To My Second Child, I Remember Everything

As I write this, you are sleeping quietly after clinging on to me for about 30 minutes, because of the sound of the thunder that barely lasted 30 seconds. You fell asleep while repeating your mantra, "I'm a brave and strong girl."

Yes, at two years old, you already have a mantra. I may have asked you to repeat it every time you get scared, but it was you who first said that exact sentence to me. When you said you were afraid at the cinema, but not anymore because "I'm a brave and strong girl."

photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash

See? I remember everything.

I remember the day you were born. You were shouting and it seemed like you were demanding everybody to pay attention to you. And your Tatay and I agreed, our new girl is feisty.

I remember how you held your breath when you cry, at six months old, and your lips would turn purple it scared everyone in the room.

At one year old, you were my constant selfie buddy. At such a young age, you had such an animated face.

You were also afraid of swimming when you were a year old. But that changed a few months ago. Now you don't even want to be held when you're at the swimming pool. "I'll do it on my own," you always say. "I'll do my best," sometimes even followed by "in my own special way."

You always want to be the fierce and strong one. You don't mind being the Maui to your sister's Moana, the Branch to her Princess Poppy. If Ate is Minnie Mouse, you are fine with being Mickey.

Selfie buddies

Some people, even those close to us, may have misinterpreted how different I am with you than with your Ate. Because there were some things that I did with your sister when she was small, that I didn't do with you. Like dress her up in pink for her monthly pictures, get her to watch "Your Baby Can Read" every day, document every little thing she did growing up. Some might draw the conclusion that I favor her over you, that you're getting all the leftovers.

Don't believe that for one second, sweetheart. When you're a mom, there's no such thing as leftover love. It's always overflowing and with my whole heart. My love for you and your big sister are both equal and special.

Because you are two different individuals with different needs and personalities. You never really cared for the color pink. You love yellow. You crawled away from the laptop two minutes into the intro of Your Baby Can Read.

You're not the princess-y type. You're the adventurous one. You don't cry in a corner when you're sad. You're the type who kicks and screams, "I'm mad at you!" But you're also the type who loves getting kisses on your boo-boos and tells me, "You're my best friend," and "I'll take care of you, Mama."

And I may not be able to record every milestone you make (and sometimes I regret it because you grow up so fast), but you can bet that I remember all the important things as they are forever etched in my heart. And who has time for scrapbooking, when I'm so busy watching you like a hawk as you climbed on tables and stood on mono bloc chairs? Having scissors around you is a bad idea. Who knows what kind of accident we'll get into?

The truth is sometimes I forget how little you are. That despite your tough and feisty demeanor, you are still my little baby. But I remember all the rest about you, my strong-willed, independent little girl.

Now that your days of being our "bunso" are numbered,  I'm trying to soak in as much of you as I can. To spend more time with you and play with you, especially when your sister is in school. To create moments with you, memories that we will treasure forever. And although Mom has been so tired the past few days, watching you and how much you need me gives me energy to make it through the whole day.

You will be the middle child soon, and a lot has been said and written about the woes of being a middle child. Don't worry. Tatay and I will be with you as you adjust to your new role in our growing family. And remember sweetheart, you will always be my little baby. I will love you no less, and also in my own special way.

Love, Mom

A Letter to My Grownup Kids

By now, we're already entrenched in all the Father's Day spirit going around. Well, our dads deserve all the love and recognition. 

But for me and my siblings, being proud of our Papa is an everyday thing. It's hard not to be, when you're raised by such a great man.

So for the last installment of my Dads Speak Up series, it is with great pride that I share this Dad's - my Papa's letter to his grown-up kids. 

My dear Labkids,

I am so thrilled that you are proud of me. That is every parent’s wish.

I always recall the days when we would only buy your shoes and clothes from the tiangge because I couldn’t afford the original ones. We did not have the money but you did not lack in taste. You chose the good-looking ones. It is amazing that three boys grew up to be good basketball players despite the ill-fitting imitation rubber shoes.

I love thinking of the days when I could only buy you decent toys when I came from a foreign business trip. They were few and far in between that’s why you cared for them with so much affection because you knew they were all hard-earned. I remember you had only 2 or 3 real Barbie Dolls while the rest were Divisoria posers. 

I remember the afternoon Kaye went up to me because her toy was broken. The look on her face showed how she trusted that I could fix it. My heart broke into a million pieces because I couldn’t make it work. And couldn’t even buy a new one.

Camille, I remember your delighted face when I gave you that puppet theater. I’m sorry the boys turned it into a pellet gun shooting gallery!

I always wondered how you felt as “children of a lesser god."  Did you resent me for that ? Did you wish your Papa had a little more money then ?

I didn’t really feel that you wished you were born in another place at another time to another set of parents.

We were happy when we played touch ball in the street or when we went to the public parks. I have home videos to prove we were a joyful family as you climbed the monkey bars, rocked the swing and rode on your low-end skateboards.

