Beauty Instead of Madness

by on March 22, 2013 22 Comments

So you guys might be wondering (or maybe not) why I am suddenly so agog over beauty, makeup, etcetera and etcetera. No really, it’s all I’ve talked about in the last few posts, on Twitter and on Instagram (And for a few more posts to come, I must warn thee). Truth is, if you’ve known me long enough, you would know that this obsession, fascination and addiction to makeup goes a looooong way back. I started with makeup at a younger-than-average age and I will be into it ’til I’m old and grey.

But why the amplified fascination now? Why not from the beginning of the blog? Well here’s my confession: I need to focus my energy elsewhere or else I will be one hot mess. Because…

Basti is weaning.

*I will pause here because again, tears are beginning to flow*

I first started to feel the end of our nursing relationship on the day Basti did not ask to nurse for 12 hours. 12 hours became 20, 20 became 24. And then just a few days ago, 24 hours became 2 days. Two. FREAKING. Days. I had to stop myself from asking Basti if he wanted to nurse. I wanted to ask him, no, BEG him to nurse, to become my little baby again, just so I could smell him, hold him, cuddle him and remind him that he’s my little itty-boy and he doesn’t have to grow up if he doesn’t want to.

But he is growing up as children do, and I am the bigger baby than Basti because I am such a SAP. So there I was a couple of days ago reading an email sent to me by Basti’s school. He’s entering nursery school in June and the email was just to outline the enrollment procedures and schedule; nothing major, nothing particularly inspirational, just your regular administration and principal stuff. But what did I do? Like an idiot, I was crying my eyes out. OVER A FREAKING ENROLLMENT PROCEDURE LETTER! Can you imagine me on the first day of school? At a PTC meeting? Moving up day? Prom Night? I’d be lucky if Basti still wants to be seen with me when he’s 13. I’m going to be the most embarrassing mother ever.

Do you guys want to know the last time I wore Basti in a sling? Well don’t ask, because I can’t tell you. I can’t remember. I haven’t worn Basti in weeks. My carriers, save for two, are all in storage now. I still keep a couple out just in case I hear the sweet words “Mama, carry Basti” again. My heart isn’t ready to give up babywearing my big boy even if my back is celebrating.

So because of all this mothering madness, I am choosing to focus, to channel, to regroup. I am choosing to focus on me.

I am choosing to focus on my passions, to channel my energy into things that make me happy in order to be a pleasant presence in Basti’s life. It’s also my way of getting to know myself again, after two years of virtually thinking of no one else but this little boy. The makeup kit is being revived, the heels are coming out, and there is finally a little room in my heart and my life for a bit of self-indulgence.

Basti is turning three years old next month, marking my 3 years of being a mother now and forever. This period is going to be like hard candy to me – sweet, jarring, awkward and irregular, seemingly unchanging and endless, until one significant crack makes the hardness go away. And then I’ll find myself holding hands not with a little boy, but with a tiny young man ready to take on the world and mark it with awesome. I hope he’ll still let me hold his hand.

So forgive me, readers, friends and stray-Google-search passerbys, if the Mommy is becoming a Mom-Me. It’s the most I can do to keep my wailing at bay. We have to brace ourselves for more Madness. Our kids may be growing up, but they’ll turn into babies when they need us to be their mommies. Let’s look amazing while we do it, shall we?

Filed Under: Life, Motherhood, Thoughts and Musings Tagged With:

Two Minutes, Two Years, and A Thousand Miles: A Smart LiveMore Post

by on July 13, 2012 2 Comments

It seems like I looked away for two minutes, and not two years, to watch my Basti go from this:

Photobucket

Taken on Basti’s first day on earth.

To this:

Photobucket

Basti blowing out his Swell Sweets Cookie Monster cake.

 

Suddenly, we’ve got words, animal sounds, the alphabet, counting from 1-20 and the dialogue of Toy Story coming out of his mouth. Suddenly he’s asking for specific food from the refrigerator and telling me whether he wants rice, soup or a banana. When before he couldn’t stand to be without nursing, even just for an hour, now a full day goes by before he cuddles up and asks.

