The Person That I Am

I left the office 30 minutes before 6 - 30 minutes before the event. Rain greeted me when I stepped out of the building, I hailed a cab and headed home. I had no idea what I was going to wear plus, there was another pool of mixed emotions going on inside of me the whole trip home.

I took a quick bath and just decided to wear nothing really special. I, Jet and my 2 aunts all went to attend the ceremony - my grandfather was to receive an award too so my Aunt (their eldest) was to receive it for Gramps.

As I entered the hall, the smell of alcohol greeted me. Media men were standing around the bar and sipping their scotch or whisky or brandy, chatting away - a common practice amongst the media men of our city. As one journalist stated it - "alcohol begins to sharpen the brain and loosen the tongue, or the other way around. ." And suddenly this GIGANTIC, really HUGE knot formed in my throat. Jet and I took a seat in the back row. I looked around and observed and saw a lot of Dad's fellow media men. One of them passed by and I greeted him - a very close friend of Dad. He asked me why we were not getting any cocktails and I just replied by saying "Oh if Dad were here, he would have been at the bar since forever." To which he replied "Oh, you know your Dad." I wanted hug him and cry.

The event started a good 1 1/2 hours after we arrived. They started with the awards for media men who have, as my Dad always termed it, "have gone to the great newsroom in the sky." Seriously, I was surprised at how many of them have already gone. Sad. And when they called my name to receive the award for my Dad, I totally felt I was going to breakdown. Given the chance, I would have grabbed the mic from the host and would have given a short speech. Control is what took over me. I walked up the stage and got received the award from the Mayor. A few names after, they called my Granpa's name and I found myself clapping very loud. Damn proud.

Before we left, I approached one of Dad's best friends (one of the 2 people we called to the hospital when Dad was dying because Dad did not want ANYBODY to see him on his dying bed). Uncle Ramon is his name. I said my hello's and how are you's but felt he wasn't warming up that much. Before I left, I whispered in his ears "Uncle don't drink too much anymore." And that's when he held me very tight. Oh god, again, I wanted to embrace him and cry. I didn't. I told him to take care.

When we got home, I cried it out. I was happy and proud and lonely. And I missed my Dad terribly. I sorta started to talk to him (my Dad) - I do that sometimes. As if he were there with me in the room.

-

What are such occasions for? I wonder. And I realize. When people are alive, they are lucky if such recognition is done - to make it known to them that what they are doing is truly appreciated. Is truly loved. Is truly important. But such are done when they are long gone. When their human ears are no longer around to hear them. When their human hearts are no longer pumping with passion eager to feel that their passion has touched the lives of others. It is a sad fact. And often times it fills one with guilt and regret.

The living can only look back and fondly remember- as it warms our living hearts.

If I may say, my father venerated my grandfather. I look up to my mine with reverence too.

As my eldest put it 2 nights ago, "Mom, I wish Grampa Steve were still awake." I do too, I do too.

Below is the eulogy my Dad's best friend delivered during Dad's funeral.

-

Dacawi: For Steve By Ramon Dacawi

MIDWAY into our seasons in the sun, Steve Macli-ing Hamada, my editor for over a decade, and I paused from beating deadlines and sobered up to the inevitable. We discussed how each of us would want to go, something many people don't talk about. We ended up with pact: Whoever stayed longer on this mortal plane would not deliver a eulogy or write an obituary for the other.

That deal was never brought up again. Not until April 7 last year when Steve suddenly reported to the Supreme Editor. As news of his passing on spread, some colleagues in media started asking me for an obit. It was understandable as Steve and I worked together for more than a decade bedding the Baguio Midland Courier and, later, the Baguio-Cordillera Post. But I was out of my bearings, confused and groping to make sense of the sudden transition.

I made a mess of myself with booze.

Steve understandably didn't tell his wife Lulay and daughter Lu-an about the unusual pact. Given the morbid thought it would evoke and the hurt it would inflict on those dearest to us, I, too, didn't reveal it to Becky and our kids Beng and Boogie, or to anyone until Domcie.

On the second night of the wake on a Maundy Thursday, Lulay saw me without a jacket. She immediately took out Steve's favorite and had me wear it against the evening cold. She asked her daughter if she remembered me. Lu-an, the toddler I saw now grown into a comely 22-year-old answered, "Of course, he's the uncle who fell from our roof while trying to gather guavas!"

Lulay asked if I could say something after the funeral mass, before Steve was to be laid to rest beside his father, the venerable Sinai Carino Hamada, at the city's public cemetery. The Baguio boy that he was, and is to us, Steve, I thought, would understand why I had to accede. A funeral is also for the living, for those who mourn, and a word or two won't hurt but help console. After all, Steve, with whom I shared secrets of the soul, relished narrating how he tried, and failed, to follow the rule of silence in a spiritual retreat he underwent in childhood. "After two days of silence, I went to the priest-in-charge and confessed I had to utter a word."

The worst (or best) punishment you can mete media is to make them silent. They speak out their truth, even beyond the regular broadcast or the printed page. Here in Baguio, we speak our pieces late into the evenings, not in unison but often at the same time, especially when alcohol begins to sharpen the brain and loosen the tongue, or the other way around.

We learned to speak our pieces, sometimes with lips frothing, through the bullhorn in college. Willy Cacdac, Joe Dacawi and the rest who preceded us in the parliament of streets, did the live broadcast of those protests that they actually helped hatch for us. In the wake of their coverage, they lost their jobs and eventually joined the establishment, in the same rut I'm in right now. Steve came home from a promising but highly competitive career with IBM advertising to help live out the four guideposts of community journalism that his illustrious father established - fair, fearless, friendly and free. He inherited a staff in Oswald Alvaro and my brother Joe. He found the two friendly and struggling to be fair, fearless and free.

He took me into the Courier in 1980, a cub reporter expected to earn his wings. He saw through my burden of having to fit Joe's shoe and guided me on, despite putting up a front of being tough and stern, as editors are known to be. Later, I realized he was in a more unenviable position. In the words of younger generation newsman Frank Cimatu, Steve struggled to climb Mt. Sinai, whom he venerated.

We discussed and argued a lot, before, during and after press work. Curiously, I can't remember now any of those things we debated on. What I can't forget was that time we fell asleep on our desks and woke up to a nightmare. Without waking us up to proofread the editorial Steve had labored on with his antique Underwood, the printer ran almost all copies of the opinion page. The editorial, which was set on linotype, was garbled beyond any sense. Steve was visibly aghast, only to be devastated when the printer turned into a Job's comforter. "Saan ka kadi nga madanagan, ading Steve; ammom met nga awan to agbasbasa ti editoryal (Don't worry, ading Steve; you well know nobody reads editorials)," the printer offered to console him.

In 1985, Steve, with nary a stripping knife or table, much less a printing machine, started out on his own and launched the Baguio-Cordillera Post, another weekly. He took me in to the Hamada home in Camp 7 where we labored within the limited givens. We had his mother, Ma'am Gerry, wife Lulay, sister Briggs and even nieces Dooly and Tanya as our cooks. I also had him as my driver aboard his brother Lionel's 4x4.

The Post folded up after more than five years, but not after serving as the training ground for Rene Acantilado, Norris Falguera and other younger journalists molded by Steve.

Steve later wrote a column for the Sun.Star Baguio Daily, served Baguio in other capacities, including being director of the local water district. Together with Peppot, Willy Cacdac and Gerry Evangelista, he ran for the City Council and the four newsmen lost.

Steve repaired back to Camp 7 and turned to painting while serving as nurse to his grandson, Joshua, now three.

With this, I've broken our pact again. (mailto:rdacawi@yahoo.com for comments)
(April 11, 2005 issue)

Nope, Not Complaining! At All.

