General Cleaning

I am so exhausted today. After a long day work, I’ve had to clean up our messy room and organize my stuffs. At least that’s what I have decided before going to bed. I’m almost done but I feel there is still much to do.

I’m still wearing my office attire. I will have to exercise first before I take a quick shower and finally surrender to S and S (study and sleep). And before I sweat myself off, I’ve had to endure a few hours brushing my sandals, folding and hanging my clothes, arranging my books and other stuffs, and finally sweeping the dust off the floor as I listen to my Dashboard Confessional playlist. All the time I was doing those tasks I’ve been contemplating on a few things that I wanted to accomplish. And aside from that, I’ve been reflecting on a lot of things and decided to clean my spirit too.

So I made a list of some short- to medium-term material goals, and another of daily objectives. And as I look forward to what I want to do, I realize that I have to start forgiving myself for the wrong decisions I have made. Truly, my life is difficult, so as others. But I cannot make it more difficult and make them appear insurmountable. I have to put things into perspective and really start moving on.

Although I feel bad about having to start all over again, I must know that it’s the only way I can make life better for me and Paula. It’s hard to forgive but I can start forgetting and hope someday I would not have to look back and feel sorry. I must choose to be happy and fight off the nightmares of the past.

So there, the cleaning does not end here. It’s a continuous process that I must diligently undertake, a routine I must gladly make.

I must do my crunches now so I can hit the sack anytime now before the dawn begins to crack.

 

Be Faithful to Me

If only “diet” can talk it will ask me to be faithful.

So I ask myself why is it so much easier to be faithful to a man than to a diet. I don’t have the answers. Is food more appetizing than men? Hahaha. What a connection.

Sabaw. Gusto ko na matulog.

Gratitude Mail

Dear Mister,

I would like to thank you for helping me cross one of the most difficult bridges that I have to encounter in this lifetime. I thought I’d never get through but I made it with you. My chances would have been  completely diminished have I not met you. So thank you.

Having met you is probably the most dreamy thing that has happened recently. I met hope upon meeting you. I thought hope was as endangered as the white tigers. Well, really you are rare and one of a kind, but you bring light into the room when you enter. Surely you are a blessing. And again, I thank you.

The first time I saw you, I felt for the first time that I can finally move on. I realized that there is much to hope for and that I can let go and hold on to a dream of a new life. My apprehensions of not finding one better than the one I had went gone in an instant. You took them all away, and took me with you. And with that, I thank you.

Every single day that our eyes meet, I am renewed. I want to smile like crazy at you. I have turned from dead to a new-born, and now finally kicking. Thank you.

I could not thank you more for it wouldn’t be enough. I can only let my words express my gratitude in an understated manner because I cannot let  my heart out. The thought of you frees the spirit within me. Lucky me, I guess. Now I have you to pray for everyday.

Thank you once again.

By the way, what’s your name? I don’t even know where to address this to. How can I get to you? Tell me.

Should be yours tomorrow,

Miss

The Homeless Child Has No Lola

I have become a story teller. It’s not a voluntary act or from some deliberate concern but a matter of necessity. Of course I did envision myself as a mother-teacher who would  impart stories of good values as I attempt to inculcate good morals to my child. But I have let go of that idea since I am not a full-time mother and traveling from Laguna to Makati and back everyday has been eating my precious time. It was a sacrifice I had to make — less quality time for Paula but at least seeing her everyday.

But things have changed since I entered law school. I come home only on weekends and spend limited time with her. And since I am always almost at the edge of breaking down due to sleeplessness, I make crazy efforts to put her to an immediate sleep. Thus, the story telling.

My stories have evolved over time. There are crazy ones and those of the impossible which she doesn’t really mind. She likes to ask questions and I give crazy answers. I don’t intend to sound funny, and she doesn’t find them funny either, but I don’t have the intellectual vigor to provide intelligent answers. But surely, there are also cases wherein I am able to provide, if not the best, at least logical and reasonable explanations.

My encouragement for her singing evolved too. I found this song by Carrie Underwood entitled “Temporary Home” which I really like and find the message fit for a growing child, except for the continuous flow of the lyrics which can be a little hard for a 3-year old (She has turned 4 just earlier). So to make the song a little catchy for her, I’ve decided to relate one of the stories behind the lyrics. The song actually tells about the life of three individuals who see some things as temporary in light of a greater plan that must be waiting ahead of them. It tells of hope and dreams. And the first story about the little boy was the one I really feel connected to, although my life was never close to his.

Little boy, 6 years old
A little too used to bein’ alone.
Another new mom and dad, another school,
Another house that’ll never be home.
When people ask him how he likes this place…
He looks up and says, with a smile upon his face,

“This is my temporary home
It’s not where I belong.
Windows and rooms that I’m passin’ through.
This is just a stop, on the way to where I’m going.
I’m not afraid because I know this is my
Temporary Home.”