Just last night I came out of the bathroom after my evening toilette (YES I used that word) to find The Painter lying down beside Basti, staring at him. No, not in some heartwarming-father-and-son-moment way, but just simply STARING. I asked him what was up and he was like, “Nothing. I’m just looking at him. He’s so huge.”

And then the other day, we were talking about schools. I was scheduling school visits for the coming weeks and I noticed that The Painter was getting lost in thought. When I asked what he was thinking about, he was like, “What if I’m away? I’m going to miss these. All these big moments.”

Awwww.

All of this sentiment coincides with Smart’s new #LiveMore commercial, right here:

Oh how I wish it were about me and Orley in our more carefree, younger days, but I just can’t fit into a dress like that anymore.

The point. These days, as long as you have a strong, reliable and fast mobile and internet connection, few things can escape you. You could really be a thousand miles away and never miss a thing. Lately, The Painter and I have been talking about the big plans that Art has for our future, and fortunately/unfortunately, those plans involve a big plane, a different continent, and more than just a thousand miles away. We’re not sure how they will pan out, but one thing’s for sure: an indefinite period of time when our family will be apart. Sigh. Sad, sure, but not impossible to overcome. There’s chat, phone calls, video calls, messaging, Face Time, and all the other ways we can keep each other close through modern communication. With a mobile and internet connection I can count on from Smart, to #LiveMore with each other is possible even when living apart. Life’s biggest moments deserve it.

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This post is sponsored by Smart Communications.

 

Filed Under: PR/Sponsored, Thoughts and Musings Tagged With: ,

My La Vida No Yaya Wishlist

by on July 10, 2012 8 Comments
Painterswife

Recently, I posted about how I’m doing so far without any household help. I mentioned there that around my house, I have little things that give me joy and actually make my life easier as a homemaker. Well, I’ve decided to expand and make a wishlist of stuff for my life without yaya. If these existed, my house would be heaven on earth.

A dishwasher.

This was also mentioned by Rone in a comment on my maid-less post. I actually tried looking for a dishwasher to buy here in Manila, but they were either a) second-hand and beat-up or b) too damn expensive. If some enterprising person out there would start selling affordable dishwashers, I believe more maid-less households would happen. I swear, washing dishes takes the better part of my day.

A bangin’ refrigerator

It doesn’t have to be a monstrosity like this one:

photo from theluxehome.com

But imagine an easy-to-clean, energy-efficient, organized, beautiful refrigerator? Oh grocery shopping would be a joy. I don’t know how these look like from the inside, but they’re so cute. I can work with these. (images from smeg.com)

        

While I’m at it, I might as wear a pinafore, an apron and put my hair up in curls. How Mad Men of me.

A Rainbow

A friend of mine put me on that dreaded referral list that everyone hates and I felt like I was betraying her if I didn’t allow the Rainbow guy to do a demo in my house. Luckily, the person who came for the demo was not a hard-seller, was very good-natured and did a great job of making me appreciate the vaccuum-that-might-as-well-be-a-car-it’s-so-darn-expensive.

Just check out the before and after photos of the water bowl where all the gunk goes in, and the stuff that was in a strip of my mattress and of my floor. Fifty shades of gross!

I’d go crazy using that Rainbow system on everything. I’d clean the screens. I’d sweep in between the floorboards. I’d give my mattress and pillows a run every week. Heck, maybe it’ll even do a better job in giving Basti a bath.

Better sidewalks, less pollution and an efficient commuter system.

I had a taste of this when I was living in China. Save for the occasional spit bomb and crazy driver (okay, crazy drivers in China: not occasional), it was pretty pleasant where I lived. Winters were a little harsh, but spring was awesome. I could run 10k in pure bliss.

I loved the bus stop system and taxis were easy and cheap. I still dream of bringing Basti back there in springtime and take him down to Xinghai Guangchang and fly a kite by the boardwalk. If only things were better here in Manila, it would be such a treat to spend the day doing chores, then stop at the park for a playdate, then get back home in time for dinner still keeping my wits about.