Am extremely sleepy. Apparently, the husband decided to crash on our bed last night - early this morning I should say - 3 AM to be exact. We have not slept on the same bed (except during family vacations when we stay in hotels) since Josh was born because we practice co-sleeping. SO when Josh transitioned to sleeping alone on his bed, a few months after, the little one came. So anyway, apparently the husband was having a bad dream and was scared to death and said he wanted to be beside me.

NOT A GOOD IDEA to have 3 people in one queen size bed ESPECIALLY if the baby boss is used to gobbling up 3/4 of the bed space.

So, the remaining time from 3 AM to waking up time which is 6 AM was spent listening to this one big loud snoring machine beside me and trying to calm down a very angry, upset, disappointed baby who could not move around much because of constrained space.

And me being a very light sleeper would wake up every time the mad baby would whimper and complain. He even for a time, got my hand, put in on his head and started to make the stroking motion (done with his eyes closed, very clever baby) and when I would stop stroking his hair or head or whatever, he would start his whimpering again.

The next thing I knew or heard was a baby who just kept saying ma-ma-ma-ma-ma while forcing my eyes open with his fingers. The sun was out.

-
Got an invitation yesterday. Addressed to "the heirs of the late Steve Hamada..."
My Dad is going to be awarded the "Nany Rosa Journalism Award" given to journalists who have passed away but who have contributed to mass media in the City.

Am one proud daughter. I may cry at the event later.
-

Good morning everyone.

Before Meals

Dear Lord,

thanks for Mom and Dad and Dash and me

we pray for protection and blessings

and respectful

and toys

and Lola and Lolo (grandparents)

and patient

and school

and Pooh bear

- and I remind him about the food-

ah yes, thanks for the food

Amen!

That Knot In My Tummy

That's how I have been feeling for the past 2 days. Well since I got the call from the new company I will be working for. Here's the deal, I will NEED to get some training in Manila, (a good 5 hours away from where I live) and I will probably have to be there for a month. A whole month. Hotel accommodations will be paid for BUT I will not survive 5 whole days without seeing my husband and kids (because I can go home on weekends). I may be jumping to conclusions or stressing myself out over nothing because I have not expressed my need to bring my family with me yet. Which I plan to do.

But seriously, I really cannot leave my family for that long a time. It will not be good for them and for me. I need to be able to be with them so that I do not get dysfunctional. Really. I am that way. 2 or 3 days is fine, but 5 days for four weeks? No way. I am going to go crazy! I have been thinking about this and have been praying that things be ironed out and will end up for the good of everyone.

Change and adjustment is really something we all have to deal with. But sacrificing too much, like family, should not be put on the line.

So here's to praying for the best and keeping the faith that things will work out just fine. Here's to hoping that knot disappears soon. I dislike this feeling. Very Much.

Climbing and Blankies

If I had a magic wand, I would doing some magic so that their liking for such will change roles.

Why do my kids hate them? Blankets, I mean. It has always been a problem with Josh and looks like Dash is disliking it very much as well.

So, I wait until they are in deep sleep and that's when I pounce on them and wrap them warmly in their soft blankies. And then begins the struggle. Josh can do it in a much simpler fashion. What he does, he just needs to give it one big kick - and then it's off him. But the little one, the struggle lasts a bit longer. So as I said, I cover them when they are in very deep sleep - or so I think. So I put his blanky over him, just up to his chest. Look away and count to three. And then there is kicking - lots and lots of it. Then turning and turning - on his belly back to his back and onto his belly again and even gets into crawling position, done with his eyes closed of course - deep sleep, remember? And then grunting and whimpering. More kicking. Until, I finally give in and remove the blanket.

What's up with that?

It is getting cold around here. As we approach the "ber" months, the air is getting cold and crisp and the cold really bites. No such thing as heaters in the house so we totally rely on warm clothes - one on top of another and warm blankies.

And their love for climbing. What high do these kids get when climbing?

Seriously, we have a mountain a few minutes from the house and would gladly have Jet drive them up their and climb all day long. I mean they climb tables, chairs, shelves, stools, drawers. Josh has been attempting to climb the wall. And they are way too happy when they are able to escape our arms and climb. I understand that climbing encourages the development of this and that but talk about the heart attacks I never fail to almost always get. Geez. Well talk about my motor skills development, I can catch things - almost anything, including 1 year old kids - very fast even if I see it at the corner of my eye, I have become a very fast runner and have come to love the adrenalin rush.

And again, that magic wand. How precious it would be if climbing in the house on almost anything be quite disliked and blankies covering them on a cold night be well liked. Ahh.

All Geared Up

Well at least it looks like someone is ready for the rainy season.

It took me almost an hour though to convince him to remove it.

Enjoy It

I can be a complainer. Oh yes I can. I can sit and complain ALL-DAY-LONG. But should I?

I have been reading a lot of Mommy blogs. A lot of posts to which I agree that yes, indeed, motherhood is NOT easy. It never will be. Once motherhood becomes easy, I think we will have to come up with a new word with a whole new different meaning. For some people the quest to being a mother in the first place is where all the hardship begins. For some, it is during the pregnancy itself. But for all of us, as soon as the child is born so begins our journey.

The sore feeling after you have just given birth. Breastfeeding. The sleepless nights. The cough or the colds or the fever. Diaper changing. A trip to the mall. A 5 day family trip. Gas pains. Unexplainable crying. The carrying of the baby - who is as heavy as a solid rock or a sack of potatoes.

I love being a Mom. Yes I do. I love it. I love the baby smell. The soft skin. The milestones. The dressing up. The cuddling. Conversations with a 5 year old. His wit. The school programs. The art work.

But it will happen faster than I can imagine. Soon I will be a graduate. And will I miss it? Yes I will. Every second of it. I will miss the stinky poo. The heavy large baby. I will miss the drool. I will look for the sleepless nights. I will miss it.

But I do not want to think about it just yet. I will enjoy every single minute of it.

Even if last night I was sleeping very lightly from 12-4am because Dash was very restless and could not get into comfortable deep sleep. Because me, his great Mom thinking he was a big boy now failed to realize that he poo'd and needed a diaper change in the middle of the night. Because the last time I changed a dirty nappy in the middle of the night was 12 months ago.

Oh I will miss those moments.

Suddenly Feeling Sore

Got an email from my Aunt (mom's sister). All of them (mom's brother's and sister's) all met up in Chicago to attend my
cousin's wedding . Clearly, they all had a love filled time together. And I am sure my Mom would have had the best time of her life.

She's the only not around.

I feel bad.

Trusting

Many, many, many realizations. Decisions made. Prayers said.

I handed in my resignation letter last August 22. I decided to talk to my boss personally. I felt that was the best way - professionally as well - to approach the whole thing instead of sending an email or just leaving my resignation letter on top of her table. Initially, she thought it was a bad joke. Obviously not.

Backtrack. I am reigning? I finally am?! Yes but not to be a SAHM - I wish!

More than a month ago, I got a call. From a bank. They were asking if I was interested in working with them. I was surprised. And then I got excited - beacuse as I wrote before, change is beautiful . But thinking deeper, thinking further, I found myself rather scared.

I pray all the time. And in this one big decision I had to make, I found myself praying harder. I said "Lord, not what I want but what you want. Not my will but Yours."

I no longer want to waste any more time. Any more energy. Any more effort. On things which are not supposed to be.

And so I trust. I trust in His amazing will. I do not know what tomorrow will bring but, I trust.

Mr. Teddy

"Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping a moment and think of it. And then, he feels that perhaps there isn't. Anyhow, here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winnie-the-Pooh." A.A. Milne.

-

Everyone had a bear when they were a kid. I had a small brown one - who I loved dearly. Dilly was his name - given by a lady named Dolly (mom's friend).