 

You get the story, right? So I tell her that the little boy’s real mom and dad have left him and that some other couple are about to take care of him. And I remind her how lucky she is that I didn’t leave her just because I love her. She asks so many questions, every “bakit (why)”  there is to ask. So I explain that maybe the kid’s parents do not have the financial capacity to raise the child or they were not ready to accept the responsibility. And another bakit comes in. A lot of bakit, and finally she made a qualification, “Wala ba siyang lola?”

So you get the idea. If the parents left the kid, wouldn’t the lola be taking care of him and not some other people? That made me think of my mother who is taking care of her when I am away. She’s the closest she can think of as a solution to the child’s problem as it is how it goes in her life.

My mother is not perfect, she never really took care of me and my little brothers. But I am amazed how great a job she’s doing for my kid. She brings Paula with her everywhere and she stoops down to Paula’s level with much enthusiasm. That’s even an understatement. Mama is never the emotional, sweet mom. She’s strict and a force to be reckoned with. We always complain about how she makes little things a big hell of a deal. But she transforms into a kid whenever Paula is around. She dances and screams with her.

I did say a few times that I will never be the way my mother was to us. But that story of the homeless child showed me that I cannot match the attention my mother is giving to my child. That little boy had no one else to care for him, but Paula has my mother during my absence. She even sent a bad yaya away for hurting Paula. She is perfectly filling my shoes and is effectively playing the role of the mom that I want to be.

I will be that mom someday, now I tell myself.

I Said No More Coffee But Then I’m A Liar

I need a life extension… Everyday.

You see, 4-6 hours of sleep is torture. It does not only make you less productive, it also adversely affects your brain processing. So when I lack such sleep, I can no longer think rationally as to live up with my promise.

Damn you, insomnia. I should be strictly allotting my extra time to reading. And you are eating my time.

Sweet Thoughts From a Little Boy

I was chatting a while ago with an old friend whom I used to be with in a school play during grade school. I was Mamma Mary and he was my son, Jesus. So you can imagine the age gap. Nonetheless, he’s like three years my junior.

He was asking when am I going back to Cebu and he told me how he frequents Manila to do errands for his dad. So it was a brief hi and hello and some agreement on a potential meet-up.

It was just great that he remembers me all this time. Way back in elementary and high school, we didn’t really hang out that much. He was the type that most girls would have a crush on but hate at the same time, as he was good-looking and often described as ‘mayabang’. I was the proactive school girl who was always  trying to balance acads and extra-curricular activities. I may be a little visible in the school community, but this kid was effortlessly popular. I sometimes wished he was my little brother.

I haven’t seen him since I left highschool except for one encounter in a computer shop. It was brief as well. But he was totally different then. He has matured and has clearly developed some “kapreskuhan” (sorry I don’t know the english translation). Maybe girls were easy for him. But I didn’t pay much attention to his ‘hirit’ then.

So earlier I saw a more matured person in him, and a better one. He is clearly not the boy I met in grade school, nor the boy I stumbled upon during my teens. He made a strong argument which has never crossed my old mind.

Little Boy: So I have a lawyer na when times get rough? Lol.

Me: Definitely, if I make it through the bar.

Little Boy: You will. I know you will.

Me: Hahaha

Little Boy: Yeah. I guess.

Me: Let’s hope.

Little Boy: Hope is for the weak. You don’t need that.

Me: So pray? Hahaha.

Little Boy: You got balls. (and a smiley)

HOPE IS FOR THE WEAK. Interesting… Coming from a young mind.

Now I will remember that all my life. And he believes in me.

——————

Little Boy, in case you come across this page, I don’t intend to make a judgment by calling you such. It’s just that I’m always reminded of you being my child in that play. =)

Holiday Reminiscence

It’s a holiday and I’m sipping coffee while I force a book unto my brain. And because I hesitate to be lonely, my lappy Samson provides me some music background and a few updates of my friends through social networks. While browsing through FB, I came across some old photos of Paula during our holidays off home and was reminded of some of the humors we’ve had encounter.

 

My friend, Je, making fun of the only baby in the group during our Macau trip.

 

She hoped the metallic comb would open the package.

 

She tries to open anything that gets into her hands. I'm not sure if she thought the disposable undie has something edible with it or she simply hates plastic packaging.

 

So here's Ate Je training little Paula how to make "irap".

 

A locale in Macau in amusement. She's not the first victim, though. We've had a number of encounters with strangers asking for photos with her in both HK and Macau.

 

The cheek peace sign.

 

She doesn't like the feel of the sand on her feet. Good thing the puppy has tamed her for a long minute. Taken in one of the beaches in Batangas.

