Men are abnormal!

"Men are abnormal!" declared my sister as she munched on a letuce leaf.
She made the observation after recounting how her bestrfriend was having problems dealing with her boyfriend.
"Ano problema nya?" I asked.
"E di katulad ni ---!" she laughed, mentioning her ex. "Di nagsasalita. Di marunong mag communicate. Parang bato!"Finally she concludes, "I think all men are like that..., oh well, most are," she amended as she met my raised eyebrow.
Her observations did get me into thinking though. Men are indeed a bit special.
Now while I may have the best (kindest, nicest, cutest) husband in the world (have to lay it in a little thick para di ako pagalitan), he does have his "special moments". Moments when I would willingly strangle him.
Moments like these past few days.
For over a month now, I've been going through a phase of "hormonal imbalance".
It's been hard with cramps, back (and hip) aches, headaches and more. Ned, while admittedly concerned, seemed a bit indifferent at times. Sure, he tssked and aahed whenever I complained but it did seem to end there.
Well, after a month it finally dawned on me why...
While walking to the tricyle bay, Ned, carried his overnight bag, while I carried a backpack and a big bag. I then let out a big sigh. One that would probably have knocked down a baby bird off a tree. (In girl language, that means, "wala kayang gustong magbuhat ng mga bag na to?). Reality, however, forced me to accept that he was carrying a much bigger bag and therefore could not carry anymore.
"O bakit?" he asks after another particularly loud sigh, adding, "mamamatay ka na naman?" and we both burst out laughing like morons as we walk down the subdivision.
"Sabi ko na nga ba e!" I exclaimed. "Kaya di ka man lang naawa sa kin no..." as flashes of me trying to look pitiful during the past few days while Ned snored the night away, entered my mind.
"Siguro iniisip mo, kung sa cancer nga di ako namatay, hormonal imbalance pa, ano!"
Ned just let out a huge guilty grin.

Men!
 I have to say my sister does have a point.


_______________-
from Multiply blog. illustration by melanie de jesus-patterson

Praning!

With the radiation scare in Japan these days, I couldn't help but look back at a time when I went crazy with radiation fear...
*******
Ever had one of those days when everything that can go wrong does and everything that does go wong is, you think, because of you? W-e-l-l, I had one of those episodes recently.


It all started when one after the other the wall-clocks in our house stopped working. I dutifully brought out my double A batteries and started replacing them. I adjusted the time, turned the clock around...and nothing, they refused to tick. I took the batteries out and put them back in again. Still nothing, Weird, I thought clocks today must be so low in  quality that they don't last longer than a year. Well, I left the clocks at that.


Needing to relax, I plugged the vcd to watch a movie. Hmmm, I checked the cartridge, I hadn't forgotten to insert a cd. I checked the connection, it was okay. I checked the plug, okay din. What the heck, I thought, and left it at that.


"What time is it?" I asked my husband. 
"Ewan", he replied. "Huminto yung relo ko." I had worn that very same watch the day before and it was functioning, my mind screamed.


Then, something in me snapped -- the pc (modem and sound had stopped and died sometime in December), the vcd, the clocks, the watch! Why did everything I touch  suddenly seem to break down? What was wrong with me?!!


It must be the radiation, "Praning Me" told "Logical Me". 
After my near whole thyroidectomy, I underwent radiation treatment and stayed holed up for three of the most loneliest days of my life in a little sealed room in St. Luke's hospital.


"Oh no", I panicked, "I'm radioactive!" I declared and wondered what I should do.


"Stay away from me", I  told Ned hysterically and   informed him about my radioactive theory. "I might be dying. At any moment, I might just burst into a million of radioactive pieces. The clocks have stopped working, the computer's dead, the vcd won't play, your watch's not working," I babbled nonstop.


"It's 12:30", he informed me.


"Huh?" I paused from my senseless outburst, "I think I'm dying and you tell me the time?!"


I'm trying to tell you", he said dryly, "that my watch is working".


"Oh", was all I could say, so embarrassed was I. It turned out that he had just forgotten to push the button of his watch to get it ticking. The vcd? Turns, out it had just gathered moisture. The computer? The modem just needed to be re-installed. 


My mind? It's just a little crazy.
Praning lang actually. 
--------
Written March 2001

my son -- the lawyer?