Josh has one - a Pooh bear given to me by my friend and taken from me by Josh when he was 2. Pooh used to be a plump, fluffy, bright yellow teddy bear. He saw his bear hanging on the clothesline once - I failed to hide it from him - and he almost freaked out. He saw Pooh once in the dryer and didn't know what to make of it. He sleeps with Pooh. He buries his face on Pooh's tummy when he cries. He hides behind Pooh's head when he is watching something scary. He wrestles with Pooh. He tosses the Pooh-r bear around.

When he was younger, we would agrue about me not allowing him to tag along the 24" bear to the mall.

But a teddy bear isn't a teddy bear unless it is all worn out - never mind his limp arms, his worn out nose. Never mind if he has lost his shirt. Never mind. He is after all, a teddy bear.

He loves his bear.

I think his brother will too.

Old Wives's Tale - Not!

When you have a sick baby, all you ever wish for is for his hyperactivity to return - no kidding. You will find yourself wishing that your kid be his normal naughty, silly, non-listening-to-what mommy-says self again.

And so what do you do?

Tender Loving Care of course and nice hot bowl of Chicken Broth. My Mom and Dad would always tell me that Chicken Soup is the best for colds and flu.

I read through my book , through the chapter on "special concerns" like when the baby gets sick and I came upon a short article on the Old Wives's tale on Chicken Broth which is not such and old wives's tale after all. And researching further, Chicken Soup / Broth has been used since
ancient times . This powerful soup is also packed with lots of nutrients, check out Susie’s recipe.

I add lots of ginger to mine.

In no time, your sick Little baby will be back on his feet . . . .

My Date And The Trip To The E.R.

Last Saturday, I was pleased when hubby said he was not feeling well and was not up to making a quick trip to the mall. So Jet instructed Josh to accompany me. While driving to the mall, I remembered how frequent Josh and I would do things together BEFORE Dash came along. So I took the time to take my little man out on a date.
I was just so relaxed. Going to the mall with a 5 year old is much less stressful than with a 1 year old. No baby bag, no diapers, no milk - it was something I appreciated very much.
First we went to have his haircut, went around a bit and then we had a snack. While eating, I noticed Josh kept staring at other people - it annoyed me. So, I told him to stop staring at other people to which Josh replied "stop talking while your mouth is full." OK.
We had a great time together. It was something I really missed. And so did Josh as he told me we should do it again sometime - just me and him.
We definitely will.
-
Come Sunday morning, Dash had a fever. I gave him paracetamol but I noticed the fever did not want to go away. Come Sunday night, Dash was very very hot, his temp reached a high of 39.5 C. He was very restless and could not sleep. Plus he did not want me to lie down, he would cry whenever I would. So I had to sit down beside him. At 6AM of Monday morning, he no longer looked good. He was red as a tomato - the ripest tomato, that is. Since the peed would be available by 10AM and I was very very worried, I told hubby that the E.R. would be the best thing to do already. So, I packed a bag for Dash - just to make sure I had a set of complete things just in case the little guy would be confined.
When we got to the E.R. Dash just started to cry his heart out. I just had to keep asking the nurses and the doctor to repeat what they were saying because Dash was screaming in my ear the whole time and every time the nurses would try to make cute faces at him, the louder he would scream.
Diagnosis: Upper Respiratory Track Infection a.k.a. The Cough
Verdict: No Need For Confinement. Yahoo!
The doctor just prescribed a whole bunch of meds - which included antibiotics.
BUT yesterday was still hellish because Dash refused to be put down or carried by anyone else but me. He wanted the paci in his mouth the whole time and refused to let go of his sippy cup. He kept fighting his sleep as well. And he kept crying. Yes, he was a very normal sick little baby.
Angels in heaven started to sing when Dash finally closed his eyes and did not wake up till 630 this morning.
And now the muscles on my left arm hurt so bad. But at least Dash is feeling much better.
And yes, the weekend was still great.

--
I love you all and thanks for the comments you left me in my last post.

Thoughts and Realizations

I've been going through a lot lately. Been thinking about so much. Decisions that have to be made. Choices laid out before me. And I have found myself looking for someone to talk with, to get some words of wisdom from. Mental and emotional stress is much much much harder to handle than physical stress. I would join the an iron man contest right now in exchange for all this thinking and feeling!

I used to ask my Mom about everything. And my Dad would often think out loud even if I didn't ask him (because I was too scared of a very lengthy discussion). And lately, I have been looking for "what she would have said" moments to help me make decisions. It's not that whatever she said she thought I should do is what I would do. It's just that hearing what she thought about it, what she felt about it, what she thought I should do about it just gave me more insights on the situation and allowed me to think beyond my initial perceptions. And with my Dad, he was just so full of wisdom. When he would make me sit down on the dinner table, he would express his thoughts and a lot of times what he would say would be painfully true but just listening to him made me feel the love he had for me - that what he wanted for me was always the best. And although my Mom was a worrier, when I would listen to what she said, there was a certain peace in her voice which calmed me. I miss them.

And now I find myself trying to get around in this world. Like a blind person trying to cross the street alone. Sometimes I think that if I had a sibling, things would have been different. I love my family yes - I love Jet and I love my kids. And I talk to Jet and am very open to him about everything but there are certain times when he is just there to listen. Sometimes he really does not know what to say. And I totally understand that. And I guess it is for that reason that I am looking for the 'unsolicited advise' my parents would always give me - something I may have taken for granted. Yes I took it for granted. And look what I am looking for right now. It is different when you hear it from someone who is wise and who knows who very well because then they also know how to approach you.

It is tough. And all this is making me tougher.


Is it good or bad?

Longing For

I dream of days when I do not need to rush in the morning. As I open my eyes, I look beside me and see my little bugger (Dash) still sleeping. I comfortably get out of bed and prepare breakfast while ushering in big bugger (Josh) into the bathroom to take a bath. I get Josh ready for school just as the little one is waking up. We all eat breakfast together and send hubby and Josh off.

The little one and I spend half of the morning in the garden - Dash looking for bugs and butterflies to pester, flowers to pick while I chase after him. We stop for a morning snack before we head in for bath time. He has some play time while I prepare lunch. Hubby and Josh arrive and we all have lunch together. Hubby head out as I stay with the boys. We have some play time before they take a nap. When they wake up, I give them a snack and then the 3 of us head off to the grocery. We come home and I prepare a delicious dinner. We play while waiting for hubby to arrive. Shortly after hubby arrives, we all have dinner. As I wash the dishes, the 3 boys play. And then I get them ready for bed. And then ah- some quiet time for me and hubby. And then it is off to dreamland.

-

OK in reality - I prepare a bottle for Dash between 5-530 AM. We are all awake by 630. I prepare Josh's food and try to feed Dash at the same time. As soon as Josh finishes his breakfast, he takes a bath as I try to take a quick bite while Dash is with hubby. As soon as Josh finishes, it's my turn to jump into the shower. I get out and try to pick an outfit quickly while running after Dash with just a towel wrapped around me. Hubby is taking a bath by this time. Everyone starts to get on each other's nerves by 730 - we will all be late again. So we get in the car and wave bye bye to Dash. Hubby drops me off at the office and he takes Josh to school. My day revolves around checking emails, attending meetings and other administrative tasks. By 1130, hubby and Josh pick me up and we all head home for lunch. An hour is a quick break and then I head back to the office. Afternoons are the same for me in the office. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I head off to school until around 83o in the evening and then I head home. On days that I don't have class, we usually go home right after my work unless we have to make a quick run to the grocery or do a few errands.

-

I am on verge of complaining. Or banging my head on the wall. I miss my children. I wish I could spend more time with them. I'm thinking of not enrolling next semester - enroll when the kids are older. I have realized that I am rushing things and wanting to get them done too quickly.

Evolution

We have heard it one too many times. I have heard it a zillion times . When people say " The only constant thing in this world is change." Yes it sounds all too familiar. When I hear this, I find myself not paying too much attention to it. In fact, it goes in my right ear and quickly leaves through my left ear.

