Babying Baby

I've been accused of babying Laila too much in more than one occasion.

But to the contrary, I believe that I treat Laila in a more adult manner than other parents.

While other parents act as if the kids are not a thinking and feeling human being, I acknowledge that Laila is her own person with her own desires, comfort or pain levels, a sense of understanding. I understand young children are dominated by the id, by basic and instinctive drives and impulses.

As a parent, it is my responsibility to guide her to exercise control over these instinctive impulses. These are life skills she needs to learn if she is to successfully navigate in the treacherous waters of life.

But I do not expect her to have mastery over the id at this point. Because she does not.

Nevertheless, I show her respect her as I would any adult. I believe she will learn to respect others if she is a recipient of respect herself.

For instance, I do not snatch anything (nothing that poses a danger to herself or others, anyway) away from her. You wouldn't snatch a cell phone from a friend. Why would you snatch a toy from a baby?

I had to teach the New Ate, Aiza, to inform Laila ahead of time what activity is up next so Baby Cat will have time to adjust.

Don't you hate it when you realize you need to abruptly cut an activity you enjoy? Like when you suddenly need to turn off the TV in the middle of an interesting scene? Why should we expect kids to simply accept ending playtime so abruptly?

Don't do unto others what you do not want others to do unto you, so the Bible says.

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I'm no hypocrite, though. There are times when I get upset when Baby Cat gets too testy for me. What I do is basically what I do when I get too annoyed with a grownup and I can't belt out expletives--I stomp off.

This usually happens right before bedtime when I'm sleepy and tired myself and have less patience than I normally do. I'd turn my back on her and just close my eyes and generally act as if she wasn't there.

It's mean, I know. It makes her visibly upset. She sighs or paces around the bed not knowing where to go, or buries her face in her hands.

These episodes don't last for more than a few minutes, but I know those minutes--to a baby with a very limited concept of time and waiting--seem like hours.

She's usually more cooperative after I go through an episode, like a pliant wire ready to be bent to whatever shape I please.

But that hadn't been my intention nor is it a welcome result. I have no desire to break her will. I want to nurture it, as a matter of fact.

Which is why I have to think of an alternative to walking out when I get upset.

Little Big Baby

'Mommy, teach me how to walk.'

No, Laila doesn't want me to teach her how to walk like a grownup. She wants me to hold her sando straps while she walks tip-toe, like how a newly mobile toddler would.

She'd also gush 'whaaa, whaa' and flail her arms exactly the way a one-year old would. While lying down, she raises her meaty legs and thrash and kick like a little baby.

It's hilarious!

People wouldn't approve of me encouraging these games of her. I've already been accused of babying her too much. To h*ll with that, I say.

I'd keep her little if I could. That she pretends to be a little baby is a bonus for me. She grows up so fast, these little games are a reassurance for me that she's still not so big as not to indulge in these silly games.

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By chance we got to sit together in Mass with a neighbor whose daughter, B, was Laila's age.

When Laila got bored, she asked for Dede and so Daddy Cat whipped out a bottle from her bag. I carried her as she finished her milk.

When B saw Laila drinking from a bottle, she quipped: 'Ay o, nakakahiya.'

I really should've just ignored her, but I couldn't help it. I said, 'No, hindi nakakahiya.' A little too forcefully, I'm afraid. These comments really just eat me up.

I understand the wisdom of weaning babies Laila's age from the bottle. Even her pedia recommended we stop giving her milk in a bottle because it could affect how her teeth grows.

But resorting to tactics that implant the idea of being embarrassed for doing something they've been doing all their lives is something I strongly oppose. Explain to them what'll happen to their teeth if they don't stop taking Dede. Explain to them the state of the family's finances.

But do not, not ever, shame them. If you do, then shame on you.

No Cry Baby No More

Baby Cat had been insisting that I go to school with her since classes resumed after Christmas break.

I assume it's because of the New Ate and the renewed newness of the entire waking-up-early-preparing-for-school-and-being-left-in-class-with-teacher-and-the-classmates experience. She cried in school and got teased, I imagine, because of it.

It broke my heart to hear her whimper at night that she wants me to sit in class with her. Her relatively large vocabulary allowed her to express her preference and block my rationalizations.

Me: I can't go to class with you, I'm not a classmate.
Laila: You can be a classmate too.
Me: But I don't have a chair.
Laila: You can sit on my chair.
Me: But where would you sit?
Laila: On your lap.
Me: I'm too big for school.
Laila: Teacher Wedge (Reg) is big too but she's there.
Me: But I'm not a teacher.
Laila: You can help her.
Me: But who'll go to my office if I go to school?
Laila: I can go to the office and you go to school.

See what I mean?

She starts whimpering when she gets tired convincing me of the wisdom of her proposition. Or perhaps she's just frustrated that she can't make me agree with her.

Fortunately, Baby Cat has started enjoying school again. Yesterday morning she didn't cry as her tricycle pulled out of the driveway. This morning she gave me an enthusiastic wave and looked straight ahead with a mischievous grin. I can only imagine what she must be thinking about.

That's my girl.

First Bout with Bullies

We were in the pedia's waiting lounge when Laila had her first brush with bullies.

Laila was playing side-by-side with other children, including a pair of brothers older and much, much bigger than her. The boys were trying to make her feel unwelcome in their two-man gang. Thank heavens Laila really hadn't understood the unsaid messages and didn't pay them any mind at all.

