I am surrounded by friends who are mostly challenged with conceiving children. But not me. We always joke about how extremely fertile I am that just by mere holding hands with my husband, I would likely get pregnant. I truly am fortunate to have a very welcoming uterus that has brought me two wonderful sons that surely trying for another baby will be a cinch.

Boy was I wrong. I am no longer in my twenties, I know. But I never thought that “trying” to conceive would become a chore. Thinking back, I don’t recall ever thinking too hard about making a baby. It really takes the romance out of lovemaking and totally ruins it. Now I understand how stressful it is for my friends. We have only been at it for a couple of months and its already having a depressing effect on me.

I don’t want to be counting days, marking my calendar, watching for signs, taking temperature, and saying let’s go, let’s not. I am longing for those good old days when the best way to make a baby was to relax and lovingly enjoy each other or maybe exhaust each other in a night of passionate lovemaking (oh yeah that came out straight of a Mills and Boon paperback). But we do want another child. And until it becomes too risky for me, we keep trying. Right sweetie? C’mon love, its time to go.

I now have two lovely boys. I am happy and have realized how impractical it is to raise a large family especially with such hard times. And at my age, I don’t think it is even possible to give birth to 4 more kids unless I conceive quadruplets as in right now.

There is nothing worse than getting some not so good news to burst that happy bubble. A few weeks ago, my doctor told me that if I wanted another kid, I should start thinking about having one soon as I basically had about one more year before things got too risky for me to think about getting pregnant. My first reaction was “Really?”, in a tone of disbelief coupled with distrust at a professional’s diagnosis. Then I settled with “Why?”. She said if I push with having a baby 2 years from now it will really push my blood pressure through the roof and she doubts it will be a good thing.

I didn’t really tell anyone as I was still trying to absorb all the news. I finally had the courage to tell my husband in an offhand conversation while we were buying Christmas gifts for the kids. I guess I chose that moment so that I would be forced to keep a straight face while I delivered the news for fear of embarrassing myself in front of a floor filled with people. Truthfully, I probably just didn’t realize how much the news affected me until I actually told my husband about it.

After all that, we have now decided to beat the clock and try to conceive once more before some white-coated person tells me I can no longer have a child.

Sometimes it takes a major push for one to make decisions about their lives. We have made a huge decision today but we are hopeful that the future will continue to bring great things. The kids are growing up fast and the time is right for a baby in the house. One more time. One last time.

You know how Pharmacy’s here have a lot of displays on their cashier counters? They would have anything and everything displayed near the cashier especially batteries, hand sanitizers, mints and gums, lip balms, and in Watson’s case, tons and tons of condoms of different brands.

As I was paying for my medicine, my kid looked at the display of products in front of him. And what do you know, he zoomed in on those small colorful boxes of frenzy condoms and asked in his normally loud voice – “Mommy, can you buy me frenzy?”. My jaw dropped and I immediately looked sheepishly at the one next in line, who happened to be a male by the way. I was sweaty and flushed and was tapping my foot impatiently as the lady behind the counter appeared to be taking too long in ringing up my purchase. Too long in fact that my son turned his attention from frenzy to trust. He even called out “Trust. Trust.” several times to my embarrassment. I told him, those were not candies and those were meant for daddies and not kids. He insisted for about one hundred times before giving in and it was only because the cashier had finished up with my purchase. I left Watsons in a hurry and sincerely wishing that would never happen again.

Now that my son is six years old, he is more and more curious about what things are and why things are what they are and most of the time I am unprepared for the questions that pop out of his mouth. Sometimes I feel like were on a stand up comedy show except my son is serious about his questions and I feel like a fool stumbling on my answers to them. Kids!

Photo courtesy of Rosana Prada

That is why I brought up my own kids without Santa Claus. Oh yes they see him in decorations, malls, and know him enough to call out “Santa Claus” when they see his picture or image. But they don’t know what his story is or how it is told. That many kids around the world believe that if you have been nice then you will get what you wished for come Christmas time. The he travels the world from the North Pole, visiting all the children and going down chimneys to deliver presents to those who have been good all year round.