But when we are truly faced with the need for change - the want for change - change itself - the fact that we cannot escape change, then the saying that "change is the only constant thing in this world" suddenly hits us hard. I panic. I wonder why such a fact must exist. It sounds so simple - very easy to understand but those things that lie beneath its surface are those which are unbearable to comprehend. I am perfectly comfortable with what I am doing now, what I have now- it took me some time to adjust to some changes and now that I am getting used to a lot of new things, why the need for more changes. And I find myself answering my own question - of course, obviously, because change is inevitable. And then I ask the deeper question - why am I afraid of change- am I?

Yes I am. I bravely say that I am. I am a coward when it comes to changes. So I decide to reflect and look back at the many many changes in my life that where I had no choice but to accept it and adjust to it and eventually learn to love it. My Dad's death changed too many things. I did not want it, I did not want to accept it but I had to and I learned to deal with the changes that took place. My Mom's death - it hit me hard but I knew that there was no way I could escape the changes that came with it. And then the birth of my second child - it changed me completely. So why am I scared again? I don't know. But I am.

And then I realize that I am scared because of the uncertainty that change will bring. Ah hah! There it is, that's right- it is the uncertainty. Not knowing what I am going to be faced with, what I can or cannot expect, what I can do, what I won't be able to do. Many, many things that bring uncertainty to my soul scares me enough. It is because of the unknown as compared to the known that you have come to know and love and be comfortable with. It will be a matter of stepping out of your comfort zone, leaving it and taking that one tiny step into something new and different.

But change is beautiful.

And maybe, just maybe, if I willingly accept what must change then I too can change with the changes - to turn into someone better.

Rainy Days and Fridays...

It's been raining. In just 3 days, we had 2 storms pass our City. It is always like this, every year from June - October or November, the rains decide to pour themselves down on us. I have gotten used to this, it has always been like this since I was a kid.

When I was in elementary, strong rains made me happy. They meant classes were suspended and cold, rainy afternoons would be spent playing with cousins. As I grew older, strong rains no longer appealed to me. They meant wet jeans and jackets. Feeling miserably cold while sitting in a colder classroom listening to the college professor lecture away as I yearned to be dismissed so that I could go straight to a coffee house and get a hot cup of coffee. As the years passed, rains became a constant complaint, finding myself asking for the warm sun to sunshine its rays on my days.

Today, I like to see the rain as a sign of the changing seasons of this earth. Inevitable. Needed to water the trees and the plants. When I look out the window, I see happiness. The grass so green, so lush. It's nature's way of feeding - of blessing the plants and the trees and the flowers.
Rainy days used to make me sad, used to make me sulk. It used to give me reason to complain.
But rainy days allow me to be still. To sit and cuddle with my kids - also with myself. To seek warmth not from people or things outside, but from within. It is a time I cannot escape.

Sometimes I look for the sun - for sunshiny days when weather is cool and light but I am reminded that it cannot be. Rainy days remind me to be content - to be thankful for what I have and for what I do not have.

And as the seasons of the earth change, so do the seasons of our lives.

It Is Beautiful

One realization that hit me again a few days ago is that I want to try to be perfect. If I can't be perfect the first time, I would want to do whatever it is all over again and make sure that this time around, I focus on making what I wasn't able to make perfect the last time perfect this time.
Like OK, motherhood.
Like right now, when I think of having another baby - given that I totally remove all my hesitations about having another baby like morning sickness and being extremely sensitive or the pain of having another c-section or sleepless nights or having to go back to work when the baby is only 2 months old, child care, etc (the list can go on but the list of why I should have another baby will definitely be longer). I'd want to make a lot of things different the 3rd time around. I would definitely breastfeed much longer (which is why before pushing for the daycare
will have to wait a bit as a proposal for a breastfeeding room is what I am currently working on - will post about this later on). I only fed Dash for 5 months (sniff) but it became rather difficult for me and the baby because his appetite was increasing and due to the lack of stimulation, my milk supply decreased so I was forced to purchase a can of formula milk. Aside from this, I would definitely wear the baby . It never dawned upon me how wonderful this experience must be until I started to read the so many articles on the benefits of baby wearing. Also, I would want to train the baby NOT TO rely on the thumb as my older boy did so for 3 1/2 years! Which is why I gave my second kid a pacifier which I will totally also never encourage my next baby to do! Oh my goodness the addiction! And you know what else? I am totally going to stick to a strict and healthy diet!
And thinking of these things make me excited. In a way it gives me reason and purpose. The realization that I can better next time is how I see it. I may have stated it too strongly - the wanting to be perfect thing - because there is no such thing as perfect. And now I further realize that I guess that's what makes life so beautiful - there is a realization of mistakes and a yearning to want to make things better the second time around. That's why I guess I also believe in second chances - in third chances and in fourth chances.
I guess I chose to focus on motherhood as it is something very close to my heart but there are so many other things that we can work on - for as long as we are given the chance to do so. And it is very important that we are surrounded with love by the people we love and love us to continue to encourage us to keep going, to keep working on making things better, to keep reminding us never to settle for second best.
Because life is beautiful. No matter what the circumstances are, it is. It is a matter of putting things in the right perspective.
Because life is beautiful, We were made beautiful.

Workplace Daycare

OK so, I had this wonderful proposal - very informal - which I mentioned to my boss - I said our office needed a day care.
I know a lot of companies in the States have this already but over here in the Philippines, only a few companies have started this.
Actually, after my maternity leave last year, I proposed the installation of a breastfeeding room. I sort of got the approval of my boss but there was never really a follow through of this project - which I will seriously be working on this year.
In the office, we have a Family Welfare Committee which aims to ensure healthy living for employees, promote health awareness, etc. So one major project the committee thought of was to have a day care for the children of our employees.
So, when I told my boss about this, she had many many many questions like- up to what extent will the company be liable and accountable, where will be get caregivers for the children, up to what age will the children be, how long will they stay in the day care, who will pay. So many questions. And I tried to answer them with answers that were just simply coming from the top of my head - not well though about YET. And when my boss and I were talking, I was under the impression that this would be one proposal that would be quite difficult to get an approval.
Thankfully, when the rest of the committee met, they mentioned this day care thing to my boss and started justifying its need and importance.
So, how does this work? Day cares in the workplace I mean. My one very important concern is, and I have to agree with my boss - up to what extent will the company be liable and accountable if something happens to the child?
We have a lot of working mothers in our workforce, many of them come to a point where they opt to resign because nobody can take care of their kids. And as I have said many times before, working from the home here in our country is almost close to impossible unless you go into business.

Some Therapy and Maybe A Bit Of Sanity For Me, Please.

You want to know what I need right now?

Just now, like just a few minutes ago, I just realized that I need to hang out or be with married women who have kids. Getting to know so many wonderful mommies via the blog sphere has made me want to be with them or with people like them.

Like I would really want to meet Angel, aside from the fact that we both graduated from the same University (but different campus), we both have lost our Dads and when I get to read her posts about her Dad, I can so relate to what she wants to get across to her readers. And then there's SusieJ. who I know is such a wonderful woman. And mommies of boys really amaze me - she's got 4. Plus she shares so many wonderful things - from crafts to home remedies for when you're sick. And as I have followed her blog religiously, I have come to the conclusion that she is a woman of wisdom. I'd love to be able to tell stories with her, ask about her first years of marriage, first time with her first baby and how her life has changed with every thing else that has happened in between. If I get to meet Amanda Sue, I'd want to listen to her stories about her special needs students - that would be very interesting. And I'm sure I would ask about how she is able to balance her work, her married life, her kid and her pregnancy! There are also these 2 amazing women I have met, Mama G and Sophiagurl who are also career women. How do they do it? Do they experience times of just wanting to be a SAHM? How to they combat that feeling and go on with balancing family and career? And when you choose to have a career outside of the home, is it OK to be a go-getter and strive for that spot in the corporate world where you can say you are boss? What issues do they face when they get home? And having a nice cup of coffee with Jane and Audrey would be a wonderful experience, you know just to get to sit down and experience the love they have for each other as sisters. Plus, Jane is just a year older than I am, she doesn't have kids yet, but I would love to listen to what she plans for her and her family in the future. And then Audrey has 3 boys, and again, women with baby boys amaze me. But, women with little girls, like Jennboree are also amazing. Jenn is a SAHM and I would love to hear her stories about how amazing it is to be able to spend your whole day with your children. How great can that be, right? Will she want to work later on when her kids are older? And there are these 2 Filipina's I also "met" Chrissy and Shoshanna who seem like pretty amazing women too.