Grocery delivery

When I had just given birth, this was my wish everyday. I know Rustan’s had this before – Grocering if I remember right – but somehow it didn’t click. I think it was just timing. Could Rustan’s, SM or Shopwise launch this again? I promise you I know several people who will be your customers already. I am not alone.

Drive thru ATMS

I know there was one in Greenhills a long time ago, but like Grocering, it disappeared. Have you ever tried to withdraw money from an ATM with a child sleeping in the carseat? I have, and I’ll never do it again. It’s nerve-wracking. So now I have to unstrap the child from the seat, haul him out, wear him, and do it backwards. I’m still very vulnerable, IMO.

A trustworthy, professional day care center.

I’m lucky I can get my mom to watch Basti when I have somewhere I have to be and I can’t bring him. But seriously, if there were a day care center here that was clean, with professional staff (CPR training, health certificates, training etcetera etcetera), I’d pay for that. Really. And I’m not talking about a place like Gymboree where I can leave a child with a yaya. I’m talking about really LEAVING him, like they do in the States. I worked in a day care for the summer in San Francisco and I think we did alright. If I could do it when I was 19 years old, I’m sure there are very capable ones who can do the same here, with the right capital and management.

And lastly,..

Irona.

Har har har.

Filed Under: Home Sweet Home, Life, Stuff for Moms, Thoughts and Musings

What? No Brakes? : Johnson’s My Kid’s Growing Up So Fast Contest

by on October 7, 2011 39 Comments

EDIT (11/09/11): This post won one of the four spots in the contest! Thank you Johnson’s and Nuffnang!

The winner of the caption contest is: rdnofera! Thanks for the title – “Move Over Van Gogh, ‘Coz I’m Gonna Van GROW”. You will receive a Johnson’s Gift Pack!

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I’ve made no secret of my dreams and aspirations for Basti’s future. I’ve got my fingers crossed that he will take after his father, and become a world-class visual artist who will do his country proud. Just in case my penchant for performing is in him somewhere, I’ve also got dance and theater classes in the wings, if he wants them.

I have it all planned. He starts experiential art lessons this month in Gymboree; just textures, colors, shapes and forms, nothing formal, just art appreciation disguised as play. I already know the easels I want to buy him when he turns 3, 7, 12, 16 and 25 years old. I know which school to send him to if homeschool doesn’t work out, and his whole life will be filled with exhibits, painting sessions with his father, sketching and photography trips. I seem prepared, don’t I?

And then, just a week or so ago, my little baby boy grabbed a brush from his father’s stash and did this:

My kid's growing up so fast, and can't wait to be like his dad.

My heart broke into a thousand little pieces. My little boy is growing up way too fast. Right then and there, I decided to slow down my ambitious plans and relish the days I have with my kiddo.

Even if Basti can jump from platforms and run down the street, he still likes to take a nap in my arms and nurse at my breast. He can work the iPad like a big kid but still squeals in delight when I sing The Wheels On The Bus in funny voices. He stomps his feet and pouts when he doesn’t get his way, but after the tantrum, my little Basti crawls into my lap and gives me a hug.

One of our favorite things to do is bath time. He loves water, just like me. Since birth, we’ve been using the Johnson’s Baby bath line on him.

He is changing before my eyes but his skin is still like a baby’s. We still need the gentle care of JOHNSON’s Baby Milk, with Vitamins A&E and 100% more milk proteins to nourish developing skin. I particularly can’t get enough of the feel and smell of Johnson’s Baby Milk bath on his skin and hair. It turns my little man into a baby all over again.

I was packing up the last of his onesies, the last articles of clothing that symbolized Basti’s baby-ness. It was not without drama; for each onesie I put in the bin, there was a little prick in my tummy, a tug at my heart, and the ubiquitous single-tear-on-the-cheek that has sold lots of airtime on teleseryes. At the same time, I was sorting our freshly-laundered clothes, which included the bigger-boy clothes that would make up Basti’s new wardrobe. I sighed at how huge they were compared to his baby wear, but I also smiled at how tiny they looked next to his dad’s clothing. He has a long way to go still; he’ll be my little baby for a few more years.

