by rossanahead | Jan 6, 2012 | career, children, parenting, woman
By Leslie G. Lee
I became an aunt almost a decade ago, when my older sister gave birth to her first son, Nathan, who is now nine years old. At that time, I had no inkling that my life would change upon the arrival of this little boy. Sure, I was excited about the newest addition to our family, but what I didn’t expect was just how much I would grow and evolve as a person by being an aunt.
Pre-aunthood, I was a driven, workaholic advertising account executive. I’d put in long hours in the office and obsessed about work day and night, so determined was I to climb and claw my way up the ladder. My life was centered on my career and nothing else.
Nathan changed all that.
I remember when my parents informed me that my sister was in labor in the wee hours of the morning. That day was a particularly busy one for me, as I was juggling various accounts and neck-deep in paperwork. I wanted to be with my parents in the waiting area but since I couldn’t, I arranged for flowers and gifts to convey my congratulations. My sister had to stay in the hospital for two more days after giving birth, and I wanted more than ever to visit her and go to the maternity wing to get a glimpse of my first nephew.
But I couldn’t, because I was buried with work.
When I saw the baby, however, it was love at first sight.
My obsession with work was replaced by my passion of seeing my nephew grow up. I grew resentful of my work since the long hours meant less time with him. Finally, I decided to quit my job in advertising and sought another job that would offer a more balanced work-life.
Apparently, I had made the right decision, for I now have three precocious nephews, and among their slew of aunts, I am the one whom they see most often.
Just as every person has his or her own style of parenting, I too have my own way of being an aunt to these three little ones. I’m a hands-on aunt: babysitter, caregiver, and surrogate mother on call. My family knows that I would cancel or postpone meetings or plans with friends at the drop of a hat, should my sisters and their husbands require someone to pinch-hit as a parent. I spoil them rotten with gifts almost every month and always buy them souvenirs whenever I go abroad. In fact, in one of my business trips, I bought more stuff for them than myself! I indulge their whims, understand and love their quirks, and bond with them at every opportunity.
Everyone gets a glimpse of parenthood one way or another, but for me, being a hands-on aunt not only gives me that, but also provides a good training ground for future parenthood. I’ve picked up a lot of tips and skills in my 10 years of being an auntie: from the practical and technical (changing diapers, cradling a newborn, putting a baby to sleep) to the emotional and psychological (dealing with three very distinct personalities, instilling good manners and virtues, satiating their curiosity with truthful yet carefully crafted answers).
And more than just learning the ropes and prepping myself for future parenthood, my “auntie” style has given me an idea of how I would be as a mother. But then again, we will never really know, not until I have a child of my own.
A recovering workaholic, Leslie G. Lee is a staunch advocate of work-life balance. Her passion for words has led her to work for and contribute to a number of publications in the Philippines and Singapore. Currently, she is taking a break from the frenetic world of publishing, in order to rejuvenate her creative juices, focus on her personal growth, and, most importantly, spend more quality time with her three adorable nephews.
Photo by Joshua Reddekopp on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Dec 22, 2011 | career, children, family, Rossana Llenado, woman
By Rossana L. Llenado
I’m a believer in making schedules and lists. It’s one of the best ways to stay organized. If I didn’t have a schedule mapped out, I wouldn’t be able to keep track of all my appointments and obligations. That’s why I need my planner and why I write out the day, week, month, and year.
Every day, I wake up then head off to work within an hour. I spend the day in meetings, making business decisions, troubleshooting, making plans, and networking. By 6 p.m., I am wrapping up my day and I’m at home by 7 p.m. to spend time with my kids. When they’re off to bed, I’m back catching up on what I was unable to do during the day such as checking my e-mails and so forth. I’m asleep after midnight to be ready for the daily grind the following day. Weekends aren’t spared from a structured schedule. As much as I try to set aside time to spend with my kids, there are days when I still need to go to seminars or other events that require my presence.
Even as a young child, I’ve already set a schedule for myself, not only for my day to day activities, but for my life in general. Early on, I knew that I wanted to be successful and I dreamed up all the things that I wanted to achieve and the time it would take for me to get there.
