certified baby girl

last sunday, my husband P and i were ecstatic. we had little ayel's ears pierced. she is now a certified baby girl and we think she looks prettier with earrings.

it wasn't the first time for me for i had my son's ears pierced as well when he was about 11. what can i do? i said no but his dad said "let's let him, for experience". that, and the fact that he had earring holes, too. it makes me laugh everytime i think about it. my son R was in grade four at LCC. the nuns rounded up all male students with pierced ears and demanded that their parent/s meet with the guidance councilor. i told R's dad that he should be the one to attend for obvious reasons. he did. when asked if we allowed R to have his ears pierced, his dad smiled meekly and scratched his head. when they saw the father had ear piercing too, it was him who got reprimanded by the nuns.

R's earring holes are still open but he does not wear earrings anymore. his baby girl does.

love is not a feeling

a friend of mine asked me how i was able to do it.

"do what?" i asked.

"moved on," she said.

move on... there's that word again. "i didn't. i stayed behind and lived on," i answered.

my friend D had her heart broken. it had been three years but she still cries. desperately wanting to be in love, she went in and out of relationships, each one failing miserably. i empathize with her. i do not know exactly how she feels but i know the feeling. she said she felt betrayed and played for a fool. yes, that's one.

ugly and unwanted. two.

worthless. not necessarily but... okay, three.

she found it hard to concentrate not just with work but with living. grave... but true at times. four.

she turns to food. others yes. it's the opposite with me. five.

self-pity and low self-esteem. six. seven.

sceptical and found it hard trusting, men especially. eight.

she went on and on and on...

it's amazing how one can feel several emotions all at the same time. actually it's not "feeling" but rather "a going through".

"love is not a feeling", i told her, "it is an activity". i read it in a book by dr. m. scott peck. it makes sense--love is actually an action word.

"but why do i feel it in my heart" she asked.

""probably the intensity of the emotion, makes the heart beat faster," i said.

what do you do when you are in love? you think about him, you call or text him, you wait for him to call or text you, you cook for him, you do a lot of other things for him (or her) ... all action words. hugs & kisses, too.

it's quite easy to guess when the relationship is about to go pfffttt. he does not call you, he does not return your calls, he breaks your dates, he does not fetch you, he forgets special ocassions, he dates another girl...

but love is not only a verb. it is also a decision, which by the way is also an action word.

funny farm

i live in a funny farm and there's nowhere else i would rather be.

for starters, my mom is dr. doolittle incarnate--she talks to her dogs and our house cat... sometimes she sings to them. other times, well...better if you could hear her. i often tell her that she might get the surprise of her life when her dogs answer her one of these days.

"cedric, (or chester or curtis or amy or vanna) didn't i tell you that one bark is enough?!? more than one bark is too much!" i'm trying to imagine how a dog would control its bark to just one "whoaarrfff!". i couldn't, but it makes me laugh.my husband on the other hand talks to his plants. and his flowerhorns, too. tells them to behave while he's gone. ever seen a cactus in her bestest manners? or a flowerhorn sitting in the corner of an aquarium, behaving?

weekends are always a treat. my mom and husband debates on anything under the sun... or roof, for that matter. but don't get me wrong--they also laugh most of the time. my mom is a mom through and through for she always has a reminder for everything we ever do, or a suggestion for a better way of doing what we do. the ratio of words output would be 20:1, with mom on the lead and always on the advantage.

my son is the soft-spoken one. a soft-spoken great escape artist. he'll be there one minute and gone the next. there were even times he disappeared in the middle of my sentence and would return home in the middle of the night or early morning. when asked where he had been to, his usual response would either be "just a few blocks from here..." or "practicing with the band". he's a sweet kid, though. never forgets my birthday, greets me every mother's day, valentines, christmas... i think he got that from his dad. he's my big taz. you should see his room.

every afternoon i come home to a living room with scattered feeding bottles, toys, baby powder, bottles of lotion, baby oil, combs, pillows, hair clip... amateur handiwork of little ayel, our baby taz. everything she grabs, she puts in her mouth. and she loves paper--she would rip wallpapers off the wall, shred them to bits and leave a trail for us to follow. i would often find her under the sofa, lost in her thoughts. makes me wonder what she's planning to do next.