 

Nobody disturbs her when she's concentrating. At least everyone's eyes are on her.

And I was immediately struck of how fast Paula has grown up. She is a school girl now and can easily write her own name although with the letters in random order (She spells her name “Puaul”). These photos were taken when she was only two, and now she’s turning four.

She called me up yesterday, telling me “antagal mo naman” and asking if I have a surprise for her.

I’m just missing my baby. I’m off work-off school without her for the first time. Then I’m off Paula, too, making me offed three times today.

So what do you think about your holiday?

Despicable Mom-ME

des pi ca ble |diˈspikəbəl|

adjective

deserving hatred and contempt : a despicable crime

The youngest person in the household next to Paula is a high school student, a cousin who’s been living with my family since my parents started to support his studies. This leaves Paula the only baby, who’s turning four, the primary source of joy and the leading object of fun. Yes, fun.

I always see to it that I come home for the weekends so I can spend time with her. We go out in the mall, in the park, or just about anywhere we can hang out and pig out. I bring her to work and school whenever possible. When I’m home, she goes with me wherever I go. Based on these, anyone can conclude that I am such a great mother, but in truth I am not. I am no perfect mommy. I am also a kid myself.

So when does being despicable come in?

I bet sending her on errands does not count. She willingly obliges to every order that I make, even it be about asking money from my mother for a movie pass. She also provides for our drinking water during meal time without us having to ask her.

We make fun of her, with my little brothers as my partners in crime — twisting the word ‘baby‘ to ‘baboy‘ when we say “ganda naman ng baboy na yan.” And my brother says ‘bata‘ repetitively to make it sound ‘bata bata bata bata‘, in effect, having ‘taba‘ in between.

We play dead until she cries. Well, that was when she was a lot younger. She now knows when we’re just acting, but still she cannot discern whether something is a truth or a lie. So we make her cry with the stories that we make like one when I made her believe that she has a twin sister, just like my brother, and that I take care of the other baby when I am away from home. She’d cry, unbelieving I could spend more time with the other child.

We feast on her chocolates. She’s so generous she’d offer anything she has and when nothing is left, she just simply says, “hayy… wala na ako.”

I put out the lights when we sleep which scares her like hell until she sleeps from crying. She has some negative vibes with my room that makes her uncomfortable.

We sometimes subject her to some emotional depression when we compare her with other kids just out for some laugh trip. She’s always in the limelight and on the hot seat of ridicule.

We all love her. She brings out the kid in everyone of us. She makes us forget about the seriousness and monotony of adult life. She makes us vibrant and young and happy and beautiful. She causes us to be despicable and admirable at the same time.

I guess she’s too young to take everything seriously. She does not know hatred yet so we’re always on a clean slate whenever the need for another drama pops up. Hate me, if you may, but I don’t want to grow too old for her yet. I want to be as young as possible so she can always relate and is always open. I want such bond to be so strong that age would not pull us apart by the time I am all work and no play.

We are A-Team... Two weeks ago in a theme park.

She takes the steering wheel as we bump and go. As the mother, you are always compelled to be a backseat driver.

 

Whew! Just sharing. I just feel oddly generous today.

Oh Time, Why Fly So Quickly?

A friend often so complains why there are only 24 hours in a day. He argues that if only a day can be 8 hours longer, he’d be able to do accomplish everything that has to be done. I would always answer that he should not blame time but himself for signing up for too much activities.

Now I understand why he is so bitter about it.

I want a few things done — like get a massage, go night swimming, finish all my readings and experience a complete sleep. Just these things. And I feel completely deprived right now.

Count Your Sins

Since there is such a thing as “count your blessings”, I am making a version contrary to it. So here is my count of sins.

Well, this is not really about all sins. I don’t intend to make a controversial private person out of me. I don’t want to be an object of ridicule and criticism, if ever that’s possible for an average person like me. I just want to list down the movies that I am able to squeeze in my hectic schedule. And the list will include old and new movies.

Starting August, here’s what I remember so far, in horizontal enumeration and in no particular order:

1) Step Up 3D; 2) You to me are Everything; 3) The Ghost Writer; 4) The Last Song; 5) The Expendibles; 6) Jack and the Beanstalk; 7) The Runaways; 8.) Inception; 9) The Last Airbender; 10) Tekken

So the list will go on. I will update this list to remind me how I find time to sin in these busy hours.

SEPTEMBER: 1) Letters to Juliet; 2) Everybody’s Fine; 3) Lie to Me S2Ep21; 4) Grown Ups; 5) Despicable Me 3D; 6) Chloe; 7) 12 Angry Men (1957 Classic); 8.) Veronika Decides to Die; 9) The Wolfman; 10) Shelter; 11) Match Point; 12) Resident Evil 3D