Jour de l'Action de grâce - A lot to be thankful for.

I have seen a lot of thanksgiving greetings on my Facebook newsfeed. It is very inspiring to know that a lot of people have a lot to be thankful for. But not everyone goes home during Thanksgiving so I think they deserve special mention. A lot of them had been the first people to brave our country during the aftermath of Typhoon Haiyan. The Filipino people's gratitude and love will forever be yours. To people around the world, whether or not you celebrate Thanksgiving today, I hope all of you have a wonderful day of counting your blessings.

“It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll. I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.” ~Invictus, William Ernest Henley

On Not Having A Daughter

During those times when I thought I was a girl, I had this itsy-bitsy idea that having a daughter would be the most wonderful thing that could ever happen to a parent. I wanted to have someone to dress up with, do different hairstyles, and share stuff that most girls do. When I got pregnant with my first child, Paolo, and learned that it was a boy, I was a bit disappointed. But then, no one told me that having a boy was a completely different world. It was all adventure and fun.

When I had my second boy, Aaron, four years after, I was already a professional storyteller, wrestler, repair-mom, hero, joker, buddy, playmate, juggler, nanny, teacher and working-mom. Having the second boy was a cinch. I was practically just sliding through everything when other moms were busy pulling their hair off. Everything was an exciting activity, from trying to dodge empty milk bottles, to skirting through tiny pieces of lego, to sidestepping those small things that go Vroom, to puddle-stomping, to playing in the rain. I just find everything thrilling that I had completely forgotten about dolls, and hairstyles, and pink dresses and my wish for that little girl with wisps of black hair escaping her pony tail.

When I had my third boy, Gabriel, after a year and a half, I had already developed a love for everything boyish that I even wished I could be a boy. LOL. It was then that I realized that God had given me boys so that I would discover my true nature. My boys became my strength in unfolding my real self and I became their guide in molding themselves. I am no longer disappointed for not having a daughter; I am satisfyingly full of pride in having three young men who have all added something amazing to my life since the day they were born.

Pain and Happiness

I was going through my Facebook newsfeed and saw my cousin's status, "I sleep less, I'm tired. I sleep more, I'm tired. Life is impossible." I commented something like, It's not tiredness but boredom. Then one of her friends commented as follows, "…..the question of happiness can be better answered not by asking 'what do I want' but rather, 'what pain do I choose'…" I respect the man's opinion but then I can't help noticing that he has a rather pessimistic view on life. Positively-speaking, we need not go through pain to find happiness. We can find happiness every where, they are normally in the simple, little things we encounter everyday, we just have to be in a correct perspective to find it. In my own opinion, pain is a part of life, and it is beneficial to feel pain time and again, but we need not establish our lives around pain. Doing that will only elude us from the happiness we so deserve. Credit goes to Deianne Fabi for this post.

Fact or Fiction.

I woke up this morning and listened to Leif Garrett's When I Think of You while still in bed. This may sound weird to most people but this song has always given me a feeling of nostalgia, of frolicking on a beach in the afternoon sun somewhere in Hawaii. I had lots of déjà vu since I was a child because of this song and this was what I think had made me hold on to a past that I believe had existed before I was born…again. I had the privilege of meeting a US Military man a couple of weeks back. He came here in Manila for a vacation and we had dinner. It was the first time that I met him but, crazy as it may seem, I felt I have known him all my life. It was ditto with him. It made us both sooo confused that we can't even think of how to go on with the reality of us together. LOL. Though I have realized a fact, I know I have found what I was looking for and I no longer feel nostalgic whenever I hear Leif Garrett's song. And the most amazing thing had happened, I have moved on from that mysterious past (which seemed like a blast,LOL). I think I had found my home. Am I starting to getting unrealistic here? Or romantic? Or is this just a part of the book I am writing? Ten-tene-nen…

Momsy-hood

Last Saturday, I had just let my Aaron go on a school field trip unaccompanied. I was a bit hesitant at first because I know that Aaron has a negligent, laid-back attitude and tends to be comfortable anywhere, even in unfamiliar places, and his innocence and trusting attitude will definitely make him vulnerable to human vultures but I know that protecting him wouldn't progress his personality at all so, as disparaging as it may be, I had to let him go.

