Merry Christmas!

It was a fun for Christmas for Laila and all of us.

We went home to Lolo and Lola in Nasugbu. Kuya was home for the holidays too. So it was like a reunion. All the kids were there.

We went to the beach, heard mass, basically bummed around the whole two days we were there. Daddy Cat and I bummed around. Laila Cat was all abuzz playing with Kuya Utoy and Kuya Austin the whole day she was beat at night.

The two tyanaks and Ate Anne returned home with us so Laila's roughhousing with the other critters is on extended play.

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Laila's a bit indifferent toward Santa Claus. She knows him as the old man with the long white beard and that he gives kids presents for Christmas, but she's not really too excited over him.

I'd been worrying about this because I'm worried she'd grow up indifferent toward Christmas traditions.

But when we attended Christmas Day mass, I realized she doesn't connect Christmas with Santa too much because she identifies Christmas as Jesus' birthday. (I ought to be learning something here, I know.)

On the way to Church, she asked me if there will be cake since it's Jesus' birthday. But she says that the man--the priest--will have to blow the candles since Jesus is a statue. She was amused at how many kids attended Jesus' birthday and the balloons outside church.

Her idea of Christmas is a bit different. But I wouldn't mind if she grows up with it. The lack of fascination over Santa Claus isn't so bad.

Losing hair

Laila woke up in the middle of the night and refused to go back to sleep.



She had all these excuses to stay awake. Dede. Weewee. Poopoo. Water. Dede. Weewee. I was trying to be really patient but I my head was spinning and I wanted to go back to sleep.



Then she let out a pained wail that jolted me up.



'Natanggal hair ko!' she cried in between sobs.



Half asleep, I thought i heard her say she said she pulled out a nail. I know how painful that would be. So I asked her again what happened.



Still sobbing inconsolably, she repeated: 'Natanggal hair ko.' This time she pointed to the top of her head.



She must've pulled out a strand of hair while she was fiddling with whatever it was she was fiddling with.



Fully awake now, I was keeping myself from laughing out loud. I didn't want her to think I was laughing at her. But she was so darn funny. It must have been her first time to experience a strand of hair being pulled out from the root and it scared her.



Laila eventually settled down, snuggled close to me.



I was sentimental at 3am because she came to me when she was scared. And I was there for her.



I'd like to be there for her every time she gets scared. That would be easier to accomplish if she gets scared only every 3am.

Being healthy

Laila's shed a few pounds. I just know it.

She's plump as ever. And nobody agrees with me that she's lost weight. But I just know it.

Laila's not as heavy as she was before her bout with toncilitis.

It could be because we stopped giving her Pediasure as a milk supplement. Pediasure's rich in protein and it's a good meal replacement. We--mostly I--were worried that she'd become obese. And I was worried that she'd get heart problems one day.

And so we stopped giving her Pediasure. She's still taking Promil 3 and it's good milk as well. But I guess her protein intake got cut significantly as well.

It's not good obsessing about her weight. She's such a healthy eater I shouldn't worry this much.

But I do.

Being overweight when I was young, I know it would be a rough ride is she grows up overweight. I should stop obsessing about her weight. I don't want her to get the vibe and start on it herself. Keeping my weight has become a lifelong preoccupation for me. I don't want her to go down the same path.

She's quite conscious of how she looks now. No thanks to everyone else who keeps exclaiming how big she's gotten. Not to mention being teased about her deliciously protruding belly.

Adults can be mean and insensitive. I try to block off those nsensitive comments. But I can't protect her as much from my own obsessions.

She's eating healthy--passing up a slice of chocolate cake to nibble on greens from sinigang--and that should be that.

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Research data show that 1 percent of young children are overweight. During our last trip to the pedia, Laila was as big--in height and weight--as a big four year old. Her pedia isn't worried about it but she recommended that we don't let Laila get any bigger.

Why? Because obese children ten to have higher blood pressure and higher cholesterol levels that chldren with normal weight. There's also a higher risk of developing heart problems and diabetes.

Laila comes from a family where we have everything in terms of health problems. Heart disease. Diabetes. Asthma. High blood pressure. Athritis. Kidney failure.

That's the other reason why I'm worried about her becoming overweight.

Christmassy

The tree is out. The presents--most of it--are wrapped and laid alongside (we have a 3-foot tree, go figure) it. So is the Belen.

Yes, Christmas has already arrived in our home.

There are some stockings that need to be hung and some more presents to buy, but basically we've accomplished our holidays duties early and relatively stress-free this year. Hooray for good planning.

Laila's quite excited about her gifts. She knows she's got some in the big pile of presents by the tree but she's done a good job of not minding them too much. It helps that she got Princess Rosella early. Daddy Cat's mentioned that he might get her a car for the dolls, but I dunno if he really will. She'd love a car, though.

I've also begun reading 'The Night Before Christmas' to her during bedtime. She loved Santa's story when I read it to her last year. She must've liked the rhymes. This year she's so full of questions--like 'where's the mouse?' or 'why's santa's hands on his lap?' or 'alis na sila?' or 'san sila punta?' or 'meron pa gifts o'--that it takes me twice as long to finish the book.

Oh well, what's good is that she's really involved in the story.

This weekend we hope to visit Daddy's sick cousin in Novaliches. It's always good to share the holiday cheer.

Bonding with Barbie

That's Laila's latest treasure: Princess Rosella from Barbie's Island Princess movie.

I know, I know. I'd been a tough advocate against Barbies. I once hid away several Barbie doll hand-me-downs from cousin Michelle because I didn't want Baby Cat playing with them. Laila eventually discovered the dolls, of course. She combed their flowing locks, switched party dresses and pretended they were going off somewhere.

I was afraid she'd grow up thinking life was all about pretty faces and a svelte physique, fancy dresses and a change of shoes that she'd not place as much importance on strong character, a thirst for knowledge and a healthy quest for knowledge and adventure.

To me Barbie had been the perfect role model for of a bubbly, giggling cheerleaders, a mineglass bindoo (how Laila pronounces mindless bimbo--it's another story how she learned the term and who she heard it from), a dumb blonde.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'd been a late-blooming, obese, ugly duckling and, as a teenager, had been secretly envious of girls who blossomed much earlier than I did. I blame that on, while I was growing up, how a lot of people put a lot of premium on 'pretty' and 'sociable' and 'easy-going'. I could, with a stretch of the imagination, pass off as pretty even in my overweight teen years. But sociable and easy-going, no.

Several sensible friends, consulted independently of each other about the Barbie issue, all agree I am being overly paranoid.

But I was only convinced after I heard Laila playing with her dolls and taking them to a fairytale office. Sometimes they're off gallivanting with dragons. Aha! So she's not in the path of being a girly-girl I was afraid she'd become after all.

Which is why when she asked for the Barbie Island Princess doll I really didn't have to think twice about getting her one. It was pretty expensive. It was fortunate that Ninong J gave her one as a gift.

Now, all I have to save up for is that Bratz Chloe doll that you can put makeup on and paint her nails.

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I owned barbies myself as a girl. Who didn't? But Barbie was always a Brenda Starr, Reporter wannabe. I even made her a tiny newspaper, typewriter (computers weren't in vogue then) and a tiny camera. Hmmm, perhaps there is something I should blame Barbie for after all.

Time Gone By

The weekend went by so fast. Just like the past three weeks.

It's not even like nothing significant happened the past weeks. Because a lot did. But work sometimes has a strange way of crowding out everything else. And that's what work has done exactly.