In school, I set my classes in such a way that I would be able to work in the afternoon so I could make extra money. I had so many things going on, the only way I could keep my head above the water was to schedule and prioritize things. If I were any less organized, I would have turned cross-eyed by now.
For example, I determined that after graduating from college, I would have my own business. Back then, I really thought I would have my own restaurant! By the time I was 25, I planned that I would be married. Then I would have kids spaced two to three years apart.
Things didn’t necessarily turn out that way. I was off by a year getting married. I certainly wasn’t able to put up that restaurant. Instead, I ended up establishing an entirely different type of business. When I put up my business, I never thought it would grow into what it is today.
As much as you organize things, life still manages to wreck havoc on the best laid plans. There are just some things you can’t plan for such as death, accidents, surprises, and other tragedies. I never guessed that I would have four children, with twins to boot! And I certainly never imagined myself in the field of education. Having a tutorial and review business is certainly a big difference from having a restaurant to call my own.
There is only so much that I can schedule in my life. I can’t account for the weather, nor can I be responsible for other people’s reactions. I can try to prepare for things as much as I can, but in the end, you can’t always stick to a schedule.
I have found that sometimes, it is the unscheduled things in life that are the most rewarding. Surprises such as a sudden hug from my oldest child after a long day, or when my youngest turns to me to tell me she loves me, are things that cannot be written in. Getting a call or e-mail from a long lost friend, or having to clear my afternoon so I can attend my son’s awarding ceremony at school are other unexpected and unscheduled turns, although pleasant ones. Other major milestones such as getting your first kiss, falling in love or even out of it are events that you can’t plan for or chart.
Setting goals and realistic time lines are ways to keep track of endeavors and to make sure that a proper course is set. I may not always meet it but at least I know it’s something that I am working on. I have several projects that are already delayed, but I don’t let that stress me. I know that some things take longer than others, and there are just some things beyond my control.
by rossanahead | Dec 17, 2011 | career, Education
By Paula Bianca Abiog
Since I was a child, I have always known I wanted to become a writer. I learned how to read by flipping through newspapers and magazines at three; started writing my own stories (patterned after my favorite fairy tales) at six; composed long entries in lock-and-key journals by 11; and seriously considered writing as a career when I was 16.
Five years ago, I got my dream job. I was finally going to write for a magazine. And with getting my dream job came plans to eventually become an editor one day.
I loved my job. I got to interview and write about celebrities and inspiring men and women; I was able to tackle relevant, sometimes controversial, topics, and more. I was able to go to different places around the country and write about what I saw, from Batanes in the north to Bohol in the south.
But as the years went by, while I still loved writing about people, places, and issues, I found myself doing the same thing over and over again. I felt that I was stuck in a rut, and lately, I felt I wasn’t improving as a writer. I also wanted to try other things, to see if I can do more than just writing. And after a few months agonizing over whether to stay or to go, I finally decided to try my luck in doing something new.
Even if I knew I made the decision for career growth, I initially felt I was abandoning my childhood dream, my plans to become an editor, and the friends I made in those five years. But life doesn’t always pan out the way you envision it, plans don’t materialize exactly when you want them, and friendships don’t end when one leaves to pursue something new. More importantly, I realized that I won’t stop being a writer just because I wanted to try a different tack.
Sometimes, getting what you want, when you want it doesn’t always lead to the fabulous ending you’ve always wished for. Perhaps one day you’ll get what you want when you least expect it, when God, or the fates, feel that you’re ready to finally have what you want. And to be able to grow and move forward, you sometimes have to take a different and unfamiliar path to shake you up. You have to step out of your comfort zone, test the waters, flounder a bit, and find your footing once more, so your growth doesn’t get stunted.
Paula now works for the corporate communications office of a large corporation. And yes, she is still very much a writer.
Photo by Estée Janssens on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Dec 3, 2011 | career, woman
By Leslie Lee
A few years ago, I made the monumental decision to leave Manila and carve out a new life in another country, thinking—just like millions of other OFWs—that I would earn more than what I was getting in my previous job. And I did: My salary rivaled that of a regional manager’s in a multinational corporation back home. “I’m rich,” I thought, while staring at the numbers printed on my pay slip.
There were plenty of reasons behind that decision, and one of them was that I was sick of living in third-world Philippines. I wanted to experience life in a more progressive country. I longed for first-world conveniences. I wanted to live in a country one would be proud to call home.
