IRED after a day's work, I lay on the bed watching Linkin' Park in concert on MTV. Not exactly relaxing fare, I know, but the group's metal-rap music soothes me. All that head bangin', finger snappin' and foot thumpin' .... just perfect!

In the middle of my watching the music channel, my son barges in to get something, only to come to a screeching halt when he spies what I'm watching.

"Linkin' Park???!!!" he said incredulously as he looked at the screen before training his eyes on me.

"Yes," I answered tentatively, wondering what the fuss was all about.

"Linkin Park," he declared, still with that incredulous look, "You???!!"

"What's wrong with them?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said. "But you!" he pointed out, "Classics....."

So this is what I get for playing Beethoven, Mozart and the rest of the classics gang all throughout my pregnancy!

Seriously now, my girl friends and I were discussing the weird way women behave when they are pregnant and ended up laughing like crazy.

Take for example--my cousin. She would walk around the market everyday because she suddenly developed a taste for the smell of fish. She would shudder, on the other hand, whenever her hubby was around because she hated

his smell. A friend would regularly order pansit but would watch the cook like a hawk to make sure that he only put in one small piece of liver. If he as so much as put in another piece, she would get angry and refuse to eat. Another cousin, developed a taste for Choc-nut and refused any other form of sweets and would throw a tantrum if she ran out of it.

I know I drove my mom and Ned bonkers with my request for Corn and Crab Soup. "

Yung Royco ha," I specified, not knowing it was not out in the market anymore. My mom must have bought four different brands. When I tasted each one of them, I ended up in tears because it wasn't Royco.

Being pregnant can produce some really funny situations but being a mother can get you into some more. Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there, this issue is specially for you.

By the way, Naki loves crab and corn soup.

one is enough

As the mother of one, I get a lot of unsolicited "friendly" advice to have more
kids. "Kahit isa na lang", I am told followed by a 1. pitying smile  2. an added comment like, "sayang naman", and,  3. ang tipid 'nyo naman.


       My usual reaction is to smile back.
       My practical reaction is to answer, "mahal masyado ang bilihin para magpalaki pa ng isa...." 
       My most violent reaction is, "ayoko na, no!"

       Of course, the violent reaction is only when I get an overdose of my
smart alecky son. Why do I need another child when I have four rolled
into one? See, there's  a little of Calvin, Dennis, Garfield and Jughead
in Naki. No, my son's not Sybil but the way he devours his comic
books, it's like he's been possessed by all four.

       Naki/Dennis (the Menace by Hank Ketcham) likes to play outside with his wagon and scooter and gets into  fun-loving scrapes. Though he has no Mr. Wilson to challenge, he
does get plenty of hollers his way because of his profound love for clutter and disarray, in short "makalat siya". He's also had his share of time standing in the corner.

       Naki/Garfield (by Jim Davis)  is the lasagna-loving, milk-drinking, always hungry
individual. He's the one who informed me quite matter-of-factly that he is "all about food". When a lightning storm hit Quezon City the other day, all of us scrambled to turn the electric appliances off and pull the plugs out of their sockets. My son? He ran screaming with his plate, shouting, "Protect the food!"

       Naki/Jughead (of Archie) is the slouch who loves hamburgers and will have nothing
to do with girls. The other day, I asked my son over a hot burger who his partner in their special number  in school was. He didn't answer. I had to spend precious time convincing him that I was in no way going to tease him, that I merely wanted to know because I didn't know who she was. "Patricia", he  finally said under his breath,  after I   threatened to cut off his TV viewing time. "Eh sinong girlfriend mo??!!" I quickly followed up.
( Hey, I couldn't help myself. It just came out naturally. Sayang naman kasi ang opportunity.) Of course, he clamped up and threw me a very violent, "I hate girls!" (including my mother) look.

       Now, Naki/Calvin (and Hobbes by Bill Watterson). I am quite convinced that Naki is Calvin. He may not drag a Hobbes all over the place but he has a whole cabinet of
stuffed toys to choose from. He loves dinosaurs, he loves to experiment, he's afraid of the dark, he sees monsters in shadows and he's a smart aleck. You'll never win an argument 'coz he has an answer for everything.  

       Example: After an hour in the bathroom, we discovered that he still
had not wet his hair. "Ba't di ka pa nag-shampoo," I screamed. "Tuyong-tuyo pa 
ang buhok mo!"  Without blinking, he looked up at the light bulb and remarked, "Hmmm..the light must have dried it." 
        Grrrrrr.