But I did. I was already on alert when I overheard the bigger boy proudly tell his Mom, who happened to share the bench with me, that he and the other boy was 'making bastos to the girl in red.' Laila was wearing a fuchsia shirt, but she was the only girl there wearing a shirt in the shade of red.

The Mom, who I initially thought was the Lola, admonished them lightly. But when the smaller boy walked past Laila I saw him swat her sleeve. The nerve! Did they think they'd get away with it?!

Laila didn't notice but I saw all of it. And my blood pressure shot up so high the air pressure inside the Glorietta 2 mall basement would have been ashamed. I promptly informed the Mom--who would easily pass off as the 'before' model in a skin care ad--about what her son did.

She admonished them again. More forcefully this time. She also made them apologize to me. I would have preferred that they apologize to Laila, but the boys wouldn't have understood the wisdom of apologizing to an even smaller kid. So I just told him not to do it again. The smaller boy later approached Laila and I could discern from his body languag he was trying to make amends.

When Laila sat on my lap I asked her if any of the kids made her feel bad. She said no and chirped that she had fun playing with her new friends.

Bless her for being so benevolent. As she grows up, I should teach her to temper that.

Laila's Baby Sister (or Brother)

No, I'm not having another. Not yet.

But Laila is convinced that her Baby Sister is sleeping inside my tummy. She pats my midsection sometimes or massages it, waiting for her Baby Sister to wake up and come out. One time Baby Cat refused my embraces, warning that the Baby could get crushed.

I don't know where she gets these ideas.

We sometimes talk lengthily about Gestating Laila, how I felt her scratch me from the inside, how she kicks me, how she sometimes stretches her body like sh wanted to get out. She says that's what Baby Sister is probably thinking also.

Laila is full of innocence. She doesn't realize life could get complicated with another Little Person in the house. Her enthusiasm over a sibling and my uncertainties over having another makes me feel small.

It's not that I don't want another. I'm just worried if we can afford another. I'm worried of screwing his or her life because I wasn't a good enough parent.

I already feel I'm failing Laila because I go off to the office every morning and do not return till night. She's been recently insisting on staying home with me instead of going to school. I'm now convinced I'm a bad parent because I don't spend enough time with her.

Fever Again

Laila's been suffering from low-grade fevers for three nights now.

She burns--although the thermometer says her temperature is only at 37.1 degrees or thereabouts--at night and returns to normal in the morning.

Baby Cat got me really worried yesterday morning when she overslept. She's never overslept in her life. Flashes of a four-year old victim of physical abuse overcame me. The victim, a pretty young girl, had a concussion and refused to wake up after going to bed the night previously. Twelve hours later she passed away.

But Laila's pedia recognized the beginnings of mouth sores (canker sores again) and recommended we keep her hydrated and maintain her daily dose of Vit. C to keep her resistance up. The doc doesn't recommend giving her medicine for the fever, though. She wasn't even concerned about Laila oversleeping. The working theory was that baby Cat must've been slumbering soundly.

I again looked like a paranoid conspiracy theorist. But I have no regrets. I'd rather have my worries downplayed than verified.

'Twas an Aksdent!

Laila is wetting the bed again.

The other night she had an accident twice. This morning she woke me up saying she made weewe in her spot.

As a result I've been sprinkling her spot with a healthy helping of alcohol so the room wouldn't smell of pee.

I really don't mind, except that it's a bummer to wake up in the middle of the night to change her jammies and set the mat. The smell of fresh alcohol isn't making the experience any more pleasurable. I worry that our lungs are slowly melting under the fumes.

I'm guessing perhaps it's stress from the thought of going back to school. Or maybe from the new Ate. Or maybe it's just normal regression.

Laila's such a baby and a little girl at the same time. She must realize she's growing up and it could be stressing her to no end and I'm not even aware of it.

New Year, New Memories

It's 2008. The extended Christmas holiday is over. And I cannot help but feel melancholic about it. I can't help but feel melancholic about everything.

We have quite a bunch of photographs taken during the holiday, but this is my favorite.

Laila and I had gone for a snack at the neighborhood Jollibee late afternoon January 2nd. Just us girls. She had some spaghetti and fries and iced tea and a whole lot of playtime in the indoor playground. She also got the lavander Tweety Bird dresser light that the other kids drooled over.

She darted all over the playground, climbed all the way to the top and jostled for space on the slide. She made small talk with some of the older kids, what they chatted about I had no idea. Laila's great with the older kids but she needs work on how to handle the smaller ones. She needs coaching to let the younger kids pass by unmenaced. And she would sometimes complain that this baby or that stepped on or pushed her.

Baby Cat lounged lazily be the playground entrance, minding her own business as the other kids stepped over her. And I literally had flashbacks of the first time we let her play in that very same playground.

Baby Cat must have been around a year old and was still unsteady on her feet. I was watching over her like a mommy lion, ready to pounce at the faintest sign that the older, more boisterous kids might bump or step on her.

She had been content in sitting in the middle of the cushioned giant fiberglass box serving as the playground's entrance. Laila didn't even want to try crawling through the tube that connected the box she was in to the neighboring box. She just sat there, looking passively as the more nimble kids darted past.

Now she's one of them, the big babies.

Baby Cat hadn't needed a highchair this time. She patiently sat on the regular plastic chair, nibbling on a fry and opening her mouth to the next spoonful of spaghetti. We spent an hour before agreeing to go home just as it was getting dark.

She held my hand on the way to the tricycle station.