Don't you just love the rain? The past few mornings, we have woken up to the pitter-patter of raindrops outside the window. The cool breeze has already had us turning off the electric fan in the wee hours of the morning. Ah, what a relief from the sweltering heat of the past few weeks. I do not know if it is the same with all mothers out there, but it seems I never lost the heat intolerance I developed during my pregnancy.
The incessant drip-drop reassures me that earth is receiving its sustenance and life will soon rise up from the ground. So long as it does not become torrential and floods out everything again!!!
The daughter already has her singing-in-the-rain number down to a pat. She grabs an open umbrella and tries to hoist it up her head while walking. Ok, she resembles a toadstool when seen from the sides, with her upper body concealed by the umbrella, but its a refreshing sight to this proud mommy who thinks everything she does is adorable. Ok, not everything...
Although it means fewer patients would me coming to the clinic (again!) because of the wet weather, the rain seems to be a wonderful thing. It urges one to relax, slow down, reach for a cup of hot chocolate, open a book, or look out the window and just ponder on life so beautiful.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Yesterday Was One Year After
Sunday started bright and cheerful. Our village was celebrating the feast of our patron saint and there was a parade down the main street. Drums were beating, ribbons were streaming, lots of people were cheering and laughing. My daughter joined part of the parade with her titas, albeit in her pajamas, and was happily stomping her feet and waving her blue flag. What a beautiful day, I thought, with the sun shining and kids dancing on the street. What a great difference from exactly one year before, when dark clouds rained a fierce storm and floodwaters rose, covering the same happy street these happy people were trodding on.
It was one year since Ondoy/Ketsana let loose its fury. One year since my daughter was evacuated to a neighbor's house, to escape the rising waters. One year since my father spent the night on our rooftop, helplessly watching the flood rampage our home. One year since I spent the night away from them, furtively waiting for news that they were safe, praying that angels would keep them from all harm.One year since we all came home to a mud filled house, our belongings either destroyed or damaged.
We have all since recovered from that fateful day. We have cleaned our home, washed our clothes, replaced those that were gone. In a way, we have recovered, but each time strong rains come, we cannot help but fear it could be a repeat of last year.
Yesterday also found us attending a first-year birthday party of a friend's son. This friend of mine delivered her first child at the 2nd floor of her home, attended by only her husband, as flood waters rampaged on the first floor. I remember being part of a brigade calling the Red cross, media, and chopper services to bring her out of Cainta so she could deliver at the hospital. But there were no longer any boats, or even choppers available or able to reach her deeply flooded village. How scary and painful it must have been for her. Looking at her son now, I cannot help but agree that he is indeed a miracle baby, a bright light in that dark day.
I do count myself lucky that I have not lost a loved one or my home last year. I still grieve each time I remember all those lost lives, hopes and dreams. Countless tv specials and articles have been written about Ondoy, it truly is something we cannot forget. How long until a disaster like that should happen again, I do not want to imagine, but is something we have to be ready for. Sigh. Yesterday was one year after. I hope there will never be a yesterday or one year ago again like that.
You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,
who abide in His shadow for life,
say to the Lord: "My refuge, my rock in whom I trust"
And He will raise you up on eagles’ wings,
bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you to shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of His hand.
It was one year since Ondoy/Ketsana let loose its fury. One year since my daughter was evacuated to a neighbor's house, to escape the rising waters. One year since my father spent the night on our rooftop, helplessly watching the flood rampage our home. One year since I spent the night away from them, furtively waiting for news that they were safe, praying that angels would keep them from all harm.One year since we all came home to a mud filled house, our belongings either destroyed or damaged.
We have all since recovered from that fateful day. We have cleaned our home, washed our clothes, replaced those that were gone. In a way, we have recovered, but each time strong rains come, we cannot help but fear it could be a repeat of last year.
Yesterday also found us attending a first-year birthday party of a friend's son. This friend of mine delivered her first child at the 2nd floor of her home, attended by only her husband, as flood waters rampaged on the first floor. I remember being part of a brigade calling the Red cross, media, and chopper services to bring her out of Cainta so she could deliver at the hospital. But there were no longer any boats, or even choppers available or able to reach her deeply flooded village. How scary and painful it must have been for her. Looking at her son now, I cannot help but agree that he is indeed a miracle baby, a bright light in that dark day.
