When You Grow Up, I'll Remember

When I was a kid, your grandfather would bring us to parks, good places to eat and play, or anywhere the family could have fun, and then he would encapsulate a nice memory we have together by saying, "Paglaki niyo, maalala niyo ito," which translates to "When you grow up, you'll remember this (specific memory)."

I wanted to have moments like that with you, but sometimes I feel like you're too young to actually remember anything. Raising you though, made me realize that this phase we're in right now is different. It's me who wants to remember everything about you today. The things you say and how you make me so happy. And then when you grow up, I'll remember.

My darling, you're only four years old, but there's already so much I want to remember about you.

I'll remember your butt dance and your funny faces, and how you want to make everybody around you laugh. And after your great-grandpa died, you asked your Lola, "Do you miss your dad?"  And when she said yes, you tried to console her. You said, "You'll see him in heaven, with Jesus." We laughed. When we talk about you, you always ask, "Are you talking about me?" And we laugh because you always find a way of making things lighter.

You have a way with people that always makes them feel better when you're around. You entertain them by talking to them, asking them questions or serving them pretend food. Every time I remember that about you, I always feel so proud.

Usually, parents are proud when their children achieve something in school, or in sports. You're a very smart, athletic and talented kid, but what makes me proudest is your personality. How you make everybody smile. One time, you asked Instagram if you're cute. And our followers gushed at how adorable you are. Sometimes I wish I can share your videos with the world, but that's another issue about protecting your privacy and preserving your childhood. And we have moments that are way too precious to be reduced to an IG story.

I'll fondly remember them so that when you grow up, I'll tell you. That even as a kid, you were so precious and kind. When the time comes that you doubt how good of a person you are, I'll tell you that you were the sweetest child on the planet.

Because you're such an easy child, I worry about you for the future. I wonder if more years on earth or adolescence will change you. I know I still have a decade to prepare for that, but I hope you remain to be the sweet, good-natured girl that I love.

But when the rebellion years begin and you start to find me annoying, I'll remember how you told me that when you're already a grown-up, we'll be the best of friends. When you want to move out or be as far away from me as possible, I'll remember how you promised to visit me all the time. When you start getting all those teenage angst and emotions, I'll remember how you always forgive me when I'm having mom tantrums, and I'll try to give you the same patience that you should be accorded.

Image by Sasin Tipchai from Pixabay

One day, you asked, "When will my life change?" and I'm not sure you really understood what that question meant. You and me both, sweetheart. You're always excited to grow older, and taller, and to be able to do more things like your big sister. But there are also days when you want to be carried and pretend to be the baby. I wish I can keep it that way forever. That all you need is a hug from Mommy to be okay.

As much as we want everything around you to be perfect, and you can bet that Tatay and I will make sure you have the best life, the truth is life gets a little harder each time you get older. And when those challenging situations start to dampen your spirit, I'll tell you the things that I remember about you. I'll remind you of how strong and brave you are. I pray that I'll be there when the time comes that you need me to tell you these things. And I hope you don't cringe when you find out how sentimental your mother is.

All these things, I'll keep in my heart, because it is my job as your mother to be the keeper of everything about you, tangible and intangible, including your dreams, your fears, and your memories, to be imparted to you in the future.

But when you grow up, there's just one thing that I want you to remember: you have me. When things get hard, never forget that you have a family who believes in you and will always be there for you. Even when the time comes that you stop seeing me in rose-colored glasses, I hope you remember that Mommy loves you.

When you grow up, I'll remember how much you loved me and that will never fail to put a smile on my face.

When Mommy Throws a Tantrum

Yesterday, Nash and I went to her new school for an orientation. It was supposed to be a fun morning for the upcoming first grader, but it turned out to be a very frustrating experience for both of us. My headstrong little girl didn't want to join the games, didn't want to line up with the other children, she did not want to participate at all. It was like the first day of preschool all over again. (Remember my blog post about that? No? Read it here.) To add to that, she was making a face about not wanting to join as I was trying to talk her into it and it annoyed me so much that I pushed her more to the point where she was almost in tears. Needless to say, she threw a tantrum in her new school.

But as the story progressed, someone threw an even bigger tantrum. It was me. The mom.

See, as a mom, I always looked forward to things like these. My firstborn's orientation in big school. I pictured it being an awesome activity for our little family. I prepared everything my child would need the night before, and woke up extra early to give the kids a bath, even skipping breakfast (me, not my daughter) to make sure we would make it there on time. But alas, life happened and things didn't go as planned. Because we were already running late, my husband decided to stay home with the other kid who didn’t want to wake up yet, leaving me to go with our eldest and baby boy in tow. When we got there, the first graders were already lined up, all ready and rowdy to play games. My daughter, overwhelmed by the number of kids, started clinging to me. I gave her a gentle nudge to go with the other kids, even look for a familiar face (she had a previous classmate also going to that school). But she wouldn't budge. She just kept saying no. I could feel eyes on me as I struggled to hold my one-year-old baby while trying to get his big sister to fall in line. I also heard my voice get a notch higher. Nash was determined to say no, and I just kept insisting she should join. Our discussion was so heated that it came to the point where she said, "I don't want to go to school anymore." and I told her she was grounded (no watching TV or on the phone for the whole day).

