Happy 31st to me!

Today, I am celebrating my birthday in the most unusual way. Instead of being out or at the office, I am at home —nursing my little boy back to health. All throughout the long weekend. the little one is battling with the common cough and cold virus and I reckon, teething. It seems that one of his molars is just about ready to make itself visible. So in addition to sore arms (from carrying him) and puffy eyes (due to lack of sleep), I am “celebrating” my birthday in the company of my cranky son.

But let me make myself clear: while this is far from what I would call an ideal celebration of a birthday, it is also something poignant at the same time. I don’t recall any other time when Anton was this clingy to me. It’s like all of a sudden, I am the center of his universe —-that without me, life might just come to an end. It seems I am the only person he wants to be with, the only person who mattered to him. In short, i am the only one who can soothe his pain. All this time, there was his Nanay, his Tatay, Nanay Ema, Mama, and daddy to cuddle him and play with me but these past few days, he only wanted me. Mommy. No one else.

Today, on my birthday, I learned first hand what motherhood is all about. It’s about finding the energy to stay awake througout the day despite 2-3 hours of sleep. It’s about finding the strength to carry the little one despite lack of sufficient rest. It’s about finding the right words to soothe the ails of the little one. It’s about staying strong despite seeing your precious little one cry and cry and cry througout the night.

Sure, I have had more extravagant celebrations before but this year will be the most memorable birthday of all. Because this year, I finally learned what it takes to be a mommy. And still love everything that goes with it.

Happy 31st to me! =)

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OUCH!

The inevitable has happened!

Despite keeping a close watch on the little one and doing our best to protect him from falling down and hurting himself, Anton finally tripped and hurt himself. And he has a bump on the forehead to prove it. Shucks!

For those who have been keeping a close tab on the developments of the little one (read: tita laluy, tita nina, my dad and brothers plus a few other relatives), y’all know that walking endlessly is one of his new habits. He rarely wants to be carried nowadays —everytime we try to carry him, he squirms and with that cute little voice, screams “baba! baba!”

Here’s the blow-by-blow of the accident:

Between 2:30 and 3pm, the litte one was making my back ache once again by walking back and forth in the garage, holding an empty little container of wilkins on his right hand ala nag-iigib. I, ofcourse, played the part of a nerbyosang mommy (neophyte at that!) and held on to his tiny left hand to provide more support. Just when we almost reached the grassy part of the garage, he let go of my hand and what I dreaded happened! My little baby tripped and fell flat on his face, his forehead hitting the cement. Ouch!!!

For a nanosecond, he didn’t cry. He pulled himself up and looked at me. He probably saw the dread and fear on my face because immediately after that, he cried so loud that I thought he would waken the dead!! Seriously!

So I quickly picked him up and scrutinized his face, dreading to see blood. Fortunately (Oh God, fortunately indeed), there was no blood on his lips or any part of his face for that matter. But there was a small red bump on his forehead and tears were running down his cheeks.

Joel quickly ran to us and held the baby while I ran for some ice. I wrapped a cube or two into a small cloth and placed it gently on the little bump. All this time, the baby was still crying! And by this time, I was crying myself!! Ha, it was the strangest thing I know but I could not stop myself. My baby got hurt while I was “on duty” and I could not help but feel responsible —with so many “what ifs” running in my head. If only I held on a little bit tighter. If only I kept him from walking in the garage. If only I kept him longer in the crib, playing with his many many toys —this would not have happened. Or would it?

My dad kept assuring me that our little boy would be fine and I guess he was right. After a few more minutes of cuddling and kissing his forehead —as quickly as it started, Anton stopped crying. And get this: wanted to keep walking! Ahh! What to do? What to do? Do i let him walk again despite my well-founded fears?

The answer is obvious, isn’t it? Despite my apprehensions, I played the part of a good mommy and put him back down and watched him walk again. And as I watched him walk with his Daddy holding his perfect, tiny hands, I could not help but think about his future “falls.” I know that in the years to come, Anton will have his fair share of falls —both literally and figuratively. As much as I try to protect him, time will come when I have to let my little one stand independently —hoping against hope that I have taught him all he needs to know to survive all on his own.

Ashes to ashes..dust to dust

Note: I wrote this yesterday, a day after Ash Wednesday and just forgot to post.

Yesterday’s celebration (can we even call it that??) of Ash Wednesday signalled the beginning of Lent for us Catholics. For the first time in years, I followed the Lenten rituals of the Church which included (1) attending mass (2) having ashes imposed on my forehead (3) fasting or self-denial (a.k.a abstinence).

I know that we are really expected to do all three but for several years, I only managed to do one of the above —at best. I always conjured excuses not to do any one at all. Example: 2 years ago, I refused to fast or abstain from meat because I was pregnant and reasoned that the growing baby needed all the available protein I could eat. When I was barely emancipated, I told my dad that I needed to be excused from the Church’s practice because I was not yet legally an adult and so the Church should consider me one too. All quite flimsy I know but the point being, I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t just see the point.

But yesterday was different. Very different. From the moment I woke up, I had resolved to give up one full meal(breakkast—which for me, is the most important meal of the day) and not to eat rice during lunch as a sacrifice. I also attended mass at the office alongside colleagues and had ashes imposed on my forehead. At the end of the day, I felt like a real Catholic. And a proud one at that.

I do not mean to brag about what I did yesterday —far from it. I guess I only want to share that despite my initial apprehensions, going through the rituals of Ash Wednesday made it even more significant for me. I also realized, thanks to Fr. Larry Tan’s very inspiring albeit entertaining homily, repentence and Lent in general, is not just about making sacrifices or blindly following the rituals imposed by the Church. It is all about striving to be a better and God-fearing person each and every day. It’s all about being sorry for making mistakes and striving not to commit the same ones again in the future. It’s about making peace with everything and everyone around you. It’s about being in peaceful commune with your Creator —whatever name you choose to call Him.

Someday, I will have to teach Anton why we go through all these motions. And I just don’t want to say the words and preach what I know. I have to show him by example, I want to practice what I will preach. I want him to experience the meaning behind rituals in our lives. And I guess to do that, I first have to experience it all by myself.

Knowing His words

I have been attending bible study sessions at our office for quite some time now and have so far, been enjoying it. Not only have I learned new things --I have also gained new friends along the way. I also consider it a blessing that for the past few months, I have taken my understanding of His words to a deeper level. And while I know I still have a long way to go, it really is nice to feel that there is that one hour each week where we can just stop working and focus on Him, our Creator.

Time and time again I have said that while I am not a religious person, I still am very spiritual. I may not be the type to follow Church rules blindly but I still strive to live a moral life. I consider myself lucky that although I was born and raised in a strictly Catholic environment --first at home and then at an exclusive girls school in Manila-- my parents and teachers in St. Scho have taught me the importance of respecting other beliefs/dogma as much as they respect mine.

Thus I find it sad and oftentimes frustrating when I hear that a war has been waged because of religious/spiritual differences. I ask myself, why is not possible to live in a world where differences are respected and not frowned upon? Why can't we bask in our diverse backgrounds and learn to complement one another's belief?

I will not claim to be an expert on His Words but I know in my heart --my faith tells me--that God does not want this. It is not part of his Grand Plan for us, His Children. I think the challenge really is to rise above our differences, respect one another and simply just get along. So it is with religion and so should it be with life and relationships.