I have great friends, like really great friends. Friends who have seen me through everything, friends I have know for almost 18 years. But like last Saturday, when I met up with a few friends who happen to all be single, I started listening to the issues they have right now, listened to them rant about the problems they are faced with. And on a few points I was able to totally relate to them - when they started to talk about work and all its toxicity. I was there. And then they started to talk about boyfriends - the lack of it, that is. And i sat there and thought that if this conversation were happening at least 7 years ago, I would be able to pitch in and share my complaints and thoughts about it. But at that point, I couldn't. Some of my friends are at that 'date all you want,' 'collect before select' stages of their lives, some are looking for long time commitments because marriage is so a part of their life plans and would want to find the man already and some of my friends are already beyond that and have found peace in knowing that there is a possibility that they will remain single and childless forever.
Their stories entertain me. I occasionally get amused. Other times, I just sit there and find myself saying to myself "I don't believe this." Most of the time I speak my opinion. Like I can't say I am wise and all that to be giving them expert advise like the typical "been there done that, so I SHOULD know" attitude some people always try to put up as a front but I share what's on my mind.

But you know? Honestly, I would really want to sit and listen to people rant about how hard it is to balance work, family and self. How difficult it also is to maintain a happy marriage. I mean what do your husbands have to say about dividing your time between him, your work and the kids? How sad is it to know that you don't even have enough time and energy to cook up the favorite dishes of your loved ones - that you resort to simple and less time consuming dishes. And really, those single out there who keep complaining about not having enough time, what do you think working / studying moms fee then? I want to listen to stories about the differences of siblings.

To put things in the simplest of simple terms, I need to have friends who I can relate to (And vice versa) in the now stage of my life. Just to also know that what I am experiencing is totally real and not abnormal. It will be for my sanity.

To Look Back and Fondly Remember

And then Angel gave me this:





Thank You Angel!
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And then she tagged me to do this beautiful meme.

10 SIMPLE THINGS ABOUT MY BEST FRIEND, MY NURTURER - MY MOM

1. My Mom was a psychologist and finished her Masters in Education. She dedicated 28 years of her life to the University of the Philippines Baguio. Former students and teachers would tell me that my Mom was an institution at U.P. - This made me very proud. She even became my teacher. She was funny in class but always had a way of disciplining notorious and obnoxious students who thought they always knew better than her.

2. My Mom was the 4th child in a brood of 6. Daughter of a Doctor and a Pharmacist. She has 2 brothers and 4 sisters. Studied in a private Catholic school during her elementary years, in a public school for high school (this is where she met my Dad) and a State University during College.

3. My Mom did not know how to cook anything when she got married. She learned by referring to cookbooks. But as she grew older, she could and would cook up meals from scratch. Although she never learned how to bake, she always had the best home cooked food.

4. My Mom took aerobics classes for as long as I can remember and later on she moved on to taking up Taebo lessons. She stopped when she had to leave for Manila to treat her cancer.

5. My Mom loved my Dad very much. She saw far beyond his alcoholism and instead knew my Dad's heart very well. She stuck by him until the day he died and decided to be with him 1 1/2 years later.

6. My Mom was a very petite woman standing at 4"11 and had a size 4 shoe size.

7. My Mom loved Josh very much and I am sure she would have loved Dash just as much. She was a great grandmother and was very proud about her grandson.

8. My Mom was a GIVER. She had a heart as big as the world. She would never forget to give to whoever she could help - financially (even if she had very little) or just by doing favors or helping someone who needed her help and would never expect anything in return nor would she even make the person she helped feel obliged to give back anything in return. Giving was joy for her.

9. My Mom battled her cancer very bravely - although deep down inside I knew she was scared.

10. My Mom knew she was ready to meet her Creator, about a month before she actually left she told my Aunt that she was ready 'to go.'
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Mama G , Susie J. , Jane and Audrey , Pavel ,Jennboree I hope you enjoy doing this as much as I did. Although I did cry it made me feel warm inside.

The Great Eight

I made up that title - I know, but whatever. I was trying or rather pretending to be creative - or the lack of it. One March Day has decided to tag me! - Thank You! I enjoy being tagged.

The rules:

1. Let others know who tagged you.

2. Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.

3. Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.

4. Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.

OK, so on to the - yes, The Great Eight.

1. I love collecting sea shells. A trip to the beach is never complete without going home with a hand full of pretty, exotic shells in tow.

2. When I go window shopping and I see something I really really like - like a "to die for" kind of thing BUT can't buy it at the moment - low on cash or IS not a priority at the moment, I dream about it. I see the shoe in my dream or that perfect handbag or the gorgeous jacket - I see them, they come alive in my dreams. Which make me feel even worse the next day. Funny though.

3. I have small hands. Josh's hands are about an inch away from having the same size as mine. My ring size is a 4 that's why I have a hard time looking for ready made rings that fit me.

4. I have never been to a friend's wedding - because none of my close friends have gotten married! And I would want, want, want to attend one soon. I can even no longer be a bridesmaid!

5. My Mom's death confirmed the inevitability of death - I may be slow on the pick up sorry. Death became just too real when I was orphaned. And even if I sometimes still get scared about my own death, I know there is no way I am going to escape it. It'll come and I pray that when it comes, my kids will have grown to be men after God's own heart, responsible, loving and principled men who will be ready to take on each day without me.

6. When I was a kid, I had a security blanket. It was one of my baby blankets - square, flannel and had little brown teddy bears holding a red balloon printed all over it. I could not, would not sleep without it. I gave it up - reluctantly - when I was 12 or 13 (blushing).

7. Qualitative subjects over quantitative subjects are that which I prefer. I love to write, read and analyze theories. Math, Science, Physics, Chemistry and the like are all too alien to me - that's precisely why I avoided any hard science course in college - would have terrified me to the bones.

8. I have a very high tolerance for pain. When I think about it, maybe it's also because I prefer this kind of pain over emotional pain.
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Now, I tag 8 people Angel, Chrissy,Demeter,Renee, Maggie,Michelle,Pavel,Norma.

Am Proud Of My Gramps!

Checked my uncle's Multiply site, yes he has one, and found a feature on one of my Grandpa's short stories. If it further interests you, check this out as it speaks more on my Grandpa, Sinai C. Hamada
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My grandpa was a very loving man and was a man of integrity and principle. He raised his children well and loved to be with his grandchildren. Boy did he have a sweet tooth. I remember he would make sandwiches for me when I was younger - peanut butter, strawberry jam and banana topped with lots of brown sugar. I couldn't even finish half of the sandwich! I remember when I was in pre-school, my Dad would pick me up but there would be days when my Grandpa would decide to pick me up too. So as soon as I would get out of the classroom, I would see my Dad and my Grandpa there and I would choose to ride with my Grandpa.
Grandpa was a lawyer - a kind one if you were to ask me. He would accept chickens, rice and vegetables as payment for his lawyer's fees from his clients who could not afford to pay in cash.
My Dad looked up to this man, his father and mentor and today, I just know they are working together in their own newsroom in the sky.

