by rossanahead | Aug 13, 2011 | children, family, Karen Galarpe, parenting, woman
By Karen Galarpe
“Oh look, it’s Domo-kun!” I said, pointing to stuffed toys of the brown Japanese character at Toy Con 2011, the annual toy convention recently held at SM Megamall. “And Angry Birds, and lots of anime characters. Do they have Lucky Star?”
Yup, that’s me talking. Thanks to my son’s interest in Japanese anime, I am not so unfamiliar with what some kids and teens are into these days. When Miley Cyrus was in town recently, someone in the office asked, “Does Miley Cyrus have a lot of fans?” And I said, “Hello? Hannah Montana!”
And when the video of that 4-year-old Fil-Am boy singing a Warbler song a la Darren Criss on “Glee” became viral, someone in the office again said he’s not familiar with the song as he doesn’t watch “Glee”.
I know who Miley Cyrus is, and I watch “Glee.” And “Lucky Star.” And some years back, “High School Musical” and “Gundam Seed Destiny.”
I try to make time to get to know what kids today like because it’s a way to bond and build relationships with today’s generation.
I know I’m not alone in this mission because when Taylor Swift was here a few months ago, two of my friends watched the concert with their daughters and their daughters’ friends. And they realized Taylor is really a great performer and a good role model for today’s kids.
Same thing when Justin Bieber arrived in Manila this year. Guess who were photographed with preteens and teens in the crowd? Their parents.
What is your child into? Find out, get into it yourself, and in the process get to know your child more.
Since my son loves cars, I have seen my share of auto shows and even drift competitions from which I have come home smelling like burnt rubber. Is it worth it, grime and all? It is. Our children are priceless, and time spent with them is valuable.
by rossanahead | Aug 11, 2011 | children, Education, family, Lyra Pore, parenting, woman
By Lyra Pore
Hogwarts. Quidditch. Wands and spells. The first time the Harry Potter series hit bookstores back in the late ‘90s, I couldn’t stand the books.
“I’m too old for this.” I dismissed Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone after just a few pages of reading the book. If the series had been published when I was in high school, I would have loved it. But I was by then a new mom to a baby girl ― my world was filled with diapers and formula, not owls, wizards and some fictional beings misguided by a Nazi-like obsession with the purity of species.
Last Christmas, however, my baby girl who had since turned ten received the children’s edition of the complete Harry Potter set for Christmas. Keen to find some bonding moments with her, I picked up the Philosopher’s Stone and tried reading it again.
I couldn’t have chosen a more auspicious time to take up Harry Potter. My daughter, just like Harry in the first book, was turning 11 in a few days. And like Percy Weasley, Ron’s older brother, she’d just been elected school prefect.
Over the next two months, the two of us would explore the Harry Potter world together. It would soon become a family affair too, as my husband and our other children would join us in watching the film adaptation each time we finished a book. Not only did we form a mother-daughter book club, we’d also organized family Friday Night Movies. We’d all sit on the couch on Fridays, watch the Harry Potter DVD and talk about how the movie differed from the book.
“It wasn’t Neville Longbottom who gave Harry the gillyweed in Goblet of Fire. It was Dobby!”
“How come the other elf Winky wasn’t in any of the movies?”
At times, our Harry Potter journey turned into a writing lesson. My daughter, who was starting to develop an interest in fiction writing, would comment on J.K. Rowling’s style and how it differed from that of Rick Riordan, author of the Percy Jackson series. I worked in publishing; I took delight in talking about books especially with my children.
The excitement over the release of Deathly Hallows 2 took over our household. My husband would buy our girls Harry Potter souvenirs that were being sold with every purchase of a local newspaper. The family also organized a weekend trip to an IMAX theatre to watch the movie in 3D. Making a day of it, we set out at 9 a.m., picked up some friends who were also going to the movies with us, went to lunch at a restaurant just a short walk from the cinema, and spent the rest of the afternoon not just enjoying the last movie of the series but savouring gelato that IMAX moviegoers could get free for each scoop they bought.
“Lord Voldemort’s wand will be out with the Sunday newspaper,” I told them after dinner on Friday. “I thought it was Dumbledore’s,” my husband replied. “Oh, you’re right. It’s Dumbledore’s. The newspaper says it is.”