as for me, i believe i am the anointed arbiter of our herd, content just to stand in the middle. sometimes at the back. at times from the side. come to think of it, i stand in all directions.

there is nothing more i want to do at the end of the day than to rush home to these sometimes crazed and funny people who keeps my world alive. just the sound of their voices assure me that everything is just as it should be.

what's for dinner

my son R is now in his mid-20s and already a father to 7-month old ayel. but i guess no matter how old one may be, we'll always be our parent's little boys/girls.

while cooking dinner one day, i was surprised when he said, "mi, what happened to daddy? it was like he became a different person?"

"define different," i answered.

"like he was not daddy anymore. i wanted to trust him like before but i had this feeling like daddy got lost somewhere inside that man's body. he looks like daddy, talks like him but it isn't him. do you understand what i mean?" he said.

i simply nodded. i knew exactly what he meant.

"what do you think happened to him...?" he continued.

i could not find the right words to answer him. pointing at our house cat instead, i said "look at him... sitting there, relaxed and asleep. have you noticed how he runs around all day long, goes out for hunts during the night? but where do you find him when he's not doing his stuff?"

"sleeping on the steps or on top of the washing machine.." R answered softly.

"what do you think will happen to our house cat if we leave him out on the streets?" i asked him.

"he'll probably become wild or fierce and fight with other cats. or he will probably keep on looking for us or for a new family to live with," he said. "so...?"

"losing one's family can change a cat..." i said, "but it doesn't mean it has forgotten us."

when he was about 4 or 5 years old, R was bitten by a puppy. the pup didn't make it so his dad and i took him to the doctor and had him vaccinated with anti-tetanus. on top of it, the doctor recommended a series of anti-rabies vaccines--18 of them (if i remember right) to be administered daily at the san lazaro hospital. R's dad took him there diligently for 18 consecutive days for the scheduled shots.

then when he was around seven, he was hospitalized for more than a week due to high fever and his dad slept in the hospital with him from the day he was confined to his discharge. for my part, i would visit R in the evening after coming home from work and bring clothes, food or whatever supplies are needed.

"so you see," i told my son, "your dad made time for you while i went to work when you should have been more important." truth was, i wanted to be there with them but there were hospital bills to pay. but still...

R and his dad shared a lot of good times together, and i often tell him to always keep those in mind. what happened between us was not his fault, he was in fact, an ally to both camps engaged in a crossfire.

i know there are times R wished his dad was still around... that he misses him sometimes. i am not sure about so many things but in my heart, i want to believe that his dad never stopped loving him. that it's not about being a "bad" or "uncaring" parent for i honestly believe there is no such thing. that sometimes, it's our own unhappiness that scares and inhibits us from giving love back to others.

seeing my once little boy carrying his baby girl in his arms accompanies my sigh with a sob. and silently, i pray that this little girl will always have her daddy around--to talk with, to play with, or simply hang around with. they might even have little conversations like these while cooking dinner.

the clutter that is my bag

rummaging through the cabinet for an alternate bag last night, i suddenly realized that all my bags were big. no, not big... huge. there they were in an assortment of colors, huge bags that can accommodate a week's supply of clothes.

now why do i carry a bag that could dislocate my shoulders?

i emptied its contents, staring in amusement. i had a purse for id cards, credit cards, membership cards, insurance cards, sss & bir cards, discount cards... another purse for paper bills, a coin purse, several pens, pencils, note pad, keys, handkerchief, folding fan, purchase receipts, several letter envelopes with papers inside, a comb, a bottle of cologne, a digital camera, a small plastic box with rosary, a cutter, a small golden buddha, toothpaste and toothbrush, a cellphone, a snake... (kidding).

i have small bags (all of which were gifts) but never get to use them for the only thing i can put in it is my purse. and i can't leave home with just my purse. my husband jokingly remarked that it just might be the bag causing my back and shoulder pains. i go to work with that bulky thing and a heavy portfolio with office stuff to complement it. i just love giving myself a hard time.