A lot of what happened is recorded in my head, though. Like how Laila hasn't had an 'accident' and has successfully and consistently gone potty at night. How she enjoyed neighbor Daphne's birthday party, had everone smitten with her Monder Moman outfit and, later that same day, sat patiently through the wedding reception of a friend of Daddy's.

Baby Cat also declared she doesn't want to drink milk from a bottle in school because it's only for babies. She still does though. Bless my little baby.

She sings Bayang Gagiliw and makes you guess what tune she's humming. It's always It's a Small World After All. She complains that her shirt is too small, tugging at the hem if a hint of her belly peeks from underneath.

And there are others that I don't remember now. Which is why I started this journal in the first place. I want to remember. I want to remember all of it. And, when Baby Cat gets bigger, I want to remind her of the days when she was small and she'd run to me, sit on my lap and burry her pretty little face in my neck.

I know when she gets older she'd stop acting like the little baby she is now. She could still be affectionate. But she'd more likely be affectionate in a different manner. She'll forever be my baby but she wouldn't be that babyish baby like now.

Time has a way of sneaking up on you. First I remember waking up to a typhoon-threatened Saturday and, before I knew it, then we were in the middle of the Monday buzz.

I feel like I've done Laila injustice by missing out from chronicling those three weeks. What's good about going amiss and being told of it is that you get a chance to make things right.

Existential Thoughts

A friend had blogged recently about existentialism. Actually, he was asked if he was an existentialist. He replied that it would be interesting if life really was what we make of it.

And, like so many other things that do, the subject reminded me of Laila. This time, about Laila's fascination with death. Everything lying motionless on the ground is patay. And she says this with a twinkle in her eyes and accompanied with a thumping 'duuhhg' like how I imagine the sound a corpse would make as it hit the pavement.

During a walk she asked me why leaves were lying on the ground instead of being up in the tree and why the leaves on the ground are brown. I explained to her that those were old leaves and they fall off to give space for young leaves to grow.

Much like where we are now. People die to give space for the next generation.

And then that thought reminded me of an email I received; copies of notes written by young children to God. One kid there told God that instead of letting people die, He should just keep the ones He has so He wouldn't have to create new ones every so often. So deep for someone so young, huh.

A corollary idea to this would be man's fixation over the afterlife, of reincarnation. There are those who feel that being here, now wouldn't account for much if we simply cease to be after we die. Immortality. Even if being immortal means leaving behind one's corporeal body and moving on as a spirit, a form of energy or what have you. Or if it means being reborn as another person or perhaps a snail or algae depending on what you've done with the life you previously lived.

Living on after death is a sweet thought. But living the life I have now is already sweet for me.

P.S. For those those who emerged from philosophy class in college with only a little more knowledge than what they had on the first day of school:

Existentialism is a philosophical movement teaching that individual people create and determine the meaning and essence of their lives, that human beings are free--i.e. not controlled by fate--and responsible for their actions.

In-bedded Weekend

The three-day weekend was wonderful.

I had fun the Saturday when Laila danced uninhibitedly in her school UN Day program and went trick-or-treating in the afternoon. Sunday was more relaxed with a later afternoon Trinoma stroll and an early evening drive around UP.

But barangay election day Monday was the best. We slept in late and then blew bubbles till my I was without breath. Lunch was nooldes, which Laila ate up like she never ate noodles in her life before.

Then we laid out the sofa bed in the sala and watched horror movies in a cuddle until Baby Cat fell asleep. We basically stayed in bed the entire afternoon, playing there and watching TV at the same time. I pried myself from away only long enough to cook nilagang buto-buto for dinner and then it was off to bed again after that.

We could hear the rain thumping outside; perfect cuddle weather, perfect for hot soup.

The day would have been perfect-perfect had I not needed to do a quick check on a murder story, but it wasn't too tiring. Laila and I were in bed again by 8:30 pm.

Days like this is what I ache for.

Trick or Treat!

Laila went on her first Trick or Treat sortie last weekend. It was a blast. She slept through a good deal through the pre-trick-or-treat show so she was up and alert when we went around the shops in Shangri-La mall.

It was a good haul, if you ask me. A big bagfull of goodies that I promptly stashed to give away to Kuya Utoy and Kuya Austin as presents. She's still not allowed to have candy. But the other treats I let her keep--the orange Winx thro pillow, pencils and small notebooks and other stuff that won't ruin her precious teeth.

As I mentioned earlier, Baby Cat went as Wonder Woman. There were lots of faiies and princesses and vampires and witches, but only Laila and another, much older kid went as Wonder Woman.

Needless to say, she received lots of Ooooh-how-cute! and Aaaaaw-Wonder-Woman! from the other parents there. Several shop managers giving away the treats even took photographs with Wonder Laila. She was game through it all, stretching her arms and running around as if she was flying. Thank goodness she had a good nap.

Much of the other Justice Leaguers were there. How I wish I could round them up and have Wonder Laila photographed with Batman, Supergirl and the other super heroes. But they were all too fast to catch in one frame.

One little tyke Laila took a fancy to was the Picachu boy in front of us in the trick or treat queu. Laila had a blast gently touching him by the tail. And when we would get left behind in one shop, she'd yell 'Hey Picachu! Wait fer me!' Too bad the camera was low on battery and we didn't get Baby Cat's picture taken with her beloved Picachu. Pica! Pica!

I'm definitely looking forward to next year.

Early Education

I was talking with Laila's Ninang Bev earlier about preschool. Seven-month old Wilby would be old enough to attend school next year, you see, and she wants a good argument to tell the hubby.


Well, I am an avid fan of early education so she only needed to start the topic.


Preschool, I believe, is a very good avenue for older babies--especially the onlies--to socialize. They learn valuable life skills in being in a controlled environment away from home. They learn to follow rules and to get along with other kids.



An additional treat is that they are taught skills--everyday things like holding a crayon or pen or cutting paper with scissors--that parents untrained in preschool education would not consciously think to teach their kids.


In a conference with Laila's teacher last year, I was surprised to learn that she is able to manipulate a pair of scissors. I don't even let her hold one at home. These activities, like tearing bits of paper or pasting, helps them hone fine motor skills.


Other class exercises like playing in the jungle bars or scooping pebbles and tranferring them from one bucket to another helps develop gross motor skills. And to think we even discourage her from running or jumping for fear that she'd fall and crack her head open.


By the end of the first year Laila knows her colors, shapes, number and is famliar with most of the alphabet. This year, she is able to recognize individual letters in words and type them in the computer.


She also has an enormous vocabulary for her age. This I recognize because she's never been into a screaming or crying fit as a result of not having the words to express her feelings. She has words to express most of what she says. Or she expresses her disapproval with a booming NO!



Of course, you have to choose the right preschool for your child. Preschools are generally playschools, although they can still be classified into three pedagogies--traditional, progressive and Montessori. I don't think a preschool that requires the kids to sit still in their chairs for long periods of time will be good for any kid. Toddlers and preschoolers are generally very active and they need a lot of different activities so they wouldn't get bored.


Laila's bloomed in a progressive school (Nest) and in a Montessori (Mayfield) but I would like to have her try a traditional (preferrably Francsican-run) school when she reaches elementary. I spent 11 years in a Franciscan school, Stella Maris College. There I learned values that rules the adult me--integrity, honesty, simplicity and, most importantly, being frugal.




I don't believe that kids will get tired of school when you start them too early. I started school when I was three. I admit there were points during school that I was counting the years until I finish. But I don't think I really got tired of going to school. If you enjoy what you're doing, why stop.


