by rossanahead | Apr 25, 2011 | children, family, parenting, Ruth M. Floresca, woman
By Ruth Manimtim-Floresca
“Clouds that move across the skies are changing form before our very eyes…Have we outgrown our Peter Pans and wings? We’ve simply grown too old for tales of knights and kings. Cause life’s a constant change and nothing stays the same …”
I have always loved Jose Mari Chan’s compositions – they’re so poetic, very meaningful, and have wonderful melodies. My roommate in college had Chan’s albums and I would often borrow them to listen and unwind to. Up to now, thanks to his soothing voice and beautiful music, I feel peaceful every time I hear his songs. The poet in me appreciates the way he had strung words together to come up with thought-provoking lines.
Often I would find myself mulling over the lyrics of “Constant Change.” There is so much truth behind those words. More and more, I see grownups no longer having time to enjoy the simple things in life; adults who wouldn’t dare have fun walking under the rain without an umbrella or people over their 20’s who would never let themselves be caught sitting on a park swing flying with such joyous abandon. Nowadays, most grownups seem content to lead their busy lives, acting on what they think of as adult behavior and missing out on a lot!
I’ve found out that having kids is one great way to relive one’s childhood. In fact, I know people who became more laidback and “cool” when they got to be parents. As the song says, we shouldn’t let go of the capacity to have fun in childlike ways. In my case, enjoyment of life didn’t diminish but was amplified when my four sons entered the world.
To date, I can proudly say I know around 50 or so Barney songs. I can recite the titles of shows (and even sing their theme songs!) in most of the cable kiddie channels. Quiz me about Spongebob and High School Musical and I’d probably answer everything correctly. And yes, I tap my toes too when my teenagers listen to songs by Boys Like Girls or Hale, and whenever they watch Glee. I can even beat them on some computer games!
A friend of mine and her husband take time during weekends to play games like patintero with their three children. From what I see, they are a family whose bonding got better and better because the kids know that their parents understand them and are willing to go down to kid-level to show their love.
Sure, we do change. Everyone changes. But wouldn’t we be happier to go changing for the better without losing sight of the things we enjoyed when we were children? Lick an ice cream cone, turn cartwheels, or giggle like a preschooler. Bring out that child inside of you right now. No matter your age, you will never be too old not to be able to! In return, I’ll bet you’ll get to smile more often. I do.
by rossanahead | Apr 17, 2011 | career, children, Gina Abuyuan, parenting, woman
By Gina Abuyuan
I would probably now own a Mac Air, have a year’s worth of rent paid, and a lilac Gucci handbag made of the most sublime, buttery leather if I were paid a peso every time I’ve been told/asked:
* “I-feature mo naman ako,” (“Can you do a feature on me?”) when people learn I edit a magazine (well, when I did);
* “Masakit?” (“Did it hurt?”) when they see the tattoo on my wrist; and
* “May lahi kayo?” (“Is it in your genes?”) when people learn I have twins.
And I would probably be now driven around in a mini-van if I gave myself a peso every time I promised myself: “I will not get dramatic about my being a working mom”—and broke it.
Don’t get me wrong—I love being a working mother. I love the adrenaline and challenge it gives me; I love being paid for what I love to do. But sometimes, the stress gets the better of me. I retreat into my selfish, self-centered world and resent the fact that other people (my sister, for instance, who I love dearly, again please don’t get me wrong) have got it easy: their husbands bring home bacon (a full slab at that!), all they’ve got to worry about is the kids’ baon, bring them to and pick them up from school, and make sure dinner is ready when hubby arrives.
But is it really that easy? I once was left sans yaya, when my twin boys were still babies, and a whole day taking care of them left me more sapped than 48 hours putting my then-magazine to bed. I marvel at the energy of my partner’s ex-wife, B, who’s chosen to be a homemaker to her current husband and two daughters. She’s up at dawn, cooks the family’s meals, drives the kids to school, hangs out in the mall while waiting for them to get out of class, drives them back home, takes care of her husband, and drives them to extracurricular activities during the weekends.
One time, when we were corresponding about her son’s schooling and she had missed an e-mail or two, she was profuse in her apologies. She was so busy, she said, but probably not as busy as I was, an editor. I stopped her right there. No way, I told her. It’s OK. Nothing can be busier than a full-time mom and homemaker.
So, yes, I do get emotionally frayed sometimes, especially when deadlines are piling up, editorial assistants are calling, and texting non-stop to follow up on stories, book clients are asking (“but no pressure! Just asking!”) if the copy is ready, and public relations practitioners are requesting for interviews “at the most convenient time.”
But, as I remind myself, that just like B and my sister, I made a choice. I made a choice to be a working mother. Not just a 9 to 5 pencil-pusher, mind you, but the type of worker who needs to hustle and have the ability to speak/write/understand different voices. Sure, I can un-make that choice, but that will mean going against who I am, what I was meant to do, and what I’m happy doing–occasional dramatics notwithstanding.
by rossanahead | Apr 17, 2011 | Jing Lejano, woman
By Jing Lejano
Every so often, my sister M and I would have these marathon phone sessions. She lives in Canada, you see, and we try to squeeze in several months of our lives into several minutes of talk. Our last conversation was a wild one and peppered with much laughter.