I do count myself lucky that I have not lost a loved one or my home last year. I still grieve each time I remember all those lost lives, hopes and dreams. Countless tv specials and articles have been written about Ondoy, it truly is something we cannot forget. How long until a disaster like that should happen again, I do not want to imagine, but is something we have to be ready for. Sigh. Yesterday was one year after. I hope there will never be a yesterday or one year ago again like that.
You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,
who abide in His shadow for life,
say to the Lord: "My refuge, my rock in whom I trust"
And He will raise you up on eagles’ wings,
bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you to shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of His hand.
Yesterday Was One Year After
Sunday started bright and cheerful. Our village was celebrating the feast of our patron saint and there was a parade down the main street. Drums were beating, ribbons were streaming, lots of people were cheering and laughing. My daughter joined part of the parade with her titas, albeit in her pajamas, and was happily stomping her feet and waving her blue flag. What a beautiful day, I thought, with the sun shining and kids dancing on the street. What a great difference from exactly one year before, when dark clouds rained a fierce storm and floodwaters rose, covering the same happy street these happy people were trodding on.
It was one year since Ondoy/Ketsana let loose its fury. One year since my daughter was evacuated to a neighbor's house, to escape the rising waters. One year since my father spent the night on our rooftop, helplessly watching the flood rampage our home. One year since I spent the night away from them, furtively waiting for news that they were safe, praying that angels would keep them from all harm.One year since we all came home to a mud filled house, our belongings either destroyed or damaged.
We have all since recovered from that fateful day. We have cleaned our home, washed our clothes, replaced those that were gone. In a way, we have recovered, but each time strong rains come, we cannot help but fear it could be a repeat of last year.
Yesterday also found us attending a first-year birthday party of a friend's son. This friend of mine delivered her first child at the 2nd floor of her home, attended by only her husband, as flood waters rampaged on the first floor. I remember being part of a brigade calling the Red cross, media, and chopper services to bring her out of Cainta so she could deliver at the hospital. But there were no longer any boats, or even choppers available or able to reach her deeply flooded village. How scary and painful it must have been for her. Looking at her son now, I cannot help but agree that he is indeed a miracle baby, a bright light in that dark day.
I do count myself lucky that I have not lost a loved one or my home last year. I still grieve each time I remember all those lost lives, hopes and dreams. Countless tv specials and articles have been written about Ondoy, it truly is something we cannot forget. How long until a disaster like that should happen again, I do not want to imagine, but is something we have to be ready for. Sigh. Yesterday was one year after. I hope there will never be a yesterday or one year ago again like that.
You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,
who abide in His shadow for life,
say to the Lord: "My refuge, my rock in whom I trust
And He will raise you up on eagles’ wings,
bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you to shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of His hand.
It was one year since Ondoy/Ketsana let loose its fury. One year since my daughter was evacuated to a neighbor's house, to escape the rising waters. One year since my father spent the night on our rooftop, helplessly watching the flood rampage our home. One year since I spent the night away from them, furtively waiting for news that they were safe, praying that angels would keep them from all harm.One year since we all came home to a mud filled house, our belongings either destroyed or damaged.
We have all since recovered from that fateful day. We have cleaned our home, washed our clothes, replaced those that were gone. In a way, we have recovered, but each time strong rains come, we cannot help but fear it could be a repeat of last year.
Yesterday also found us attending a first-year birthday party of a friend's son. This friend of mine delivered her first child at the 2nd floor of her home, attended by only her husband, as flood waters rampaged on the first floor. I remember being part of a brigade calling the Red cross, media, and chopper services to bring her out of Cainta so she could deliver at the hospital. But there were no longer any boats, or even choppers available or able to reach her deeply flooded village. How scary and painful it must have been for her. Looking at her son now, I cannot help but agree that he is indeed a miracle baby, a bright light in that dark day.
