Mother Fonker - To fonk is human. To mother, divine.

Happy Father's Day Mang Napo! We love you always and miss you always.

- -


Since Lassie was begging for a total body spa, i took the old girl for a thorough wash and nurturing at home. Scrub, scrub, scrub... clean, clean, clean....

Some stuff you pick up in the nooks and crannies of a car:

1) game board pieces that fell off, like, 3 years ago and recovered just now when nobody plays that game anymore.
2) a mineral foundation case that decided to fall off my purse maybe during a turn (been looking all over for it, too!
3) money, also decided to escape my purse while i was driving and not looking.

After an hour of scrubbing the interiors thoroughly, it struck me that my dearest dad Mang Napo also liked cleaning the car on lazy Sunday afternoons, and this got me totally emotionally wracked up.

Smell of grease. Dirt on my hands. Tears.

Flashes in my head:
- Of Mang Napo assigning me to clean the matting. Which I totally felt lazy doing, but did so anyway.
- Of my own perspective, looking through Mang Napo's eyes, seeing this little girl (also me, jsut little), and calling her to help me out scrub those darn mats.
- Of a silly Mang Napo STILL cleaning the car as sunset and darkness came. Silly man.

That's when it occurred to me to scrub Lassie gently. Man and machine are one, after all.

As i scrubbed gentler and gentler, I am reminded of how gentle he had been. He hadn't been mushily affectionate like the dads on tv, but i felt in my heart he is one of the gentlest dads a child can ever want.

I never thought I will find a real treasure in the grease and grime of an automobile: I found my dad again.

Needless to say, now, I will a scrub a gazillion car mats if only I could spend one Sunday afternoon with him in exchange.

- -

to my friends who've been wondering where i've been: i lost my writing mojo. haven't been writing at all (and does micro blogging have a connection with this? hahaha)

*Flashes a pre-schooler smile*

Obviously I haven't been up to much blogging...

and I still am not up to blogging.

Maybe next time...



Happy new year to all, though.

When 8yo was learning to write, we traded "mail" almost everyday.

It was his idea. He would cut out the cereal box, make an arc-shape with a base, and put in a cover and tab for opening. I think the first mailbox he made had a smiley face on it, like the mailbox in Blue's Clues. This lopsided "Mail Box" stayed on my table. Before I left for the office, I would write a note with simple words, fold it, and "mail" it by leaving it in the mailbox.

After I get home from work, I would check the box and 8yo would have a note waiting for me. It would usually have a "hello mama" note. Later the missive will say something about what toy he wanted. Sometimes, I will receive notes with long spellings, like "Happy Valentines Mama" and I would be so proud. Yes, he just copies the spelling from ads and cards lying around the house.

Stupidhead mother didn't save even one note, it woulda been nice to post a photo here. But I believe in travelling lightly and make do with memories.

** FOR THOSE WITH KIDS JUST LEARNING TO WRITE,
HAVING A MAILBOX AROUND THE HOUSE IS A FUN ACTIVITY.

Exchanging notes lets them practice reading and writing.
It also gives them a taste of the classic tradition of writing, reading letters. A dying art.
Also gives you a ton of material to document how they write and think at that age.

- -

We don't write notes anymore after he attended big school.

These days, our notes-exchange has taken a different form.

I registered him with chikka.com, a site that lets you send free sms from your pc to a cellphone. This way, he can text me anytime when I'm out of the house.

Last Saturday, I turned my back from the PC for several seconds. I saw him crawling on the floor, kneel by the keyboard and punch.

I go "PSSHHHT! Go away!"

He crawls away fast, like The Grudge.

My cell rings. I check it.

8yo laughs to himself.

SMS message from his chikka account : "Mama"

I stick my tongue out at him.


That's all.
We don't really exchange lovey-mushy notes.

Whatever message is written, those are all love notes for me because it says "I'm thinking of you."

I was getting presents for 8yo to give away when I passed a book that screamed at me.

It was entitled "Five Star Families - Turning your Family from Good to Great" by Carol Kuykendall.

I've been reading too much juvie books the past weeks so without dilly dallying I plunked it into the basket. I decided it would be my christmas gift for myself.

The book is great, Carol's mommy warmth and love oozes out of the book. She deconstructs a lot of parenting stuff we automatically try to do and puts it on the table for easier scrutiny.

I can imagine her and me at the dinner table with mugs of coffee, and she brings out a parenting value from her purse and puts it on the table. I can then touch the parenting thingy, stare at it, poke it, shake it and listen. And I can imagine her laugh at me as I consider "alien" something I strive to do everyday for my children.

In the book, Carol says 5 star families have top 5 priorities -

LOVE
FUN
LOYALTY
GROWTH
and I havent gotten to the 5th part yet. hehe

I was shocked when I saw THE f-word.

Fun.

Fun?

Fun!

Ah... fun.

What fun?

I don't if it's just me, but I was a tad scandalized with consciously associating families with the word "fun". Is it because I'm from a country where the prevalent religion believes "fun is dirty, fun is sinful?" (Shut up, you're not even from that denomination. lol)



But, but...

Families are not supposed to be fun.

