by rossanahead | May 2, 2011 | children, family, Karen Galarpe, parenting
By Karen Galarpe
It’s been a year since I went back to the gym, and throughout the past months, I get a kick whenever I would put on my special white shirt, hit the treadmill, and afterward lift those 5-pound dumbbells.
The special shirt is just a simple white tee given by my close friend Nancy, and it says “Super Mom.” It comes with its own S logo, much like the one in Superman’s costume.
Me, Super Mom? Yeah.
I’ll be the first to admit, though, that I’m no perfect mom.
I can’t cook well, nurture a plant, crochet, sew clothes, change a lightbulb, fix a leaking pipe, or patch a hole in the roof. I don’t even know how to make my own pesto sauce.
But I can make tacos (using taco seasoning mix), bring my son to school and pick him up when I can, workout beside him, try out new restaurants with him, and never leave his side at the hospital when he’s sick.
I can’t remember to buy all the things on my grocery list in my head, or remember the brand of batteries he prefers. But I can search for the perfect suit within our budget for prom night, and remember to have mosquito repellent and hand sanitizer available at all times.
I can’t teach him how to drive (he learned from others), but I can be there with him for any school activity: card-giving, PTC, program, family day, etc.
I can’t be all, or do all. But I can do some, and do it well.
I’m not perfect (only God is), but I’m one who would like to do her best (“be super”) in everything with God’s help.
I know many moms may feel the same way — we’re a bunch of Super Moms!
As Mother’s Day draws near, here’s a toast to all you Super Moms out there. We’re cool. We’re super!
![A Bunch of Flowers]()
by rossanahead | Apr 30, 2011 | children, family, parenting, Rossana Llenado, woman
By Rossana L. Llenado One of my most vivid memories of my son Nicolo happened when he was just three years old. We were admiring the blooms at a flower shop in SM Megamall. And behind us was a bunch of other mommies looking at the beautiful floral arrangements. I must have looked so pleased because after some time, Nicolo said, “When I grow up, I’m going to buy you all these flowers!” My heart jumped to my throat. Like most three-year-olds, I knew that mommy was still the center of his universe. Nevertheless, his words filled me with joy. He said, “I’m going to buy you all these flowers!” I’ve been given flowers before but nothing beats the promise of my young beloved. Today, Nicolo is 15 years old. And true to his words, he has given me flowers through the years. He would give me bouquets on Mother’s Day and on my birthday. Once, he even gave me a bunch of roses. Put together, his gift of flowers would not be able to fill up a floral shop. But still, I am very happy. Next month, Nicolo will turn 16. Yes, my once sweet toddler will soon become a full-fledged teenager. And already, he’s talking about going to a soiree—an impending event which has brought me a bit of anxiety. Because after the soirees will come the crushes, and then the group dates and the prom, and soon, my once sweet toddler will be giving flowers to someone other than yours truly. I knew it would happen someday soon. And when it does, I will not cry. I will not shed a tear. I will be happy for my son Nicolo as he experiences the first throes of young love. But till then, I have the memory of this handsome three-year-old who made my heart jump with joy.
by rossanahead | Apr 23, 2011 | children, family, Mari-an Santos, Uncategorized, woman
By Mari-An C. Santos
My mother turned 60 last month. But looking at her, you wouldn’t have guessed it. Her hair is still jet black and her face hardly has any wrinkles. Her voice is clear and she walks with sure-footed steps. I usually associate 60-year-olds with grandmothers. But my mother is not a grandmother. (Don’t remind her though–she might decide to take it up with me and my sister.) She is a wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, aunt.
Everyone says we look alike. I always say I got my looks from her but my temperament from my father.
Mama always worries about what to cook for the next meal, that I have a complete first aid kit for my trip, and that our balikbayan relatives have everything they need. Whenever I come home to Manila, we always have these long mother-daughter talks. Aside from telling me about the interesting things that happened around the household, she tells me about her past. That’s how I found out about the time when she went up to Baguio all by herself to meet my father. But since they didn’t talk about where and when they’d meet, Mama had to go to different places until they finally, literally, found each other.
She told me about the first time she came to Manila all the way from Zamboanga. Mama was a nurse and had come to the “big, bad city” to work. Save for her older sister, she did not know anyone in Manila. She stayed at a boarding house and worked the graveyard shift at a small hospital, treating people at odd hours for the most bizarre injuries.
