by rossanahead | Jul 26, 2011 | career, Karen Galarpe, woman
By Karen Galarpe
Over lunch a month ago, one of my officemates confessed to me that he had just tendered his resignation as section editor of our online publication. I was dumbfounded. I didn’t see that coming, so I asked, “But why?????”
He said he wants to rest and pursue higher studies, and look for a job more allied to his college degree in the sciences. Four years in media was fun but stressful, and he wants to do something else now. I nodded in reply. I know the feeling.
Rewind to 22 years ago. I was a certified public accountant who finally realized writing was what I really wanted to do. Life is short, I thought, why be miserable?
Yesterday, my mom and I went to her friend’s house to check out a cute female shih tzu puppy for sale. On our way out, my mom’s friend told me that her son, who has been breeding shih tzus and chihuahuas, is really a nurse who even passed the Board exams. “But he likes taking care of dogs. That’s his business,” she said.
I believe we have all been gifted by God with passion for something for a purpose. When I hear Lea Salonga sing, for instance, I see the passion burning in her heart, and I feel moved by her singing. Similarly, when I see Lisa Macuja Elizalde dancing ballet with such emotion, I feel moved as well, and awed by such a gift which could have only come from God. When I heard former UK Prime Minister Tony Blair and former US Vice President Al Gore give talks in Manila, I immediately saw their passion for good governance and environment protection, respectively, and I was encouraged.
“The greatest things in life are not things. Meaning is far more important than money,” wrote Rick Warren in The Purpose Driven Life.
What’s your passion? Pursue it and have a meaningful life.
by rossanahead | Jul 23, 2011 | career, Education, Mari-an Santos, woman
By Mari-An Santos
I was recently awarded a scholarship to study abroad. It sounds so simple now, but the road getting there was anything but.
After having taught at a university, my eyes were opened to the possibility of pursuing higher education abroad through a scholarship grant. On occasion, colleagues would nonchalantly mention how they took a short course at a university in the United States or participated in a conference in Europe. Being an avid traveler, I yearned to see those places, but I did not quite know how.
One by one, my closest friends received scholarship grants. One got a Ford Foundation scholarship to study in the United Kingdom, another a Fulbright to study in the US, another a government grant in Singapore, and the last a fellowship in The Netherlands. I was very happy for every one of them. They deserved it. But then, a tiny voice inside me always said: “What about me? Why can’t I get one of those?”
Of course, I didn’t know the first thing about getting a scholarship. I would read about scholarship grants on the Net, but there were too many requirements. It would take too much time and effort, I thought. And so I didn’t even try.
But as one colleague after another flew off to some faraway land to study, I was pushed into action. They encouraged me to try. And so I did.
I applied to one scholarship after another, but only got letters of regret. I got disheartened. Fortunately, my friends kept on pushing me, telling me to try again. And so I did, again and again and again.
In the middle of a busy day, when I least expected it, I got the most exciting news! That life-changing story, however, is for another blog post.
by rossanahead | Jul 21, 2011 | career, children, family, Gina Abuyuan, parenting, woman
By Regina Abuyuan
Readers of this blog who are connected with me through Facebook have probably been keeping tabs on the latest adventure of my wonky life. With D and another friend, R, I recently opened a pub in Cubao X. It’s called Fred’s (after D’s grandfather, a drinking stalwart who was also into cigars; coincidentally, R’s and my maternal grandfathers were also named Fred, and both carried their drink and smokes more than well). It’s been weeks of very late nights (er, early mornings) for me, which had me behind the bar serving drinks, wiping down tables, and cleaning ashtrays. I have great respect for waitresses and barmaids now. Their job is exhausting and murder on the feet and legs.
For more than a week straight, I packed my kids off to my mom’s (God bless grandmas!), and prayed they wouldn’t be any trouble.
They were.
Well, at least my twins were. My daughter behaved as she always does—responsible, quiet, obedient. My absence had taken its toll on the twins. My mom and her househelp tell me they frequently fight, watch too much TV, and fall asleep with the TV on. One day, when I had nicked enough time to drive by and check on them, they exasperatedly said, in unison: “Finally!”
When I got ready to leave again, Mateo handed me the piece of origami he had made (he likes making me these things; my bedside table is littered with them). “I made this for you, Mommy.”
My heart almost broke with guilt.
Their teachers have told me their behavior has changed in school, as well. Mateo’s on the verge of being a bully; Marco is his usual cool self—but probably more cool than expected, which is also reason for alarm.
I swore I would never allow myself to feel this way again, to let any situation let me feel this way again. But the universe likes to play jokes on us sometimes, and just as we think we’re free, an opportunity comes where we have to give up something to attain something. I feel especially guilty because the twins have gotten the brunt of these choices; the first was when I was putting up a new magazine when they were only three years old, and now, this.
Is it worth it, you may ask? I don’t know yet. But at least now, being part-owner of something I created, I also have the power to choose how much time I put in our venture, and how much control I’m willing to take—or give up.
I’ve not had a late night in the pub since Friday, and I attended the twins’ emergency preparedness workshop on Saturday (another advocacy I’m involved in). I’m trying to regain what I lost over the past weeks: Balance. It’s what all mothers strive for. It’s the law of the universe; the law of Mother Nature herself, who knows just how and when to tip the scales this way and that.
Wish me luck!
by rossanahead | Jul 19, 2011 | children, family, parenting, woman
By Catherine Deen
Like most first-time parents, my husband and I were extremely protective of our firstborn. During his first three years of life, he slept with us in the master bedroom. From a crib, he graduated to our bed, then later on, to a small fold-out bed of his own. While he had a room of his own, which housed his toys, books, clothes, and other items, his bed was stored and used in our room.
Although not uncommon, this is a less-than-ideal sleeping arrangement for many families. Yes, we may have saved on electric bills since we only needed to use one air conditioner, but it did not create an independent spirit in our son. This sleeping arrangement also resulted in our personal loss of privacy and couple time. As you can imagine, neither my husband nor I appreciated this.
When our son turned three, my husband and I discussed how to transition him into sleeping in his own room. We were very concerned about separation anxiety and thought carefully about how to implement the transition. Ultimately, we decided to turn the experience into a “surprise,” hoping that the “fun factor” would assist in the transition process.
First, we cleaned his room. Second, we secured his bed prominently in his room, strategically placing some of his favorite toys on the bed. Third, we put up educational posters—numbers, letters, good manners, parts of the body, and others—around his room. When the room was finally ready, we called him up and nervously announced, “Son, welcome to your room!”
We were busy preparing a surprise but the surprise was on us! Imagine our amazement when our son responded, “Oh my! I had been dreaming of having my own room!” He then proceeded to enter and OWN his room!
My husband and I looked at each other, dumbfounded. The whole time, we thought our son would have a hard time, but as it turned out, he had been ready and waiting for it for a long time.
That evening, our son slept in his room all by himself and without supervision. There was no need to even stay with him to lull him to sleep. Our little man was ready to be by himself. Throughout the night, we found ourselves a bit lonely in our room without our son. Laughable as it may seem, we found ourselves going back and forth from our bedroom to his to check on him several times that evening.
In this scenario, who had separation anxiety?! Ironically, it was not the son but the parents!
This significant parenting experience taught me one of the greatest lessons in parenting that I still practice today. Indeed, our primary role as parents is to prepare our children to face life on their own and not to overprotect them. Many times, we fear for our children’s safety and security. But, can we truly guarantee that? No. Cliché as it sounds, parenting is truly like a slightly open palm—not too tight to become stifling overprotection, yet not too loose to develop irresponsible freedom.
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.”
