fund for the two kids specially to her special child. Her brother, Noynoy Aquino the president of the Philippines, even said that he didn't marry because he wants to take care of Joshua.

She delivered the late night news. Broadcast journalist Karen Davila’s firstborn, David, was 3½ years old when he was diagnosed with Pervasive Developmental Disorder, Not Otherwise Specified (PDD/NOS) in the Autism Spectrum, a severe form of autism. The development pediatrician said there was no cure for David’s condition.

These women are remarkable. And it makes me feel like, little by little, those walls of stereotypes and misconceptions are being torn down. You see them all glammed up but sure they’d come home to children who need them, like how my children need me. Who can make them laugh, aren't afraid to be silly with them, who knows just the trick to get them to eat their peas – and other tons of things in this world to raise kids, to watch them grow and learn and thrive.

And speaking of disabilities in case you ask, would we ever trade your children and exchanged them for somebody who are cuter, chubbier, brilliant, more talented individuals. Our answer? Never.

Cats and Dogs

These guys fight like crazy. You'd think five years difference would mean no fighting.

Wrong. They can fight so often and so relentlessly that the voice out of my head sounds like a strangled cat on a hot day.

You’d think they don’t fight over the same toy just because they’re opposite sex?

Wrong again. They screamed and will kill each other for this.

I hiss at them to stop fighting. Use all my power to stop them. Yell. Cursed. Begged, Cried.

It's infuriating. Fighting is the one thing that really grates on me. I ask other mothers of two if their children fight and the answer is always yes.

But they also miss each other, make up, start all over again.

They laugh and fight, make up then start fighting again. But they adore the hell out of each other.

I adore the hell out of them too. So much I can hardly stand it.

Getting Through Christmas

{The breaking news started midmorning. Elementary school. 20 kids shot. Five was the youngest. Teachers killed. I broke down. All those children. So, in honor of the kids who passed away, ten days short of Christmas, I give this poem. I imagine them all excited for the holidays, telling what they want to have under the tree. }
Dear Santa

Dear Santa, here's my Christmas list. I hope you'll bring it all. I've only asked for gifts my parents can't find at the mall.

I'd like to have a UFO, with aliens inside, and maybe a Tyrannosaurus Rex that I could ride.

A ninety-nine foot robot is a present I could use. I'll also need a time machine, and rocket-powered shoes.

Please bring a gentle genie who will grant my every wish, and don't forget a wizard's wand, and, yes, a talking fish.

Of course, I'll need a unicorn, and won't you please provide a dragon, and a castle in the English countryside.

Of course, the weight of all these things might cause your sleigh to crash. If that's the case, dear Santa, just make my growing up years, cheery and bright!

Ana Marquez-Greene, 6

Jesse Lewis, 6.

Emilie Parker, 6

James Mattioli, Jessixa Rekos, both 6

Noah Posner, 5.

Olivia Engel, 5

Dylan Hockley, 5

Daniel Barden, 5

"The child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn't been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him."--Paolo Casals

These Scary Toys

It is called "Baby So Real". Some are cute but others are, well, sort of really creepy. I think this one belong to the Smithsonian under the evolution of man.

And she can represent a baby Java Man.

And remember this Kid’s TV show aired early part this year at Channel 2? Um, am I only the one who thinks that Wako wako looks like he has emerged from an alien movie? he and his friend look like they have become some sort of mutant furry animals akin to that Chewbacca of Star Wars. Hairy but not cuddly. At least not to me.





And as if Chuckie doll is not scary enough, they have included his spawn to this next toy. I must point out that Chuckie Jr makes a really creepy child's toy.



If you haven't seen the movie Rango, this next picture is Ms. Beans, the love interest of Johnny Depp--er, I mean Rango. Johny Depp just does the voice for Rango. Anyway, she's supposed to be a Desert Iguana.



However, with the wig and the eyes? I think they are two different things.

So parents, if you are going to go to the trouble to buy your children a gift, don't buy them one that they will later need therapy for.

How I Feel In Photos

As a sleep-deprived new dad adjusting to life with daughter, I find these pictures completely funny but totally relatable. The images are of Dave Engledow and daughter Alice Bee. What started as a single photo, became a viral hit in Facebook. The pictures, all 56 of them, are planned to make into a calendar. The goal of the project has always been to create something that, although funny, also offers lessons to both parents and non-parents. Really, I have yet to see a new dad too excited to be left alone at the house with a baby. They would rather defuse bombs than change nappies.

These father and daughter portraits are exactly as amusing as they are sweet. What could be more charming than a baby with a lit match next to a pile of fireworks?

P.S. Sorry for guys who are more excellent as mothers than their female counterparts. I know its not flesh and blood but heart that makes a good parent.

You Can’t Choose Your Family

Thirty Eight Years. That's almost four decades of existence. It seems like an eternity wrapped in a milisecond, if that makes any sort of sense. A long stretch of time on the highway of life and yet the miles seem to have passed by so quickly. Old family photos look so yesterday. Gone are the days of youthful appearance. Instead, you see your parent looking more like your grandparents while you getting your parent’s “look“.

If you know what I mean.



Life is a funny thing, isn't it? You can never really know where you're going or who you’ll end up with until you've looked at it through the lens of where you've been. Life is one wild journey, and marriage among other things is one side of self-discovery with no U-turn. In those years, I've...