These were revelations to me. My mother, who’s usually escorted by my father, commuting a very long distance for an undetermined date? My mother, who’s always with someone, alone?
I’ve known my mother all my life but it seems that I do not really know her. Listening to her stories, I realized that we have a lot more in common than I had previously thought.
I look forward to many more years of getting to know my Mama better.
by rossanahead | Apr 20, 2011 | children, Education, family, Karen Galarpe, parenting
By Karen Galarpe
Walking into my room one time, a friend said, “Do you read all these books?”
And one time, my aunt came in, looked at my son’s bookshelf and said, “Ang dami niyang libro ‘no?”
We’re a family of readers, my son and I, and have been so for as long as I can remember.
Growing up, I buried my nose in books during vacations, and during school season, I would be in the school library almost every day. I felt a certain kind of high filling out my library card for the year in just a few months, and requesting a crisp new one to last me the next 3 months.
My books of choice when I was growing up were varied: fairy tales in the early grades, then Enid Blyton, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and Bobbsey Twins later on.
By the time I was in high school, I was into Sweet Dreams, Sweet Valley High, Mills and Boon, even Barbara Cartland romances. But my mom said I should read better stuff, so I shifted to John Steinbeck and books about the Holocaust and the Nazis.
The reading bug continued to bite me while in college, and today, I have to read a book every day no matter how busy I am. Sometimes, just 10 to 15 minutes a day, or a chapter, would do. Having an hour to read is bliss to me.
My reading choices today have become wider: from parenting and personal finance to history, fiction, Christian living, psychology, food, arts, et cetera.
With my son, I have started reading to him while he was still in my tummy. As a baby, he would look at the images I would point out at the board books we would read every day. It also became a ritual for us to read a storybook at night before he went to sleep.
Among the books we would read over and over again when he was small were “Ang Ambisyosong Istetoskop” by Luis Gatmaitan, a story about Jose Rizal’s stethoscope; a book on American presidents; a book series about Lego toys; an atlas; and so much more.
Today, his books have gone more eclectic, from “1984” by George Orwell to books about politics, history, cars, and manga.
To make your child enjoy reading, you have to enjoy reading yourself. When a child sees how much joy you derive at reading and learning, he will gravitate to reading himself. And as Dr. Seuss said, “The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”
by rossanahead | Mar 29, 2011 | children, Lyra Pore, parenting, woman
By Lyra Pore
Getting my kids to clean their bedrooms has been a hit-and-and miss affair in our household. I’ve tried giving direct orders: “Clean your room.” It doesn’t work. I’ve tried praising the merits of tidiness: “Isn’t it awesome?” It doesn’t work. After several years of experimentation, I’ve found two things that do work.
I’ve only written the first paragraph of this blog when I had to leave the computer to get the table ready for breakfast. I come back after a while to find this list typed into my draft:
- Give them chocolate.
- Pay them lots of money.
- Give eldest daughter a unicorn.
- Give eldest daughter books.
- Take eldest daughter to Harry Potter theme park.
- Give eldest daughter an iPad.
Nice try, eldest daughter, but these are the tricks that actually do the job:
TRICK NO. 1: Grab a large garbage bag and announce to the children: “I’m going to clean your rooms. Everything I pick up on the floor will go into this bag and get chucked in the bin.”
It doesn’t matter whatever’s keeping them busy at the moment. Selena Gomez could very well be doing the most amazing thing on Wizards of Waverly Place, but they drop everything at the sight of the black garbage bag and run to their rooms as fast they can. They know our ever-reliable garbage collector never misses his weekly run.
TRICK NO. 2: Invite their friends to come to the house.
Two weeks ago, one of their classmates rang around 11:00 in the morning.
“Can I come over to play?”
“What time?”
“11:30?”
“Mom, is that OK?”
“Yes. But make sure you tidy up. You know I don’t like showing other people our mess.”
As soon as she hangs up the phone, she and her sister run around the house picking up toys and other litter. In less than half an hour, they have the house–not just their bedrooms–looking sparkling clean.
Ha! You bet I’ve been on the phone today organizing play dates with other moms.
“Hi! I was wondering if I could invite your little girl to come play at our house this weekend.”
“Thank you! That’s wonderful. She’d love to come.”
Featured Photo Courtesy of Metro Parent