We all proved to ourselves that happy doesn’t always need money. Love beats money any day.

I think that’s a good lesson to learn now that you have the ability to earn your money.

Have some respect for money. You need to earn a good amount of it because it’s so hard to focus on your work if you worry about rent, food, clothes, medicines. Earn as much as you can because it’s not a bad thing to have abundance in life. But it should not be the measure of success. 

What should it be then? Achievement? Fame? Popularity? A permanent place in history? A house on the beach?

To all these questions, the answers are yes and no. These are all worthy pursuits but you should not be under pressure to chase them just because you want to impress your high school classmates or because somebody said they are the yardsticks of success.

All I’m saying is that you decide for yourself what will make you feel fulfilled and happy. You define your success. You know what? The biggest regret of people is not having lived the life they had really wanted. 

I have lived for more than fifty years. Some of my dreams have been fulfilled, some have dissipated. I have won many games and I have lost many battles. I have learned from so many experiences, people and books and now this is what I believe in: 

People are happier when they dedicate their lives to a good purpose and when their work makes a positive difference in people’s lives. 

 To be able to serve a good purpose, you must be equipped with a certain talent, something that you contribute to the world. (not necessarily the whole world. That may be too big a thing to cover.) Sometimes, those talents are called “gifts’ from God. You have to give them back to God by serving His people.

 So, you might remember what your Mama and I consistently told you in numerous retreat letters: develop your talents, be the best that you can be.

 Mama and I are grateful that you have all have developed your creative talents. Some of you may one day be the screenwriter or movie director that I did not become. (If we had the genes for math and chemistry, some of you should have become an engineer or a doctor. )

Now, let me take this opportunity to expound on becoming “the best that you can be.” We don’t just mean becoming the best writer, or digital expert, or artist. It’s about becoming “the best person” that you can be. In my book, that means becoming a kind, caring, honest, fair and brave person. 

Go as far as your talent can take you or as far as you want to go. But keep in mind there’s no gain in pushing yourself to the top if your children will end up not loving you or if you will cheat, rob and oppress people or even just irritate them with your conceit and all-knowing IQ.

I can see how you are all turning out to be persons your children can be proud of. Yes, that’s it! I believe every person’s goal is to live a life that can make their children proud of them. 

Go, have many children, and make them proud of you. 

Love, 

Papa

P.S.  Always be a well-mannered person on social media.

photo by Oakst Studios

Robert Labayen is an advertising and media executive, painter, songwriter, and a cool Papa to five kids age 25 and up (including me). To read more of his inspiring articles, visit www.robertlabayen.com

A Letter to My Teenage Daughter (Dads Speak Up Series post # 2)

Only a few days to go before Father's Day! 

For the first part of my Dads Speak Up series, we had a glimpse of the joys of fatherhood, as expressed by a new dad to his little girl (read about it here). But as much as we want to, our kids cannot be little forever. So for Part 2, it is with great pleasure that I share to you this dad's letter to his "Baby Girl" who just won't stop growing up. 

Warning: You might need tissues.  

 

My Dearest Amaris,

Many people think that Father’s Day is a day to honor fathers around the world.  In a big sense, that’s right:  being a father is no easy job.  It is so easy to become a dad – many young people found that out the hard way.

But being a Father – that’s tough.  One has to be strong yet gentle;  firm yet supple.  One must be able to bend without breaking.  All for the love of the ones we call our children.

Yes, Father’s Day is, in a big way, a day to honor Fathers around the world.

But I see it differently.

To me, Father’s Day is a day for me to look back and be thankful for the very person whose presence first made me worthy of the title “Father”.  That person is YOU.

15 years ago, you came into this world, a tiny, wrinkled-yet-smooth little bundle of pure joy.  The first time your Mama and I saw you, we immediately fell in love with you, and all those feelings that come with the realization that all life as we once knew it would come to a screeching stop just came pouring down on us like a massive wall of water.  But it was a great feeling – not so much of fear or anxiety – but more so of wonder and excitement!  At that moment, we weren’t thinking of things like, diapers and milk and baby clothes.  Pre-school and tuition were the farthest from our mind.  The future was the future, and there was nothing we could do about that but prepare for it.

But at that moment, all that did not matter. All that mattered was YOU.

Baby Girl, you may be 15 years old now, but I still see you as my first daughter – my Baby.  I have watched you grow up, and every moment is still very clear in my mind:  your first steps, your first words (which was “Mama”, of course).  I watched, and sometimes joined you, when you took baths in the rain;  when you climbed your first rock wall, and threw your first ball.  I saw you put on your first school uniform, and I smile every time I see you smile when you wear it, all excited to go to school.  I laughed at your teacher’s stories of how you would take the lead in disciplining your classmates – I still laugh when I tell that story to friends and family today.