I don’t think I am depriving my kids of anything. At least not in the way I have heard some people say about parents who tell their kids early on the truth about Santa. Kids these days are so smart do you really believe we can fool them into thinking reindeers fly and Santa can fit into the opening of the smallest chimney just to deliver presents? I am pretty sure the first question that I will be asked is – “Mommy, what will Santa use to go into our house if we don’t have a chimney?” or maybe “Do the reindeers go down the chimney too?” or even “How old is Santa anyway"?”.

My kids have grown up (and will continue to grow up) telling us what they want for Christmas instead of whispering them to some old guy wearing a red suit as they sit on their laps. To them he will only be a representation of Christmas, similar to the Christmas tree or gifts or decorations or lights or Jingle Bells. And that is how I want them to be.

Do you believe in Santa Claus?

Is there such a thing as too much studying? One of the things I worried about when I was pregnant with my first kid, was whether I can exert enough influence over their study habits to ensure they have a good future. I have seen many people throw away their future by letting their grades slip in school and I would not want that for my child.

I am now blessed with two boys and am so thankful that they display so much potential. They do well in school and although there are times they make it extremely difficult for me to get them to sit down and finish their homework, they have both managed to finish at the top of their class.

Now you would think I have nothing to worry about as I have it good. Nah. I do worry, constantly. You see I have two very different and unique boys. The eldest is very smart. He learns fast and works fast. However, he prefers to play rather than study his lessons. As for my youngest son, my 3-year old son, he prefers to study. He prefers to study rather than play. That’s a good thing. But he also prefers to study rather than sleep and even eat! And that is where I draw the line. I hope to have a smart kid but I would also like him to be well rounded and.. well normal. Children should be able to play and eat and dance around and make mistakes. I don’t want them to grow up and realize they missed a big chunk of their childhood just because I made them study “hard”.

So what do you think? Is there such a thing as too much studying?

After seeing my family safe and dry and getting all the horror stories of their experience on the roof of our house, I promised myself I was going to write about it. Now, a day later and I couldn’t even type a word. I got too emotional just conjuring up the images that my young sister has seen and witnessed. Some of those include watching as young kids aged less than a year to 4 years brave their plight as they too sat beside her on that rooftop. I had felt helpless for 2 days but that was nothing compared to feeling helpless as an infant cries for milk but all you could give him was bear brand full cream milk as that was the only thing you had that you could give him.

My agony is nothing compared to the nightmares my mom and sister will have to brave through tonight and all other nights as they start to pick up the pieces and go back to their normal lives. Many other families will be plagued by nightmares as they try to cope with the loss of their loved ones, their property, their livelihood. Soon my family and other families will learn to move on and continue on their ways and last weekend’s tragedy will hopefully become just a shadow of a painful memory. Soon.

I would like to share the words of my mom…

I can now say I survived two days and one night on top of the roof of a neighbor’s house in Cainta – something I never dreamed I could do. Thanks to our “very efficient” mayor, Mon Ilagan, who did not seem to know what to do, we waited in vain for rescue which never came. Talk was that Cainta had really no disaster plan in place for any catastrophe, much less one in this magnitude. It was a harrowing experience for me, but I learned some really good lessons:

• a fancy cellphone has no use if there is no signal.
• I made a good choice when I did not vote for Mayor Ilagan.
• a pack of choc-nut and a half bottle of Coke Zero can keep you alive for 2 days.
• life is more important than a laptop
• in the most difficult time, man’s hidden generosity and nobility comes to fore.
• saying goodbye to my home for 37 years is not really as bad as it seems
• a strong faith, a loving family, will always pull you through.

I am now living in my son’s house but will soon get an apartment near him, in a high place in Quezon City. I don’t know if I can or will ever go back to live Cainta.

Pictures c/o Dan Saavedra

Backtrack to last week…

My two oh so cute boys were both chosen to escort their female classmates at the school pageant to celebrate the countrywide Linggo ng Wika (Philippine Language Week). Truth be told, they performed supporting roles to the center of attention but they were allowed to perform alongside their little princesses during the pageant’s talent portion.