I guess what I want is for Laila to enjoy school. More importantly, I want her to enjoy the experience the joys of learning. You don't stop learning once you step out of school. I want school to help her enjoy the experience so she'll want to learn wherever she is.

Halloween Treat

Laila's going trick-or-treating for the first time this year. As always, I'm more excited than she is.

She'll be Wonder Woman. And boy what a wonder this little woman is. She knew exactly who she wanted to be.

I offered her several costumes from princesses to fairies. But she wants Wonder Woman. Fine by me.

Initially she wanted to be a vampire. But she changed her mind after seeing one-too-many of Daddy Cat's Justice League toys and videos. In hindsight, it was perfect that she did.

She's adorable as Wonder Woman. Her delighful belly protrudes as much as her chubby hiney. Her sweet scrumptious thighs make my mouth water; I just want to sick my teeth into them and take a couple of good bites. She's got a full figure just like Mommy Cat, what can I say.

Weekend Bliss

Three-day weekends are always heavenly.

On Friday we lunched out and went briefly to Trinoma. The following day we checked out a possible new home and then to Market! Market! where Laila romped around the playground and drove around in a pink kiddie car (the type she's been asking us to buy). On Sunday we had icecream after mass, splashed in her pool, napped and then jogged around the QC Memorial Circle where she displayed the daredevil in her by climbing up the big kids' gym. (She nearly gave me aheart attack there but that would be the subject of another entry.)

I also got to cook. I love cooking but it's a pleasure I get to enjoy only rarely. There was liver steak, burgers, mashed potato and (let me stress) homemade, fresh-from-scratch gravy, vegetables sauteed in butter, fresh vegetable lumpia, pansit canton and champorado spread over the weekend. Laila and I also had cotton candy from th epar and icecream after church.

Baby Cat was so worn out from the daytime activities she didn't have any trouble sleeping at night.

But I did. A bit. I was also tired from the happenings and would fall asleep alongside Laila. But the minutes before I doze off, I would think that I'd like to spend more days like this. I didn't think about the world's problems. I didn't worry about all the anomalies going down.

My concern was Laila and nothing else.

I don't want to rationalize so I'd end this entry here. I know all the counter-arguments to all those sentimental thoughts. I just don't want to think of them right now.

Keeping up with the Joneses

When Laila was born I was determined to raise her as a down to earth, prudent, fair, thrifty individual.

I think i'm succeeding in most areas. Except that I have my own faults as well.

For months I've been thinking of getting her one of those kiddie motorbikes that runs on batteries (read: expensive) and nearly succeeded in giving her one as a gift for her third birthday.

But Daddy Cat talked me out of it. He says it's excessive to give a preschooler a five-thousand peso gift that she'd outgrow before the rubber tires wear out.

My rational mind agrees with him but the irrational part of my brain still pines for that lovely pink motorbike. Why should the kids in posh Urdaneta have one while my Baby Cat doesn't?

And then the neighbor bought a kiddie car for his year-old son.

Admittedly, I get envious of particular individuals over a number of things. The Journal of Personality and Social Psychology defines envy is an emotion that 'occurs when a person lacks another’s superior quality, achievement, or possession and desires it.' It's a perfectly normal reaction among creatures with a brain at the level of development as ours.

Envy drives me to work harder to achieve whatever it is I envy. I fancy myself as a level-headed cavegirl that pursues rational pursuits.

Baby Cat hasn't gotten to my cavegirl level of sophistication in terms of dealing with envy. Her uncle reported that this morning she tried to forcibly borrow the car from the younger boy, who we all lovingly call Baby Brother. The Ates are around, of course, and there was no bloodshed.

But I'm afraid there were tears. From Baby Cat.

And it breaks my heart.

But an overly expensive toy is too vulgar, I am convinced. There are millions of kids who are malnourished and have nothing to eat but water, rice and salt. How can we spend thousands of pesos for a toy she will eventually outgrow.

That's what the rational me sternly believes. The irrational me wants to buy her the damn motorbike.

Back to School

It's Laila's second day back in school after a weeklong sojourn.

She's been crying again but I know she'll get back into groove. She just got used to not going to school and has to get used to being left there for two hours daily. Laila loves school and proudly shows me the art projects they make.

It's always 'Look Mummy I made this for you' whether it's a writing activity or a pictures she colored.

She has stories about what went on that day and something about her classmates. And she always tells me she played with Vawewie (Valerie). She repeatedly tells me that Blue pushed her and when I ask her what she should tell Blue, she pipes in with a song-song voice: "No pushing!'

And my biggest indicator that she's enjoying school is that she smiles at me and Daddy Cat when the tricycle picks her up. She knows the tricycle will take her to school and she looks like she's looking forward to it.

Healthy

Laila's blood tests are out. Everything's normal. I'm so relieved I'm smiling to myself!

I'd been worried that she has dengue or some other incurable and fatal disease. I was shackled with this morbid thought the whole day, dragging it around as I went about my business like everything was normal.

And now that the pedia gave her a clean bill of health, the weight has been lifted off me.

But I know I won't be fully rid of this nagging fear for Laila's health, her safety, her well-being. I think that goes with the territory when you're a Mom.

I now understand what they mean when they say that children never grow up in the eyes of their parents. Adults will always be little kids to the eyes of their parents. Laila will always be my little girl.

I also admit that I might be a trifle bit more inclined to worry than other parents. That's something Laila and I will have to live and cope with. I hope I don't annoy her too much when she grows up.

Canker Sores

I think what Laila has are canker sores. Her pedia mentioned a different, more ominous name but I am guessing that's the medical term for her sores.

A quick search in Wikipedia proved informative. Here it is:

"An aphthous ulcer or canker sore is a type of mouth ulcer which presents as a painful open sore inside the mouth, caused by a break in the mucous membrane. The condition is also known as aphthous stomatitis, and alternatively as "Sutton's Disease," especially in the case of multiple or recurring ulcers.

The term aphtha means ulcer; it has been used for many years to describe areas of ulceration on mucous membranes. Aphthous stomatitis is a condition which is characterized by recurrent discrete areas of ulceration which are almost always painful. Recurrent aphthous stomatitis (RAS) can be distinguished from other diseases with similar-appearing oral lesions, such as certain viral exanthems, by their tendency to recur, and their multiplicity and chronicity. Recurrent aphthous stomatitis is one of the most common oral conditions. At least 10% of the population suffers from it. Women are more often affected than men. About 30–40% of patients with recurrent aphthae report a family history."

Apparently the virus burrows deep into the body and comes back out through the same vein it used so that the sores appear in the same spot every time. It's caused by a virus but anything--like accidental bites or Vitamin B12 deficiency-- can awaken the hybernating villain.

At least I know Laila is not afflicted by some life-threatening disease. But I am mollified only slightly.

I am afraid that she might have some other fatal condition. Apart from her low low-grade fever and bouts of throwing up (which happens right after she takes her paracetamol), there is no reason to worry that she has anything more than the sores. But I still worry.

There was a five-year old pupil in my neighbor's school who passed away recently. From dengue. The kid's had fever for several days and then the fever went away. A day or two later the kid started vomiting blood. Then she passed away.

It's a sad sad story that is more scary than all the Freddy Kreuger movies put together.

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Daddy Cat will bring her back to the pedia this afternoon for some blood tests. For my peace of mind.

SHM for a Day

The upside of Laila being sick is that I get to stay home with her. I hope that I could stay home with her for less worrying reasons, but when life gives you lemons...

So I stayed home yesterday. And of course that means speacial Mommy Cat and Baby Cat time. We had lunch with Daddy Cat and did a little shopping afterwards. We went home and took a long nap. After that we watched some TV and played.