I accompanied him to school though and waited for his teacher so I could talk to her and ask her to stalk my child. LOL. I waited, and waited disappointingly the teacher never came and I became irritated enough to ask a pen from the bus driver and wrote my mobile phone number on my son's wrist. Yes, I did that and I told my son that if anything undesirable happens to him, he can go to the nearest security person or police and show them his wrist and tell them to call the number written on it because it's his mom's number. I was beginning to think if I'm doing the right thing, letting him go on this field trip alone. Still worried and doubtful, I was almost tempted to sneak in at the furthest back seat and stay invisible, and shadow my son all throughout the trip. My doubt grew stronger when one parent asked me why I am letting my son unaccompanied on a school field trip. (My son is 11-years old and I am not an overprotective mom like you, ok? |eyes-rolling-upward-doubting-myself-on-that-statement). I felt Aaron starting to have qualms about me keeping my word because he asked me twice already why I was still inside the bus and I answered with a wry smile twice and I don't think that convinced him that I am confident that he can go on this trip alone. (I wish I had a man in my life to teach me how to be a man, lol). Not wanting to let my son think that I don't trust him, I said goodbye to my Aaron and stepped down from the bus. I guess that was the best thing I could do for him because when he came home later that night, I felt him transformed to a young man, proud of himself, and I know at that moment, I was the proudest parent there could ever be.

Kids In-Love???

Time flies so fast. I can't believe that my three boys are now talking about girls and love and oh please…being romantic and an old hat. I know they're adorable but sometimes I just can't take them talking about their girlfriends and/or crushes all the time. Can't we talk about the new horror movie instead or what hilarious program we're going to watch next? I guess I'd be expecting this sooner or later but not this soon. Lol.

I still remember how my eldest son, Paolo, swore (in his great grandfather's grave) that he would never, ever take a girlfriend (he said it's expensive having one). Buts of all buts...I now have this impression that his girlfriend was virtually and forcibly embedded inside his phone because he keeps texting 24/7. Somehow, he reminded me of me when I still had that Tamagotchi.

Last time Paolo and I went out for a drink, (yes, I allow him to sip cocktails, it's in my parenting philosophy), he said that he adored his girlfriend more after the girlfriend said that she wants nothing, materialistically-speaking, on their anniversary…They're thinking about anniversary celebrations already, horrific, isn't it? Ok, horrifically-cute. Anyways, according to the girlfriend, spending time with him is more than enough, as most girls theatrically, dramatically, say to their partners but when the time comes they'll be crying all over, "Boo-hoo-hoo, you didn't even cared enough to make this day special!". Humbug. Going back to our mother-son talk, I told Paolo I never even remember an anniversary. Normally, the guy's the one who would remind me and I would be like, "Oh. Is it today? Well, I guess we can celebrate it if you want." (Who cares about numbers anyway? :P) Well, Paolo looked at me, eyes-wide, and said, "Mom, I wish every parent is as cool as you." Dude, the only parent that can be as cool as me are dads, moms would definitely freak out.

Yeah, moms would definitely freak out if they learn that their 11-year old son gets indecent text messages from his girl classmate. I did. When my 11-year old son Aaron showed me the text messages his 11-year old girl classmate kept sending him, I wanted to cry. Hahaha. I was so thankful I have this very good friend who was there for me during that very horrible day of my life.

Romantic or not, I still feel a good amount of adoration with how my kids have grown up the way I would like them to be. This is truly one of the perks of being a single mom. And single parenting? I enjoy every minute of it.

The Night I Lost Harry Pot Pot (A Harry Potter Adaptation of Something Else)

It was the end of a rather grueling week. The merry thought of enjoying coffee with Harry Pot Pot in Hogsmeade boosted my spirit to barely make it alive at this hour. The fire crackling merrily in my grate grew brilliantly red. There was a message blinking in the fire. It was from Harry Pot Pot. After reading the message we had this conversation.

Harry Pot Pot : “I’m sorry but we have to delay our engagement for another time”. Loony : “Does this mean we’re going to postpone it again?”
Harry Pot Pot : “I’m afraid so. I’m really sorry.”.
Loony : “But this is the fourth time in a fortnight you’ve postponed this engagement”. Harry Pot Pot : “I’m really sorry. I have this rather grave snag that I have to sort out and it is crucial that I resolve this by tomorrow. We’ll just have to move it at a later day”
Loony : “It’s all right . I understand”( I noticed my nostrils were now emitting red sparks resembling the Chinese Fireball-)
Harry Pot Pot : “Thanks”
Loony : “This is the fourth time in a row, do you suppose we’ll still be able to go out?”
Harry Pot Pot : “But of course.”
Loony : “What about that snag? Do you need any…er..assistance?” There was no reply. A minute had passed. 10 minutes had passed. 15 minutes. 30 minutes had passed.
Loony : “Hey, are you still there?”
Again, there was no reply. I assumed Harry Pot Pot returned to what he was doing so I sent a message using a post owl, anxiously wondering whether Harry Pot Pot was doing excellent or not. Again, there was no reply. Perhaps Harry Pot Pot has not even a knut to spare for a single post owl.