       Oh yeah, Naki/Calvin has great vocabulary. While  cleaning his ear,
Naki protested sleepily, saying that his Tatay was pulverizing his ear.
       "Pulverizing??!!" I bet you don't even know what that means," I teased.
       About to close his eyes, Naki opened them wide and mouthed, "Powdered, 'Nay."

        Now, you tell me -- do I really need another child?   


- - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -
Update: 
Written when Naki was still in grade school, things haven't really changed. My son
is still a melange of four of his favorite cartoon characters and yes, I would rather borrow than have another one. One is surely enough :)

pobreng chef

A long, loooong time ago when my son was eight years old, I wrote this:

I can cook.
I know I can.

I may not be an excellent cook or even a very good one but I can turn out a fairly good meal.
Ask me to slice, dice, mince, chop, marinate, toss, fry, steam or whatever it is the recipe requires, I can probably do it.

At age nine, when my sister was born, I learned the art of sauteing to help out my mom in the kitchen. At age 10, I was already venturing into more adventurous stuff. I would watch my mom while she cooked  and, she, in turn, would explain to me the steps needed in churning out a fine dish. Later on, I (sometimes with my cousin, Mike), would watch my lola, a Kampamgangan and a mighty good cook, do wonders in the kitchen.

I can cook Pinoy fare, some Chinese and Thai and manage fine with pasta and Italian dishes. Baking was once a passion that I intend to go back to once I get to replacing the oven. I also like to experiment, watch cooking shows and devour cookbooks online and collect the real thing.

So why am I offering all my credentials in the kitchen front? Well.... mainly because my feelings were hurt. Sort of.

Here's what happened. My eight-year-old son and I were walking to the tricycle station and were talking about what he had eaten when he went over to his friend's house.

"You ate singang for lunch?" I asked Mr.-Doesn't-Want-To-Touch-Anything-That's-Not-Fried. I was truly amazed, "I thought you didn't like sinigang. You never eat it when I cook it at home."

"Masarap, 'Nay e," the little traitor answered.

"Oh," I replied softly, at first, but my eyes already flashing with the next question, "So what else did you have?
"Beefsteak," he replied.

"But you don't eat beef!" I protested.

"Ahmm...there's something about the way Rie's lola cooks," said Judas.

"Ha? How?" asked I, trying to focus my eyes as they seemed to be blurring with water.

"Maybe it's because she's Kapampangan..." he answered.

"But we're Kapampangan, too!" I hollered at my poor boy, who hastily shut up. End of discussion. 

Ever since that enlightening conversation, I've not been the same. I still love to cook but when I do, I look carefully at Naki whenever he takes his first bite.

"Good?" I'd ask from the sidelines.

"I think it needs a little salt," the litle pipsqueak dared  tell me.

"Ikaw na lang ang magluto!" I told him.

He got up, gave me a big smile and hugged me.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
My son is nearing 18 and "my cooking" has become a form of teasing between us.

I see him eating a big serving of dinner and I corner him, "Sarap ba, anak?" I cajole, with a big smile on my face.  "Ako nagluto nyan."

"Hinde," he turns to me and shakes his head vehemently.

"Hindi masarap, 'Nay," he adds, "kaya nga marami kinain ko."

He he he. That's fine by me. This pobreng chef is mighty pleased.

text text (what do you do when your only son goes on a field trip to banaue..)

Posted on FaceBook, September 18, 2010 at 10:57am 

So....our one and only son, the one who hates to leave the house, the one who simply abhors to travel, the one who, not one minute away from the house, is snoring at the back seat is off on a field trip to banawe with his blockmates. naturally, his ever excited lakwatserong tatay and nanay are excited about the juicy details of the trip. but if there's one thing that our "Juan" and only son hates more than traveling, it's sharing his experiences. Still, not to be put off, we gave him a cellphone and urged him to "text text".

 

 

 

"Wala daw signal don, 'Nay," he warned.

"Aba, hindi, anak," not-to-be-put-off Nanay answers. "I did my research sa itinerary nyo. It's only when you go hiking  that you won't get a signal. That means you can text us on the bus ride until the village and Saddle Point."

Juan, resigned to his Nanay's meddlings, could only nod his head in assent.

So off he went with an "ako na lang!" when he sighted the two buses in front of the AS steps. Cool tatay stops meddling Nanay when she tries to ask for one more hug from Juan.

And so the texting starts after 2 hours...

