Smitten Over Spidey

Laila's taken to fancy a little spider she found crawling on the guestroom/Ates' room window.

When she said she'd like to take a closer look, I thought she meant she wanted to go outside, shove her face close to the spider in an attempt to stare it down and scream heartily and scamper away when it twitches just even one of its legs. But nooooo. She wanted a CLOSER look at the spider, closer meaning catching the spider and putting it inside a clear plastic container and rest her face flat on the makeshift critter prison.

I thought it was Ate's idea and I chided her for it. But it turned out it was Laila's. I couldn't even convince my little spider enthusiast to open the canister to a little to let some fresh air in. She was afraid her little friend would escape and bite whoever was closest.

I was taken aback. I never played with spiders when I was little. I adopted stray cats and a maya that fell of its nest, but I never intentionally caught something wild and against its will. I thought, and still do, think it's cruel.

And here comes Laila. Of course she's just two. I can think of a whole set of excuses for her wanting to keep it. And she is captivated by spiders as a result of adoring Spiderman. We kind of started her interest in spiders, well in 'Stiderman.' She was less than a year old in this photo and she's already wearing a 'Stiderman' shirt. All three of us were wearing Spiderman shirts the day that photo was taken.

Nevertheless, alarm bells inside my head went off. Could this set a precedent and she grows up to be cruel to animals? Will she be tormenting the neighbor's cat or frying ants with a magnifying glass?

I honestly don't think so. But I can't stop myself from obssessing over how we're raising her and what she will grow up to be. Partly to blame for my excessive worrying, I believe, is because I'm me. I worry that the sky will fall today.

And then there's my sister, who's a Single Working Mom and even lives away from her kids most of the week. And yet she seems pretty satsfied over how her kids are turning out. Well, either she's confident or work keeps her too spaced she doesn't have the energy to think about her parenting.

Ate's only girl and the second to the youngest are staying with me for the summer. She doesn't drops an occassional phone call but apart from that, she hasn't come to visit all week. Of course she' knows the kids won't come to any harm under my watch. But if it were Laila somewhere else, even if I know that she's in good hands, I'd still worry.

I consciously try to be a more easy-going Mom, I really do. I want her to grow up confident and independent after all. If only there's a way to do that in a controlled environment.

Tragic Realities

I've been haunted by the image of men literally losing their heads since news boroke out that the Abu Sayyaf beheaded seven Sulu workers last Friday.

Silly me, I had to research on the subject to satisfy my curiosity. Unfortunately, there's just so much data on the Net that I got the exact information I was looking for. Imagine my horror when I viewed the videos of people being decapitated.

I saw the Nicholas Berg video and of another man. Wasn't there a controversy over the Nick Berg beheading? They say Berg, a businessman seeking work in Iraq, was already dead by the time he was decpaitated and that the act was not carried out by Islamists.

All I've noticed is that there were differences between the attack on Berg and that of the other man, an Iraqi accused of spying for the Americans I think. In the video of the unidentified victim, there is no argument that he died of decapitation.

The hooded executioner gripped the man on the crown of the head so his neck was all stretched out. The executioner then sliced his throat, neatly cutting through halfway of the neck in just three or so strokes. The executioner held the head so the blood, which clearly spurted out a few feet away, would not soil his shoes.

You could hear short, deep, belabored, breathy moans from the man until, a few more slices later, his head was severed from the body. The head was given a closeup and triumphant cheers filled the background.

I don't remember now if his eyes were closed or not. But the act of severing his head, I must say, is difficult to forget.

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This subject might seem out of place in this blog. But what I described above is part of our lives. Beheadings are rather rare, but they do occur. It is part of the dangers of terrorism. I do not mean to limit the tactic to Islamists. I mean all outfits, government included, that employ brutal measures to strike terror on the people to forward their agenda.

It's that world Laila and the other children have to grow up and live in. And it makes me feel helpless knowing there's nothing I can do to make the world a safer place.

You can hardly protect your children from all the cruel realities of life. You just can't. I think the best parents can do is prepare the children for the disappointments and the evils existing in the world.

They need to be tough and empowered to stand a chance in this world. The parent's job is help and guide them as long as they can.

Tears and Guilt

Laila was bawling again when I left for work this morning.

It started with a little whimpering when I started my morning pre-office routine and before long developed into an emotional tearfest by the time I was getting into the tricycle.

I tried to comfort her as much as I could. I bribed her with an unscheduled reading session, taho and even a Power Rangers video. She'd be pacified for a while and then start up again.

The baby books say that she's in the stage that it dawns on her that I physically leave her. She's understood the concept of being left behind but isn't so confident yet that people who go away come back eventually. They say it's a phase young kids go through.