While talking about the many shades of dating these days (casual, complicated, what-have-you), M blurted out, “Hindi na ko cool!” (“I’m not cool anymore!”) I replied right back, “Matagal na tayong hindi cool!” (“We haven’t been cool for a long time!”)
I’ve never been cool to begin with, if your definition of cool is an au courant hipster. I’ve always seen myself as some kind of geeky cowboy. My sister M, however, is “cool.” She will forever be an artist with that “tortured soul” vibe about her.
When I became a mom, however, I was suddenly cool. When I get to meet my children’s friends, they’ll always tell me afterwards that their friends thought I was cool. Huh? Me? Cool?!
Is it because I knew how to take care of myself while the mommies of my kids’ friends started going losyang? Or is it because I was open to the idea of them participating in field trips, going on parties, or meeting up with friends? Or is it because I still liked hanging out with my kids? Or is it because I talk with their friends?
Maybe it’s all of the above or maybe it’s none of the above. But one thing’s for sure, I chilled out a bit because of all the things I learned from having kids. And I’m not just talking about their taste in music, which I make a point to listen to, or their sense of fashion, which I always take note of, or their passion for games, which I occasionally try to play.
No, I chilled out because I learned to relax. The obsessive-compulsive in me learned to let go because, really, how can you control everything when you have four different lives to think of? You can’t. And so I rock, and so I roll, and at the end of the day, I can sleep with my sanity intact to face another exciting tomorrow.
by rossanahead | Apr 10, 2011 | career, family, woman
By Jane Santos-Guinto
Epiphany has got to be one of my favorite words. Directly translated from Greek epiphaneia, it means “Vision of God.” It’s also the ‘formal name’ of the Feast of the 3 Kings, which is celebrated on the first Sunday after the New Year. In lay man’s (secular) terms, epiphany is a sudden realization–brought about by an inspiring moment, a burst of intuition, or possibly for others, by booze.
Epiphany can come in the unlikeliest of places, the most inconvenient of times. Among my best epiphanies have come while driving along the congested roads of Quezon City (the Philippines’ largest) and at home at two or three in the morning.
These past months I’ve been praying for new epiphanies. You see, I’ve been finding it pretty hard to be 30. My normally busy thoughts border on insane sometimes. I’ve questioned and questioned. And I’ve answered and answered.
Finally, after practically two weeks of hibernation (translated: mental torture), I’ve been led to the following “manifestations:”
(1) I can never be a housewife. I can only do housework if and only when I am happy with my “real” job.
(2) I can express my love to my husband, my mom, my sister, my grandparents, and to everyone else around me in a deeper, truer way when I am really happy with myself and what I’m doing.
(3) I want to write and speak about God.
One of my creative writing professors told me that reflective writing isn’t creative writing. For a long time, I held this as fact. But then, who can outdo us in creativity but the Creator Himself?
I’m hoping this blog’s readers aren’t my professor’s ‘disciples’.
by rossanahead | Apr 9, 2011 | Education, Mari-an Santos, woman
By Mari-An Santos
After my last post, my parents asked why I did not mention “the swimming classes.” In our house, this is one of the most enduring stories. I cringe every time my parents recount it with such gusto and glee.
The summer when I was 8 or 9 years old, my parents enrolled me in swimming lessons at the YWCA in Manila. My parents, like most, wanted to keep me busy with extracurricular activities during summer vacation. Succeeding summers saw me taking ballet, piano, and jazz dance classes.
On this particular vacation, my parents decided that I had to learn how to swim. If you read my previous post, you know that I was not a confident child. Putting on a swimsuit was enough to freak me out, and going out in public where people would actually see me?! That was out of the question. I’m sure I cried and wailed over this–hemming and hawing cannot even begin to describe it. Wailing and pleading and begging were probably involved.
Sure, my parents didn’t know how to swim, but they made this an argument “for,” whereas I was satisfied that if it was good enough for my parents to go this long without learning, then it was good enough for me. No dice. As a child in this debate, the “government” side won.
A few weeks in, as we were learning to breathe underwater, I swallowed a large amount of water and started wailing: “Mamamatay na ‘ko! Mamamatay na ‘ko!” (I am going to die! I am going to die!) I wanted to quit. I never wanted to get into the water again. The next day, I pleaded with my parents, but they told me I should not give up and had to finish the lessons. And so, I obediently went.
Obviously, I’m still alive. When we were in senior year of high school, I was reunited with the YWCA pool as we took our diving P. E. class there. I aced that class.
Today I swim every chance I get. And not just in the swimming pool either. I’ve done Boracay, Panglao, El Nido, Siargao, Bauang, Pagudpud, Currimao, Mactan, Dumaguete, Puerto Galera, to name a few. Of course, I have swallowed my fair share of water and I’ve smashed against some rocks. But I’m still swimming with my own two feet.
