by rossanahead | Jun 28, 2011 | career, children, family, Gina Abuyuan, parenting, woman
By Regina Abuyuan
Out of sheer frustration, I ranted about a certain celebrity in my Facebook account. When I posted it Friday night, it got 14 likes in one hour. Now, it’s got 51 likes. The fervor has slowed down, but it looks like it’s not stopping.
So what is it that’s gotten people so involved—maybe a better word would be “embroiled”—in my personal opinions? My opinion about Kris Aquino, that’s what, and her most recent quotable quote about being a single mom: “Madali maging single mother, kasi mababait ang mga anak ko.” [“It’s easy being a single mother, because my children are good.”]
Google it and you’ll see.
I don’t even have to go into details on why this statement offends so many.
She makes light of the most difficult “job” in the universe, glossing it over with her image of being a doting, hardworking mom with a healthy work-life balance. No one—not even married or partnered moms and dads, no matter how wealthy and successful they are—can claim parenting is easy. Up to a certain point, you’re in charge of shaping a person’s life, making sure he or she doesn’t turn into a serial killer or something. And her reason? Because her kids are “nice”? That’s like saying parenting is easy because one’s kids are thoughtless, emotion-less lumps of cake who don’t need attention and understanding and discipline.
She seems to have forgotten that her mother, Cory Aquino, was a single parent. I wonder what Tita Cory would have said if she heard her youngest say that. I can just imagine her hanging her head in disappointment, shaking it side to side, and sighing: “Hay, Kris. Where did Ninoy and I go wrong with you?”
by rossanahead | Jun 21, 2011 | Education, family, Mari-an Santos, woman
By Mari-An Santos
When we were growing up, my mother assigned us to do certain chores on weekends and during our summer break.
I learned how to clear the dining table and how to wipe it clean without leaving any crumbs or leftover food on the floor.
I learned how to wash the dishes with my mother first demonstrating how it’s supposed to be done: Rinse the dirty dishes in a basin of water. With a soapy sponge, wipe the glasses, plates, and utensils clean. Rinse everything thoroughly.
Every so often, my mother would come around to inspect my work. She would look closely, sniff, and then slide her fingers down the dishes. She would point out a tiny fleck of rice still sticking to a bowl or the slippery, still-soapy side of a glass. I had to wash those items again, of course. It took some time before she was completely satisfied with my work.
I learned how to care for wooden floors, sweeping, buffing, and waxing them. I found out which direction it was best to sweep with the broom and how to angle the dust pan so that my efforts did not go to waste.
I learned to cook and bake too. When we made brownies or cookies, my mother would let me lick the spoons clean. The reward, of course, was getting to eat whatever we had made.
I also had to clean the bathroom, which was my least favorite chore. Of course, I knew that someone had to make sure that the toilet was spic and span, I just couldn’t accept the fact that I had to dig my hands deep into wherever our bodily waste went on a daily basis.
Growing up, I did not understand why I had to do any of these things, especially when we had helpers who could do it. But when I started living alone, I realized the value of such hands-on knowledge. Because of my mother’s diligence, I could take care of a house and myself. It is one of the most enduring lessons that I learned from my parents, and I will be forever grateful.
I still don’t like cleaning the toilet though.
by rossanahead | Jun 19, 2011 | children, family, parenting, Ruth M. Floresca, woman
By Ruth M. Floresca
“It’s your government-given right!” I’d always point out every time one of my sons tells me a tricycle or jeepney driver hadn’t given him the correct change.
It irritates me that we have a law indicating that students are entitled to a 20% discount on public transportation fares and yet there are still drivers who choose to ignore this directive. I am all for paying the right amount for fares and services. I even return money to drivers and bus conductors every time I receive extra change. But I am not in favor of having my kids pay more than what they are supposed to.
Three of my boys take public transport when they go to school. I really dislike it when drivers insist that students don’t get fare discounts when there are no classes. Even though I still don’t get why not (since their status as students doesn’t change just because it’s Saturday, Sunday, or a holiday), I pay full fare for my boys when we ride PUVs on those times and during summer vacations just to avert unreasonable arguments.
But now that classes have resumed, I remind my boys to insist on their rights. “Imagine poor kids who can’t afford to pay regular fares. If you let drivers think it’s OK with you if they don’t give you the correct change, you are doing a disservice to many other kids, especially those whose parents can’t afford to pay extra.”
I also tell them to compute how much they’ll be able to save in just a week, in a month, and in a year if they pay the discounted amount every day. That got them thinking, particularly my firstborn who’s already in college and is more conscious nowadays when it comes to budgeting his allowance.