on second thought, if i can find myself a bigger bag i could probably bring my granddaughter to the office with me everyday.

fully-clothed Isko M.

well what do you know... just saw isko moreno with danny lacuna, campaigning in sta. ana. he was fully-clothed this time, as opposed to the poster i saw a few days ago. i intended to ask him several questions, but ended up taking his picture instead. anyway, my unanswered questions were:

1. was that good-looking guy in briefs really you?
2. was that picture edited or there really was a bulge in front?
3. were you the one who picked that picture for the ad?
4. did you have those posters made? and posted?
5. do you think you'll win as vice mayor?
6. would you like to carry my granddaughter and have your picture taken with her?
7. do you have any plans of making movies again? (if you don't win)

their convoy was composed of about 50 or more (cars, vans, jeeps, etc..) i think. they were throwing candies and guess what... shampoos & conditioners?!?. makes sense actually. the candy will keep your saliva flowing after staying in the sun too long (from watching their parade) and then you can take a bath after.

after seeing that poster and him in person, i've come to a conclusion that he does look better with clothes on.

into the blur 3 : a masquerade ball

at first, everything looked as if it was going to be great between them. they used to talk a lot about so many things... took walks by the bay at night... danced to slow music... laughed and held hands most of the time... she felt secure--at least for a while.

he said he would give up drinking--she didn't ask him to. but he did, for a while. then his friends started coming over on occasions at first, till she noticed that they come over after every payday. hers, of course. then it became an every-weekend thing. she didn't mind... at first. but gradually, she started hating it whenever he became drunk for he would turn into some kind of fool devoid of all reason. he would taunt her as if testing how far she could go. he would open up issues, mostly about her family. how he resented it each time she gave them something, anything. she had already seen his violent streak, which presents itself quite very often.

while he kept things from her, he made it his business to know everything. who texted... who called... where she went... he was always lingering about, watching them from the side of his eyes each time her mother came to visit. he would make her recount each and every little detail of what they have talked about. he would demand that she tell him every single thing she intend to do before doing them. she felt stupid--handing her pay over to him when it should be the other way around. she didn't want them to fight about money so she let him handle whatever she earned. to shut him up.

all she wanted was for him to be happy and content. she thought sharing with him everything she had would be enough. but the more she gave in, the more unreasonable his demands became. he was trying to change her into something she will never become. the relationship she thought they had is turning into a tug-of-war. he had to be right, always. if he didn't have his way, he'll go berserk and kick things around. he also had this habit of waking her up in the middle of her sleep just to ask about trivial things that can wait till morning. or he would purposely turn on the lights and slam doors to rouse her.

she felt herself slowly drifting away from him. everything has to be about him, how he feels, what he wants... she talked less, smiled even lesser, kept to herself more and more each day. it was as if he was two different persons. he would be nice one day, crazy and mean the other--like one wearing a mask. problem was, she couldn't figure out which one is the face and which is the mask.

lying in bed with her back against him, her eyes were closed but she was secretly awake. her thoughts no longer in random--she was thinking of a way to get herself out of the ball.

hearts don't get broken, promises are

browsing through my posts, i noticed that most of what i had written were sad. or somewhat depressing. i guess it's because i had been into a lot of them. i've heard so many times that the zaniest and funniest people are those who have gone through fire and i'm inclined to believe that. pain makes us stronger and having been through worst, there is only one way to look at life from then on : with a smile, or if you can, with laughter. now i look at small and petty things as they are--small and petty.

i knew i've gotten over my cross when i learned to make fun of myself, forgive and accept defeat. i can even look back without regret and bitterness. it actually makes me chuckle everytime i do. besides, i don't want to die a cynical grumpy old woman, wallowing in pain and remorse. what i want to be is me--crazy, funny and fun. if possible, i would like to die laughing.

the usual advice i got from friends then was to "move on". move on...where to? i had no plan B (i.e., in case of dissolution of marriage, press button to deflate; or get hidden plane ticket, withdraw all cash and take europe vacation, have a few drinks, shop till you drop...). so i didn't. i stayed put and planted my feet firmly on the ground so i can stand up. so here i am, standing--with a silly grin on my face like a child come out of mischief (and a boxful of ideas & stories to write about).