*Wielded power during early times of loss, deaths, separations, unemployment, etc.

*Fought against the challenge of poverty that tried to stop from me pursuing college.

*Loved, had my heartbroken and broke a few hearts (well, in my mind) along the way.

*Finally graduated from college, got married and bore kids.

*Had 2 Cesarean surgeries.

*Exposed myself to criticisms of bringing up kids (and raising up husband).

*Molded the future Katy Perry as mom to Yana who loves to sing ‘Fireworks’.

Not looking far, I see and hear lots of stories of marriage breakdowns, watch lives go down the drain of depression, self-hating and hopelessness. And see the consequences in their children’s unhappy faces. Sadly you can’t choose your family. This is because you can’t make life for them. Our children’s lives are the sum of our choices and decisions as parents. As for one parent who stood the ground of trials and hardships of raising children alone, you are definitely a hero. No one can prepare for emotional meltdown.



Not knowing better, I looked at marriage failure before as a bad thing. As if it is because of some sort of inherent - and fatal - character flaws that prevent you from building a happy home. But for others, especially mothers, who choose to embrace her responsibilities, saying "I' can do this ." There's such power in that declarative, isn't there?

I've grown, I've changed, but most importantly, I've learned. Everywhere I've been, every experience I've had, every encounter I've had with another person? It's all part of the story of where I've been. And honestly, it's sort of amazing to look at your life written out in a list like that. If nothing else, it makes you realize one thing: Life is still a ride you never want to get off of. And that's something to be celebrated.

Every. Single. Day.

Some Growing Up To Do

Times have changed.

In 1900, fathers prayed their children would learn English. Today, fathers pray their children will speak English.

In 1900, if a father put a roof over his family’s head, he was a success. Today, it takes a roof, deck, pool, and 4-car garage. And that’s just the vacation home.

In 1900, a father waited for the doctor to tell him when the baby arrived. Today, a father must wear a smock, know how to breathe, and make sure film is in the video camera.

In 1900, fathers passed on clothing to their sons. Today, kids wouldn’t touch Dad’s clothes a mile away.

In 1900, fathers could count on children to join the family business. Today, fathers pray their kids will soon come home from college long enough to teach them how to work the computer and set the DVD player.

In 1900, fathers shook their children gently and whispered, “Wake up, it’s time for school.” Today, kids shake their fathers violently at 4 a.m., shouting: “Wake up, it’s time for soccer practice.”

In 1900, a father came home from work to find his wife and children at the supper table. Today, a father comes home to a note: “Jimmy’s at baseball, Cindy’s at gymnastics, I’m at gym, Pizza in fridge.”

In 1900, fathers and sons would have heart-to-heart conversations while fishing in a stream. Today, fathers pluck the headphones off their sons’ ears and shout, “WHEN YOU HAVE A MINUTE..”

In 1900, a father gave a pencil box for Christmas, and the kid was all smiles. Today, a father spends Five thousand Pesos at a toy Store, and the kid screams: “I wanted PlayStation 3!”

Things have changed. So what do we do? Give the kids everything they want? You know the answer. No Way! This is a better idea. Teach them the value of growth and learning. And how do we do that? By growing a little everyday ourselves.

Our children watch us and then they imitate us. If they see us reading books, then this gives them better incentives to do the same. But if the kids see us spacing out in front of the boob tube, do you still wonder why they’re glued to their computer screens too?

We need to grow a little new wood each year. So how do we grow? You start first with getting out of your comfort zone. Learn something new. Develop a new skill, learn a second language, brush up on your computer literacy or get into a new sport. Embrace the challenge. Be ready to fail because that is the entry point to success.

Constantly have this thought fixed in your mind: “When you’re green you’re growing but when you’re ripe you’re rotting.”

(a repost from Francis Kong.com Inspiring Excellence)

Birthday Plans

The little boy is turning 8 on Friday, and so this stuff-toting, budget-conscious mother is thinking ways to make him feel a bit more special on that day. If it will fall within the budget, I like to have it different from his previous birthdays. However, we can’t afford anything pricey now. Although I would love to surprise him with the latest models of cell phones, you know those that begin with a lower-case “i” like iPhone, iPad, etc. but these are unlikely as of the moment. He’ll have to wait until he is older and more responsible.

And since these technological gewgaws are impractical, I thought these places can be his other options to spend the Big Day

What else can tickle the mind of an 8-year old but the wonders of Science? Try the Mind Museum at Taguig City and experience looking at flowing lava and see him amazed with the giant replica of astonishing T-Rex. Grawrr!

The boy will surely be delighted with the now becoming famous swimming pool waves. Amana Water Park will certainly entertain him all afternoon playing with waves, gliding down water slides and be mesmerized with the giant superhero stone sculptures of this resort. However, it’s a wee bit far and so the budget may double up because we need to rent a van.

This is another interesting place to visit. The boy had been there during one of his educational trips. Museo Pambata is open daily except Monday. I say, this is more interesting than the National Museum if it’s the kids you want to keep amused.

And finally, sign him up to Jollibee Summer Worshop and make his summer Jolly happy. This is a one week summer class where they are to meet twice a week. They will do art, prepare meal and make new friends. They will be given own uniform and have graduation later on. Not bad.

I am excited for him to do any one of these.

Do you have 8-year old? what would you do to entertain him? May be we can share ideas.