It's graduation season, a reason to celebrate! My inaanak, Aldrich graduated from college. ivan and kyna, Ned's godchildren are moving on to highschool and college respectively. vaughn, micah, carlo, kitkat, gino -- kids of close friends and relatives also got their diplomas much to d delight of their parents. With all that talk about graduation, here's something I wrote when my son was in grade school....
Naki informs me that he wants to become three things in the future -- scientist, artist and rock climber. What these things have in common, I don't really know but since he likes to draw, paint and climb a lot, I don't think it'll be a problem for him. There are days' however, when I think he's bound to become something else. 


I present to you a couple of cases to illustrate my point. 


 Case no. 1 - To show the importance of learning to put his Pokemon action figures and trading cards away, Ned told Naki that we would no longer buy him any toys. The punishment came after a loooong lecture on how to value toys. To Naki's credit, he listened and seemingly absorbed everything while choking back a few tears. "Hindi na tayo bibili ng toys", his tatay stressed.  Naki nodded in agreement and kept silent over the next half hour. Not long after, however, I heard a voice telling me , "'Nay, Pokemon doesn't really belong to the toy category..," 
"Ha?" I said. 
"It's under collectibles", he added, and smiled as if challenging me to contradict him. 
Alas, the argument didn't work with us, creative though it might have been.


Case no. 2 - the economic crisis brought about a slowdown in our book budget. During a visit to a bookstore, Ned informed Naki that due to budget constraints his limit for books was P100.  
"Is that for this store?" Naki asked promptly. "How about the next store?"  Naki countered. His flabbergasted tatay could only shake his head in disbelief.


Case no. 3 - My method of punishment is usually to make my son stand in the corner. Naki usually stomps his feet a little, pouts his lip a little more but will then willingly goes to the corner. The last time around, before heading to the corner, he spun around to negotiate and ask for MORE details. "Nay, how many minutes? Can I sit? Can I read a book?"


So do I have a lawyer in the making? Hmmm. More like a Pilosopo Tasyo in the making ata.


* * * * * * * * * *
Update:
I'd forgotten all about this period in my son's young life until I chanced upon this column in my files. Funny, because just last week, I was talking to my now college student son  if he was happy with his course. We were discussing  other possible options and if he wanted to shift or consider any other field. I then teased him if he wanted to follow in his great grandfather's footsteps and become a lawyer. It turned out that he had been thinking about it (news to me!). So what made you change your mind, I asked him. "Ang daming mememorizin."  :) Sa nanay pala nagmana. 

lucky in love

An "unlucky" couple was on the news just recently. Why? They went on their honeymoon with baby in tow and ended up experiencing every disaster conceivable (snowstorm, hurricane, floods, bush fires, eqrthquakes and tsunami). Here's the link to their story,  http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/8432283/Swedish-couple-havehoneymoon-from-hell.html 
I don't mean to be mean but the story  cracked me up because it reminded me of my sister-in-law's not so lucky honeymoon in Boracay.....

I first met my sister-in-law, Bloom, when she was but nine years old and we clicked instantly.

As far as sisters-in-law go, I've had no problem with mine. With Bloom, I got to share not just her adventures and misadventures but also her successes and triumphs (she was fourth in the Dentristry Board Exams). I also got to meet her friends and Marvin, her buddy, long-time beau and now husband. And this is where my story begins....

A super sweet couple, Marvin and Bloom make. They met as members of the UP Singing Ambassadors and have been (corny as it may seem) playing sweet music together since. Both very creative and artistic, they are the perfect match. Or should I say, lucky match?

You see, things have a way of happening when they are together. Flat tires, brownouts, flash floods, hold-ups, you name  it, they've probably been through it.

Their honeymoon is the perfect example of how life and love goes --the Marvin and Bloom way. A week after their beautiful wedding, they set off for Boracay, courtesy of one of their ninangs. The night before they left, they went to National Bookstore to buy something, only to be told that they had insufficent funds. It turned out that an overzealous cashier at a hardware store Marvin had visited earlier had swiped his card twice more than necessary. With no cash at hand and all banks closed for the long holiday (it was the Halloween-All Saints'-All Souls Day week), we had to look for cash to tide them over until they got back.

They left Sunday morning for sunny Boracay. Well, it was sunny, until they arrived. To be fair, the sun was out until Marvin and Bloom waited to see the island's famous sunset. They didn't get to see it. It rained, and hard.

Then they met up with Neil, a friend, who invited them out for dinner, his treat, at an Indian restaurant. While enjoying the food and the cozy ambiance, a brown-out struck the island. Guess what? The restaurant didn't accept credit cards during brown-outs!
Guess who had not much cash?

But life goes on. The following day, they were eating again when they heard the cafe owner muttering about the 18-hour brownout and how it was the longest the island had ever experienced.  Marvin and Bloom could only look at each other and smile wrly.