I also smile when I tell the story of the time I told you to “Stop growing up and be my Baby forever…”  You said “Okay”, then you started to cry.  When I asked what was wrong, you simply cried, “But I want to grow up!”  I told you I could never keep you from growing up no matter how much I wanted to, and said that every time I would tell you to stop growing up, all you should say was “You can’t stop me!”  It seems, you meant that about more than just growing up.

The writer with his beautiful family.

I still remember when you transferred to my Alma Mater:  I was so proud when I got the email telling Mama and I that you were accepted into the school.  When I watched you put on your green patterned skirt, I knew that my school had gotten itself a treasure.  You met new friends, and at that time you seemed just a little too small for a big school, but you walked up the steps with confidence and expectations.

I must admit, I got hurt that time when I asked if you wanted me to walk with you to your classroom and you said, “You can go now, Dada, I can take care of myself.”  I watched as you walked away towards your classroom, and I half joked that “My Baby did not need me anymore…”

Baby Girl – even today you still allow me to call you my “Baby Girl” – I thank you for coming into my life.  Into our lives.  Because of you, your Mama and I get to enjoy the privilege of being called “Parents”:  “Mother” and “Father”.  It is a privilege only your presence could bring.  And for this, we both thank you.

I was asked what I feared most about having a teenage girl like you.  I have no answer, really, because you give me nothing to fear.  Your attitude, your outlook in life, your values – they assure your Mama and I that we must be doing something right, because you are growing up to be a perfect young Lady.

I guess the closest thing I have to fear of any kind is that one day, I will have to watch you go and make a family of your own.  When you will have your own “baby girl (or boy)”.  I really do not know how I will feel when you leave us to join your husband in the future, but until then, you will always – and forever – be my Baby Girl.

So when you greet me a “Happy Father’s Day”, please know that when I say “thank you”, I say thank you not so much for the greeting, but more for having come into this world to give me the privilege and honor of becoming a Father.  I can only pray that I become worthy of that glorious title.

May I be the kind of Father to you and your sister, that God our Father is to all of us.

Love always,
Dada

Tyne Dignadice Jr.  is a Human Resources professional, motivational speaker, a full-time dad to Julia and Yannina and husband to his incredible wife Jeng.

A Letter to My Baby Girl (Dads Speak Up Series post # 1)

As we all know, June is the month that we honor the mighty men in our families -  the dads. So I've decided to do something special for this week leading to Fathers' Day. There's something really special between the bond of a dad and his little girl/s, so I asked three brilliant men, all leaders in their industries and really awesome family guys, to write a letter for their daughters. It's time to hear from the dads!

I'm so honored that these guys took time out of their busy schedules and agreed to share their innermost thoughts to us (I could feel their pride and emotions when I first read what they sent me). And they are also the very first guest bloggers in my blog, so I'm really humbled and grateful to these men. 

Let's get right to it, shall we? The first one's for the new parents.

Dear Clare,

The moment your mom and I got married, I knew that I was ready to be a father. Me wishing for a mestiza baby was even caught on our wedding film.

News about your mommy's pregnancy brought us unexplained excitement and gave us the longest nine months of anticipation. After endless readings, advice and consultations, we were ready to be parents.

On July 28, 22 hours after a premature hospital rush, we welcomed you to the world: Clare Daenerys of House Medallo.

Oh, I've never learned this much in ten months ever in my life. Having you, Clare, is like all that I have learned in my 30 years of existence compressed in a matter of months.

On our first night with you, I never stopped ringing the nurse's bell every time you pooped. I did not know how to change your diaper. Now I can change your nappy in a jiffy, only with a diaper and baby wipes in tow.

Weeks pass and I suddenly understand how parents, like your Mommy, really embody real-life superheroes. From managing sleep, work, and family (babies are a handful), to readily giving-up whatever it takes to ensure your safety and happiness. You taught me to appreciate your Lolo Dante, Lola Linda and all the other parents even more. I was very fortunate to have the best role model in Lolo Dante.

David with his mestiza daughter Clare

As your Daddy, I only want the best for you, which actually puts me in a bit of a conundrum. First, I want to give you everything that I can, but I also want you to learn about patience and working hard for what you want. Next, I want to protect you from the even the smallest risks, yet I want you to be street-smart. Lastly, I can't stand seeing you cry, but I know that dealing with disappointments and pain will be a big part of your life.

I still do not know how I will ultimately be as a Dad, but I want you to know that I will always have your best intentions first. Mine and Mommy's ways of raising you may not always be ideal parenting, but it will always be our best.

You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You are nothing but happiness ever since the day we found out that we will have you. Your hugs, tears, kisses and laughter gave my life a whole new realm of meaning. You are literally a wish that came true.

Clare, this I want you to always remember - I will never ever be the perfect Dad, but with God's guidance and Mommy's love and support, I will always strive to be one.

Love,
Daddy David

David Medallo is a 30-year old IT and sales professional married to his amazing wife Chiqui and a proud father to the most adorable 10-month old, Clare Daenerys, who wears 3-year old sized leggings.