I do count myself lucky that I have not lost a loved one or my home last year. I still grieve each time I remember all those lost lives, hopes and dreams. Countless tv specials and articles have been written about Ondoy, it truly is something we cannot forget. How long until a disaster like that should happen again, I do not want to imagine, but is something we have to be ready for. Sigh. Yesterday was one year after. I hope there will never be a yesterday or one year ago again like that.
You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,
who abide in His shadow for life,
say to the Lord: "My refuge, my rock in whom I trust
And He will raise you up on eagles’ wings,
bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you to shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of His hand.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
A New Day
This afternoon, I watched the proclamation of the new Philippine president and vice president on television. Which was no easy task, what with my daughter demanding to watch Hi-5 and her other cartoons at the same time. I had to move to another room to watch it, only to have the princess follow me and insist on viewing her show wherever I was.
It is quite a treat to watch the procedures and pageantry that comes with such an event. One of the few times, in my opinion, that Congress appears as austere and honorable as it should be. Of course, there were several lengthy speeches whose points I felt were already made clear the past month. Yes, the automated elections were not perfect. Yes, there are questions of fraud. Yes, there are a lot of shady characters. But can we get on with the show?
When finally Noynoy and Binay were proclaimed winners, I found myself close to tears. Not that I am an avid Noynoy fan.But because it is the first time in my life that I understand the meaning of having a new government. As an adult I feel the pinch each time I open my wallet and have to stretch my budget to afford all the necessities. As a mother, I feel the tug in my heart each time I realize that I cannot buy everything I believe my daughter should have. As a doctor, I feel the pain each time a patient says she cannot afford a treatment neccessary for her cure. As a wife and daughter, I fear that violence and crime might visit my loved ones anytime. As a commuter, I grind my teeth each time I get held up in traffic, or some incompetent traffic enforcer bungles at intersections. As a Filipino, I ache each time I see a child having to beg for his family's next meal.
It is the dawn of a new day. I place my hope that the new government can lead us out of this drudgery we are in. I do fervently, fervently pray, that our new leaders can turn our country from that where poverty and mediocrity reign, to a nation where those words no longer exist. I want to raise my daughter in a society where I no longer fear that she would go hungry, or that she would be harmed, or that she would not know what peace and security mean.
Dear Mr President, at the risk of sounding like countless others, please turn this country around. We who grew up in the shadows your mother's yellow ribbon, we who marched in Edsa II, we who have grown cynical and doubtful of the true nature of government, implore you to help us weather the storm, and change the tides of our future.
A few days ago I watched my daughter stare at her hands as she learned to cross her fingers. I am doing the same thing. I hope every single Filipino finger is crossed, as we see this new era through.
It is quite a treat to watch the procedures and pageantry that comes with such an event. One of the few times, in my opinion, that Congress appears as austere and honorable as it should be. Of course, there were several lengthy speeches whose points I felt were already made clear the past month. Yes, the automated elections were not perfect. Yes, there are questions of fraud. Yes, there are a lot of shady characters. But can we get on with the show?
When finally Noynoy and Binay were proclaimed winners, I found myself close to tears. Not that I am an avid Noynoy fan.But because it is the first time in my life that I understand the meaning of having a new government. As an adult I feel the pinch each time I open my wallet and have to stretch my budget to afford all the necessities. As a mother, I feel the tug in my heart each time I realize that I cannot buy everything I believe my daughter should have. As a doctor, I feel the pain each time a patient says she cannot afford a treatment neccessary for her cure. As a wife and daughter, I fear that violence and crime might visit my loved ones anytime. As a commuter, I grind my teeth each time I get held up in traffic, or some incompetent traffic enforcer bungles at intersections. As a Filipino, I ache each time I see a child having to beg for his family's next meal.
It is the dawn of a new day. I place my hope that the new government can lead us out of this drudgery we are in. I do fervently, fervently pray, that our new leaders can turn our country from that where poverty and mediocrity reign, to a nation where those words no longer exist. I want to raise my daughter in a society where I no longer fear that she would go hungry, or that she would be harmed, or that she would not know what peace and security mean.