i am working on being a better mom, a more loving wife, and a super great grandmom. i am making an effort to spend more chat time with my own mom and share more laughs with her. that is what pain has done to me. time may heal all wounds, but it is laughter that will remind you that there are more things in life other than a broken heart.

vote : wisely

walking towards the tryke station this morning, i saw an election poster of isko moreno saying "vote isko moreno for vice mayor". he was slouching on a bench, in his underwear. i am not sure if it was edited, but the poster i saw even showed something bulging in front. that similar photo there on the right which i found on the net.

surprisingly, i didn't have any reaction at all. not a smile, not a frown, not a crease on my brow. now, is no reaction a good thing or a bad thing? i often hear the showbiz cliche "good or bad publicity is still publicity". ummm... no comment on that one.

we have been awakened to our senses by rolling drums and campaign music these past weeks. i am often taken aback by candidates who would suddenly shake my hand as i walk home. "my name is blah-blah-blah..." he would say, "for congressman. i am the protector of women's rights and violence against women." uuhh, okay...

remember how adults scare children (silly thing) by telling them they will be abducted by the "mumu" or the "bumbay"? whenever our baby ayel gets too fussy and won't sleep, we tell her "hala, kukunin ka ng kandidato..." to this, she would smile and giggle--and fuss some more. good thing she doesn't really understand a word we're saying.

back to isko. i'm sure he didn't single that photo out for his ad campaign. somebody must've found him real cute in that pic and decided to have posters made for him--free of charge. they even posted it on the walls for him. from the goodness of their hearts.

what can i say? politics is politics is politics... whew!

p.s. that's whom i'm going to vote for--wisely. (by the way, is wisely with a MR. or a MS.?)

into the blur 2

she went about methodically, preparing the appetizers and the dinner after. but inside was this gnawing feeling that makes her want to cry. he kept on talking but she wasn't listening for her mind was miles away. suddenly there were loud voices. "the we has arrived..." she told herself.

she went to them for the customary welcome. he was always extra pleasant to her when his friends are around. after setting the table, she mumbled something about tidying up and excused herself.

she could hear their laughter as she moved about, putting the house back in order. taking a shower after, she laid on the bed her mind in random thoughts. and without meaning to, she feel asleep.

she didn't know what woke her up--it was 2 in the morning. slowly she got up and saw him emptying the last glass of alcohol. without saying a word, she started picking up glasses here and there and putting them on the sink.

"i'm hungry. let's eat." he said.

"you go ahead," she answered, "i'm not hungry at all."

"i want to eat. come on, let's," he insisted.

"i don't feel like eating. i just want to clean this mess up and go to bed," she said.

"what is your problem?" he snapped.

"look, it's 2 in the morning. i'm tired and i want to go to sleep. can't you just go ahead and eat and let me finish here?" she asked.

"you're taking me for granted," he replied.

"i'm taking you for granted?" she said looking at him, "i came home, prepared everything for you and waited till you finished so i can clean your mess up and now i'm taking you for granted?"

"you always take the side of your family," he suddenly said.

"and what has that got to do with this?" she answered.

"it's true, isn't it? you're always patient with them." he said.

"they do not hurt me the way you do," she said softly, "and i do not take sides. you treat them indifferently. you're mean and rude to them."

he started banging and throwing things around, cursing loudly.

"will you stop that!" she said, "that's what i hate about your drinking. you become a jerk!"

"i'm not drunk. am i drunk? i'm not drunk," he said.

she wanted to hit him and slap him back to his senses. "you're really a jerk. i'm getting sick and tired of this," she said.

"get sick all you want, i don't care!" he shouted, "you are not leaving me."

"stop shouting. i am losing my patience. i'll get you arrested," she said.

"think you can still call the police when you're dead?" he taunted.

"you don't have the guts. not the slightest, " she said between her teeth, "for if you do, you'll be homeless and penniless. how can a leech live without blood to suck from others?"

"don't dare me," he yelled.

"come on, do it!" she dared.

there was a long silence between them. "come on, let's go to bed," he said softly.

"go to hell..." she snapped and slammed the door to his face.