My youngest of course was the leader of his pair’s dance number making the parent’s in the audience go “ooh” and “ahh” and clap their hands in apparent cuteness awe. My eldest was too macho shy to sing the song chosen by his partner.

At the end of the day, the little one of course won the award for Little Prince and the older one went home with none. The award came with a cheap sports trophy that my son possessively hugged as he showed it to me late that night.

That is the event that led to my son’s thinking that he is somehow a loser for coming home without an award. I was dumbstruck for a few minutes not knowing what to say or even how to say it. My mind was racing with thoughts of: “where the hell did he hear that word?” and “how did he learn that the word can be used in this negative way?”.

I immediately shook my head in disagreement, “Of course not!” I proceeded to tell him that not having a trophy does not make you a loser. I told him as a matter of fact that his brother won because he had more points as he performed a dance number with his partner. I encouraged him to overcome his shyness next time and participate when he is asked to. Maybe then he will get the award. I told him that if he wanted to be the winner, he had to work hard to be one. I wasn’t planning to buy him his own plastic trophy to ease his pain (was that harsh of me?).

My kids and I are in for a challenging life ahead. I am afraid that this will not be the first and last time that both kids will compare themselves, their lives, their achievements and their failures. All of that will affect how they grow, deal, survive in this world. And yet I am hopeful for I don’t want an easy life for them. An easy life will only make spoiled brats out of them and they will only blame me in the end.

So son, No you are not a loser. Far from it. And I will make sure that you and your brother will grow up as winners.

Sacrifice is relative. You cannot and should not easily judge the validity just because you feel it to be such easy task. It may be chicken to you, but a monster to others. The real question is will you give up what you feel so strongly against because the men you so love gaze upon you with pleading eyes to “Please oh please buy a dog Mom!”.

You see I really do not like pets, dogs or cats. Fish I could consider but my kids (and my husband) want a dog. I know I know I am so mean, but I do seriously feel that our lives would change a lot once a dog has entered into the picture. With all the stress at work and outside work, I don’t think I can take having a dog invade our space. Ok MY space.

I have always told my kids that they can have a dog when they are old enough to take care of it. At 6 and 3 years of age, I doubt they can and would probably leave it to me, my hubby or the yaya’s to take care of it. I will not allow that. So I guess no pets for now. Maybe in 2 years or so.

I agree. I believe in that one hundred percent. But I am here to take on another aspect of that prioritization. The one wherein you become the middleman between your spouse and your parents or family. In a culture where every member of your family and its extensions all vie for your attention, it makes it a challenge to maintain an independent relationship without offending anyone. You are torn between being a good daughter or son as you were always taught or being a good wife or husband which you have always been taught as well. This is aggravated by our own trait often abused… indebtedness.

So you end up trying hard to please everyone, making excuses for one or the other, running around like a lost mouse confused and nervous. It become a tiring exercise that eventually you come to dread special occasions like birthdays, Christmas and weekends.

The worst thing is, this is all seen and absorbed by the very young and very impressionable minds of your children. So they grow up wondering if it is only but normal to do the same thing to their spouse or to their future children. It is like trying to teach your child to not smoke while holding your own cigarette in your hand.

What do you do? All articles center on one thing and that is – to grow up. The only way you can live your life your way is to stand up for what you believe and move forward with it regardless of how many members of your family object to it. You have grown. You are married. You should then be able to make your own decisions that you know in the long run will help make your marriage last and your children smile forever.

I must say that I learned the best life lessons growing up. Didn’t you?

My behavior as a wife and mom is largely influenced by how I was brought up, what I was taught in school, from mistakes I had done, and by watching my own parents while I was growing up.

The most important lesson that I chose to write about today I learned not from my husband but from my parents. I watched them be the number 1 to each other. I watched them make each other happy that eventually made us appreciate the peace and togetherness we enjoyed.

Remember mom when you and I were fighting a long time ago? Our argument was so heated that I did not notice that my voice was getting louder by the minute. I was so frustrated that you were not hearing me so I raised my voice in the hopes that it will make you listen. But it was Tatay who came and heard. He looked at me and in an equally forceful no-nonsene-no-questions-no-excuses kinds of voice, he told me “Don’t ever talk to my wife that way“. And I shut up. I was hurt more by our fight than having witnessed my father take your side rather than mine. But I never questioned it. Ever. Even now.