So until we cut the ribbon on his first one-man show or support him on whatever path he chooses to take , we’ll be here, cheering him on his journey. He won’t be a baby forever, but one thing I want to teach him is to never stop growing up.

So, guys – what do you think would make a good title for Basti’s painting picture? The best title deserves a Johnson’s gift pack!

  • First, leave a comment with a creative and relevant title for Basti’s pic, along with your Facebook name.
  • Validate your entry by liking the Johnson’s Baby World of Firsts page on Facebook.
  • The reader with the best title wins!
  • Submission of comments with titles is from October 7 to October 21, 2011.
I can’t wait to hear your title suggestions!
Filed Under: Events, Giveaways, Motherhood, Thoughts and Musings Tagged With: ,

Remembering Ondoy

by on September 26, 2011 11 Comments

It’s been two years since that day I spoke these words to our maid over the phone: “Lock the door. Close the windows. Forget the things. Save yourself.” I was at my mother’s house, The Painter was in Cebu. The water came all the way up to the roof and nothing was saved. This was what I posted in my old blog, 2 days after Ondoy.

 

After The Rain Sep 30, ’09 2:04 AM

And yes, I decide to have a Nelson Twins song as the title for this entry.

I’m safe. The baby is safe. My husband was out of town. My maid was taken in by neighbors with a second floor.

We lost everything we deemed important but next to our safety, they don’t seem that important anymore.

Loads of messages from friends and family. Touching and truly, deeply appreciated. Those few kind words give me such strength.

I go weak at the knees when I look at what the flood has done to our home. I feel most for the carefully collected pictures whose colors are now running in dirty, stinking water. I spent hours looking at each picture one last time, remembering the happy times each picture was taken before I threw it in the garbage bag.

With gloved hands I took out each and every book from my library and carefully put them in a box so that we could try and dry them out. All my bibles with the handwritten notes on the margins. Harry Potter. Bartimaeus. Anne of Green Gables. Godfather. Neverwhere. Coraline. The Wolves In The Walls. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Griffin and Sabine.

I went on to my husband’s treasured art books. Each artbook represented my husband’s blood and sweat when, as a struggling young artist, he would suffer hunger and fatigue just to save every cent he made to buy oh-so-expensive books that helped shape him to be the painter he is today. Most of them disintegrated in my hands.

And then there were the children’s books. My baby in my tummy never got to hold them. Dr. Seuss in English and Mandarin. Little Prince in 4 languages. Eric Carle. Ouch.

My iMac. It was in a pathetic little heap covered in mud.

At the end of the day, they’re just things. My husband, my baby, myself. We’re flesh and blood. Our families are here. Our friends are here. We are alive. That is more than enough thanks to the heavens above.

It’s a fresh start! It’s a new day. It’s as if God cleaned our house of unnecessary things and left us with the basics to start a new life. Life is very very good.

Filed Under: Life, Thoughts and Musings Tagged With:

Going Retro: Yaya Remy and Other Childhood Horror Stories

by on September 7, 2011 13 Comments

This is a repost from my old Multiply blog. Originally posted on Feb. 9, 2008. Wait, that’s my birthday.

I just wanted to share, that’s all.

 

Yaya Remy came to us when Yapi was four years old. She was primarily assigned to take care of Yapi, and like all children of a certain age, Yapi took to her like the proverbial moth to a flame. You may even say that Yaya Remy was one of the most influential people in Yapi’s early childhood development. Hence. If you know my sister, that statement could be very significant to understanding her.

Yaya Remy was heavily into showbiz and she poured all her frustrations on the two girls. An avid Eat Bulaga fan, she once entered Yapi into Little Miss Philippines lip-synching “Somewhere Out There” (yes, beneath the pale moon light). Yes. Yapi the Goth was once a candidate for Little Miss Philippines. I’m sure there are less horrifying things in the world.

As for me, she milked my Menudo fanaticism dry. She convinced my parents that she had to be my chaperone to all the Menudo concerts I attended (first row in CCP and Araneta ha) even if my actual parents came along with me. She played my Menudo cassettes more often than I did and helped me figure out and memorize all the dance steps to their songs. She even wrote out and mailed 500 entries to the “Win a Date with Menudo” contest and cried real tears when we didn’t win.

