When you’re trying to find a pair of socks but what you do find is only ONE of EACH pair. That’s nine could-have-been pairs. NINE!!
baby diaries: 5
Mom friends at the office are organising a small get together this Friday in celebration of our motherhood. Five years. You’re five. I’ve been a mother for five years. Somehow it feels so surreal as it feels like it was just yesterday that you were kicking inside my tummy. Now YOU’RE the one asking for a baby boy inside MY tummy (tall order, little one).
Five. Truth be told, I feel (and know) I’m very far from being the perfect Mom. Sometimes, I feel like I’m so hard and strict on you. But I’m learning by the day little love, and you are teaching me too.
I love your laughter. And your tight hugs. And your sweet kisses (which are sometimes too wet!). And your thoughtfulness. And your empathy. At your tender age of 4, you have comforted me several times, patting my back and my head. In those times, I have only gratitude – thankful of how God has made you and how He is honing you for the future He has planned for you.
During bath time this evening, I asked you what’s your birthday wish. You had an easy answer – love, laughter (you demonstrated it too).
With that kind of birthday wish, I’d say I am a blessed Mom.
Grow up well, Anak. We wish you beauty inside and out, love, passion, a faithful soul, and a kind heart.
gender sensitivity in the littlest things
I like how gender sensitive HAC drugstore is.
baby diaries: the first time you shared your broken heart
No, this isn’t about your first crush. And I know as well that this isn’t the first time that you got broken hearted with a friend. I still remember that morning during your second year in daycare (1 yr old class Futaba gumi) when you reached out to embrace your girl best friend when you saw her arrive, only to be pushed away roughly, just because she was still not in the mood. How you cried then. My heart cried with you too.
Your broken heart today was also with a friend. For the first time, you shared with me your feelings about something that happened to you at daycare. That how one of your girl friends laughed at your right big toe that still has the flaking blue nail polish. You said you were both embarrassed and angry. I hugged you then and asked you again how you felt. Was happy when you said you feel better with the hug.
Saw it as a chance too to teach you the lesson that we should not laugh at other people. That it’s not funny. That you should make a stand and tell the other person how it isn’t funny.
And I warmed as I see you getting passionate and saying that in daycare, Japanese is spoken so you should speak in the language. Asked you how to say in Japanese. And then you translated what you ought to say, perfectly (笑った、だめ!!); complete with the right expression on your face and your hands in your hips.
We did still remove your nail polish but I hope that you learned and will stand up for yourself against bullies.
Be brave my lovely little one.
Humbled by a compliment
I believe anybody would consider being able to change someone, for the better, as an achievement of a lifetime. Especially when you didn’t intend to do it. That by just being yourself, you’ve brought change.
Hence I was totally humbled when a colleague/boss told me how the whole project (process) team – 15 of us – changed, for the better, after I joined the team. How a once non-interactive team got more engaged and finally truly acted as a team just by being my communicative self.
I didn’t see the compliment coming, who would?! Especially since I joined at month 4 and hence my role wasn’t as lead, not even for a dedicated unit.
But indeed, if I would be honest with myself, I could see some change. No, not the whole team – even if I be truly truly honest to the core, I could not see the whole team had changed just because of me. But I did see the difference in a few people. How they got more passionate with their work, where before, there was lacklustre; and how a few became happier and more communicative. Was it because of me?! I wouldn’t dare claim that. They most likely just realised something within the month of my joining the project.
Nevertheless, dear colleague/boss/mentor, I am deeply grateful that you think so highly of me. I am truly humbled.
Mark Twain said, “I can live for two months on a good compliment”.
Your compliment, however, will last me a lifetime and will continue to inspire me to be a better person than I was yesterday. Thank you.
life with a kindergartener: water balloons
The day we got back from our Golden week vacation, you asked us to buy the water balloons on our trip to the grocery. And so for more than a week, we pumped water into your balloon, one per bath time until they couldn’t fit the basin anymore. Thankfully, you then stopped requesting to create new ones.
Ever since a week after the first ballon was made, I’ve been egging you to try to burst the balloon by throwing them on the bathroom wall. Anything, just to burst them. I was already starting to cringe as I think of the warm water stored in the balloon that’s getting “older” by the day. Molds. Mildew. Fiends. However you would cry just with the mere mention of “burst”.
A month passed by and I already was on the verge of begging you. Six weeks after and I was already begging you. But you always say no and even asked me to make a promise that I wouldn’t burst them. I asked why? Then you said something magical.
You and Daddy made it. I don’t want it to burst.
And that was it. I didn’t egg you from then on. Second month passed by. Nine weeks. And then early this week when you had your bonding day with Daddy as I took the Japanese exam, Daddy bought you a water gun. The balloons stayed on the bath corner as you got passionate with your gun.
This evening though, you were playing with the balloons and were stretching them. Until one reached its bursting pressure. You cried and then said we could refill it again. Told you it’s impossible as it was already torn. I was already cringing with how the old water inside the balloon went to the water in the tub. And I told you so, about how dirty the water must be inside. And so then, while holding your water gun, you gave your go signal to burst the balloons albeit in a lacklustre manner. You did say bye to the balloons though.
Pretty soon I’d probably be fixating next on the molds on your water gun. And I know what you’d say then – “Daddy bought it for me!”
Keep that lovely character you have, my sweet.