It was raining outside and it was the perfect weather to stay home and goof around. Laila was sick but otherwise she was her normal self. Active, friendly, easy to laugh and witty.

She saw the big photograph of buddhist monks in their burgundy robes marching in a street in Yangon. She asked what the pictue was about. I told her they are monks from Myanmar. And of course she couldn't understand what I was explaning. She looked me in the eye as if to make sure she heard me correctly.

'Monk? Monkey? Marimar?' she asked. And I couldn't help but chuckle. I tried explaining some more about the monks and Myanmar, but then gave up. She seemed pretty content about monkey and Marimar anyway. I can live with that.

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These prolonged daily interactions are what I miss because I work outside the home. But I know I have to work because otherwise we wouldn't be as comfortable as we are. It's a tough trade-off but almost a no-brainer.

I'd like to think sometimes that helping the family finances is the primary reason why I work. But it isn't.

I want Laila to grow up knowing that girls can be whatever they want and do not have to fit into a predefined role designated by society. And I think I can only truly teach her that if I continue doing what I've always wanted to do--be a journalist.

I can take on a less demanding job, but that wouldn't be where my passion lies. And I'd like to teach Laila to follow her own (healthy) passions. My girl will be the person she wants to be. I'll work on that.

Down with Sores

Laila's had a fever since the weekend. Apparently, she's got these viral mouth sores, the same that she got a year ago.

The first time she had them Baby Cat had to be hospitalized just to make sure she doesn't get dehydrated. She was a lot younger then and, I guess, more intolerant of pain. She didn't want to take anything. No milk, no water, no soup, no nothing.

This photo was taken on our last day in hospital. Her first solid food in almost a week. What made it sweeter for me was that she asked for the sandwich herself.

This time around she takes soup and dede, which is as good as a full meal because the milk is high in protein and other nutrients we preschoolers just don't get from regular meals.

But her temperature shot to 39.4 and wouldn't respond to paracetamol. Her pedia told me to give her a higher dosage and that seemed to have done the trick.

She's doing much better now, but she still might have to get her blood tested if the fever doesn't go away totally by tomorrow or Thursday. I don't want to risk the possibility that the fever is caused by another ailment. The blood test will rule out dengue and other diseases.

I don't get it. Laila gets sick as if I don't take care of her enough.

On the way home from a visit to Lola's house in Batangas, we passed by a homeless family who's shack was a pushcart. The kids shouldn't be any older than 6 years old and the youngest was in his birthday suit under the drizzle. And they all seem perfectly well. And by 'well' I mean they do not look like they're suffering from an illness.

Why?! All those germs and bacteria they get from living in the streets and the heavily leaded air they breathe and they're not sick! And here's Baby Cat--taking daily vitamin C and multivitamins, trained to wash her hands several times a day, cover her mouth when she sneezes or coughs, use utensil when eating, wash her pepe after peeing and everything else that would protect her from ingesting more germs than what's minimum--who's got sores in her mouth caused by a virus.

I just don't get it. It's like I still don't do enough to keep her healthy.

No A&P Catholic

Laila's gotten used to saying her prayers at night. And she's pretty much settled down on the idea of attending mass on Sundays.

She even leads our bedtime prayers sometimes. "Ow fder...awt heben...n-neymm...kingkangkom...duuhn...o ert...asis...heben!...daaay...ow bweeed...uh shins...dose...sind engst tus...tess...AMEN!"

She knows the sign of the cross and makes mano (if she feels like it) to the old folks. She's also very keen on stuff like why Jesus is nailed on the cross and why he carries the 'kwoss' sometimes, or why he sleeps on Mama Mary's lap at other times. She asks why bad girls and bad boys make Jesus sad and why is it he has blood on his hands and knees.

I don't know how to answer her questions appropriately half of the time, but I take full credit that she's familiar with the basics of the faith. All that makes me feel so smug. I want to give myself a hearty pat in the back. Good work!

Her interest in all thing religious now is not an assurance that she will grow up to be a strict believer of the faith, I know. But I think she's doing admirably. And I believe I've done pretty well so far.

I didn't think I would, considering I was a big A&P Catholic before she came. I was even less, truth be told.

I still don't consider myself as a real religious type. But I don't mind if Laila grows up to be one.

Coosome Twosome

It's been five days since Daddy Cat left on his big holiday. Today is my last day alone with Baby Cat, if you don't count the two Ates and the Uncles and Auntie who have been keeping her company while I'm at work.

And, I have to say, having her all to myself is not so bad. She's been very cooperative.

Although, she has gotten into the habit of waking up around 3 or 4 am to pee in the potty. She also has these last minute bedtime requests like a glass of water or a trip to the potty and another trip to the potty after that. And those endless questions--why is Daddy not here? why is there only two of us? why is it dark? if if't not dark, what is it? why? why? why?

She's trying to push back bedtime, obviously. Luckily for me I've already read that chapter dedicated to overcoming delaying tactics during bedtime. I didn't have too hard a time dealing with them.

Once, she cried and whined for almost half an hour insisting to be given a fresh bottle of dede when she already had one beside her. I just let her cry it out and eventually she asked for her bottle and went right to sleep.

But, admittedly, I compromised. I may have repeatedly declined her requests to be carried but relented to an alternative request to sleep on my tummy. And so she did--all 35 lbs of her--and she's been falling asleep atop my entire upper half ever since.

I don't mind, really. I'd carry and dance her to sleep if only my arms could carry her weight. So I just make do with lettine her fall asleep on my tummy.

Overall, our time together away from Daddy Cat let us bond even closer. It also proved my theory that having one parent makes disciplining a preschooler easier because there's only one authority to follow. One rule-maker.

But we sure do miss Daddy Cat.

Missing Daddy Cat

Daddy Cat left this morning for a six-day holiday all by his lonesome.

It's his first out-of-town trip without Laila and me and, I have to admit, it's a little unsettling. For me. Usually, it's me who goes away. Hmmm. So this is how it feels to be left home with the baby.

Not that I truly am home with the baby. I wish. I still gotta work till 7 pm, race to the train station, grab a quick dinner and get ready for bed before 8 pm so I have a full hour of playing with Baby Cat before she goes to bed at 9.

The only difference is Daddy Cat won't be joining me in this mad medley.

He'll be in Calbayog with Lola and the Lola Lola. Tomorrow's the town fiesta and Daddy Cat's been wanting to visit Calbayog during the fiesta. It's also a sort of celebration/reunion in honor of the first lawyer in the family in decades.

The original plan was for us three to go, but circumstances--expensive plane tickets--kept us from going. And, as it turned out, real circumstances--the office partner is away on assignment and the Erap verdict is about to come out--have cropped up and I would've been forced to cancel the trip anyway.

So, until next Wednesday, it'll just be me and Baby Cat.

+++

She took the goodbye rather well. Baby Cat cried briefly when Daddy Cat's taxi drove away but quieted down soon after we got inside the house. I guess my frequent business trips have gotten her used to brief separations.

The truth is, she cried worse when she stepped on and broke my hair clip. She was simply unconsolable for the next half hour or so. Baby Cat is so funny. She must've felt terrible about the transgression even without me making a big deal out of it.

I doubt she feels guilty because she broke my stuff. But I suppose she feels that she harmed the clip and feels sorry for it. Baby Cat wants me to glue back the piece that broke off. Awww.

Spreading Wings, Building Character

This news just in from preschool: Laila is continuing to exercise her independence and is doing a good job in determining her individuality. She is freely expressing her budding artistic talents, indulging herself in the world tastes and textures.