Remember my previous post when I said, "I don't want to be that mother?"  Well, guess what? I felt every bit like that mom yesterday. Everything I learned about positive parenting and the right way to encourage my kid just flew out the window.

I got so frustrated that my temper was no better even after the event. In the car, Nash was back to her playful mood, but I was still seething. I threw a fit when my husband told me he couldn't go with us to lunch because he had work (I'm usually more understanding), and when we got home, I was just so mad that I asked the babysitter to feed my youngest. I felt that my emotions were too high that I couldn't focus on the simple task of feeding my baby.  I did not make a scene or had an outburst of any kind, but like the typical introvert, being in a bad mood meant grumbling to myself and slamming the door, being irritable even when other people around me were not doing anything wrong. I threw a tantrum and left a trail of destruction and wounded emotions behind.

Photo by nrd on Unsplash

After being alone in my thoughts for a few minutes, a light meal and some dessert, I calmed down and returned to my usual self. Then I was able to reflect on what happened. Why was I so mad earlier? Was it because I skipped breakfast so I felt so cranky and "hangry?" Was it because people were already looking and I was starting to feel embarrassed? Or because despite all my efforts and sacrifices, nothing was working out as planned? It can also be because I knew how far my daughter has come when it comes to her social skills, so it frustrated me that she was having a hard time again.

 But I have already anticipated that happening since the school she would be going to has triple the number of students in class than her preschool. I knew she would be overwhelmed by the changes and I know we would be able to overcome it like we did before.

So if I kind of knew that was going to happen, then the problem wasn't her resistance to participate, the problem was how I reacted to it. I let my frustration get in the way of responding the best way I know how when we encounter those situations. All I wanted was for my daughter to be excited about her new school. Instead, I managed to achieve the opposite of that. She even told me, "I don't think I'm ready for big school," and that stung. We have been preparing for this day and I thought she was ready.

I felt so bad. But fortunately, in motherhood, we’re given plenty of chances to right our wrongs. Once I was calm, I asked Nash if she was still mad at me. She nodded, and when I asked her why, she said, "Because you kept forcing me to join and I didn't want to." After I asked the question, I apologized and left her alone to play. She was actually okay after. There was no trace of the moody little girl of that morning.

When it was time to get ready for bed, I started talking to her again about what happened. She was now ready to open up, and she told me about her favorite parts and her not so favorite parts of the event. I explained to her, confessing that I acted the way I did because I wanted her to enjoy and make some friends in her new school.  My favorite part is this: when I told her why I was so frustrated, she replied, "Maybe I just didn't get the hang of it yet." She said those words calmly, acting all mature, that it gave me a glimpse of the conversations that I would be looking forward to in the future. "It will be okay," I finally said. "Everything will be much better next time." She forgave me for being so hard on her. We're lucky our kids don't hold grudges.

Looking back at what happened, I realized that maybe I was just feeling tired and frustrated that day, and I took it out on the closest target - my child. It didn't dawn on me until later on that maybe she was feeling the same way. Lesson learned for me. I guess I needed a refresher. I got so used to her being able to handle things by herself (she's the Ate in the house), I forgot she needed some reassurance that I would be proud of her no matter what.

So, Mommy had a tantrum. That means I'm not perfect. There will be times that I will fall short, and things won't go according to plan. And I have to acknowledge that I need to take a breather sometimes. Yes, even mommies need a time-out. But only so we don’t lose our minds and we can bounce back, stronger and wiser than the last time. Because as parents, we cannot let one setback stop us from what we were made to do, who we were meant to be, and that's being the kindest, most understanding and loving people in our child's life.

I had a weak moment, but now I’m ready to help my little girl in this new chapter in her life. So, bring it on, big school, we're ready for you!

The Gift of Motherhood

The phrase "Motherhood is a gift" gets thrown around a lot of times that it almost feels like a cliche. Why do they say it though? I know I'm blessed to have gotten this gift six years ago. I know some women have not received it yet (or decided not to be a mother, that's fine too if that's what they want). Although when you're trying to get a fussy baby to sleep, when you barely have the time to look at yourself in the mirror, when you feel like you don't know who you are anymore, you get to thinking, really, where's the gift part in motherhood? What perks did I get? I know there's supposed to be a lot, but sometimes, I don't know exactly what those are. Does anybody else feel that?