But I'm not sure. I'm worried that I'm inflicting permanent damage on her psycholgically. What if she grows up thinking that she's not very important to me because I always leave her at home? Or she grows up resenting me for working out of the house everyday? Does working out of the house full time make me a bad Mom?

Other working mothers would probably want to kick be in the bum if they hear my worries. Or at least want to slap me in the forehead for being so stupid, for over-reacting.

The thing is, I know that there are more working mothers than or at least as many as stay-at-home Moms. I know I am not the first working Mom to leave her child at home to the care of a Yaya. I know that Daddy Alvin and I will not be able to provide for Laila the way we do now on a single income. I know Laila will eventually grow out of it.

But knowing all that doesn't lessen the guilt of hearing her sobbing everyday, pleading 'Mummy come here. Wag ka alis! Waaaah!'

I can't stand it! My lungs swell up and my throat tightens. I find it difficult to breathe--no exaggeration.

And what's more unforgivable is how I react to all of it. Instead of comforting her, I pry off her teensy weensy arms twisted around my neck and give her to Ate. And, while she's still howling, I smile and wave pretending nothing was wrong and then get on the tricycle.

The baby books say that's the way to do it. Pretend everything is OK, smile calmly and make goodbyes short.

But it feels so wrong.

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I envy Moms who are full-time mothers. Let me qualify: I envy full-time Moms who chose to be that way.

I've been fantasizing about that. I imagine giving up working full time and just accept writing assignments or part-time editing work. I can always return to working full time when Laila's older.

But I'm not sure. Work has defined me for so long and so intensely that I'm not sure if I'll be the same Mom if I become a full-time Mom. The thing is, I'm terribly proud of the work I do, the places, people and events I get to experience. I think the realities of life I get to know everyday makes me a better Mom.

I want to share my experiences with Laila so all of it would enrich her as a person as well. I want her to know there's a world beyond her own, that the world's not all sunny and friendly but it's not all gloom and blood as well. I want her to be proud of me, to point to her friends 'That's my Mom.'

I feel guilty because, despite my despair over her cries and pleas, I seem to get so immersed with work that all of it doesn't bother me again until the day is about to end.

Does that make me a bad Mom?

Ahyabyoo!

Ahyabyoo!

That's how Laila says 'I love you.' Aww isn't that cute!

She started learning to say Ahyabyoo about a month or so ago. Melted into putty when she first said it. Now, she's modified her Ahyabyoo to Ahyabyoo Mummy or Ahyabyoo Daddy or Ahyabyoo tu.

She's quite loquacious, to tell the truth. And I'm beginning to be convinced that she's truly processing the meaning of words and not just memorizing lines and repeating them.

Case in point. The other day, Daddy Alvin cut his finger, of course accidentally, while trying to open some package. He showed the still bleeding cut to Laila, I suppose to get some display of sympathy. What he got, instead, was a matter-of-factly 'Dahan dahan kse.'

I wanted to roar with laughter but held it in because I didn't want Laila to think I was laughing at what she said. Not because what she said was funny, which it was to me, but because it was like an adult talking.

Last night, she was playing with her microphone, twirling it about like a cowgirl preparing to lasso in a prized game. Wanting our attention, she said : 'Look o, ang galing ku!'

When I'm in front of the computer, she'd tell me: 'Kyus me Mummy, Laila's working.'

She's beginning to count beyond 20, knows her colors, most of her ABCs. But I have to admit I'm less impressed with those abilities that require memorization than her ability to link words with ideas and process those ideas by herself.

When I enrolled Laila in preschool last year, I got a lot of arguments why it's not good for babies to be sent to school too early. They say the kid could grow tired of school, or get scared of school. But looking at how Laila blossomed, I know I made the right decision.

I suppose it's normal that we as parents are facinated by our own kid's brilliance. And I'm proud to say I am no exception.

White Lady

Don't you just hate local movies for the predictable story line, cardboard characters, bad acting and plot twists suspicously similar to that of another foreign film? But, we have to admit, these are the very same qualities in Filipino films that draw us to watch them.

And, last night, I've discovered another reason to watch local horror flicks: They scare Laila.

It was too early for bedtime so I let Laila sit through 'White Lady' on Cinema One last night. Admitedly, the reason I became interested in the movie was because Laila was stupefied when she saw the trailer earlier yesterday. Her wide eyes were glued on the TV, she stopped fidgeting, and even stopped chewing.

Hmm, I thought, the movie must be promising if it caught Laila's exceedingly short attention. Of course, 10 minutes inot the film I realized that there was a Grand Canyon-wide gap between my expectations and Laila's standards of an interesting film.