That's Mommyspeak for 'Teacher Reg called my attention over Laila's inattention during class.'

Apparently, Laila's not been coloring inside the lines as she is supposed to and has gotten into a habit of pouring out her milk when Teacher Reg tells the class to pack away their snack things. Teacher says Laila colored really well until a few days ago when she began coloring way beyond the lines.

Slap me silly now, but I don't think that it's such a big deal. To be honest, I am delighted by it. I feel that she's pushing her individuality. And I'm glad that she is. I don't want a drone for a daughter.

As for the milk spilling, I think she sees us throwing away unfinished glasses of water at home. Perhaps she thinks that's the proper way to pack away unfinished drinks. Well, I don't want her to grow up wasteful so it's something I have to deal with.

My sister thinks I should be more strict with Laila. Otherwise, she warns, Baby Cat would grow up like her second youngest, Utoy, who's a bit naughty. I don't think he's naughty, though. A bit misguided, probably, but not a lost case. Living with the grandparents is a big factor in Utoy's demeanor. But he'll grow out of their babying.

+++

Laila is quick witted like Utoy, though. Utoy has an excuse for everything, from not doing his homework or playing too much. Laila is almost the same.

I had a talk with Baby Cat about Teacher Reg's observations. After a few minutes into my monologue, she suggested we comb her dollies' hair. I told her we'll play later after Mommy finishes her her.

She told me her ears were already hurting.

I had a hard time keeping myself from laughing out loud.

My sister would say that it's another indication that I should be stricter with Laila, or have another baby so Baby Cat would learn more about responsibility.

I think Laila's just exercising her individuality.

Gender Distinctions

Sometimes I wonder what Daddy Cat thinks about being the only representative of the male species in our household.



Laila is sometimes ruthless in reminding him that he doesn't 'belong' in our exclusive girls group. 'Ikaw boy, ako girl. Si Mummy girl,' she tells him.



At bedtime, Laila would push his hand away when he reaches over me to rub her in the belly. But before doing that, Laila would check whose hand it was disturbing her road to dreamland. If she sees it's mine, Baby Cat just tucks it under her arm. If she realizes it's Dady Cat's, she swats it away with agonized complaints of 'A sikep! Moov over! Moov over!'



She also resists Daddy Cat's embraces while she openly seeks for mine.

I enjoy every bit of it of course. Go girl power!!!

Socialite

It looks to me that Baby Cat is getting invited to more parties than me.



I'd first encontered that idea in family-themed comics. I thought it was a funny exaggeration. Now that Laila's social circle has expanded to preschool I realize that it wasn't so much of an exaggeration after all.



This week she was invited to the birthday party of a classmate. A couple of weeks ago it was the party of a neighbor. A few weeks before that was the party of another neighbor.



Oh well. I guess it's not the parties that bother me as much as the cost of gifts to get her friends. Sounds cheap to scrimp on birthday presents. But, hey, I scrimp on everything.



But great presents do not necessarily have to be expensive. Daddy Cat and I get a lot of good items on sale. And I prefer giving books instead of toys and books always look expensive even on sale.



+++



I don't say it out loud often enough, but I am excited for Laila whenever she attends parties. It helps her improve her social skills. I just beam whenever she smoothly adjusts to new situations and venues.



I was more aloof when I was about Laila's age. I guess I was a bit shy. But that was primarily because I didn't get enough opportunity to practice my social skills.

Blah Blah...Blahk Ship

Baby Cat is a big songbird. Her current fave song is this one:



Blah blah blahk ship

Henny henny whul

Less-sir less-sir

Hee haa hool

Hann hnn hnn ster

Hann hnn name

Hann hnn boy

Lainn

Blah blah blahk ship

Henny henny whul

Less-sir less-sir

Hee haa hool



Certainly you can recognize her rendition of Bah Bah Black Sheep. She's basically gotten the tune although she has yet to master the lyrics. Her made-up words to the song sound better to my ears though.



I can never get tired of her singing. I actually beg her to sing, bribing her with anything on hand. A piece of chocolate, a cup of chocolate milk. Anything! Just to get her to sing.



It's bad practice I know. I turn hypocrite and forget for the time being what baby books say about bribes and their long-term effects. But wouldn't you do the same if you were me?



Her mini-concerts are something to behold. Laila becomes a soft-voiced soprano--if there's such a singer type--avoiding all eye-contact but continuing to sing nonetheless. When she's in a really good mood, she includes a swing of the hips and some flailing arms to her routine.



She also belts out a Rock-a-bye Baby once in a while, and then abruptly stops to exclaim with concern: 'Hulog yung baby baba, lakas hangin kse.'



Baby Cat might not be able to say the lyrics right, but she understands them.

Seeing the World

I often have these bouts of insecurity, worrying that I'm depriving Laila of precious time and attention and nurturing because of the work I do.

And then there are moments that I am reminded why I do the work I do and how I am hoping that my work would help Laila become a responsible and well-rounded individual.

I went to Sulu and Basilan last weekend. What we hear about those two islands is never good. It's always blood and gore or poverty and deprivation. We do not hear how beautiful the islands are. But they are.

Here's a photo of the mangroves in Tabyawan, Basilan. Even the brigade headqaurters there has a scenic view.

I think this is Sta. Cruz island just off the shores of Zamboanga City. It's not developed, but Col. Bob swears it's a perfect diving spot. I'm inclined to believe his claim. The water was crystal clear I could see the bottom from way up in the chopper.

I don't have photos from Sulu but the aerial view is just as scenic.

I'd like Laila to see these same places when she's older. Only, I wish she can visit Sulu and Basilan without worrying over personal security.

Compweeter Whiz

I've never been a techie. New technology brings out the rebel in me and I tend to hold back from trying the latest craze until almost everyone I know has picked up the bug.


I still treat my computer as a lightweight typewriter and mobile mailbox. My cell phone is, well, a mobile phone. I still don't know how to turn on the blue tooth. And I don't know how to check email sent to it. I've learned how to send an email from the phone, though, because it's my lifeline when I need to file a story and I'm in the field.


But Laila? She seems to enjoy technology more.

Here she is checking out my office laptop and 'working.' We hve a desktop at home and she's gotten adept in handling the mouse and clicking to where she wants to go.

Months ago we bought her a CD that has these kids' games. She calls it her Doggie ABCD (she still calls VCDs and CDs ABCD). One game involves fetching a newspaper, a shoe, a bone and what-have-you and giving it to the talking doggie. Another game allows her to click animal parts and the computer will 'talk' about it. It also tests her knowledge with shapes and colors, numbers and the alphabet.

Needless to say, she loves it. And I got my proof that she has mastered control over her hands and the basics of shapes and colors and etc.



And, as I''ve discovered recently, she knows how to get the CD from the CD dive and turn the compweeter off. She even remembered to switch off the regulator. I really don't like her handling anything that's plugged into an electric socket, but it was too late for me to do anything. (Mental note to self: don't let Laila do it again.)



I also bought her a toy laptop that she loves tinkering with. It teaches the same things but runs on two AA batteries so it doesn't add to the electric bill.

Hopefully, she sustains this romance with learning even when she gets older.

Rain Rain Go Away

Laila's been kept home from school the past three days because of the rain. Lucky her! How I wish I could've stayed home, curled under the covers instead of trudging through the downpour to get to the office.

She understands now that she doesn't go to school when it rains. No sense in risking her catching something just to get a perfect attendance in preschool. They don't even check the attendance. We realized that last year when most of the other parents kept their kids home during rains. there was a time when only Laila and another classmate attended class.