Dear Mr President, at the risk of sounding like countless others, please turn this country around. We who grew up in the shadows your mother's yellow ribbon, we who marched in Edsa II, we who have grown cynical and doubtful of the true nature of government, implore you to help us weather the storm, and change the tides of our future.
A few days ago I watched my daughter stare at her hands as she learned to cross her fingers. I am doing the same thing. I hope every single Filipino finger is crossed, as we see this new era through.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Angel's Day
The little angel marks her 2nd anniversary today. I still cannot believe it has been two years since my husband and I have been gifted with such a precious bundle. She barely fit our arms then, now it is a struggle to carry her wriggling and demanding to be brought to where she wants to go.
She truly has changed our lives. From watching the latest flicks, we are reduced to watching Barney and Big Bird over and over again, to the point that we could predict every scene with our eyes closed. We used to stay up late to watch DVD's or go out with friends, now it is a miracle if we stay up beyond 9pm, nodding off at the same time as she, only to wake up to having her foot shoved into our faces. Yes, the little girl is a wriggly sleeper, but it is heaven to be snuggle in her arms.
She used to sleep in her crib, but is devious enough to find ways that morning would always find her snuggled between us. Even as an infant, she makes her wishes known and felt and would not countenance any delay. Sundays would find me in an inadvertent workout as I chase after her in play gym.
She is entering the terrible two's in a big way. I think she knows that she has us wrapped around her little fingers and is testing the limits every single day. She may try our patience and strength with her little real and fake tantrums, but she makes us grow as parents and realize that love is not always about sweetness and cuddling, but also involves tough love and endless patience.
Happy birthday, angel. You have brought us so much happiness. We continue to look forward to waking up each day with your itty bitty toes shoved up our noses. And your lovely arms holding us very close in your heart.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Weaning
For almost a year now, I have been attempting to wean my daughter from the bottle. Unfortunately, I haven't been successful at it. For friends in North America, your question would be why just now? For those here in the Philippines, you ask, why so early? I've tried taking away a bottle at a time,initially the mid-morning bottle, thinking that if she is able to take one cup at a time, I'd eventually have her progress to taking all her milk in a cup. But my daughter is just too smart for that, she figured that if she just waited a while longer, she would be able to get the bottle later on in the day. She would take all other fluids in a cup: juice, water, anything BUT her milk. Believe me, I own almost every cup there is, with soft spouts, hard spouts, silicone straws, plastic straws, tumblers with cartoon characters, from the designer state-of -the-art for babies, to the cheapo ones you get at the grocery. But I am not winning in this game.
Two days ago, I decided to hold my ground and did cold turkey. No more bottles. At all. She either takes the cup or nothing. Needless to say, she's been throwing tantrums all around and is refusing milk altogether. So far, it's been a trial to everyone at home, having her cry at the top of her lungs and pushing away the cup all the time. I try to do tough love, but deep inside, I'm having my doubts if I'm doing the right thing by "starving" her, and I get scared that I might turn her off milk forever, or that I succeed in dehydrating her. Sigh, I cross my fingers that she decides to drink milk again. In a cup.
Which leads me to thinking: isn't the process of weaning the same as when we make our defining choices in life, when we decide to let go of the familiar to reach for something new and scary? We all have our security blankets, but there are moments when we have to do things we do not like in order to move forward. Change jobs, move to another place in the sun, get married, get out of being married, make career choices that may or may not bring us what we want. For some, it is as easy as doing it a bottle at a time, slowly moving towards a goal imperceptibly. But for others, cold turkey is the game when you just have to go for bust and let go entirely. After all, you can only move to a new horizon when you lose sight of the shore.
I believe there come times in our lives when we just have to go for broke and severe the ropes to be able to sail to new vistas and reach distant goals. Or in this case, throw away the bottle and reach for the cup.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
History
A recent travel to Cebu has gotten me tweaking my memory about Miguel Lopez de Legazpi and Ferdinand Magellan. Yes, they were the conquistadors who dared the unchartered seas to find this wee group of islands yet to be called the Philippines. And they got me wanting to reopen my history books and revisit those long forgotten chapters.