But, hey, our happy couple was not to be put off. They walked hand-in-hand along the white sand beach, humming along, when something fell from the sky and landed right in front of them. "Buti na lang hindi tumama ang buko sa inyo!" exclaimed the people behind them. Again, they could only look at each other and smile.

Their misadventures would continue with a botched massage on the beach -- the sun that was shining brightly disappeared just as they'd gotten the services of a masseuse. The boat ride they'd scheduled to go nearby islands was cancelled because...well, I'm not sure anymore if it was because the boat suddenly had a hole in it or the clouds turned so ominous that even the boatman dared not venture out.

And the famous sunset? On their last day in Boracay, Marvin and Bloom woke up very early to catch it. Alas, it was raining. When they finally headed home and their plane went up the skies, the sun slowly came out and shone brightly in Aklan to bid them goodbye.

A lucky couple? Well...you could say that they are lucky to be soooo in love and be loved by many. :)

*************

Written, November 19, 2002. Illustration by melanie de jesus patterson

(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.

Abay na si Juan and Only

I'M AT  that stage in my life when it's no longer my friends or my cousins who are in the marry mood, instead it's  my pamangkins who  are getting ready to take the plunge. 

So when my sister-in-law told me that Ned and I were to be the Ninong and Ninang of our eldest nephew and our charming soon-to-be niece, I took it calmly, matter-or-fact lang. I no longer reacted in my typical forty-something," I'm too young to be a Ninang  sa kasal!" mode. It was her next words though that had me in near hysteria,  "Si Naki abay din ha......"  

And the memories came rushing back. While I may have only been a flower girl two or three times ('yung isa pinilit ko pa), my Juan and only son was quite popular in the coin bearer-ring bearer-bible bearer arena. Whether in barong or silk Prince Charming regalia, we would troop to Pampanga, Bataan, Tagaytay, Bulacan and various parts of Manila to escort our little alalay to the bride and groom. 

Those weddings became very memorable, not just because of our favorite couples getting hitched but, because we always had some sort of drama going on. You see, bartering with a little boy is not an easy task. You have to consider several factors: Factor No. 1 -- his walking down the aisle in front of many people. Factor No. 2 - his wearing a scratchy barong or silky Sto. Nino-like costume for no less than five hours. Factor No. 3 - his staying still and not walking around while the wedding is going on. Factor No. 4 - his not screaming, "''Nay, matagal pa ba?"   Factor No. 5 - his agreeing to have his hair combed and styled and Factor No. 6 - his walking alone and not clinging to my leg,  and not being dragged down the aisle.  So what does a Nanay do to get her son to do all those things? Bribery is the key. :)

During the years of his coin bearer-ring bearer-bible bearer career, we accumulated several dinosaurs in all forms and shapes, Power Rangers (blue, green and black; again, in all forms and shapes) and a countless number of books  in all shapes and sizes. No, our son's being a member of the entourage did not come cheap, at all.

Well, except for the one time when his Tita/Ninang Bloom and Tito Marvin were adamant that he and his Kuya Phollox would not only be ring and coin bearers but serenade them with the song, "I Will" at their wedding.   Since he was already in the fourth grade by then, I told the soon-to-be-weds that it was their turn to do the cajoling.  Naki's battle cry was, "I won't!" and he was determined not to do it.  The two tried every emotional trick they could think of to convince him but he remained firm. That was until, Naki declared defiantly, “You’ll have to pay me to do it!”  The two caved in saying, “Magkano?”  The answer?  “Piso?”  That was probably Marvin and Bloom’s cheapest wedding expense and, a warning to me that my son  would never a good businessman make.  :)

My trip down memory lane was cut short, however,  when Juan and Only came home from school.

Super excited, I greeted him with a big smack on his cheek and by announcing that he would be a groomsman in his Kuya’s wedding.

“What are the requirements?” he asked.

“Wear a barong and comb your hair?” I answered.

“Well, that rules me out,” he smirked and then raised his eyebrows when he saw my crest-fallen expression.

“Sige na, anak!” over-sentimental mother me said, “Ang laki-laki mo na talaga. Remember when you were just a ring-bearer. Ngayon, groomsman ka na."

Still trying my best to convince him, I hugged him tight and added, " Naalala  mo when your tatay, manang or I would wait sa dulo ng aisle with a Power Ranger of dinosaur just to get you to walk?”

“Sige, ‘Nay. PS3 naman para maglakad ako ngayon..”

Ngwek ngwek, ngwek……..

Posted on Facebook, March 2011

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