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.

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.

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.

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.