We tolerated it. She was fun. She wore a black bra and panty under her white yaya uniform, became “M.U.” with my skating coach, wore a bikini when we would go on our family outing swimming trips, did the “Hukilau” hula dance for our company’s Christmas party and posed for pictures in her underwear on our balcony, but hey – she took pretty good care of us. She was nurturing and protective and if she was a little nympho, then that’s her one flaw.

She was also dramatic. Disciplining children for her went beyond the garden variety “ibebenta kita sa intsik/bumbay/-insert archaic stereotype here-” and “kukunin ka ng mamang pulis” threats. She took it to a whole different level.

Yaya Remy would tell Yapi, “Kung hindi mo ko susundin, tatawagin ko ang demonyong kambal ko at isusumbong kita.” She would then leave the room.

After a while, she would enter the room again, hair all unkempt, and with the evil eye would look at Yapi and say in an aswangin voice, “Ikaw ba si Piaaaaaa??? Akooooo… ako ang demonyong kambal ni Yaya Remyyyyyyyyy.”

Kaya mo yon.

And that story won Yapi a prize in RJ Ledesma’s contest for his upcoming book, “Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me.” I don’t think there’s any way she wouldn’t win.

So Yaya Remy, thanks for the memories. And I’m sorry your dreams of hooking me up with the guy who lived across the street when I was 10 years old didn’t push through. Believe me, not even your grand plan of making us the godparents of your first child could’ve made that relationship happen.

My Yaya Remy by Yapi

 

Filed Under: Life, Thoughts and Musings Tagged With:

All Hail The “Naughty” Children

by on August 18, 2011 24 Comments

A Gymboree co-teacher showed me a blog entry last week. In it, the mom recounts her experience with a certain dance school where she took her 3-year old daughter for her first ballet class. In a nutshell, the little girl’s ballerina dreams were crushed because the dance teacher said things like, “Put her in her place”, “I am getting mad”, “She does not know how to obey” and finally…

“We will show her we are disciplined here and naughty kids go to Gymboree.”

WOW. Three years old. She was lifted off the class floor and unceremoniously dumped in her mom’s arms, from what I gather. “Give her mom a refund”, the teacher said.

Needless to say, the poor child was heartbroken and my own heart was crushed. All she wanted to do was wear a tutu and pink slippers and dance, dance, dance. Apart from that, my eyebrows shot up a mile with the statement regarding Gymboree. We’ve always been proud in the way we relate to children and their parents. We’re very hands-on and their children become a part of our lives. In my ten years of being a Gymboree teacher, never have I heard that Gymboree is for “naughty children.” It was said so pointedly and even the other children were parroting it – “Naughty children go to Gymboree!!”

In Gymboree, we sing a welcome song, clapping our hands, encouraging the children to do the same. Some of them will do so, but most of them will not. Most of them will stand up and dance the Welcome song instead. When I ask my kids to roll the ball down the slide, they sometimes throw it over the side in delight. When I ask them to walk in a circle, they sometimes wander off to sit on the Rocky Horse or stand by the bridge and watch us from there. We don’t raise our eyebrows at them, or ask them to put their hands behind their back while they stand. How can we, when us teachers sometimes look like this:

 

Hey don’t get me wrong. I am ALL for discipline and I abhor self-entitlement. But I believe there’s an appropriate disciplinary style for each stage in life. And asking a three-year old to stand still and “behave” while she is in a beautiful pink tutu and ballet slippers with beautiful music filling the room is not just wrong, but cruel.

In Gymboree we encourage our children to explore with their senses -  to feel, to see, to hear, to sing. We guide them up foam steps and over wooden platforms, go under boxes and peer through rungs while pretending to be a sleepy bear. We fly parachutes over their heads and tickle their tummies with streams of bubbles and feathers and foam. We stamp their hands, feet, foreheads and noses, paint their fingers, faces and arms, getting splashed with color from head to toe. Along the way they learn to grope and to grasp, not just with their hands and fingers but also with their minds and hearts. We sing at the top of our voices, make silly faces and animal sounds, throw scarves in the air and hide in tunnels. The children learn that a circle is not just a shape but also a place to gather with friends. They discover that foam blocks can turn into igloos and skyscrapers, that balls can be apples today and pumpkins tomorrow. What we call socialization, dynamic balance, concept development and fine motor skills, they call play. For us teachers, seeing these babies blossom in front of our eyes is a privilege and a gift.