Now we know better. So her raincoat's been packed away, never to be used unless it's really, really necessary.

I remember my Mom making me attend class even when wind and rain was strong enough to whip away a grown carabao. Of course they checked the attendance in elemetary. But still, it would've been nice to just stay home.

Like now.

+++

The rain wasn't so bad last night. I mentioned this to Laila and. for the first time, she noticed it.

"Who turned off the rain?" she asked me and I just had to laugh.

I was about to come up with a make believe reason--I don't want to explain the rain cycle to her just yet--when she came up with her own.

"Jesus turned off the rain becase it was noisy. He couldn't go to sleep."

I couldn't have come up with something better!

Explanations, Clarifications and Assurances

I spoke with Teacher Chiqui, the directress and owner of Laila's preschool, about the incident with Teacher Reg.

Vouching for Teacher's Reg's character, Teacher Chiqui seconded that Teacher Reg's voice is just naturally loud and shrill and this was must have Ate Lyn misinterpreted as shouting. Nevertheless, Teacher Chiqui said she still advised Teacher Reg to tone down her voice a little so it wouldn't be misinterpreted as shouting.

Teacher Chiqui also offered some treats--i.e. books--for Laila when she arrives in school to help her settle down. Baby Cat's having a bout of separation anxiety again and has been crying when dropped off at school.

I really am not too worried about Laila's crying, and I told Teacher Chiqui about this, as I am about the shouting incident. Of course I will be disturbed after being told that a teacher shouted at my three-year old. What mom wouldn't be?

But since it's been brought out, discussed, resolved (hopefully) and never to be repeated then I am fine with it. Baby Cat remembers incindents when she thought Teacher was angry (but not at her specifically) and these incidents do not seem to lessen her fondness for Teacher Reg.

That's good enough for me.

Lessons from Mufasa

I never was the type of person who would take injustice, even only perceived injustice, sitting down.


It goes without saying that I will, if you may, protect Baby Cat from injustice with all the ferocity of Mufasa protecting Simba from the hyenas. I can't roar and slash and go for the jugular the way Mufasa did. But I do my best.

And, sometimes, restrain myself the best I can as well.

This morning I spoke with Teacher Reg about her supposedly raising her voice at Laila. Baby Cat's been suffering from separation anxiety again and has been bawling whenever she's dropped off at school. Ate Lyn said she heard Teacher last Friday order Laila, in an unfriendly tone, to go inside the classroom.


Teacher Reg denied all of it. She explained--her mouth tight and eyes in obviously slighted slits--that she used her normal voice and that none of the other parents have complained about the way she handled the class.


I wanted to hiss that there's always a first time for everything but instead simply told her that I find the whole incident disturbing. I used the calmest voice I could muster. I tried to use neutral words like 'raise your voice' instead of 'shout at' or 'disturbing incident' instead of 'do that again and I'll kick you ass'.


Ate Lyn, who was standing behind me, repeated everything she told me in front of Teacher Reg. And I saw Teacher's mouth tighten even more and her eyes become even more narrower slits. My jaws tensed as well. I think she saw it too. I also think she used a wealth of euphemisms on me as well.


I ended the rather unfriendly conversation with advice to let Laila cry her separation anxiety out and for Teacher not to bark commands. Laila, like me, has ths tendency not to follow instructions if she disapproves of the tone with which it is given.


I guess my not too successful attempt at exercising restraint was borne out of the desire to protect Laila beyond the shouting incident.



Now, I am wondering how my chat with Teacher would affect Laila's relationship with her. Baby Cat definitely found the incident with Teacher striking since she remembered it and even copied the scowling face Teacher made. At the same time, Laila looks like she's still fond of Teacher Reg and of school.



But I know I did the right thing. I want to teach Laila that she has to stand up for herself and not to tolerate abusive behavior. Shouting at a crying three-year old, to me, is abusive.


When she grows up, I want Laila to know her worth and that she doesn't have to take crap from anyone. I also want her to grow up to be a decent human being who respect others as much as herself. Furthermore, I want her to condcut herself with dignity.


And I think a parent can't teach these values early enough.

Turning Thwee

Laila is now officially three years old.

She's been three the past two weeks, actually. But to her, she's been 'thwee' the past several months. For some reason, she never got around to learning to say 'two' when you ask how old she is. It's always been three.

And now she really is.

We celebrated that special day with the kind of celebration she wanted--a superhero cake and clowns. Daddy Cat and I threw in some fancy balloons, Divisoria-bought loot/pabitin and catered food, but none of it distracted her from the cake and the clowns.

I set up the tables outside the house and, throughout the afternoon, she'd sneak out to thrust her scrumptious sausagey finger into the cake. That would explain the shallow creases at the backside of the cake. Well, it's hers anyway.

The kids enjoyed the clown show. The clowns did magic tricks and facilitated the games for the dozen or so little kids Laila invited. I half suspect that the clowns were a little disappointed with the limited ooohs and aaaahs the crowd gave them. Laila's guests were almost all her age and, I suppose, hadn't realized that the tricks they're seeing were, well, magic.

Baby Cat got tons of gifts and she merrily tore the wrapper from one parcel to another without seriously looking at what's inside.

What really caught her attention was a little golden puppy that barked, walked forward and wagged its tail. She stopped in the middle of opening presents to play with the puppy. We had to hide the doggie from her to make her move on to the rest of the pile.

She got a lot of new books, clothes and a few dollies.

I have a confession: Laila's not into dolls or stuffed toys. She was thoroughly excited over the new books and flipped one page after another mouth agape. The doll? She tossed it away with half the wrapper still on.

That night she crumpled on the bed tired but protesting bedtime nonetheless. But we successfully bribed her with her new Princess audio-book. That audio-book has now become a semi-regular in our bedtime routine.

Hmm. Baby Cat's thwee now. Wow.

Laila and Assunta

Zoos have become an important part of our family weekends.

We've been taking Laila on zoo visits since she was small. It wasn't so much a conscious effort to instill in her a love of nature or animals than it is an effort for her to learn about nature and animals. Our family field trips are always intended to be a learning experience for Baby Cat.
Last weekend we went to Malabon Zoo.

The last time all three of us were there was two years ago at about this same time of the year. Laila was 11 months old then and was only beginning to walk so I had her in a sling. She hadn't started talking yet so showed her pleasure at seeing the big, striped orange cats with big, round eyes and a low pitched hooting much like an owl's. It didn't look like she noticed that she shared my lap with Assunta the Orangutan when we had our photo taken.

This time around, it was evident that Laila enjoyed the trip. She hopped from one holding pen to the other, eager to see what animal was sleeping next-door. baby Cat was curious with all the strange-looking birds and other animals that were there and demanded that they each be named.

It's good that I can still satisfy her with 'Bird' and the 'bird's cousin' or the 'bird's mommy.' It hadn't occurred to me until late in the trip that zoo management put up signs indicating what the animals are called. So much for being a zoo veteran.

But what really was the highlight of the trip was watching the crocodile get fed--he would leap from the water to catch chunks of raw chicken dropped by a zoo employee just a few meters up-- and the photo session with Assunta the Orangutan.

This time, Laila sat with Assunta by herself. She wasn't afraid at all! It was amazing how open to new experiences Laila is. Daddy hadn't posed with Assunta the first time. He still wasn't keen on the idea of posing with her this time.

Laila still talks excitedly and repeatedly about the things she saw in the zoo. That's my reward--knowing that things I want her to learn are sinking in.