Someone told me that perhaps Harry Pot Pot was just making excuses. Harry Pot Pot just wouldn’t want to tell me forthrightly that he doesn’t want to go out with me. Now everything became lucid. His reason was pathetic enough to land him a cell in Azkaban, added to the fact that he never sent me a return owl. The whole thing made sense. Fuming, I went straight to a bar outside and drank two bottles of butter beer which made me sotted enough to send him a howler. He did not dare responded. He just kept his silence. Morning came and I realized my blunder for sending off that howler. But it was too late. I have already damaged our friendship for dubbing him a liar. A week had passed but still he kept his silence. I sent him another post owl apologizing for everything but still he kept his silence. Another fortnight had passed and still he kept his silence. At first I thought that I had unconsciously jinxed him with a Lang Lock Curse but then I realized he was born in July. He is a Cancerian. Professor Trelawney once explained that Cancerians tend to retreat to their shells when hurt or affronted and I know I have insulted him with that howler and it made him recoiled inside his shell. Now, I lost Harry Pot Pot forever. All credits due to one of my favorite authors, Joanne-Kathleen Rowling.

Bonus Post.

Oprah’s topic on her show last night was about infidelity. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to watch the onset of the show and actually made it around the halfway point. There was this husband and wife pair discussing about the husband’s debauched relationship (well, however one sees it it’s still morally wrong, isn’t it?) with the wife’s best friend. I certainly admired their boldness and honesty, I mean, it is quite a daring feat to acknowledge a major felony (actually, marital infidelity is considered a public crime in the Philippines punishable by prision correccional) in front of billions of people. I kept a close watch at the aggrieved wife as the husband talked about how he and the other woman (wife’s best friend) did it at the couple’s own house with the unsuspecting wife just meters away from them. I actually marveled at how the wife kept control of her emotions but then again, maybe she had already walloped and lambasted her husband privately. (I’d definitely do that! ehehe..) The best thing about Oprah is that she bestows equality on her show. I said that because after the husband-wife segment the next person on her list was the other woman. I thought for one wild moment that it was the wife’s best friend (imagine the catastrophe it would create backstage!) but hers was another story. The other woman had a relationship with her friend’s husband for three years. She even threw a baby shower for the wife and while the wife was in the hospital after giving birth to their baby, the husband and the other woman was spending the night..er…erotically. (Now, this is getting nastier.) Her side of the story was more intriguing since her position was more of a prey-predator type. She was a prey for the husband and at the same time she was a predator to the wife, unlike in the first case, wherein the husband is merely a predator. (Now, now, boys…please, no gnashing of teeth at my words, I am merely stating a fact.) At the end, the psychologist in attendance (yes, there was a psychologist present to assess the two situations and to give advice) emphasized that a woman (whether single or married) should feel affronted and not at all honored if a married man strings along with them. (right girls, let’s give those married men a hard slap on their faces) Anyways, the show was quite enlightening. Especially when the psychologist spoke (in the first case) about how only the wife can help her husband heal (the husband looked sheepish and he appeared to be conscience-stricken, ehehe…) and vice versa. On the whole, the show rather gave me a deeper stance on marriage and commitment. Marriage is definitely and will not always be a bed of roses. It would forever be beleaguered with burdens and miseries. There would even be times when we would feel that love is slowly wilting away. Times when we would stumble upon someone else who fosters a feeling of rapture, of omnitude, of perfection. But as they say, these are the moments when we have to love our spouses more even if we have perceived them in their most despicable form. When we are able to unselfishly commit ourselves to our vows of perpetual union and the honor of our family, it is when we could say that we have the true measure of love.

Entitled.

Honestly, I have forgotten about this blog site. I had been in and out of everything, including myself, and after years of trying to be somewhere where I know I should be, here I am, whole, happy, in the somewhere-where-I-know-I-should-be, and ready to share all the experiences I have gained out of being a wanderlust, metaphorically-speaking. I had met a great variety of the Homo sapiens species and I am proud to say that I can now differentiate the trustworthy from the shady (no, not the real slim shady), the one who will be there in the long haul from the one who only chooses to pass through, and the one who gives me writer's block from the one who is just plain…well..stupid. :P Anyway, the important part here is that I have grown so much from an immature, narrow-minded, submissive, unhappy person to a mature, open-minded, independent, confident, warm, happy person who looks at life with childish delight, and yes, I really need to pat myself on the back because one should always appreciate the person he/she loves, remember? :D Now, you know how I write when I'm sick. :P Tomorrow, you will know how I write when I'm sicker. :P