But no matter. Laila was sitting still on the couch, placidly opening her mouth to dinner of rice and hotdogs (so shoot me! At least she's eating something) and not running around like some sugar-pumped maniac high on caffeine. She didn't make a fuss around washtime and cooperated getting her pajamas on.

She was still talking about the White Lady this morning, and it was obvious she didn't want to do anything that would displeace the White Lady. Laila agreed to get up from bed because the 'White Lady' doesn't want her to stay in bed too late in the morning. She also allowed Ate to wash her bottom because otherwise the White Lady would do it.

I admit, I've developed a new level of respect for the White Lady as a tool for encouraging Laila to be more cooperative.

It's not a tool that child experts would endorse, I know. The resource materials I've read so far all suggest ways how to help children grow out of irrational fears like of monsters in the dark or under the bed.

Nevertheless, if the White Lady helps encourage Laila to eat, take a nap or stop spinning then White Lady will be our invisible Yaya. At least until Laila stops being scared of her.

Laila's tolerance for scary things is quite limited. She used to be scared of Buhok (some hirsute expatriate we saw on the bus from Nasugbu), of Star Wars Moomoo (Darth Maul and Palpatine), the generic monster (until she fell in love with One Eye Monster from Disney's Monsters Inc.). There's still Kuya bates (the neighbor upstairs) but you can only scare her so much using a real person.

So, until Laila grows out of the White Lady--and I'm sure she will sooner than I'd like--the White Lady will be the buzzword at home. After White Lady stops being scary, then we'll just have to come up with something else.

We all have fears. Some of them are perfectly justified some are downright irrational. Young children seem to be more susceptible to scary thoughts because they are beginning to develop an imagination but haven't mastered the skill of determining which is reality and which is not.

Experts have a long list of advise how parents could help children cope with their fears. These materials were written by Western child psychiatrsts and, while I fully agree on the soundness of the results of their studies and will , it just doesn't completely jibe with realties in the house.

I'm not too worried about Laila developing a phobia. Don't they say that small doses of an allergen would help you develop resistance? I'm confident Laila-sized scares would help toughen up my lovey.

Summer Storm

Laila woke up cranky this morning.

It wasn't difficult to discern that the 'Nggggmmmm...' coming out was not adorable cooing but was, in fact, a warning for people to stay clear 15 feet of her. She slept with us in bed so that was entirely impossible so soon after waking up.

And so I got the brunt of her early morning sumpong.

Her arms were flailing all over and she hit me in the cheek, the eye, the rib. When Daddy told her to stop, she burrowed her head under the pillows, wailing in despair.

She then demanded Dede and was pacified. She was her regular charming self after that. Even when Laila threatened to cry--in her loving, pleading way--as I told her I was leaving for work, she didn't. Instead, she saw me off the tricycle with her usual contented smile, sending me off with several flying kisses.

Then around noon I called the house to see how she was, and I could hear her wailing. She was bawling; panicked shrieks. When she got to the phone, she pleaded for Mommy and Daddy to 'Come here!'

That was a first. What was going on? She sounded like she was in pain.

After a while I called again, and she was contentedly watching a video, says cousin Ann. And then, in another phone call, she chirped 'Hi Mommy, what are you doing?'

What was that? This must be what the child experts say about young children's moods, that they're like a summer storm--unpredictable, fierce and, often, pacified quickly.

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I recently saw a news report about a nanny slapping her two-year old ward silly, all because of chips she wanted to finish by herself. The nanny got caught on hidden camera and is now in jail pending child abuse charges. The thought of Laila being manhandled by a caretaker while I am away has been a constant worry for me.

Living where we live, I've got something better than a hidden camera to monitor the nanny's behavior: neighbors and in-laws living close by. And, throughout summer, a niece and a nephew living with us. But still.

Holy Week Blues

We went home to Nasugbu for our traditional Holy Week getaway last week.

I've been waiting and dreaming for this holiday since Christmas and I was a little disapointed that it breezed by so fast I barely had time to savour it. Hardly had the extended weekend started--we left Manila before 6 am Thursday--when all of a sudden it was time to go home again (Sunday before lunch).

I really don't want to remeber Lenten holiday 2007 for my disappointment over too short a holiday, but I can't help it. I'd been salivating for the days that I could stay with Laila for a full 24 hours for far too long. And when it came, the clock seemed to tick much much faster than normal.

Oh I am a melancholy soul, I admit, pining for what I long for instead of what I already have. I just can't help it.

It's not that the vacation was not as memorable as I planned it would be. It was.

We went swimming in the beach everyday. Tthe times we weren't in the beach were spent submerged in Laila's kiddie pool. And we made fruit shakes and played games and accomplished the customary activities I've grown up with--the Friday procession and the visit to the Lumang Simbahan and the new church.