The children love music and they love to dance. They love to sing, they love to paint and they love to jump off platforms. So would that be the definition of “naughty”? Then if that’s so, well then.. C’mon naughty children!! Let’s all go to Gymboree!!!

Filed Under: Life, Motherhood, Thoughts and Musings Tagged With: , ,

Simple Joys

by on May 25, 2011 16 Comments

I had a perfect day today.

I arrived at Nail Spa to claim the treat I won from Dainty Mom. (Thanks Martine!)

And caught Paola and Martine inhaling macarons. (These were HEAVEN. I have to order)

Celebrity sighting. I’ll treat the one who correctly guesses who this guy is to a milk tea drink. Earlier, his daughter was there in her ballet outfit to attend her dance class in Shang. I pretended to take pics of the macarons to get this shot. (Pistachio, chocolate and red velvet flavors. I really have to order)

Busy mommies deserve nice toes. (Nice legs, Paola!)

Paola and I went to Chatime in Pioneer Center.

The area upstairs is perfect for lounging, studying, and chatting. They have free WiFi too. I had the Chatime Roasted Milk Tea with Pearl. Yummeh.

Sjofn is seriously adorable.

And then it was off to Galerie Anna for an exhibit.

I relish the times when I can be a mother, a friend, a woman and a wife, all in the same day. There are days when it’s all mommymommymommymommymommy.

Exhale.

Smile.

:)

Filed Under: Events, Exhibits, Features and Reviews, Life, Stuff for Moms, Thoughts and Musings Tagged With: ,

The Guilty Mama

by on April 4, 2011 21 Comments

We attended our first birthday party of the season last Sunday. Here’s Basti in his party hat:

The party is the first of a series of birthday parties for the children of our birthing class. Basti is celebrating his birthday at the end of the month. What have I got planned?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

For a former events planner, I am famously allergic to planning one of my own. Maybe it’s because I did it as a job for so long that I don’t want to do it myself? It’s already April 4th and Orley and I still stare at each other blankly when the matter of Basti’s birthday comes up. Truth is, I don’t want a party. I want to go on a trip, but that is going to be something spontaneous if it happens because Orley is up to his eyeballs in work.

Basti’s birthday party is not the only thing I’m guilty about. His baptism was also last minute, just food on the table and a few friends. Have I told you guys about my wedding? Orley and I signed some stuff at cityhall.

We had lunch at Causeway Bay.

And had a dinner cooked by my lola held at her house for my family and some friends.

No fuss, no hustle-and-bustle. Just get it done. That’s how Orley and I live our lives. We’ve never “celebrated” our anniversary.

Am I awful for applying the same philosophy to my son? I see pictures of these birthday parties that have planners, booths and themes and they make me want to go under the covers and sleep.

Three weeks to go and I have to find the initiative, drive and inspiration to celebrate Basti’s birthday. Somehow. I wish I were more maarte.

Filed Under: Life, Motherhood, Thoughts and Musings

Once I Was A Blogger…

by on January 9, 2011 2 Comments

AND I STILL AM, DAGNABIT.

I believe I am already getting the hang of The Job and I will be back in a blogging frenzy very soon.

You guys should see my Drafts list. 11 posts pending. Shame, shame, shame!!

We are back in Baguio now. The Painter and Basti are happily snoring behind me, enjoying the cold.. and I’m still working!!!!

I’ve got stuff coming up – baked goodies good for lactation, shower filters, and a chronicle of our next move.

Yes ladies and gentlemen, we are moving. AGAIN. Do you guys want to know how many times I’ve moved since 2008? Seven. Four out of those seven times happened while I was married to Orley. Now I have to do it with a baby in tow.

My prayer for 2011: That we stay in this house longer than a year. Pleaaaase!!

Basti wants milk now. Later!!!

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