The Big Drop

It’s been two weeks since Laila returned to preschool. In those two weeks I’ve been dropping her off before sneaking away when she goes to pack away her stuff in her cubby hole in the back room.

I realize the advice given by child experts is to say your good-byes properly instead of sneaking away. But, believe me, sneaking away works better for us. Formal good-byes and kisses just elicit howls of despair from her. On the other hand, once Laila sees that I’ve already disappeared, she merrily helps herself to her favorite pink wooden tower blocks in one corner of the classroom.


She seems to have taken a liking to Teacher Reg—she’s still not as involved as Teacher Kerin but she’s not at all disappointing as I originally feared—who has funny stories to tell about my Baby Cat. It seems that Laila would scowl, dramatically put her tiny hands to her hips and ominously hiss whenever something, or someone, displeases her.

That’s exactly how Laila is at home. And that’s proof for me that she’s gotten comfortable with her new school setting. At the same time, that is evidence that Teacher is paying attention to the kids. At the beginning, I’d been worried about Laila and her new teacher wouldn’t gel. I’m glad those worries appear to be groundless.

Now, my latest dilemma is whether I’d stop dropping her off at preschool and just send her off to school with Ate. That’s what we did last year and Baby Cat was OK with it. But at the start of this schoolyear I thought I’d get more involved with Laila’s education. Hence, the daily going-to-school routine that ends with me taking her to her seat in class.

Teacher Reg suggested the other day that, since Laila has apparently overcome separation anxiety and adjusted so well, I stop taking her to school. Laila still whines a little when she knows I’m about to make my exit and Teacher Reg thinks the separation anxiety will go away completely when I stop taking her to school.

Her proposal truly is practical since it’ll give me some free minutes to prepare for work. And it definitely will spare Laila from the heartbreak of being left in school while I go off to the office. But now that someone else has mentioned it, my inclination is to keep on dropping Laila at school. Nothing personal Teacher Reg!

I’m still thinking it over. Ultimately, what I want is what would be good for my Baby Cat. But, admittedly, the obstinate me feels like going against better judgment just because I can.

Uniformity

There are arguments for and against having uniforms in school.

Some psychologists say it stifles individuality, which shouldn't be what educators aim for. Others say it helps the child achieve a level of community or oneness with his peers. A more practical assessment would be that uniforms are less costly than ordinary play clothes and spares kids from developing the Keeping-Up-With-The-Joneses mentality too early.

Personally, uniforms are just darn cute.

Mayfield has a mint green dress with two pockets in front and embroidered with a mini-landscape of a hilltop house with trees and flowers and a smiling sun in the right side of the chest. How cute is that.

I remember my own uniform from Stella Maris--a blue and white sailor blouse on top of a blue pleated skirt accented with a bow-tie (for elementary pupils) or a blue necktie (for hihg school). I hated it. It was what I had on everyday. But looking back now, the uniform was rather cute.

The plan is for my Little Laila to don that same uniform when she's old enough. I think I was educated quite well by the Fraciscan nuns--well, by the teachers paid by the Franciscan nuns--and I'd like Laila to have that same privilege as well.

+++

What I'm concerned about in sending Laila to Stella Maris is, from what I remember, they have a very conservative, strict and traditional approach to education. I'm worried that this kind of school setting would stifle Laila's spirit. I remember they don't allow running in the corridors and boisterous displays--unless during volleyball games--are highly discouraged.

Furthernore, Stella's a relatively big school so their teachers, who handle more than one class at a time, cannot be expected to connect as much with their students compared to teachers and students from a smaller school like Mayfield. Big schools just do not have the personal touch that small schools provide.

But the counter-argument coming from the little voice inside my brain is that my spirited Laila needs a disciplined environment to temper her. She would also benfit from the strict Catholic upbringing.

The voices inside my head have at least two more years to continue with their argument before I have to finally decide which side to take.

Coming Naturally

I've been getting a lot of flak for keeping Laila in diapers up to now. Well, she's not in diapers all the time. Just when we go out and during the night.

Nonetheless there's been a deluge of people telling me that we--meaning I--should begin sending Laila to bed diaperless and just wake her up in the middle of the night to pee.

My sister is very proud that she got her kids out of diapers at age 1 with this technique. A neighbor and Daddy's officemates have given similar testimonials to effectiveness of this method.

The problem is I'm not too keen in getting up in the middle of the night just to drag my little heavy sleeper to the bathroom. Laila is really difficult to rouse. And, once she wakes prematurely, very difficult to put to bed.

Another problem is that I don't wake up too easily myself. So chances are Laila would be having an 'accident' in bed and I'd get awakened--she'd still be asleep--by a puddle of pee slowly soaking me. I'd have t change her clothes, spray the bed with alcohol, change the sheets.

I'd be cranky, Laila would be cranky, Daddy would get the brunt of our crankiness and we'd all lose sleep. Nobody wins.

So I keep her in diapers at night.

I sternly believe that she'll toilet train herself when the time comes that she's physically ready. I don't think she'll willingly wet or poop on herself when she understands that she needs to go.

I think that time has come or is dawning at least.

For the last two days she's gone to class without her diapers. Laila hasn't had an accident so far. And this morning I saw that the diaper she used last night hadn't been soiled, the second time in a couple of days.

I've also noticed that, recently, Laila looked serously uncomfortable when she pees or poops in her diaper. When she pees, she'd sit down wherever she was and pee as if she had no diaper on. When she poops, Laila would do a cowboy walk as if she didn't want the soiled diaper to touch any part of her.

I don't think we'll be retiring the diapers tonight or tomorrow night. Laila will be toilet-trained when her bladder's good and ready even if I don't push her. I know that's just around the corner.

Back To School

My Baby Cat has gone back to school.

Her first day was remarkably a toned down of version of last year, when both me and Daddy and the Ate took her to class.

This morning it was just me and Ate. I lingered a bit to see how she’d take it. She’s in a new school and my Baby Cat takes her time adjusting to new people and a new environment.

Laila started to cry when she sensed I was about to leave but eventually quieted down when Teacher Ge (a her) announced it was time to wash hands before snack time. My Baby Cat jumped down from my lap and skipped to the pantry, not minding the queue of tots that lined up before her.

I sneaked out of the room and watched her from the window. I heard her ask ‘Where’s Mommy ko?’ but appeared content when told that I’d gone out. Later I was told that she participated well in class and was not bashful at all.

Her sole complaint, if you could call it that, was that one classmate—I’m guessing the tiny shy girl seated next to her—refused to play with her.

+++

I have complaints of my own. I don’t want to be one of those Mothers who kiss up to Teacher nor do I want to be one of those Moms who badger Teacher about school stuff.

However, I have noticed that Laila’s New Teacher seems to be less attentive and welcoming than Teacher Kerin from Nest.

The first day Laila went to class last year, Teacher Kerin was at the door greeting the students and making them feel welcome. This morning, Teacher Ge was fiddling with something on her desk and not minded the kids coming in.

At one point, Laila asked her what she was putting on her arms and Teacher answered ‘lotion’ without looking at her. To me, it looked as if Teacher didn’t fully acknowledge who asked the question.

Bluntly put, it was rude of her to do that. Children, even those as young as toddlers, should be given as much respect as adults when they say or ask something.

I wish I could put Laila back at Nest. My Baby Cat really blossomed there. But the tuition’s just too darn expensive.

Wants

At 2.11 years, Laila seems to have developed certain expectations of, or better yet from, me.

Take last night. She was her same exuberant self when I came home. She was jumping all over, asking to be picked up, locking me in an tight embrace that would do a python proud.

