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 :)

pikon

 As the Holy Week nears, I reached into the baul to bring out another column that seeks to promote peace and non-violence.....i think
 ++++++++++


       "Don't resort to violence," I always caution my son, Naki. "If somebody
teases you,  fight back with words."
       "Ang pikon laging talo," I reminded him of the local saying.
       The following day in school, somebody told him that he was vertically
challenged (please translate to kid speak as I may get heavily trounced by my eight-year-old son if I dare say the word and he reads this).
       "So what did you do?" I asked.
       "I told him that if I wanted his opinion then I would rattle his cage!" he answered proudly.
       "That's good", I told him. "Remember, avoid violence at all means. Ang pikon laging talo." 
         "Sure," my son answered, his nose stuck in a book of quick retorts and smart- alecky answers (Garfield, in other words).
       "By the way, 'Nay," he added. "If he comes at me again tomorrow, I'm going to tell him to, 'Impress me! Say something intelligent.'"
       In my resolve to stir him to non-violent action, I have realized that I am developing a kid with a quick retort to everything (well, except for questions like, "have you done your home-work?" or "are you going to take a bath na?  when a very innocent "ha?" becomes the standard reply).

       One time, while we were tucking him in for the night, my husband hugged Naki and began showering him with kisses. He  stroked Naki's hair, stared at him fondly and then pointed out to me that our son was beginning to look more and more like him every day.     
       
     A not- so-sleepy boy bolted out of bed and then begged us, "Tell me I'm adopted!"
       
      Just the other day, my mom was telling me that I had forgotten to lock the door of her cabinet. "But I never even opened it," I protested. And so we sat there thinking how it could have happened,  when a little voice piped in, "Well, it couldn't have been me. I'm not into picking locks." Picking locks he may not do but listening in on other people's conversation he has no qualms about.  Little jugs have big ears, eh?
       
       And finally, I was happily  recounting to my husband that during a reunion with some of my high school classmates, one of them had remarked that "pumayat daw ako."                                "Was he serious?" my smart-alecky son remarked as I turned to see a chortling red-faced Naki.

       "Am I talking to you?" I asked frostily, wishing very hard that I hadn't espoused the value of non-violence.
       Ang pikon laging talo.


------
Written 10 years ago. 
To those who smiled, chuckled, laughed, became hysterical at the phrase:   one of my high school classmates  remarked that "pumayat daw ako, "...mabilaukan sana kayo! :)

(mis)communication

Perhaps the biggest issue about parenting is learning how to communicate effectively with your child. I envy parents whose kids openly talk to them about anything and everything under the sun. With my one and only, we have to try hard, really hard because one, he's kinda quiet and two, he's kinda quiet. :)  Here's an example of what we tried years ago to get him to open up...

In preparation for the coming summer vacation and to make sure we got more bonding time with our son,we had an old cellphone  repaired. We figured that Naki could text us while he was reading, using the computer, playing, or just anytime he needed to.
       Last Saturday, we put the theory to a test. Since there was a Canlas
family reunion in Pampanga and Naki couldn't join us because he had a
fever, we just reminded him to keep the cellphone near him at all
times.
       I wonder what Naki's doing, I mused to Ned, while chomping on the
sugpo,  buro, lechon, tilapia, and roast beef that was laid before us.
"I-text mo," was his reply. I did.
       "Hi, bebe," I pounded on my phone's keys."How are you feeling? Are
you better? No more fever? Have you had lunch yet?"  Finished, I sent
it and waited.
        I didn't have to wait long.
       "Yes," was the reply.
       "Ang ikli namam ng sagot," I complained to his tatay.
       "Baka busy," was his father's comment.
       "Busy kumain," I muttered under my breath.

       Two hours later, I tried again.
        "Hi ya!" I typed. "Whatcha doing?"
       "TV" was the answer.
       "That's it??!!" my eyebrows raised as I looked at Ned. "That's all he
could say?" My husband just smiled back. Easy for him, he was just
driving, I was the one texting.
       Still not discouraged enough, I tried again. I hit on a plan. Maybe
if I ask him if he wants pasalubong his answer will be longer, I told
Ned.
        So text again, I did.            
        "We're on our way home, do you want anything?" Ha, I smiled smugly. That'll get him, I said out loud to Ned.
       He just smiled again.
       My phone sounded and I hurriedly picked up. "Food."
       Aargh! Exasperated, I put my phone back in my bag.
       So much for communication!

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..