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.