Upstairs our two year-old daughter was fast asleep. She’d been playing the whole week with Harry’s wand, yelling “crucio!” and “stupefy!” at her older sisters.
by rossanahead | Aug 9, 2011 | career, Mari-an Santos, woman
By Mari-An Santos
Change excites and terrifies. I don’t think anyone who encounters change feels just one or the other; they seem to go hand in hand.
I am due for a change myself. A change that will once again test whether I am a wallflower or an adventurer, whether I will take courage or recoil, whether I am to step outside of everything familiar and comfortable.
I am excited to experience this change. It will involve the unfamiliar, the unexplored, and the unknown. This always sends shivers down my spine, but it also makes my stomach overflow with butterflies.
Faced with either moving forward or standing still, it’s easier to keep still. Being creatures of habit, human beings like surrounding themselves with things familiar. Besides we like being in charge, as if we are ever really, truly in charge of our own lives.
The traveler in me is excited. I want to explore the unknown, to soak up experiences, and to get as much new knowledge as I can.
There is also that small part of me—and I feel guilty that it’s just a tiny part—that feels sad. Of course, there will be people and places that I will need to leave behind. And surely, I will miss them.
I will miss how the tiny birds outside my window wake me up with their tiny chirps. I will miss the sight of the mountain breeze as it sweeps the bamboo groves. I will miss the colors of the horizon as the sun creeps down to sleep. I will miss the pregnant moon in the dark, clear sky.
I will miss all of these and more, but I will not say goodbye. This change is not permanent. And when I am thrust once again to the familiar, there will be a beautiful reunion for sure.
by rossanahead | Aug 6, 2011 | career, Ruth M. Floresca, woman
By Ruth Manimtim-Floresca
There are usually two types of people I encounter in my line of work: those who inspire and encourage and those who can turn a good day bad. Thankfully, over the years, I’ve learned that life always has ways of balancing things out.
One memory I’ll never forget was being scolded via text messages by a university professor for not being able to provide her immediately with a complimentary copy of the magazine where the article I interviewed her for appeared. At the time, I really didn’t have the budget to buy even my own copy because we’re saving up for my son’s operation. I politely asked if she could give me a month or two to provide her with one since the publisher doesn’t give out complimentary copies. She replied with “No need. This will be the first and last your company is getting any help from me and I will inform my colleagues about your policy” as if I have just committed a crime.
There was also a time when I got stuck in traffic and arrived less than 10 minutes late for an interview. On my way over, my interviewee has been texting and calling me that she and her husband will not wait for me because they’re always on time. I was out of breath when I got to the venue because I ran as fast I could after getting off an expensive taxi ride.
I have dozens more of these stories than I care to remember including a couple of clients who vanished into thin air after making me write press releases for them. Thankfully, I have also been blessed with pleasant ones.
For instance, there was this Saturday when my article appeared in the newspaper I was writing for and my interviewee texted me to ask for my mailing address. That afternoon, a beautiful bouquet of flowers arrived at my doorstep. A couple of months ago, while grocery shopping during my birthday, my sister in law called me to say that a lovely cake from a PR company was delivered at our house several minutes ago.
When I get text messages or e-mails from people I interviewed telling me how much they liked what I wrote, I try not to erase them from my phone or e-mail inbox. When I do have to make way for new messages, I write down their texts, the dates, the senders’ names, and the articles I interviewed them for in a small notebook.
On days when I encounter another bad experience, I take the notebook out and read the affirming messages there. I remind myself that I may fail to satisfy the expectations or demands of certain people but there are still those who appreciate what I do; and that is validation enough that I am not doing as badly as those others think I am.
Then again, I also try to keep in mind to treat the negative experiences as lessons in humility that would help build my character, let me grow more as a person, make me more patient, keep me grounded, and provide me with better discernment on how to deal with or avoid similar incidents in the future.
In my roles as parent, friend, colleague, etc. I always pray that I could also be a source of encouragement for other people even if I may fall short every now and then.
We all need to hear words of affirmation. However, let’s also remember that they are not meant to make us feel puffed up or arrogant but rather grateful that there are people who believe in what we do. At the end of the day, that is what should matter.
by rossanahead | Aug 4, 2011 | career, family, Karen Galarpe, parenting, woman
By Karen Galarpe
On a media trip to Thailand last week, my fellow journalists and I made a beeline for the duty-free shops at the airport with less than an hour left before boarding time. Our agenda: buy homecoming gifts or pasalubong. We bought chocolates, tamarind candies, mango in sticky rice, and Thai curry in a box and headed to the gate with our loot.