Then the universe hit me in the face with a huge serving of humble pie to make me realize just how superficial and simply wrong I was.
I was at the Philippine Embassy to register as an Overseas Filipino Worker. As I was filling up some forms, I noticed that the guy next to me kept glancing at my papers, probably checking to see if he had filled up his own forms right, too. He seemed so anxious and unsure that I took pity on him and started chatting him up.
The Filipino I spoke to used to be a government employee from Cavite. Like me, he wanted to seek greener pastures; unlike me, he got a job that was worlds apart from his previous one. He was part of a posh hotel restaurant’s service crew and, even if he was already five months into the job, was still struggling with the locals’ language. Like me, he would be reprimanded whenever he misinterpreted the locals’ English (chicken drumstick is known as “dark part” but “dark” is pronounced as “duck”—thus the confusion); unlike me, he would always swallow his pride and humbly accept the scolding.
To this day, I feel ashamed whenever I remember how I had tried to hide my Filipino identity. When I first stepped into that foreign land, I disguised myself with the other half of my heritage and masqueraded as being from Taiwan, Hong Kong, or mainland China. I spoke with a Valley girl’s accent to belie the fact that I am a Filipino.
Hearing tale after tale of Pinoys being discriminated—from the domestic helper to the fast food service crew to the vice-president of a bank—broke my heart. Regardless of rank, as soon as we are introduced as Filipino or from the Philippines, the tenor of their voices and the look on their faces change. Because of the color of our skin, the way we speak English, and our inherent docility, we get bullied and belittled. For most of them, being Filipino was something to be sneered at.
That encounter in the embassy was truly an eye-opener. Why bother to keep up this pretense? What was so shameful about being a humble, modest, cheerful, hard-working, and multi-tasking Filipino? Without our community, who will take care of their children, clean their house, wash the dishes, and help ensure that their household is running smoothly? Who will process their payment in the grocery store, assist them in finding the right shoe or shirt size, and serve them dinner?
As I bid farewell to my fellow countryman at the subway station, a thought popped into my head: I was not meant to seek greener pastures, but to realize that the greenest pasture is the one you were born and bred in. I understand now that to conquer this colonial mentality, and consequently change the way others view us, I have to remain true to my roots, and be proud of my heritage.
Photo by Helen Stegney on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Oct 4, 2011 | parenting, woman
By Julie Javellana-Santos
Without my daughter, the 40-minute commute to work seemed longer than usual this morning. I felt lonely and deserted traversing the kilometers between my home and the school where I work and she studies. Up until last June, however, I had been going to work alone. It was only when she began going to the college where I worked that we “bonded” while commuting.
The long (not that long) train ride was most conducive to chatting about inconsequential and mundane things. Things like the state of her wardrobe, how her blockmates annoyed her, the books she wanted to buy and the fast food she wanted to sample on a daily basis.
Our conversations inevitably turned to more serious matters — how she was getting low scores in Math but which she vowed to make up for with higher scores in English and Literature and how she was enjoying college.
It was during those times that we talked about my health too, and how I felt about my job.
There were also times when nary a word was spoken by either of us. The only sound she made would be the rustling of the innumerable papers she had to read for class.
Midway through the train ride, she would always lean her head on my shoulder to take a short nap and catch up on her sleep. By virtue of her larger size, this sometimes made my back ache, but what the heck, anything for my “baby.”
My “baby” is now living temporarily with my sister, whose house is closer to her college. As school is not far away, she hopefully will have more time to study. And I, I will just have to learn to live with commuting alone, having these conversations in my mind.
Time has flown so fast from when she was a babe in my arms to one stumbling through her first steps. I realize that soon enough I will have to say goodbye on a more permanent basis so this temporary separation is a “dry run.”
Yesterday she dropped by my office because she had forgotten her vitamins at home and it was all I could do to keep myself from hugging her. I now understand why my mother visited me often at my own flat.
My feelings are also silly because she will only be away to study for her final exams next week.
The week after, she will be back home for her semestral vacation. And then the new semester will start, and we will be commuting together again, taking those long train rides together again and chatting about inconsequential things again.