Except that she has added this line to her I'm-so-glad-you're-home greeting: 'San salubong ko?'

She actually expected me to bring her something from work! I was taken aback not only because I brought her absolutely nothing but because I had been thinking exactly just that--that maybe I should bring her something.

It's not unusual for Daddy Alvin and me to bring Laila something, anything, as pasalubong. It can be a P20 toy we buy from the MRT station or a more expensive book or trinket from the mall. Self-righteous me, I once told myself I don't want Baby Cat started to get too used to receiving pasalubong from us. I didn't like the idea of giving her too much stuff, worried that she'd turn out a materialistic and uncaring ogre. I didn't want her to take the gifts she receives for granted.

But I think we crossed that line long ago and not even noticed it. She has tons of stuff. All of it I am sure would help shape her as an individual. And about 90 percent of it gather dust in the toy room/computer room.

Question now is what we do about it. Do I continue buying her stuff that I think would help her develop into a rounded human being or do I stop this manic shopping spree?

Another big question is how do I stop it? Laila's an only and I really want to give her the best I can.

Daddy Alvin thinks I buy Laila stuff not because she wants them but because I want them for her. Perhaps.

+++

Anyways, I led her to the ref and took out a small piece of chocolate, telling her it was my pasalubong.

She gobbled it up and asked for more, going directly to the ref where we kept the chocolates. I told her she's had enough, warning her of cavities and that the Dentist disapproves of cavities.

Undaunted, Laila put her hand to her neck, complaining that it hurt and that only chocolates could make her well. 'Sakit neck ko, gamot yan,' she said.

Aba!

Bedtime

I've been away the past couple of days on assignment. And, every night, as i struggled to sleep in that impersonal double bed, I think of Laila.

I imagine her snuggled close to me, her head resting on my right arm. I imagine smelling her hair while strands tickle my nostrils a bit. Then she'd wrap both her arms around my neck, snuggle even closer and whisper her breathy whisper 'Mummy ahyabyoo.'

She does that every night. Melts my heart everytime.

Thoughts like that keep me sane when I'm away. It's no toruble being on a business trip during the day. You're always busy and work keeps you from thinking of anything else. But when everything's done for the day and there's nothing left to do but sleep, then the fact of being alone finally hits you.

It's hardest the first time you lie down on the bed and the cold sheets embrace you. The clock ticks by slowly. The minutes seem like hours. Then you realize that it's been over an hour since you first laid down. Sleep is elusive. And, when it finally comes, is light and easily interrupted.

+++

When I got home, I thought Laila would be asleep. She was not. She was inside the room with Daddy.

She bolted from the room and flung herself at me, arms stretched out calling out 'Mummy! Mummy!' She embraced me tightly and insisted to be carried. Ahh, the things we live for.

It's been two nights since I got back. Laila and I are back to our nighttime routine.

Ichi

That's Ichi the Little Green Bird Laila's holding in her hand. A little too tightly, I fear. But nothing to worry. Ichi survived Laila's loving grip with all feathers and bones in the right places.

We 'adopted' Ichi from the vendor at the back of the Antipolo Church last Sunday. He charged P20 for the frail-looking but feisty thing.

Of course Laila loved him! She loved Ichi so much she insisted on having him join us at the table--on the table rather--when we stopped at Padi's for lunch. I was willing to go along with it until Ichi pooped and left a mustardy drop on the surface where we'd be eating.

Ichi and his bamboo cage were relegated to hang from the back of an empty chair beside Daddy after that.

The plan was to set Ichi free the day after we got him. Laila wasn't too keen on letting Ichi go home to Mommy Bird (the red parrot from Manila Zoo) but was in the process of relenting. It was to be an elaborate Ichi Fly Away Home Ceremony. We were liberating Ichi at sunrise, or as soon as we woke up, from the garage and away from all the stray cats prowling the building.

But Daddy and I forgot. So what I did later that morning was take Ichi out of his cramped cage--it was just a little bigger that my palm--and transferred him to a shallow basket. He's too young to fly away, I told myself.

I was wrong. As soon as Ichi saw an opportunity, he flapped his teensy-weensy wings violently and soared away. Fortunately, the windows and doors were closed so he wasn't able fly outside.

Laila had a blast watching the Ates try to catch Ichi, who eventually perched on the living room light. That's when Ate Janet caught him and he ended up in Laila's loving hand.

I'd clipped open a hole in Ichi's original cage, which was impossible to repair, so I settled in keeping him in the basket with a mesh placemat as covering. We left Ichi's new home hanging in the kitchen.

A few hours later, Ichi was gone. The rascal!

Apparently, Ichi's new holding pen was just too easy to escape. I was at work when all this happened but learned that night that Laila blamed Ate Janet for the daring daylight jailbreak. My assertive burst of gunfire, ehem, sunshine tried to hit Ate with her hand--I can't recall is she was successful--while bawling about her lost pet.

Poor Laila. She was a proud and loving pet owner for only a little more than 24 hours. At least we have her and Ichi's photo to paste on her baby book under 'First Pet'.

But it was just as well that Ichi escaped. Laila would've been devastated had he gone to Bird Paradise while in our care. He's now either home in the wild or, heaven forbid, being digested by one of the neighborhood felines. As far as I know, Ichi lost only a feather--one Laila plucked--during his stay with us.

Laila has fond memories of Ichi. Up to now she gets a kick from telling stories about how Ichi flew around the house, the Ates giving chase, and Ichi sitting on the living room light. Asked where Ichi is, Laila says he's gone home to Mommy Bird.

Fearless

Laila really is a fearless girl.


We took her to Manila Zoo during the weekend where she took a ride on Erika the Ostrich's back, fed goats, crossed a hanging bridge, allowed a parrot to sit on her head.

She's so daring and full of life, I can't get over it. Things that scared other little chidlren--the bridge for instance--she took on with a broad smile, sparkling eyes and her good sense of humor.

I could tell she was scared of the 'Troll Bridge' a bit, because she gripped my hand tight--or was it me?--as we inched our way across the bridge. She was muttering: 'Oh my God, Oh my God, I'm scared.'

But she walked on from end to end, sometimes even jutting her head out beyond the ropes the held the bridge together to take a better look at what was floating in the water, sometimes jumping excitedly at whatever it was she saw.

Lails's more adventurous than me. I remember my Mom and Dad took me to watch a dolphin show when I was young. The host was asking kids to come over and pet the dolphin. I wanted to, but my feet wouldn't obey. I never got to pat the dolphin and up to now I'm wondering how it would've felt.

No doubt, Laila would ride one if she's given the opportunity. That's my little girl!

+++

I love these weekend sorties. It gives us the opportunity to really be together, just the three of us. And it's my chance to fully concentrate on Laila, take care of all her needs and be a fulltime Mom to her.

We had lunch at a Chinese place inside UST. Yup, it's a real Chinese restaurant, though not the high-end type, inside the old school. And there are other restaurants that opened right inside the campus also.

When I was in college, there was only a very limited number of cafeterias and carinderias available. Which is good since I never would have been able to afford those restaurants.

They also transformed the area in front of the Main building into a park--it had a Tiananmen Square feel to it--and installed a modern fountain at Colayco Park, which they renamed the Quadricentennial Square or something. They also dismantled the unsightly tin roofing over the walkway that cut through the garden leading to the heart of the university.

Amazing! It reminded me of the universities I visited in Beijing.

I doubt if my parents would be able to afford to send me to UST if I had to enroll today. It's a reminder to seriously start prearing for Laila's college education. I bet it'll cost somewhere around a million pesos to put Laila to college when her time comes.