10:54 PM

Nanay: Anak, don't forget to buy water and off lotion at your stop. You'll need it for the hike. Baka ma dengue ka or get galis. Also, if you didn't bring a jacket, buy one there.

Juan: I have water already. I'll see about the jacket.

11:18 PM

Nanay: Did you get off and alerta? May long sleeves ka ba? U didn't bring the malong. San na kayo?

Juan: Kakagising ko lang ulet. I don't have the other stuff yet.

Nanay: Try to get ha. And biogesic just in case you get a headache.  Ingat ka. Keep your money safe at baka gutumin ka. Is it raining there? Love u. :)

Juan: Yes, it's raining. And go to sleep already.

Nanay: He he. Text me when you wake up. Miss you. The couch misses you, too.

5:34 AM

Nanay: San na kayo, 'nak?

Juan: Banaue. Still on the bus.

Nanay: Maganda ba? Did you get the load daw (from tatay)?

Juan: Got the load.

Nanay: How's the view?

Juan: Fine. nothing special.

Nanay: He! Hungry ka na? Did you sleep well? Cold na?

Juan: Haven't eaten and no it's not cold.

Nanay: Are you enjoying yourself?

Juan: Am I gonna get interrogated the whole way?

Nanay: (Undaunted) He he. :) Yes! Text ka uli before you lose the signal. And if you made kwento and sent longer texts there would be less questions,  you, moron! Love you anyways. - ur favorite Nanay. Mwah! Mwah!

Juan: (By mental telepathy as received by Nanay) Bah!

The tatay, who is of course, again trying to be cool laughs and says, "text ka kasi ng text, di na sasagot yan."

Confident nanay answers, "sasagot 'yon, 'no!"

9:55 AM

Juan: Just finished eating. Jeep na kami.

:)

boys do grow up...or do they?

This was written  ages and ages ago  but the sentiment remains the same....

IT'S ONE thing to know that your child is growing up, another to accept it.

Everyday, Ned, Naki and I get on our trusted Chug-a-bug or Dolores (VW
Beetles) and drive off to school and work. It's our way of being
together, even if only for a short time, before going our separate
ways for the day.

       Usually, we drop Naki off at the school gate then continue on to the MRT station. Since the road leading to Quezon Avenue from Edsa opened, however, I've taken to going down at JASMS with Naki and then taking a taxi from there to the office. This week we've been extra early and I figured I could use the opportunity to walk my son from the gate to
his classroom. I didn't figure in the feelings of my young "binata".

       "Why are you following me?" he asked, the first time I accompanied him in. As I explained to him the whys and the merits of bonding, he rolled his eyes (in desperation? in disgust?). He cheered up visibly when he was met by a classmate and made sure he got away from me as quickly as possible. He then disappeared  into the classroom without nary  a glance at me, his poor suffering mother.

       Walking slowly along the corridor, I looked at myself, wondering what it was about my dress style that made my son want to stay away from me. 

Well, I don't know if it was prompted by guilt or something else
but the next thing I know my son is back with his friends. Smiling
broadly, he tapped me on the arm and held out his hand. "Can I have something extra?"  
Ha! Prompted by money  pala.

       This morning, I dashed after him as he sprinted out of the car into the gate.
"Hoy," I hollered. "Wait for me!" He slowed down a little
then speeded up when I got a little closer. Determined to catch up
with him (who doesn't love a little challenge, right?), I placed my
arm on his shoulder to slow him down. He let it rest for a minute,
looked around, and then shrugged my arm off.

       "Where are you going?" he asked.

       "Bringing you halfway to your classroom," I responded. 
(You should have seen his face light up! No classmates to see his  mom bringing him to the classroom!)

       As we walked along the pathway, I whispered softly to him, "You knowwhen you were a little younger, you would beg me to take you all the way to your classroom." My son smiled sheepishly in response.

       "O kiss na," I told him as we reached the halfway mark. "Kiss na," I prompted. He looked around first, made sure the people behind us had gone ahead and bussed me quickly on the cheek.

       Boys!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2009 Update: Naki's now in highschool and we usually drop him off at the MacDonald's near his school. It's easier, this time around, to get my goodbye kiss. The reason? The car's tinted!!! 

Latest update:

Naki's now in college and just the other day, his tatay and I dropped him off at school to avoid the transpo strike.  "Kiss, pleaaa.." but before I could finish my sentence, he'd sped off towards class. "Late na ko, 'Nay" 


BOYS!!

Ang bilis nakaalis..