I am surrounded by friends who are mostly challenged with conceiving children. But not me. We always joke about how extremely fertile I am that just by mere holding hands with my husband, I would likely get pregnant. I truly am fortunate to have a very welcoming uterus that has brought me two wonderful sons that surely trying for another baby will be a cinch.

Boy was I wrong. I am no longer in my twenties, I know. But I never thought that “trying” to conceive would become a chore. Thinking back, I don’t recall ever thinking too hard about making a baby. It really takes the romance out of lovemaking and totally ruins it. Now I understand how stressful it is for my friends. We have only been at it for a couple of months and its already having a depressing effect on me.

I don’t want to be counting days, marking my calendar, watching for signs, taking temperature, and saying let’s go, let’s not. I am longing for those good old days when the best way to make a baby was to relax and lovingly enjoy each other or maybe exhaust each other in a night of passionate lovemaking (oh yeah that came out straight of a Mills and Boon paperback). But we do want another child. And until it becomes too risky for me, we keep trying. Right sweetie? C’mon love, its time to go.

After seeing my family safe and dry and getting all the horror stories of their experience on the roof of our house, I promised myself I was going to write about it. Now, a day later and I couldn’t even type a word. I got too emotional just conjuring up the images that my young sister has seen and witnessed. Some of those include watching as young kids aged less than a year to 4 years brave their plight as they too sat beside her on that rooftop. I had felt helpless for 2 days but that was nothing compared to feeling helpless as an infant cries for milk but all you could give him was bear brand full cream milk as that was the only thing you had that you could give him.

My agony is nothing compared to the nightmares my mom and sister will have to brave through tonight and all other nights as they start to pick up the pieces and go back to their normal lives. Many other families will be plagued by nightmares as they try to cope with the loss of their loved ones, their property, their livelihood. Soon my family and other families will learn to move on and continue on their ways and last weekend’s tragedy will hopefully become just a shadow of a painful memory. Soon.

I would like to share the words of my mom…

I can now say I survived two days and one night on top of the roof of a neighbor’s house in Cainta – something I never dreamed I could do. Thanks to our “very efficient” mayor, Mon Ilagan, who did not seem to know what to do, we waited in vain for rescue which never came. Talk was that Cainta had really no disaster plan in place for any catastrophe, much less one in this magnitude. It was a harrowing experience for me, but I learned some really good lessons:

• a fancy cellphone has no use if there is no signal.
• I made a good choice when I did not vote for Mayor Ilagan.
• a pack of choc-nut and a half bottle of Coke Zero can keep you alive for 2 days.
• life is more important than a laptop
• in the most difficult time, man’s hidden generosity and nobility comes to fore.
• saying goodbye to my home for 37 years is not really as bad as it seems
• a strong faith, a loving family, will always pull you through.

I am now living in my son’s house but will soon get an apartment near him, in a high place in Quezon City. I don’t know if I can or will ever go back to live Cainta.

Pictures c/o Dan Saavedra

I agree. I believe in that one hundred percent. But I am here to take on another aspect of that prioritization. The one wherein you become the middleman between your spouse and your parents or family. In a culture where every member of your family and its extensions all vie for your attention, it makes it a challenge to maintain an independent relationship without offending anyone. You are torn between being a good daughter or son as you were always taught or being a good wife or husband which you have always been taught as well. This is aggravated by our own trait often abused… indebtedness.

So you end up trying hard to please everyone, making excuses for one or the other, running around like a lost mouse confused and nervous. It become a tiring exercise that eventually you come to dread special occasions like birthdays, Christmas and weekends.

The worst thing is, this is all seen and absorbed by the very young and very impressionable minds of your children. So they grow up wondering if it is only but normal to do the same thing to their spouse or to their future children. It is like trying to teach your child to not smoke while holding your own cigarette in your hand.

What do you do? All articles center on one thing and that is – to grow up. The only way you can live your life your way is to stand up for what you believe and move forward with it regardless of how many members of your family object to it. You have grown. You are married. You should then be able to make your own decisions that you know in the long run will help make your marriage last and your children smile forever.

I must say that I learned the best life lessons growing up. Didn’t you?

My behavior as a wife and mom is largely influenced by how I was brought up, what I was taught in school, from mistakes I had done, and by watching my own parents while I was growing up.

The most important lesson that I chose to write about today I learned not from my husband but from my parents. I watched them be the number 1 to each other. I watched them make each other happy that eventually made us appreciate the peace and togetherness we enjoyed.

Remember mom when you and I were fighting a long time ago? Our argument was so heated that I did not notice that my voice was getting louder by the minute. I was so frustrated that you were not hearing me so I raised my voice in the hopes that it will make you listen. But it was Tatay who came and heard. He looked at me and in an equally forceful no-nonsene-no-questions-no-excuses kinds of voice, he told me “Don’t ever talk to my wife that way“. And I shut up. I was hurt more by our fight than having witnessed my father take your side rather than mine. But I never questioned it. Ever. Even now.

