Mother of 2

My husband, months ago sent me an article that firmly stated how you can avoid broken marriages by simply putting your marriage first before your kids. I think he was trying to send me a message (subtle Dear, really). In fact, a similar article that I found over the Internet says that putting your spouse first in your marriage yields healthier and happier kids. Yet another article starts that we are shooting ourselves in the foot by making our children the center of our universe.

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.

Source: Jessica Rules the Universe

Throughout thirteen years of martial law, until I laid eyes on her again, I never thought that I would ever see the end of it. Least of all that my father would survive it. I am not much given to prayer or pious reflection but when I could set aside my anger, I prayed my father would see democracy again.

Late one afternoon, in San Francisco, I got a call. It was from Cory Aquino, for whom I had written one speech after her husband’s assassination. She said she had accepted Marcos’s challenge in a Snap Presidential Election. I put down the phone, and packed my bags, and reported to her at the Cojuangco Building.

I knew then she was the answer to my prayers. What I did not notice was that the closer we came to victory, which is to say the farther the prospect receded that the Marcos regime would survive, the less I felt the anger inside me. As each day passed, bringing me closer to the day I could get even, the less I felt the need for it as I spent more time with the woman who alone could make it possible.

I did not notice, but I was no longer looking back in anger, or looking forward even, to victory and vindication. Only now do I see. I had lived with my anger so long, only for the day to come when it no longer mattered to me. The only thing that counted was that I was living every day to the fullest, bringing out the best in me—for someone else. A dream I hadn’t had since I was a boy, feeding on stories of chivalry, had been achieved. I was serving a woman who was every inch a sovereign, all the more for scorning the slightest pretension to the role.

I did not realize it, even when I was already in the Palace, by the side of the President—among all her advisers, I like to think, the one who loved her most.

It never again occurred to me that I had scores to settle. And not until today, that I had passed up every chance to get even.

From the moment I came in from the airport and reported for duty, and she gave me in return the same smile she gave me on her deathbed, I never noticed… Not when I was with her in the campaign when she corrected me for not looking at the people I was waving at… Nor when I was with her in the presidential limousine looking intently, for her benefit, at the crowds at whom I waved… I never noticed anything. Except that I was with the only person that I would ever want to be with.

I certainly never noticed that I had left my anger behind. I don’t know how it happened. Except that Cory Aquino ennobled everyone who came near her. I have tried to say it publicly but never could finish. If you saw me as I felt myself to be, anyone would fall in love with me. I saw myself in that hospital room, a knight at the bedside of his dying sovereign, on the eve of a new Crusade, oblivious to the weight of the armor on his shoulders for the weight of the grief in his heart.

And because she always doubted my ability to be good for very long… Indeed, when my wife told Ballsy that I prayed the rosary at Lourdes for her mother’s recovery, Cory said, “Teddy Boy prayed the rosary? A miracle! I feel better already.” Because she doubted my capacity for self-reformation, she made it effortless for me by being herself. I did not notice that I was doing right by serving a woman who never did wrong. I am not sure how to take this moral self-discovery. It is so unlike myself. But if it will bring me before her again, I am happy.

I came across the above article published by one of my favorite writers, Jessica Zafra, on her blog Jessica Rules the Universe.

I must confess that I was an active witness to the People Power Revolution that happened in 1986. Our school was located right smack in the middle of Edsa where all the chaos unfolded so I cannot help but be swept in the series of events that led to getting Cory Aquino elected to the presidency.

So it should be understandable how I became emotional as I watched the thousands of people that blocked SLEX as my husband and I were driving back from the supermarket. We were frustrated because we had a hard time getting through the people and the parked cars but I had to swallow several times to stop myself from getting overwhelmed with emotion. Cory was very much loved.

My eyes were glued to the TV, not looking away as I watched the funeral procession that took hours to reach Manila Memorial. I wanted to engulf myself in pride that was bursting from the TV screen. I have never felt more Filipino than I did that day Cory was laid to rest. Rene Saguisag said it best when he stated, “We cannot give up on the only country we have“.

Now I just finished reading this eulogy and I am once again struck with extreme emotion for a love letter so eloquently written that the words feel like they are being whispered in your ear. I envy Cory. She was a great woman to have inspired such pride in us. She has given hope to millions of Filipinos and made us feel that our country is indeed worth fighting for.

I was a single mom for 2 years to my son so I can relate when single mothers worry about the best way to raise a son. I have always believed that a boy needs a father figure in his life and a girl’s growing up would certainly be easier if a mother figure was involved in her childhood. Regardless of how they turn out as adults, they need to be able to talk to someone who can relate to what they are going through.

So what if these so called role models are absent from their lives. What does a father do when his darling daughter see’s a spot of blood while peeing? Does he panic? Does he bring her to the doctor? Or does he think that maybe his child has simply gotten her period? Oh yes, he can always ask a sister, a relative or a neighbor but think about the first few minutes of awkwardness that he has to go through to find out what is really happening to his child.

What does a mother do when her son comes home from school with a muddy uniform and a bleeding nose? Does she hug him and then reprimand him about being rough or even fighting with other kids? Does she tell him that he should run away or fight back? Does she tell him to scream help and go looking for his teacher? How does a mother know how to deal with this scenario when she was always taught that no one should be allowed to hit her or be rough with her and to seek her older brother’s help as soon as somebody tries to do so?  If she has never been in a fight before, how is she able to relate and be effective in teaching her son about how to deal with it?

I honestly don’t know. What I do know is I live on simple rules that maintain that we should be good to our parents, friends, pets, and our next door neighbor. This I teach to my kids as well. And pray. I pray that even when they have to go through challenges or difficulty, that they have the strength to weather it and come out better men.

How much homework should preschoolers have? I never thought to ask that question when my firstborn started preschool. This time around with my youngest already in his first year of school, I find myself wondering about it. Maybe its because they are in a different school with a different curriculum and different mission and vision.

I sent out a holler in twitter and plurk to see how many mothers out there are thinking the same thing. Surprisingly, others have replied that their preschoolers too have a lot of homework.

For example, the other day, he was assigned to color about 5 pages of drawings! To me that’s not much but to a 3 year old, I don’t expect the same. Thankfully, my son had the perseverance to complete his homework even if I almost lost my mind trying to ensure he doesn’t get distracted while doing it.  He kept breaking into song and dance and wouldn’t stop so his colors went this way and that. I was pulling so hard on my hair trying not to get frustrated as I encouraged him to focus on his work.

Sigh. Teacher, teacher, why do you give us so much homework? Hehe.