But, somehow, those four days didn't seem to be enough. Laila had caught something and was barfing and pooping without let up since Saturday so I didn't go back to work till Wednesday, and still that wasn't enough.

What is it about this job of being a Mom that I can't seem to get enough of? It can't be the gazillions of diaper changes or the endless wrestling matches Laila and I have. But then, it must be the gazillions of diaper changes and the endless wrestling matches we have. It's those lame, tedious and smelly chores that I wish I could do. It's the time I spend with Laila. Reading to her, singing to her, playing with her.

Speaks something of me that I feel cheerless after a long weekend with the family, doesn't it? Who's that who said to live for the moment? I think I've gotten too used to dreaming of spending time with Laila that when I do get to be with her, I can't enjoy it as much because I know moments like that are limited and few.

Congratulations Daddy

He's done it! Daddy Alvin has passed the bar! Yahoooo!

We learned of the news from Daddy's friend Kenneth, who works for the Supreme Court. It was almost 8 pm when we heard and we were in a taxi on the way home. It felt strange, hearing the news.

I'd had a strong feeling since that morning that he would make it. I was already playing it out in my mind how I'd react if I learned of the news while I was still in the office. Daddy turned off his cell phone so no one could text him the result. He said he wants to find out the old fashioned way--from the newspaper the following day.

We've been waiting for news like this for years. Finally, after so much hard work and effort, he's got it. I thought we would be reacting more gleefully though. But it felt more like exhaustion. Something you feel after a terribly vigorous workout and you stop and your whole body feels heavy.

I guess years of wanting and hoping for and working on something can do that to you.

Daddy was outwardly elated by this morning. He left the house 6 am to visit Lolo Conring in the cemetery to deliver the good news. After so many decades, there's another lawyer in the family.

Congratulations Daddy. You finally got it. We're so proud of you.

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Somebody who was ecstatic last night was Laila. She was laughing, slap-on-the-knee, head-banging happy last night when we told her the news.

She doesn't grasp what it means to mass the bar, but we were all joking and laughing that she had to laugh with us.

She's sweet that way.

Tact & Preferrences

I was sorting Laila's photos and I came across the shots we took on her first day at preschool. She was only as tall as my hips. Now she's at the leve of my waist.

My, how much my baby's grown in 12 months.

And she's grown not only taller but in everything else--vocabulary, comprehension, empathy, context. She knows what she likes and what she doesn't. And this little tweedlebug has no trouble or qualms letting her preferrences known.

We have a neighbor exactly her age, Bridgette, and as often as possible I match them up for a playdate. They get along well usually. But there are times--too often for my liking--that Laila seems to dislike Bridgette's company.

Laila would refuse to lend Bridgette any of her toys but she would offer the very same one to Daphne or Ate Pau, two slightly older playmates. Laila even refused to lend Bridgette one of her bubble blowers. Laila shoving her away and pulled me home saying she doesn't want to play anymore.

Last weekend, I took out the kiddie pool for the four girls. They all got along at first but as the minues ticked they began displaying "bad" behavior.

By bad behavior I mean I feel they are ganging up on Bridgette, who's very sweet and unabashed. The girls would tell Bridgette to stop whatever she was doing. Once or twice (actually it's probably more than once or twice) they each told her to go home.

Granted that Bridgette was screaming and splashing and grabbing toys. Laila, at that point, cover her ears with her hands and delicate brows would meet. But they all , at one point or another, were screaming, splashing and grabbing toys from each other.

I don't understand this playground meanness. I refuse, however, to believe that they're doing this out of deliberate meanness. Children, especially not Laila, cannot have the capacity to be mean even if their actions are. They are not aware they are mean even if they are.

There's been a lot of discussion in Oprah about this. I admit, I was afraid Laila would be bullied by the bigger kids when I first enrolled her in school. I hadn't--and still don't--seriously thought about the possibility that Laila would do the bullying.

Of course, I wouldn't call Laila's behavior as bullying. She doesn't force anything on anyone, except maybe me and Daddy. She just knows what she likes and she is not shy in making her preferrences known.

I'm actually careful not to discourage Laila from making choices for herself, even if it involves choosing which toy to share and who to shae it with. I don't want her to get the impression that she's obligated to share everything with whomever.

But I can't look at Bridgette's Mom squarely either. And I don't think she's looking at me directly as well. I guess she must be thinking I don't discipline Laila enough. I'm torn between feeling sorry for Bridgette--who in a couple of years would already mind the rejection--and wanting to encourage Laila's high-spiritedness.

I guess what I want Laila to eventually develop is tact. For the time being, I'll just have to make sure Laila doesn't get into a brawl over bubbles.