More Mother’s Day Stories

Mother’s Day started out with a whimper and a groan but ended with a bang. I woke up bright and early to find my beloved santol tree massacred by the man we hired to prune it. A gave specific instructions to cut only the branch that was putting a little too much weight on the concrete fence, but the man, who really did mean well, got a little too carried away with the cutting frenzy and mangled almost half the tree. I was very upset.

To mollify me, A handed me the flowers he had ordered for Mother’s Day, a dozen of the most beautiful pink Ecuadorian roses I’ve ever seen. I was really very happy to receive those beautiful flowers but that morning’s pruning carnage had gotten my underpants in a knot.  I am deeply regretful now that at that moment,  I failed to show my appreciation for this most loving gesture. Dwelling on the bitter events of that morning had soured my disposition, in the process, hurting the one I love most. I saw A’s eyes darkened a bit with sadness when he gave me the flowers. I knew he felt as if I had taken his gift for granted. Later, I apologized to him and asked for forgiveness for my insensitivity.

Because I was still so caught up in the morning’s events, I forgot to take pictures of the beautiful bouquet. Then too, a little while later, Alphonse came over and plucked a flower to munch on so I hurriedly transferred the flowers from their pink and cream raffia wrappings to a vase. Only after I had dismantled the wrappings did I realize that I had forgotten to take pictures.

The flowers were last in A’s list of gifts. (His generosity is such that he never gives just one.) Midweek, he gave me a limited edition Switcheasy pink iPhone Capsule, a black Capsule and a black Switcheasy VisionClip. He hadn’t intentionally planned to give them that early; I caught him sneaking in the gifts and he had no choice but to ‘fess up.  A also bought me Hello Kitty gifts- an authentic Sanrio pink and green water bottle (he says it’s from Alphonse) and a SIGG red and white reusable water bottle. Oh, what joy! (I was actually expecting a Hello Kitty Fender Dreadnought acoustic guitar -*hint! hint!*- but I love anything A has to give me.)

Sunday afternoon, we watched Dulaang Sibol’s presentation entitled “INA” (Mother). The boys were totally in their element. Onstage, they shined so brightly that parents and guests alike had perpetual smiles pasted on their faces. Most memorable during the performance was their offering of red roses to their mothers while they sang a medley of The Carpenters’ love songs.

But “INA” wasn’t simply about us, their mothers. The boys also performed about love for mother nature, for mother country, and Mother Mary. They sang, danced, and recited complicated oratorical pieces. At the end of the show, they were visibly tired but very proud of what their efforts had achieved in just two weeks. Mr. P called on to each boy, from sophomores to juniors and seniors, and gave a short anecdote about each one. Every one of them was beaming in pride and happiness, as we, the audience were.

The show ended quite early, with enough time to squeeze in dinner or a nightcap of hot chocolate. Still, we were all anxious to go home. After all, what was Mother’s Day if one of the reasons for my being a mother – Alphonse- wasn’t with us? True enough, we arrived home just in time as we were greeted with the whoops of joy of a boy who seemed to miss us terribly in our three-hour absence.

Mother’s Day ended with a prayer that night. Cuddled in each other’s arms, we had celebrated another milestone in our lives as a family. As I turned in that night, I prayed the santol tree will live another day, surrounded by the family who loves each other so.  

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“Do I Make You Proud?”

My son Alex’s first Mother’s Day gift turned out to be one of the best- he got himself published!

Around a week and a half ago, having gotten off theater practice early, he, A and I caught the advance screening of Speed Racer at SM Megamall Cinema 1. I think he must have been really impressed with the movie as he set to write about it as soon as he got home that night. He submitted it to BusinessWorld for the arts and leisure pages, and thankfully, it landed on the Weekender. Proud father showed me a copy last Friday when he got home from work. (Above is a screen shot of the online edition. You can check it out here.) Alex was all smiles as he asked me to keep a copy for him, and asked his dad to get another copy for Mr. P, his theater teacher.

“Advanced Happy Mother’s Day, Ma,” he whispered as he gave me a peck on the cheek.

Alex often sings “Do I make you proud?,” Taylor Hicks’ song when Hicks won American Idol (Fifth Season) two years ago. Now, when he belts into song, I sing back, “You always do.”

 

Mothers

I received this by email, one minute before Mother’s Day comes to a close in this part of the world. As I look upon the sleeping forms of the men in my life, I am thankful for this day, for their kindness, and for their love. If I leave this world having passed on to my children the virtues of courage, strength, and faith, I would have fulfilled my purpose for being. More Mother’s Day stories soon. Tonight, I sleep.