Then, it came. I wasn't even thinking about it. I was actually in the shower when it hit me, how motherhood has changed me as a person. And in no particular order, the answers just came flashing by: 

It gave me friends. Before becoming a mother, I have often regarded myself as cliquish, because I'm quite shy and a little awkward. Typical introvert. I didn't know how to initiate conversations as I feel like I usually have nothing in common with most people. Fast forward to now, I have learned how to make small talk with other moms. Some of those chats later on became meaningful conversations and passing acquaintances evolved into deep friendships. It's easy because being a mom makes you so connected to other women; their struggles, their joys and fears are also my own. I have learned to open up to people without constantly worrying that I'm being judged. I gained friends, and found a community. That being said, I have also learned to value the people who knew me before motherhood happened, and those who stuck with me even though we barely have time to catch up.

It gave me laughter. Motherhood taught me to laugh at the silliest things. And as all those parenting memes prove, we can take the most stressful situations in our lives and turn it into some inside joke only us moms understand. Plus I get my daily dose of funny antics from my very own personal jokers.





It gave me a voice. I have been blogging way before blogging was considered cool again, although it's called vlogging now. But I have always struggled with keeping my blogs because I didn't know what to write about; I didn't have that much passion for something to be putting it into writing. But that was before motherhood. Now, I have a point of view. And I have found a higher purpose for my blog than just to vent. I have learned that with my voice, as a mom, I can inspire and encourage others.  I'm always so excited to write on my blog because it meant pouring my heart out to my readers - my fellow moms or parents, who can relate to what I’m going through. Hopefully in the future, my children will get to read what I wrote (or they'll appreciate it more if I vlog?) and they will know how much I loved and love being their mom.

It gave me compassion. Gone are the days when I would only think of what would be best for me, or do things that would only serve my own interests. Motherhood made me realize how blessed I am to have the resources and support available, and that sadly, not all women have the same. When you're a mother, your heart would ache every time you learn that a little child is sick, when a fellow mother is struggling, or being misunderstood. That if you could do something, even just a tiny thing to spare their pain, or lighten their load, you would do it. I'm not the kindest, most perfect human being there is, but I'm trying to practice compassion every day, because I want my children to learn from me, to see it from me, just as I saw it from my mother.

It gave me a better perspective. Since motherhood, I have learned to let go of my hang ups a little. The things that I thought were important then, are not really that important now. I have learned to look at the big picture, while appreciating the little things. I have learned to let go of "the plan" and how I thought my life would be when I reach a certain age. Instead, I am just grateful for every day that I get to wake up and be with my husband and kids. I wake up not knowing how much money I have on my wallet, but still being at my happiest. All that matters to me are the smiles on my children's faces. As long as my family is safe, happy and healthy, everything else will be fine.

It gave me strength. The moment we give birth, we get asked the question, "How did you do it?" or people tell us,  "I don't know how you do it." Carrying a human being in our wombs for nine months; breastfeeding our children post-surgery, dealing with postpartum depression, leaving our children to go back to work. We all try to dismiss it like it's "no big deal," but it is.

 Last year, I found myself crying at the doctor's office when the surgeon told me that my then one-month old son had to undergo surgery for his hernia. My heart was broken into a million pieces, but still I was able to “woman up” and make the decision to go through with the surgery. Barely two months after, it was my turn to have a surgery for my gallbladder. Two days after a laparoscopy and some internal bleeding, I was able to breastfeed my baby boy, and carry him too.

WE are strong. Sometimes because we have no other option, but we have been given the unbelievable strength to keep pushing and keep fighting for our families.

It gave me courage. "Would you die for someone you truly love?" Before, it would take me hours or even days to answer this question. I'd say yes, if it was a member of my family. Even that would have me really contemplating long and hard before I can answer. But now, if I was asked this question pertaining to my children, I know the answer. Yes. In a heartbeat, I would. Because mothers are not really afraid of dying. We're afraid that when we're gone, no one would love our children like we can.

It gave me wisdom. The experience of motherhood is the best teacher. Never have I been so eager to learn until now. I learn from my fellow mothers, from my own mother, and from my children every day. 

It gave me faith. Becoming a mother made me realize that even if you have done your best, gave your all, cried every tear, some things are still left uncertain. We cannot control everything. And on those days, I know that only my faith can save me. I know that there's a greater being who knows everything. Who knows what’s best for me, and who loves my children more than I can ever hope to love them.

It gave me hope. This is why we do all these things, make sacrifices for our children. To make sure that they would be strong, compassionate human beings in the future. If we fill our children with love, security and encouragement while they are young, can you imagine how they would be as adults? I'm sure the world would be a much better place.

It gave me love. Or should I say more love?  It gave me so much love than I could ever ask for. 