Pet Update

So he demanded that the PEt HAbitat be brought into the room for him to be able to play with it before he slept. Gosh, he loves the Spider- I mean Peter- that's the spider's name. The spider - I mean Peter does get terrorized once in a while - OK , always.

The New Pet

There was a very loud terrifying shriek that came from the bathroom followed by a cry of a 5 year old that sounded as if he were all too mortified. I jumped from the living room couch and rushed to the bathroom. On my way, I could hear my husband telling Josh to calm down. So I peeped and found that Josh was taking a bath. I saw hubby giggling a bit. So I demanded to know what was wrong!

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He loves spiderman. When he was just 3 1/2 years old, we allowed him to watch Spiderman 1. He wasn't interested in the dialogue but boy did his eyes light up whenever he would see Spidey swing across the streets of New York. A bit older, I noticed he would attempt to climb to higher 'places' in the house - in his Spiderman costume - and would jump down with hands and feet all over, he would tell me he was Spiderman. A big part of his toy collection includes all sorts of things that are Spiderman. And for a time, I would see him checking out his fingers observing if such Spiderman spider things were growing on his fingers that would allow him to stick to the walls of our house.

He once told me he wanted to be bitten by a Spider - so that he could be Spiderman of course!

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And there on our bathroom wall, was the biggest spider I have seen so far. And in one corner of the shower area was Josh, mortified and terrified. Hubby was all too excited about it and demanded I go get Josh's Bug Habitat.

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We sealed the spider in. Josh stayed a good 5 feet away from the Bug Habitat and would occasionally take a peek at the side of his eye but never wanting to come close.

The little one thinks it is a new toy.

And so for the meantime, we have a Spider pet in the house.

Thinking Out Loud

They say it is always a choice. Is it our choice to get on that ride? That roller coaster ride which allows us to soar and just when we think we are at a "high" we suddenly, without really seeing it coming, literally drop to the bottom. And just like a roller coaster, we do not exactly know how to explain that feeling when we are suddenly dropping. It is unexplainable yet every second of it is strongly felt. But then you know that you are bound to start climbing again - you know you are bound to get up there again but you also know that somewhere, you're going to have that breath stopping drop again.
And just like the wheel - one of the greatest creations of man - literally, sometimes you are up and sometimes you are down. Like a race car on the speedway, it moves too fast - because it was made to be that way. Too fast you do not even have enough time to contemplate and realize why at times you are up and why at times you are down. There are times when the vehicle is caught in a jam, slowly inching it's way through the traffic. And we wait and wait and wait and wait. Time ever too slowly passing as we wait for our turn to reach the 'up' of the turn and while we are up there time moves too fast and before you know it your at the 'down' of the wheel again.
So again, is our choice to jump on that ride? Is it our choice to slow down that race car even if it were meant to speed across the track? Is it your decision to be stuck in traffic?

The Stabs Still Hurt

I dreamt of her last night. Whenever I dream of her, it is always a given, in my dream, that "she came back from the dead." Like it is understood that she died but is again present in my life.

The whole time I was dreaming, I felt like I had to let her go. We were talking. We were discussing things but I kept asking her if it was time for her to go. She never answered my question.

A lot of things happened in my dream. I saw classmates from way back. An office mate even appeared. But Mom was always there with me.

I still kept asking her if it was time to go and finally she said that she was ready. And then we embraced - boy did it feel all too good. I embraced her tightly and was thinking that she was becoming stiff. So I said goodbye. And then she went to her coffin and we were supposed to wait until she became hard. But I didn't want to around while waiting for that to happen so I said I would be back when everything was already finished. And when I returned, she was peacefully lying in her coffin already.

Weird.

And then I woke up to the squirming whimper of my 1-year old who wanted a bottle of milk. I checked the time - 4:33 AM. I got up to make a bottle and gave it to my baby. Covered the bottle when he was done and tried to go back to sleep. Wait no - I wanted to go back to my dream but I couldn't. So I just laid there, eyes closed but remembering how wonderful my dream was - my seeing Mom again. She was so clear in my dream. I finally was able to get my sleep again.

I woke up this morning just thinking of my dream. Did that mean anything? Did I dream of her because lately I have been yearning for her?

It was been 2 1/2 years but sadly, the pain is still there. Everyday I miss her. Sometimes I miss those times we would sit down over a cup of coffee or iced tea and just tell stories, often times I miss our shopping sprees, more often I miss her cooking. There are times when I just want her to be around - not for anything but just for her to be there - I look for a certain sense of security I guess that which I will only be able to get from her. I miss her so much.

And now, I wish I had told her so many things in my dream. I wish my kids were there so that she could have seen them - or I could have seen her see them and would have seen how happy she was to see and be with them.

My heart still breaks. Often times I wonder why she deserved to die that way.

Her Last Week

A few days after my FIL's burial, Jet and I made a quick trip down to Manila. I was around 5 or 6 weeks pregnant with Dash. Mom looked worse. This time she did not even have the energy to talk. Our communication was just only through her nodding or shaking of her head and if more important things had to be said, she would ask for a pen and paper.
I could see that Mom was having a hard time already. Selfish you may call me but deep in me, I wanted her to fight it out. In my mind, I could not bear to think of Mom dying because of the complications brought about by her Cancer and NOT her Cancer itself. By this time, her tumor in the lung had shrunk from a golf ball sized tumor to the size of a peanut.
Again, we left for home. I promised Mom I would be back but I wanted to see her looking much better when I came back. She nodded her head.
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2 days later, my phone rang. My heart jumped. It was my Aunt. She said "They are going to put your Mom on the machine already." My heart broke. I broke down. I called Jet at work and cried to him. We decided to go back down to Manila to be with my Mom. Josh had to stay.
On the way down, so many things were running through my mind - would Mom come off the machine? How will she look when I get to see her? This will make her better, right?
When we got to the hospital, I had this feeling like I wanted to take the longest time in the world to get to her room. I was scared. I opened the door and peeked, there were so many many people inside - her doctors, her nurses, my Aunts, my cousins and some of her closest friends. There she was - Mom. Attached to the machine. Tubes inserted through her mouth. The machine kept giving this rhythmic sound - obviously breathing for Mom. I stepped out again and cried. My O.B., who happened to be visiting Mom that time, came out and embraced me. She said "This is hard huh? Are you ready to let go?" And I said "NO!"
We went back in the room and I went to Mom's bedside. She was drowsy as they had to sedate her while putting in the tubes but she was struggling. Her oncologist just kept telling her to relax. I held her hand and told her I was with her. I embraced her and cried and cried and cried.
A few minutes later, her oncologist said she wanted to talk to us. So we stepped out - me and my Aunts. She said it would be better to transfer Mom to the ICU so that she would be monitored better. As if we had a choice- we said OK.
Heartbroken and scared - that's what I was feeling. I wanted someone to tell me that my Mom would pull through but no one seemed to dare say so.
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The ICU had visiting hours. 9-11 AM and 7-9 PM. That was it.
I would sit on this small stool beside Mom and would constantly talk to her while monitoring her heart rate. Sometimes it would drop to a low - and my heart would literally stop. Sometimes it would race to very high levels and would stay that way for hours. She had around 6 or 7 IV bottles hanging over her all dripping into her veins. On some days there would be as many as 9 or 10 bottles. I would read the Bible to her. I would give her a sponge bath. When visiting hours ended, I would kiss her and tell her to wait for me - I would be back.
Jet stayed with me for 2 days but then he had to go back to work. That afternoon, I decided to go for an ultrasound just to make sure that the baby was OK. It was my first time in 4 years to see another little bean inside my tummy. Jet just told me to be safe and to take care.
I bunked with my cousin for the next 2 days. I had no idea how to get around Manila so what we would do was before heading off to work, my cousin would drop me off at the hospital first and would pick me up at night before heading home.
One time when I was with Mom, I started to hear a sound - more of like a drum inside her. By this time her respirator was breathing for her 40% of the time and Mom was doing 60% of the breathing herself. That was good. But that sound, it bothered me. So I called one of her nurses to ask what was the matter. This nurse - who was a student nurse told me that that was normal. I didn't think so. So, I asked my Aunts to contact Mom's oncologist. Bottom line was one of the tubes got dislocated and would need to be reinserted.
Angry. That's what I felt. I talked to the student nurse and demanded to know why she did not even think of consulting her higher ups. We - my cousin and I - decided to write the hospital director to inform him of what happened. They were very apologetic - but damage had been done.
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THey had to sedate Mom again. They asked me to leave the room. They closed the curtains. I cried and cried and cried.
After the reinsertion, Mom was very groggy. I just held her hand and embraced her. Her respirator was back to 100% breathing for her.
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I had to head back home after 2 days. In my heart, I knew Mom would pull through. Before I left, she was writing lengthier things on paper, almost like she was telling stories with me. She seemed more cheerful and even asked that her glasses be put back on so that she could see things happening around her. She only had 5 IV bottles hanging over her. I showed her my ultrasound results and she gave me the thumbs up sign. I kept telling her to get well so that she could come home and help me prepare and get ready for the birth of her 2nd grandchild. She wrote down on paper "sana girl" (I hope it's a girl).
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I took the bus up to Baguio and hubby picked me up. I was in high spirits. My Aunts texted me later that night to say that Mom seemed to be cheerful. Was socializing with her visitors that night, was even winking at them. I knew she would make it.
The next night, my Aunt called. She said Mom was not her usual self. I told them since the next day was a Sunday, I would make a quick trip down to Manila.
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I was awaken the next day by the ringing of my cell phone. What time was it?! 6AM?! Little did I know that this would be the kind of call I would never want to get - ever.
"Hello?" "Lou, your Mom had an arrest very early this morning but they were able to revive her. Were on our way now to see her."