Looking around, I see that rare is the Filipino who doesn’t buy pasalubong for folks back home. It’s more of an unwritten rule and a custom to bring home a souvenir for those who weren’t with us on the trip, in effect saying, “Wish you were with me” or “Thinking of you” or “Here’s a little gift to show you I care.”
It’s not really the grandness of the gift that matters, rather the thought that counts, and so little pasalubong items from chocolates to little trinkets are welcomed. This is an expression of the love language of gifts. In “The Five Love Languages of Teenagers”, author Gary Chapman writes, “Gifts are visible, tangible evidence of emotional love.”
My sister remembers hugging and carrying this big white stuffed bear on the plane back home to give to her kids. A friend of mine brought home in his hand luggage two heavy little sculptures from Bangkok to give to friends. And I remember checking out maybe about three stores in Akihabara in Tokyo looking for a specific anime action figure for my son.
There’s satisfaction in buying something for a loved one, or people you care about, and handing this over personally upon arrival from a trip. The smile on the recipients’ faces is worth it.
Traveling soon? Make room then for some strawberry jam and peanut brittle from Baguio, otap and danggit from Cebu, green tea from Japan, coffee from Seattle, wine from California, chocolates from Switzerland, tea from China, and yes, why not—some crocodile jerky from Australia. If it fits in the bag, it’s great pasalubong. Have a safe trip!
by rossanahead | Jul 30, 2011 | children, family, parenting, woman
By Tina Arceo-Dumlao
The realization that I was truly and absolutely responsible for someone else’s life came without warning one quiet morning in 1996, a few days after my son, Miggy, was born.
My mother had left that day for work and left me home alone with my two brothers with the firm instruction that we should give Miggy – who was a little over a week old at that time – a nice, relaxing bath as soon as he woke up from his early morning nap.
She neglected, however, to tell us exactly how to do just that.
Because I delivered via caesarian section, it was my mother who had been giving Miggy a bath since we came home from the hospital, and I did not see for myself how she transformed the little life form into a sweet smelling baby since I was mostly in bed recovering from my operation. My husband, Jerome, who was an executive at that time in an office in Makati City, was not around to help because he had left early for work.
And so there we were, three siblings without any idea how to give a fragile, crying baby a refreshing bath.
We argued over options: Should we just put him in the tub? But he might drown! Do we just put him on the bath mat? But we might miss some spots! Should we use a sponge or a small towel? But it might hurt him. How much pressure do we apply? Will he get scratched?
There were too many questions and just us three loudly arguing over what is the right thing to do.
In the end, I took over and made the final decision. I was the mother after all and the call was mine and mine alone to make. Talk about responsibility on a young and first time mother’s shoulders.
And so I told my Kuya to carefully hold him over the bathtub while my younger brother and I took turns soaping then rinsing him.
Of course, it was the wrong and inefficient way to do it, but he did end up smelling like only newborns can – a faint mix of milk, baby powder, and baby soap. I came out feeling oh so proud of myself because I, who was 24 years old when my son was born on Feb. 2, 1996, had made my first major decision for the good of my son. I had become a mommy!
Armando Miguel Arceo Dumlao is 15 years old now and in his final year in high school at La Salle Green Hills, and it has been one decision after another since that time I gave him a bath for the first time.
Some do not require much brain activity: Mom, can I go to the party? No. Mom, can I stay overnight at a friend’s house? No. Mom, can I get a new pair of shoes? No. Others you have to agonize over: Mom, can I ask somebody to be my date to the prom? Ummm….Yes (Sigh). Mom, can I start driving soon? I’ll think about it.
But through everything, I was guided by the same overriding, singular thought that crowded my head that time that I was splashing water on my baby’s tiny, wriggling body: What is the best for my son?
My decisions are not right all the time, but I rest easy knowing that right or wrong, I tried to do what is best for him – always for him, not about myself. And that sacrifice, that heroic act of putting my son’s interest before my own (even if it kills me) is, for me, what motherhood is all about.
Tina Arceo Dumlao is a multi-awarded journalist and desk editor of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. She has a Journalism degree from the University of the Philippines.