My first reaction was to laugh but instead I asked him what he was doing. He said, he was putting on powder in a matter-of-fact tone. I then followed with "Only Mommy’s do that!". That was what came out of me as I felt the girls vs. boys thing was too complicated for such a young mind. Besides he can learn the physical difference later on.

When I mentioned what happened to my sisters, they asked me what I would feel or do if my son turned out to be gay. My response to them was a facial expression that meant something like… "should I feel something.. different than what I feel now?". I then told them that I will not mind if he turned out gay or otherwise. He is my son after all. But that’s me. Many would disagree.

The gay child question I think is one that is asked of many parents and would be parents.  The common reactions from people I know are "I hope not", and some even "I will beat him into being a man", and most mothers would say "I will love him whatever happens".

I was raised believing there were only men and women, girls and boys and each very different and very unique. A lot of people around me were brought up the same way. So it is understandable to a certain extent when they have a not so normal reaction to their son sporting some cheek blush and their daughters kiss other’s daughters (and not for fun).

Personally, because I was raised in such a society, I can only hope that whatever my son or daughter (hehe I wish) turns out to be, their lives don’t turn out to be as difficult as I imagine it could be. I can only hope that whatever they do with their lives and their free time, they don’t have to worry about being who they are just because somebody, some community, some religion or some culture wants to dictate what they should be.

I am the kind of mom who prefers not to leave home without my kids (at least not if I can help it). Going to the grocery or mall even if its just to run errands always means a day out to my kids. They are the ones who look forward to accompanying me on those errands more than I want to do them. So I try to schedule these kinds of trips when I know it would be ok to take my kids with me.

Oh but every time we do these family trips to the mall or the nearby grocery, I find myself wondering if I am the only mother who thinks its an extreme physical activity. Did you ever come across a small, slightly plump woman in jeans and flats, pushing a grocery cart (filled with items like food and diapers) where a small boy is seated talking nonstop, while at the same time holding on to a five year old who keeps jumping and skipping and sprinting back and forth despite pitiful pleas from his mom to stop – that was me.

I swear some women I meet out there make it look so effortless. I, on the other hand, often lose poise, sweat it out and turn out like an evil witch to my kids. Sigh. Despite all that, I never think twice about bringing them along. So what if my hair gets messed up or I get aching legs, arms and back at the end of the day – to me its still worth every minute.

Do you leave your kids at home when you have to run out and do errands?

To tell you the truth, I rarely have coffee breaks, I eat lunch at my desk – while working, I can be contacted via AIM and YM at all times, I have two mobile phones that are turned on every time and lastly, I sometimes even forget that there’s such a thing as call of nature (my body is programmed to forget I think).

Now why do I subject myself to this you wonder. Its not exactly an easy life. Now that I am reading what I just wrote, I’m asking myself when do I find time to breathe?

But that is my life at work. I make sure that I make every minute as productive as possible, eliminating all any and even the possibility of idle time. That is because when I get home, I want to focus on non-work activities like taking care of my family, blogging, cooking. Oh I do the occasional work at home thing but I really prefer not to. I would like to keep my marriage after all – hehe. I sacrifice lunch outs so that I can finish my work and go home with enough time to help with my son’s homework, or chill out with my husband or check the pantry for inventory. I work like a horse but in turn fight hard for my me time or family time.

Don’t think I am not flexible. I am. I take calls and work at home when I really need to (which is many times my husband would argue). And even though he would frown and pout at me, at the end of the day, he understands that my career is important and it helps make our family’s life easier.

I know that there are plenty out there like me, working moms who value both their families and their careers. There are plenty out there who play the balancing act, not all may be moms, but all would be in a state of constant compromise. So what if you’re tagged as the class workaholic, its your life and your choice how you live it.

We moved to a new house two weeks ago. Even if I took some time off to take care of setting up things at home, I am still left with a long list of to do’s. It is during these times that turns me into a zombie. A depressed zombie rather. Nothing beats having to face incomplete tasks that seem very much overwhelming when added on top of your other everyday chores. I consider myself an expert in moving as I have completed three moves in the past five years. This is my fourth move and heaven knows not the final one. But this is the most tiring of all.

Maybe its because the move was done with a whole family, complete with kids and nannies, my husband. Good thing there are no pets to speak about. Because then, this page will be insufficient to talk about all of them.

These are the reasons why moving this time was too stressful.

Ensuring broadband connection was up and running by the time we moved was one of the most difficult challenges. This is especially true because of the very few DSL providers we have in our country and the obstacles you have to overcome to get them to serve you in time. The poor connection or the lack of it at our new residence makes my husband very grumpy. Go figure.