Families are for long sermons.
Families are for discipline.

Families are for going to the market together on Sunday morning, then each one cleaning a part of a house after.

Families are for going to Manila Bay on week-ends and watch the "most beautiful sunset in the world."


Family is Mang Napo who tells my elementary sis and bro "Go to sleep" a gazillion times. Still not listening for the gazillionth time, he reaches for a broom, supposedly to swat them with, but they run away too fast. As sis and bro peek from top of the stairs to see if Mang Napo will chase them, Mang Napo apparently got the broom to SWEEP the floor, not to spank them with it. We LOL at the memory.

Family is Mang Napo teaching me how to skip rocks on water.

Family is Mang Napo teaching 4-year old me how to pump at swings so I can swing higher than anyone else.

Family is Mang Napo teaching 11 year old me how to drive while im sitting on 3 throw pillows in the car (it can be done here in the Philippines inside suburban villages).



And let's not start on siblings. They're not fun at all.

Family is for siblings bickering about and trading chores.

Family is for siblings jibing all the time and calling each other names:
- I was called "Lukot na piso" (Crumpled coin) because I was a sulky child
- "You were so dark when you were born, when the doctor placed you on top of the
brown desk, you couldn't be found.
- And the classic : "You're adopted. When mom flushed the toilet, you popped out
and she took you in."


Family is getting home from different schools at 3pm and each one asks "What's your baon? (Baon refers to packed meal from home ... but we mean jokes to share) So we fix our snack and the 3 of us eat together, swap jokes and alternately cry-laugh and roll on floor.

Family is when your sister asks "Has anyone seen my slippers?" and I say "no." and she keeps looking for about... um... 30 minutes? and she finally sees it -- "A-HAH!" because I've been wearing them all along and stifling my ROLF laugh. That's hard you know, to stifle a laugh for a joke THAT good.


Now that I have my own kids, what fun are you talking about?

How fun is it to watch 3 movies in a row, with endless snacks, while everybody's snug in blankies?

How fun is it to read Dr. Seuss' in different voices?

How fun is it for the boys, niece, me and my sis to have a water gun fight during easter morning instead of an egg hunt because we looked for plastic eggs only the day before and those have run out.

How fun is it for everyone to sing in the car? When my sibs were teens, we always sung "Never Let Her Slip Away" and my bro the driver would wave his arms in the air at the word Happy. Yup, during "and it would really make me HAHHHHHHHHPPY" so you can imagine the passenger's horror. When the kids were smaller (all 6 of them were together then) we used to sing Disney all together. Later on we sang more to Teen-agers from My Chemical Romance.

How fun are mealtime conversations, when it's the kids' turns to do the jibes and the name-calling and the jokes and the stick out-tongues?



Oh yeah, I still do the "have you seen my slippers?" and deny it thingy. This time with 13yo.

Now that, that IS fun.

This issue has been wriggling in my head for several months now.

A lot of you have sons, but I'm guessing most still have baby boys, or are in elementary grades (or have baby brains, whatever the age ;-) so this is a far-off concern for now.

My 13 year old (the one who acts 18yo. 8yo acts like he's 30) has been slowly but surely partaking in late-teen boys activities since last year I'm continually stunned each time this manifests.

I know I have to let the boys go sometime, but I was kinda hoping it would go according to the sked we take for granted. A lot of things he does now I was expecting he would do so at 16, or 17 years old... not start at 12.

I've been starting to worry about young people's crazy-ass shit as well. There's always the smoking, the alcohol, mild drugs, scary drugs, reckless sex... These grown-teens' activities always hook in vices somehow. He's very active in school and academics, so that's one glimmer of hope for me. Less time to stay out of trouble, less chance to hang out with the dregs-kids. But then, when he's just hanging out, I worry. Really.

I've been percolating in my head where do I set my boundaries.

I'm guessing these activities aren't happening yet, but when you're a parent, early is always on-time. Can't help kids to avoid certain situations when they're already swimming in it, right?

It's kinda different, I guess, when you have boy-girl children, or mostly girls children. Maybe parents of these sets think and feel differently.

When one has mostly boys, where does one stand? There are roles expected of males that are inevitable. These roles are a big part of their lives, whether I like it or not (I not, mostly.). Which lines shouldn't be crossed? Which lines do you let sons go na-na-na-na as they crisscross dance across the boundary and parent just laughs it off, or ignore it? Where, where, where???

My main considerations are mainly:

1) Young boys will ALWAYS find ways to do these naughty things behind your back. They have the "tough" roles to fill. Naughty is fine, but extreme deviant behavior (such as addictions or violence) scare the bejezus outta me.

2) That the boys balance between being non-sissies and being sensible.

3) Oh, and have I mentioned I did those things too when I was younger so much younger than today, i never needed anybody's help in any way? ... My life is an open-book, even to them. I refuse to be all-righteous on them. I feel it's dishonest and puts me at a disadvantage because I have to pretend to be someone I'm not.

I'm kind of hoping to go for the "It's okay if you try a little(at this age, and later, do these things moderately) but these things don't have to take over your regular activites" route.

Man, cross my fingers. And toes... and everybody else's toes. Include your eyes!