Flashback April 7, 2004
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I started to cry but I had to tell my Aunts to sign the DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) form as soon as they get to the hospital. If it was her time to go, it was her time. I kept telling them to sign the DNR. They asked me if I was sure, I said I was.
Jet and I got up took the quickest bath, changed and got ready.
I went to see my Aunts (Dad's sisters) as we were to leave Josh with them. They embraced me very tightly.
I no longer knew what to pray for. I just told the Lord that His will be done.
It seemed like the shortest and fastest trip to Manila. Jet and I decided to load gas along the Express Highway. Just as we were pulling out, my phone rang. It was my Aunt. "Lou, wala na Mama mo" (Your Mom is gone). I put down the phone and composed a text message which I sent to almost everyone - "My Mom has gone home to heaven just now. Thank you all for your prayers."
My phone started to ring like mad. So many people called me up.
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When we got to the hospital, I was pretty composed. We went straight to Mom's ICU room but my cousins and SIL told us Mom was at the morgue already. We just gathered her things and went to the morgue. My Aunt and Uncle were there. My Uncle embraced me, I embraced him back and cried. They asked me if I wanted to see Mom, I said no more. Jet wanted to, so he went into the morgue. He came back and told me she was cold already.
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We had to pay the bills, fix the clearances and had to wait for the funeral home to pick up Mom. We had lunch at the cafeteria while waiting for all of that to finish. Aside from that, we had to go find clothes for Mom as all of her more formal wear were back home in Baguio. After around 2 hours, we were finally able to bring Mom to the morgue of the funeral home to have her embalmed. We decided that Mom be viewed in Manila for 2 nights because she had so many relatives and friends and former students who were based in Manila and who would want to see her.
On the day we were to bring her up to Baguio, Jet and I convoyed with the funeral car. It felt good in a sense because we were finally bringing her home. That was one thing she was longing for. She had been away from her home for 8 months. The ride up to Baguio gave me a sense of peace. We were to watch her for another 5 days before she would be cremated - that was part of her will.
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To be continued...
* This was very hard for me to write. The memories just came flooding back.

Coming To An End

At 5AM, the phone suddenly rang. I wondered who could be calling at this time? Jet went to answer it. A few moments later, I herad him punch our wall. I quickly got up. "Papa is gone."
We got ready, I told my Aunts what had just happened and left Josh with them first. I called my Mom, who was then in the hospital having her pneumonia treated. She told me to take care and that she loved me.
Walking through the hospital, going to the morgue was dreadful. Hubby walked ahead. He got there first and then I heard him breakdown. I entered the morgue, my MIL and Jets grandma were there, crying by Papa's bedside. September 23, 2005.
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I went down to visit Mom a few days after Jet's dad died. She looked bad. I stayed with her in the hospital for 2 days. She was always tired. Just getting up from the bed tired her out. And then she would have chills. I would ahve to wrap her with 3 or 4 blankets and embrace her. After around 30 minutes - by this time she would be too tired from shiverring, she would suddenly feel so hot. She would break out into heavy sweating. Then I would have to fan her and wipe her sweat off.
When she would get up to go to the bathroom, it would take her a very long time. Activities like these tired her out very much. By this time she was already wearing an oxygen mask 24 hours a day with the oxygen level at its highest. We didn't talk much because it tired her out too.
I left a day before the burial of Jet's dad. This would be the last time I would get to talk to my Mom and hear her voice. I embraced her and told her to keep fighting.
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Too be continued.

It Happens All The Time -- Too Fast

Boys- are they born adventure seekers? Do they HAVE to seek for adventure - that feeling of a sudden rush through their blood that gives them a certain high? I think so.

Moms- were they born yesterday? How come they refuse to understand boys? Why do they have to be such kill joys?

Tooth Update and A Bit More

So...I bravely went to my dentist last Friday - alone. Felt like I was totally prepared to have the tooth taken out. I told my dentist I experienced "jaw pain" the past week. And so he asked me why I didn't tell him. I said I knew it was my wisdom tooth and was trying to avoid the "minor surgery" discussion. And then I told him I was ready to have it taken out. So he made me sit down so that he could take a look at it. There were a few "uh huh's" "ah's" and "oh's" while he was examining it and then he said "Ok this is good." And I was like "....good as in good to take it out now? Because please do. I am ready." And then he told me the tooth decided to completely erupt only since there was little space at the back of my jaw, it came out a little bit on the side. But anyway, he said that closing the other spaces in between my teeth would allow the wisdom tooth to slowly move in later on. So, "no surgery?" I asked. "No surgery" he said. Maybe extraction but not now.
Deep breath - relieved.
And so because of that, I totally enjoyed my weekend.
I accompanied hubby down to La Union last Friday as he needed to collect the payment for a car purchased from someone who lived there. After that, we decided to make a quick stop at the Casino. Jet and I never entered one before, so this was a totally new experience. Really, I did not expect to see what I saw. So there were tables, a couple had a "Black Jack" sign, others had the "Super 6" sign and most had the "Baccarat" sign. Then there were lots of slot machines - which I tried. Couldn't quite get the hang of it, plus every time I would slip money into the machine, I felt like I was throwing my money away. So I just decided to watch the rest of the world bet and play.
We headed home and were back a little before 9 in the evening.
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And today, we also remember all those who died and were hurt exactly 17 years ago during the 1990 Killler Quake that hit the City of Baguio.

So....a few days after I turned a quarter of a century old, I felt I was becoming wiser. Hah. My wisdom tooth on my upper right jaw decided it was time to further push itself into the world - my gum world. At first I thought my jaw was locking. I could not open my mouth wider than to say "uh." That was about it. Food had to be pushed in carefully with my fingers. Terrible I tell you.