A few months back, I was reading a fictional novel loosely based on the events leading to the fall of the Romanov and Austro-Hungarian Empires. More than being enamored by the grandeur of the royal lifestyles then, I vaguely remember my college world history professor (help me out here, fellow Ateneans, he’s the guy who wore red-tinged spectacles who always had an umbrella with him)that those events were triggered by the assassination of the Austrian heir to the throne, Franz Ferdinand.
I have never been good at history class. Blame it on years of having to copy down information from a textbook to a color-coded composition pad just so it could be submitted, checked and graded by my high school teacher. Nothing like sore fingers and blurry book prints to kill my enthusiasm for things past.
But lately I have been feeling the itch to read history again. Perhaps away from the pressure of having to memorize those names and dates and events will allow me to understand the intrigues of early Philippine culture, or the dynamics of the two world wars And maybe I can venture to reread those two great novels, Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo. Yes, but maybe I would pick their English translations. The Filipino versions remind me of the way our Filipino teacher had us go through these required readings. She had us presenting the chapters through drama skits, puppet and shadow shows, and even make-believe radio programs, all because she was too lazy to make us understand the underlying meanings of the novels. So I ended up having a very shallow understanding of what Dona Victorina, Sisa and Maria Clara stood for. And a healthy distaste for shadow shows.
I find myself intrigued and very much enticed to read history again. Without the red and blue ink markings, without the purple notebook cover, without the sniggering puppet in the background. So get ready Ferdinand Magellan and Crisostomo Ibarra, you just might meet me again one of these days.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Mediocre
I am one of the thousands of men and women approaching middle age and yes, I feel like I am drowning in the vastness of anonymity. The past few years have been spent in making myself as unnoticeable as possible. It probably began in medical school, when I strove to be hidden to avoid being singled out and called to recite in front of the class. Some of the time I did know the answer, I just did not want to stand out, did not want my voice heard, did not want my name known. I wanted to be in the middle of everyone, neither the girl whose brilliance outshone everyone, nor the one whose dullness made others shine.
Yes, I made it a point to be mediocre and it is slowly killing me. Like a leaf blown by the wind, I have let myself be brought to directions not of my own choosing, because I did not have desire to blaze my own path. Not that I have not been making decisions on my own entirely, I still did make those major choices in my life: to be a doctor, to be a wife, to be a mother, but lately I have noted that on the day to day hustle and bustle , I made myself too engrossed with making a living that I have neglected to live. Yes, like most thirtysomethings today, I have buried the once-was diamond in the rough within me with the coals of work and labor.
But no more. I no longer want to be in this place, the middle of nowhere, the middle of nothing, to be known as no one. I want to stand out, I want to be noticed, I want to be me. Seizing the day might be the cry of a younger generation just about to start their lives, but it is also my cry, the cry of a person who no longer wishes life to pass me by. I will no longer be satisfied with making do with what I have and letting others take the lead. I am me. I am special. I have the power to make a difference. And I will make the difference.
Mediocre. No more. I will make you notice me. I will have your attention. I will live.
Yes, I made it a point to be mediocre and it is slowly killing me. Like a leaf blown by the wind, I have let myself be brought to directions not of my own choosing, because I did not have desire to blaze my own path. Not that I have not been making decisions on my own entirely, I still did make those major choices in my life: to be a doctor, to be a wife, to be a mother, but lately I have noted that on the day to day hustle and bustle , I made myself too engrossed with making a living that I have neglected to live. Yes, like most thirtysomethings today, I have buried the once-was diamond in the rough within me with the coals of work and labor.
But no more. I no longer want to be in this place, the middle of nowhere, the middle of nothing, to be known as no one. I want to stand out, I want to be noticed, I want to be me. Seizing the day might be the cry of a younger generation just about to start their lives, but it is also my cry, the cry of a person who no longer wishes life to pass me by. I will no longer be satisfied with making do with what I have and letting others take the lead. I am me. I am special. I have the power to make a difference. And I will make the difference.
Mediocre. No more. I will make you notice me. I will have your attention. I will live.
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