None of my children had "Mama" as their first word. But it's the word they use most often in a day. They call my name not just because they need me, but also because they want me around. They want to show me their accomplishments. They value what I think and how I feel. Those unlimited hugs and kisses they shower me with? It's like a taste of heaven. And to be able to give and receive unconditional love every day, it’s like God gave me a glimpse of how it feels to be Him. 

Sometimes motherhood comes to us as a surprise, and despite our best efforts to prepare for it or "keep up" with it, it always catches us off-hand. Like we got thrown into the deep sea and we just have to keep paddling and try to survive. So we don't always have the time to reflect and contemplate on what motherhood has made of us as individuals. The kind of person we have become. How it has enriched our lives.

Yes, there were times when I felt that I lost parts of myself when I became a mother. But looking back on everything I have gained, I can say that it’s all worth it. 

 I'm so grateful for this gift. God has blessed me so much when he made me Mom. I give back all glory and honor to Him for that. And the only way I can ever repay Him for this beautiful gift is by being a gift myself. To my children, my loved ones and other people as well.

Happy Mother’s Day! 

My child, not all of your battles are my own

As I lie awake in bed in the wee hours of morning, I looked at you.

I realized you were dreaming as your face suddenly changed and you looked like you were struggling. I held your hand and tried to shush you, and your face turned calmer again. 

That happens to your sister or your brother too, sometimes. I do the same thing and it seemed like everything gets a little better when I hold their hand or embrace them tightly. 

But you’re still asleep. Still in your dream, I suppose? I let you sleep. I couldn’t wake you guys up every time I think you’re having a bad dream. Of course it would be different if it’s a full-on nightmare or you’re having trouble breathing, and I’m counting on my maternal instincts to alert me when that happens. 

As I watch you sleep or dream, I realize, that’s your journey. You have to be the one to course through it. When the room is so quiet and nobody requires my attention, I realize that not all of your battles are my own. You do not exist in this world to just be an extension of me. You are your own person. 

It may seem like we’re so connected that it’s unthinkable for you to be separated from me. But one day, it will happen. It’s so easy to say I’ll be with you every step of the way, and I’ll make good on that promise the best way I can, but I’m not with you every day. I’m not with you in school. Heck, you’re only away from me for a couple of hours, but it’s preschool, and I don’t know every detail that happens to you during that time. When you’re playing and you encounter these problems in your head, I can’t think for you. 

A few days ago, your sister wanted me to tell off her playmate who was being disagreeable. I told her I can’t do that. When you encounter bullies or pushy classmates, I won’t always be there to ward them off you. 

I realize, that even though my day revolves around you, my children, yours will not revolve around me forever. I am not omnipresent (in a few years, you will know that word and realize there’s only one being in the world that is). You have to be alone in your thoughts. You have your own battle, your own journey. 

But fear not, my child, because I know what my mission now is. It is not to fight your battles for you, or remove every hurdle in your journey. My mission is to prepare you. 

That’s what parenting is all about. It’s not about doing everything for you, although there are days when I complain that I do. It’s about making sure that your mind, body and spirit is whole and healthy for you to be able to survive and thrive in whatever lies ahead of you.

It’s about coursing through these parenting books and mommy groups, looking for ways to best nourish you, encourage you, discipline you. Inspire you. It’s being kind and gentle while I try not to lose my cool as I give you this healthy snack yet you say you prefer to eat chocolate mallows instead. It’s fighting with you to take your vitamins when I’m so tempted to just ditch it to avoid drama. It’s letting you take your time with your homework and do it independently when we can be done in a snap if I just tell you the answers. It’s making you clean up your toy area when I can do it by myself in less than 15 minutes (yes, I timed it). It’s hearing you scream and shout as the nurses prick your hands with a needle to give you medicine to make you better, when I would give both my arms and legs to them if it would save you from all the hurt and the pain. 

Just so you know, your father and I would fight tooth and nail for you (that means very hard and fierce, sweetheart), and protect you kids as much as we can. It would actually be easier if everything was on us. It would save me a lot more time if I do everything for you. But parenting is a lot more complicated than that. 

We have to do our mission the right way, if we want to equip you with the right tools and weapons you need: honesty, resourcefulness, patience, resiliency, compassion and hope. 

The hours we will spend apart will be longer as you grow older, and there will be times you might be anxious about what lies ahead. But don’t worry. We will not set you off empty-handed. You’re a strong and brave kid. You got this, baby. 

But for now, you sleep. Go on silly adventures in your wonderland where you wake up with a smile on your face, asking for a donut. Fight the bad guys in your dream. When it gets too tough, my hand is  there to hold you to remind you that I am not too far behind. 

Mommy will be sleeping too, for training you is not an easy feat. After all, I am just another person with my own journey and challenges to overcome, while also helping you navigate your way into the world. So let us rest and recuperate, my darling, for tomorrow, your journey, and my mission continues.