The right side of my face swelled up a bit and so the doctor tole me to go have an x-ray. Of course I did not think of going to my dentist YET because I clearly remember him telling me that based on my x-rays which show that I have such a small jaw, my wisdom teeth will have a hard time completely coming out. In other words, my wisdom teeth are impacted thus would require minor surgery.

So...at the back of my mind, I was trying to avoid hearing that. I wanted so much to hear from my doctor that the pain and swelling had something to do with my jaw bone or muscles or something. But yeah, no. Definitely the wisdom tooth.

So...I decided to do some reading on wisdom teeth. Why are they called such anyway?! And guess what, every single article freaked me out and no justification was given for why HAVE to be called wisdom teeth. Why not painful teeth? They can decay, can cause gum infection or a cyst can even develop somewhere around the wisdom tooth.

So...since I have not been able to eat a good meal in the past week, I am going to my dentist. NOW. And I am going to have to ask him to remove some of my wisdom.

So please keep me in your thoughts because such procedures scare me and freak me out. But since I have gone through a C-section anyway, I might as well have my gums cut up and have that painful tooth taken out.

I Have Been Schmoozed!

So I opened my blog this morning and voila! - This award:

from Sophiagurl!

So, I checked what schmooze exactly meant :

schmooze or schmoose also shmooze : v. intr. To converse casually, especially in order to gain an advantage or make a social connection.

And Lancy furthers adds that "good schmoozers effortlessly weave their way in and out of the blogosphere, leaving friendly trails and smiles, happily making new friends along the way. They don’t limit their visits to only the rich and successful, but spend some time to say hello to new blogs as well. They are the ones who engage others in meaningful conversations, refusing to let it end at a mere hello - all the while fostering a sense of closeness and friendship."

Now reading that made me feel good. And it is but right that I award this award to the people who I feel have become my friends, although I have never met them, they have made me feel so loved.

1. Chrissy, who I found through the Rockin' Girl Blogger Award list was just too friendly I could not resist her! She loves the beach and so do I.

2.Amandasue and I like the same books. In fact, because of Little Miss Suzy, we ended up as blog buddies. And I can't wait to read her stories during her 9 month journey to motherhood part II!

3. Jane, Audrey and Sharon. Who would not love them? I admire the relationship they share, love their pictures and enjoy their stories.

4. Mama G. How can I not include her? Can't. I look forward to reading her blog everyday almost like an addiction, you know that, right?

5. Shoshanna. I love her. Really. Visit her blog and you'll know why.

Thoughts From A Wake

** edited**
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I thought I would not be attending one these in a long time. Or better yet, I was hoping not to attend one of these anytime soon. But I did.

He was 52. He has a wife. He has a set of twins - boys, 7 or 8 years old. He had a stroke. He is the Uncle of my husband. He was buried today.

They decided to have the wake for 4 days. There were old men and women - wise ones. There was a group of people who talking about him - how he was when he was still alive, what he liked doing, who he was, what they remembered him for. There were those who were busy attending to the guests - serving coffee, cookies and candy. There were those who were singing songs. His children were there - playing with the other children. And his wife. His wife was there, sitting in one corner, shaking the hands of those who wished to extend their condolences, trying to make small talk with the other guests but other than those times, she would just sit there and stare blankly into space. It broke my heart.

He died on my birthday.

Life and Death are just too real.

Mid-Twenties

I turned 25. 4 days ago. It never occurred to me to make it a big deal. Until there were just too many people who told me things like, "25? That's big. Do you have grand plans of celebrating it?" "Have you taken time to look back at what has taken place in your life the past 25 years?" " Hmmm, mid-twenties - what's in it for you now?"

And so it hit me. It did.

1 marriage, 2 kids, mom loss of mom, loss of dad, loss of dad-in-law, grad from college, 1 real job.
And then I came across this and this.

And while reading, found myself nodding in agreement. A lot of which I must say I am going through right now but trying to push aside to focus on more important things. And so a lot of things come to my mind. Things I would want to do, many of which, me being me, I would want to do and accomplish right away. But I know I can't.

So in the meantime, I will start by trying to be a better person. A better mom. And a better wife.

Quietly It Came

July brings a different feeling. It is a month of happenings and events - for me. Of memories kept and cherished, of experiences that would change my life forever.

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17 years ago...



After school, I went to my Grandma's house. It being a house open to everyone, that afternoon, many of my Mom and Aunt's friends were there. Their kids were there too and we were all having fun. It was almost 4' o clock and my Mom kept telling me we had to go as she had yet to prepare dinner. I, reluctantly - with a very heavy heart, agreed to go home. So my Mom and I hailed a cab. We were half way home when suddenly the cab we were riding started to shake left and right. I saw the electric and telephone lines swaying violently. I did not understand what was happening. And then there was a landslide on our right side which covered half of the road. Our cab driver decided to jump out and abandon me and my Mom. My Mom and I were still confused when there was another landslide but this time at the back of our taxi. When my Mom saw this, she grabbed me and we jumped out of the taxi. We left everything - our bags, umbrellas and jackets. Everything was happening so fast.

Mom and I held hands as we ran down the road. The ground was still shaking. By this time, there were so many people on the roads already. Mom and I saw a basketball court where so many people had gathered many of who brought out big religious statues, many were crying, some were hysterical, most were praying their rosaries. I was still confused. Just as we were about to step onto the basketball court, the ground cracked! We had to jump about a foot across.
There was hysteria everywhere. And I remember my Mom just kept saying "Anak (child), just hold my hand, just hold my hand." And I held on to Mom's hand very tightly.

I do not remember when the ground stopped shaking. But it did for a while and that's when my Mom said we would start walking home. We were still around 3-4 kms. away from our home. When we saw a number of people walking towards the direction of our house, Mom decided it was time to walk home, at least we were with other people.

Walking home, I still could not understand what had just happened. There were still people crying in the streets, some looked like they were running for dear life, some were shouting for help - confusion. One lady who was walking home with us just broke down in tears, relieved when she saw her little girl along the road shouting "Mama! Mama!" And then embraced each other.

Mom looked very scared. But we held on to each other's hands very tightly. I just remember entering our driveway and seeing that half of it was gone, my Grandma, Grandpa, Uncles, Aunties and cousins were there. They were all too happy to see and my Mom alive. And my Dad embraced us very very tightly upon seeing us. I saw that they had brought out pots, pans, plates, chairs and tables.

Mom wanted to take a look at the inside of our house and to get some things like extra clothes, food. As we were walking up the stairs, the ground started to shake again and I remember I could not even grip the rails of the stairs anymore. We panicked and ran down. When we were calm enough, we went up and saw the inside of our house completely Topsy Turvy. My goldfish pets were on the rug, the piano was on the other side of the room, food from the ref were all over the kitchen floor. Mom told me to grab whatever I wanted to and what I needed. I grabbed my pink teddy bear and said that's all I needed.

That night, we all slept together downstairs in my grandparent's home. We all slept in the living room on the floor. The men - my Dad, Uncle and Grandpa watched over us. The ground still shook throughout the night but we were all too tired to wake up and run outside.
The next day, the adults got a better picture of what happened and what was yet to come. There was no more electricity, so we only relied on a small battery operated radio to listen to news reports about what was happening in the city.

I remember many many people coming to the house asking for help from my Dad and my Uncle to help look for missing relatives.

My Dad felt it best that my Mom and I leave Baguio for a while. So we did, together with my other cousins and Aunts, we headed down to Manila. We stayed there for 3 weeks. And when we returned home, Baguio would never be the same again.
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Hotels and buildings collapsed, homes were ruined. Many were trapped inside and many died. Most decided to leave the city and look for a new home.It came, silently, unsuspectingly and hit the city of Baguio leaving it to never be the same again. Later on, I got to understand the vast effect of the 1990 Killer Quake that hit the summer capital of the Philippines.
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Pictures Here