To avoid hassles as much as possible, hubby and I save the coins we get as change whenever we go out. This way, we can give our kids the exact fares they should hand over to drivers so they won’t have to insist getting the right change every time they pay.
I believe that what I’m doing is one way to teach financial responsibility. Alas, honesty should go both ways. Still, it’s always better to stay upright on our end even if there are others who refuse to do so. While they are young, I want my kids to always remember that.
by rossanahead | Jun 14, 2011 | career, children, family, Karen Galarpe, parenting, woman
By Karen Galarpe
About a year ago, I was trying to schedule a lunch date with two of my classmates back in high school. We were all working for the same company, and I figured we should have a mini-reunion right in our neck of the woods.
It should have been easy to set a date then, I thought, but it proved otherwise. MG had to pick up her daughter from a tutorial center and bring her home, right around her lunch break. MC had to make a run to her sons’ school to pick them up and bring them home, before returning to work. Every day.
Finally, we found a common free lunch hour (after weeks of scheduling). After talking about high school and work, we got to talk about our lives as career moms.
True, it may be difficult, but bringing our kids to and from school is a joy in itself, we agreed. The extra time to bond with our kids is priceless as we get to talk about the serious and not so serious stuff while on the road.
We hear it first from our kids what happened in school, what project they need to do, and what they did with their friends.
We learn more about their world at the exact time they feel like talking about their day. More often than not, they’re kinda tired by the time we get home from work that they’re not in the mood for much talk.
I know not many moms have the privilege of driving their kids to and from school every day, but should you have the chance, take it. Kids grow up fast; make time to be with them.
by rossanahead | Jun 11, 2011 | career, children, family, Mari-an Santos, woman
By Mari-An Santos
Whenever I go to Hong Kong, it feels so familiar. On the MRT and at the stores, I inevitably encounter a fellow Filipino. It could be the bakeshop attendant, the security guard, or the countless au pairs taking their wards home. A lot of them, recognizing a countryman, will ask, “When did you arrive?” It felt good to be acknowledged.
I am struck by how much my fellow countrymen have to sacrifice in order to provide for their families back home. On Sundays, they congregate at the Central District, where they lay out mats and have picnics with their friends. They spend the entire day catching up with each other’s lives as well as those of their loved ones back home.
One particular scene has stayed with me all these years. After Sunday Mass, a group of women huddled around one, who was distributing all sorts of goodies to her friends. I gathered that she had just arrived from the Philippines. One of her friends started looking at the pictures in a digital camera. She was showing her friends her children, exclaiming, “Oh, how he’s grown!” “Look at what she is wearing!” I was moved to tears. Here was a mother who was taking care of a child not her own while her children were growing up without her.
Walking through the groups, it was as if they were at Luneta Park on a Sunday. Some were getting a haircut, some pedicures, others were reading gossip magazines, others sharing recipes. Whether Ilocano, Tagalog, or Bisaya, their collective chatter made a cheerful sound.
We have given them the generous monicker “Bagong Bayani.” But I suspect that given a chance, they would rather be fathers and mothers to their own children, and husbands and wives to their spouses than rays of hope to an entire country from across the sea.
by rossanahead | Jun 7, 2011 | children, family, parenting, Ruth M. Floresca, woman
By Ruth Manimtim-Floresca
It was humid last night and my skin felt sticky. Hubby opted to spread a mattress on the living room floor to escape the heat from our bedroom. As I remained in bed to keep an eye on our child with special needs, who was watching TV, my youngest son jumped on the bed and snuggled against me.
“It’s hot anak, we’re both going to sweat more if you hug me like that,” I admonished.
My 12-year-old, the one who’s the smartest aleck of all my sons, didn’t let go. Instead, he softly replied, “You know Mom, when I’m all grown up and working in a faraway place, you won’t get as many chances to have me by your side. By then, we’ll just get to talk and see each other on Skype.” So much for guilt trips; I was the one who got hit, hard.
“Fine,” I said grudgingly, suppressing a smile. When I tried to move a little and get more comfortable, my not-so-little boy tightened his hold and whispered in a singsong voice, “Chance.”
As we watched TV, I said a silent prayer of thanks for having such a sweet boy who has this ability to utter retorts that sound way beyond his years.
Five minutes or so later, my son got up. I guess he also realized he can’t stand the heat. “What about the chance?!” I protested. He smiled his mischievous smile and said, “It will come again tomorrow night.”
Every day, I am constantly amazed at what my kids are capable of, in a good way. I just hope that I remain observant of those precious moments especially the ones that pass by only once. Happily, I got one of those chances last night.