Throughout thirteen years of martial law, until I laid eyes on her again, I never thought that I would ever see the end of it. Least of all that my father would survive it. I am not much given to prayer or pious reflection but when I could set aside my anger, I prayed my father would see democracy again.

Late one afternoon, in San Francisco, I got a call. It was from Cory Aquino, for whom I had written one speech after her husband’s assassination. She said she had accepted Marcos’s challenge in a Snap Presidential Election. I put down the phone, and packed my bags, and reported to her at the Cojuangco Building.

I knew then she was the answer to my prayers. What I did not notice was that the closer we came to victory, which is to say the farther the prospect receded that the Marcos regime would survive, the less I felt the anger inside me. As each day passed, bringing me closer to the day I could get even, the less I felt the need for it as I spent more time with the woman who alone could make it possible.

I did not notice, but I was no longer looking back in anger, or looking forward even, to victory and vindication. Only now do I see. I had lived with my anger so long, only for the day to come when it no longer mattered to me. The only thing that counted was that I was living every day to the fullest, bringing out the best in me—for someone else. A dream I hadn’t had since I was a boy, feeding on stories of chivalry, had been achieved. I was serving a woman who was every inch a sovereign, all the more for scorning the slightest pretension to the role.

I did not realize it, even when I was already in the Palace, by the side of the President—among all her advisers, I like to think, the one who loved her most.

It never again occurred to me that I had scores to settle. And not until today, that I had passed up every chance to get even.

From the moment I came in from the airport and reported for duty, and she gave me in return the same smile she gave me on her deathbed, I never noticed… Not when I was with her in the campaign when she corrected me for not looking at the people I was waving at… Nor when I was with her in the presidential limousine looking intently, for her benefit, at the crowds at whom I waved… I never noticed anything. Except that I was with the only person that I would ever want to be with.

I certainly never noticed that I had left my anger behind. I don’t know how it happened. Except that Cory Aquino ennobled everyone who came near her. I have tried to say it publicly but never could finish. If you saw me as I felt myself to be, anyone would fall in love with me. I saw myself in that hospital room, a knight at the bedside of his dying sovereign, on the eve of a new Crusade, oblivious to the weight of the armor on his shoulders for the weight of the grief in his heart.

And because she always doubted my ability to be good for very long… Indeed, when my wife told Ballsy that I prayed the rosary at Lourdes for her mother’s recovery, Cory said, “Teddy Boy prayed the rosary? A miracle! I feel better already.” Because she doubted my capacity for self-reformation, she made it effortless for me by being herself. I did not notice that I was doing right by serving a woman who never did wrong. I am not sure how to take this moral self-discovery. It is so unlike myself. But if it will bring me before her again, I am happy.

I came across the above article published by one of my favorite writers, Jessica Zafra, on her blog Jessica Rules the Universe.

I must confess that I was an active witness to the People Power Revolution that happened in 1986. Our school was located right smack in the middle of Edsa where all the chaos unfolded so I cannot help but be swept in the series of events that led to getting Cory Aquino elected to the presidency.

So it should be understandable how I became emotional as I watched the thousands of people that blocked SLEX as my husband and I were driving back from the supermarket. We were frustrated because we had a hard time getting through the people and the parked cars but I had to swallow several times to stop myself from getting overwhelmed with emotion. Cory was very much loved.

My eyes were glued to the TV, not looking away as I watched the funeral procession that took hours to reach Manila Memorial. I wanted to engulf myself in pride that was bursting from the TV screen. I have never felt more Filipino than I did that day Cory was laid to rest. Rene Saguisag said it best when he stated, “We cannot give up on the only country we have“.

Now I just finished reading this eulogy and I am once again struck with extreme emotion for a love letter so eloquently written that the words feel like they are being whispered in your ear. I envy Cory. She was a great woman to have inspired such pride in us. She has given hope to millions of Filipinos and made us feel that our country is indeed worth fighting for.