My eldest son is five years old and is in the middle of his junior kinder school year at his old school when we had to pull him out and find a new one for him. Now that we are living farther away, it is not logical for him to continue going to school near our old place. I’m sure many parents out there will be able to relate when I say it is a difficult task to transfer your child to another school. But I did find a good one near our new place although I have to settle with the fact that it will cost me more than it used to. Sigh!

My family thrives on home cooking and although I cook once in a while, my yaya does a great job of keeping us fed with hot meals every time. The challenge for us is finding a local market where we can buy vegetables, condiments, fish and sometimes meat if we happen to run out. Not surprising that there is no wet or dry market near the area. I guess this is where we have to make compromises when we decided to live in a gated village. So the cost to make lunch or dinner has increased at the same time everything else has. And I cant imagine a place without a single variety store in sight. The nearest one is actually outside the gates and is quite a walk if you really think about it. Sigh!

Needless to say, my youngest son needs the space that will allow him to expend the outrageous amount of energy he has. Now our new place has the space for him to run around, bike around, kick his heels and roll on the floor. All the stress in the world disappears whenever I come home and his little arms circle around my neck and his little voice starts telling me about how he went to the playground, or how he rode his bike outside the streets. So did I say, moving was stressful? Not! … really.

My work allows me opportunities for overseas employment. I have had several offers to work abroad (Asia and the US) and at one time, I even aggressively pursued those possibilities. When I was in Arizona a couple of years back on an assignment, I realized how I was not cut out to live amongst strangers and away from family. Oh yeah, I loved the fact that I earned enough to buy me a closet full of clothes, shoes and bags, and eat lobster any time I wished. But after the sun sets and I find myself alone in my apartment, I think how my shoes can never replace the witty banter my sisters are always having, or my mom’s tendency to remind me to do the something a hundred times a day, or my dad’s jokes that he keeps on repeating several times a day.

So am I just thinking of myself? Here I am with the chance to earn big and help my family out and I turn away. Even now, I can work abroad if I want to and earn lots of money. Technically, it would really help me and my husband establish our lives, build a home and give our kids all they can ever hope for. But I choose not to. And my husband supports me in that decision.

More money is good, but being with my family is best. I want to be there for every smile, tear, and wound that my kids have. I want to be the one to prepare my husband’s coffee every morning. I want to be the one to plan our vacation. I want to be there. Many think I should be more practical instead of ideal. I disagree. Do you?

Do you watch Brothers and Sisters? I do. Every week I try to catch it on Star World. When the teaser was first aired, I thought the series was too heavy and mushy for my taste. However, for lack of a better show on a tuesday night, I allowed myself to watch it.

Brothers and Sisters is a tv drama about an ordinary American family dealing with everyday family conflicts. These conflicts include a gay brother, a controversial sister, sibling rivalry, dealing with mom, a mistress, sterility, and competition between husbands and wives.

Last week’s episode was one of the heaviest. It tackled these issues all at once. I am sure any one of us can truly relate to at least one of the problems featured in the show.

The episode was about the family finding out about their father’s child with his mistress. They not only find out about her, but some of them actually get to meet her. This revelation threatened to tear their family apart as the siblings scrambled to keep the secret from their mother. In the end, it was Saul (their mother’s brother and the new mistress’s boyfriend) – whew what a twist! – who was forced to tell the truth.

When everyone was blaming Saul for spilling the beans, he stopped them by words that touched my heart to the core:

“I did not want to tell her. But I had no choice. She was in front of me telling me about Holly…. and I could see her opening her heart to forgiveness. I will not allow her to be vulnerable like that only to be devastated when the truth eventually becomes known.” (** not verbatim)

That moment showed clearly how strong the bond between siblings or brothers and sisters is. It is so strong that not even the brother’s relationship with Holly can break the protective barrier that the family has woven around themselves with.

And I think about my own family, and my brothers and sisters. And then I become thankful that like the Walker family – we are very much protective of each other. And I am filled with love….

I applaud the writer of Brothers and Sisters. Unlike most dramas that grace our screens, the writer has managed to depict real life relationships and relevant family issues. I encourage you to watch it. Trust me, even my hubby who is wary of drama does not cringe when watching it (and that is a good thing).

I remember an incident years ago when I was still young and stubborn. I had a fight with my dad that resulted in me giving him the silent treatment. Two months went by without me ever talking to him until Christmas came. I finally woke up and apologized (I think hehe) to him and it was back to normal since then.

The Christmas season does that to people, I guess.

I haven’t felt Christmas for three years now. Its not the decreasing number of gifts that I receive (less gifts as you get older). Its not the decreasing number of parties that I attend or the food that I eat. It is because two people I love still don’t get along and I am in the middle of everything.

Christmas will never be complete as long as my family is not whole. And with the way things are going, this is how it will remain to be.

This is just one of those times that everything I ever believed in is suddenly not the truth anymore. And it sucks that the meaning of Christmas is not strong enough to fix whatever it is that has been broken.

Tsk tsk.