The young mother set her foot on the path of life.
‘Is this the long way?’ she asked.
And the guide said: ‘Yes, and the way is hard
And you will be old before you reach the end of it.
But the end will be better than the beginning.
‘
But the young mother was happy, and she would not believe
that anything could be better than these years.
So she played with her children, and gathered flowers for
them along the way, and bathed them in the clear streams;
and the sun shone on them, and the young Mother cried,
‘Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.’

Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was Dark,
and the children shook with fear and cold,
and the mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle,
and the children said,
‘Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come.’

And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and
the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary.
But at all times she said to the children,’ A little patience and we are there.’
So the children climbed, and when they reached the top
They said, ‘Mother, we would not have done it without you.’

And the mother, when she lay down at night looked up
at the stars and said, ‘This is a better day than the last, for my
children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness.
Yesterday I gave them courage.
Today, I’ve given them strength.’

And the next day came strange clouds which darkened the earth,
clouds of war and hate and evil, and the children groped and stumbled,
and the mother said: ‘Look up. Lift your eyes to the light.
‘ And the children looked and saw above the clouds
an everlasting glory, and it guided them beyond the
Darkness. And that night the Mother said,
‘This is the best day of all, for I have shown my children God.’

And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and
the years, and the mother grew old and she was little and bent.
But her children were tall and strong, and walked with Courage. 

And when the way was rough, they lifted her,
for she was as light as a feather; and at last they came to a hill,
and beyond they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide.
And Mother said, ‘I have reached the end of my journey. And now I know the end
Is better than the beginning, for my children can walk alone, and their children after them.’

And the children said, ‘You will always walk with us, Mother,
even when you have gone through the gates.’
And they stood and watched her as she went on alone,
and the gates closed after her.
And they said: ‘We cannot see her but she is with us still.
A Mother like ours is more than a memory.
She is a living presence…. ..’

Your Mother is always with you….
She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street;
she’s the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks;
she’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not well.

Your Mother lives inside your laughter.
And she’s crystallized in every tear drop.
She’s the place you came from, your first home; and
she’s the map you follow with every step you take.
She’s your first love and your first heartbreak,
and nothing on earth can separate you.

Not time, not space… Not even death! 

Life Will Find A Way

I was looking at the santol tree that looms large in front of my house when this thought crossed my mind. Life finds a way. I live in a concrete jungle, where everything is covered in cement and stone. Even our small scrap of lawn, before we had it completely covered in stone, used to be made of artificial grass, the kind that covered commercial mini-golf courses.

I grew up in a similar environment. My dad’s business involved the finishing of metals (plating, powdercoating), and as such, we flourished in a home that was made largely of stone, steel, and cement. My mom’s green thumb definitely came in handy; where she could find a patch of dirt, she dug and planted. She was able to grow flowers, vegetables, even trees. By the time we sold our family home in the late nineties, it had a beautiful garden hidden behind massive stone edifices.

When my turn came to have a family, I promised myself that I would plant a garden too. Alas, I did not inherit my mom’s green thumb. Also, Alphonse’s pica was such that he dug through earth to eat roots and fallen leaves, and before I knew it, my little garden became stone again.

One day, many years ago, (Alphonse was only three then) I saw a small tree struggling to break through the concrete. I later found out that one of the nannies threw a single santol seed in a small crack in the concrete. I let the tree be; I figured, it’ll either die or flourish and it’ll all be the same to me. As the days  passed, the santol tree, although thin and sickly looking, grew. It was barren and without fruit, but I liked the idea of having a tree (even just a single one) so once again, it was spared of the ax. After that, it would bear fruit once a year, and produce three to five puny santol- little ones that were smaller than a tennis ball and slightly bigger than a pingpong ball but  oh, they were so sweet.

When typhoon Milenyo ravaged the metropolis two years ago, the tree broke. I thought that was the end of it. We gave away the broken branches for firewood; a wise old neighbor even made one large branch into a bench. Surprisingly, a month later, the santol tree was already sprouting new branches.

This year, for the first time ever, this tree has been producing the sweetest fruits in an astonishing number. Every branch has santol, some heavy with clusters of the fruit.  Alphonse likes picking up the falling fruit and usually takes a big chunk out of them, skin, rind and all.

And this brings me to the thought that indeed, life finds a way. Who would have thought that a crack in stone could yield a tree?  That a single seed could surprise even the most jaded of us ?

I love this tree.

Just A Short Break

I’ve been lurking in my own blog for a few days now, never actually logging in, just checking every now and then on activity in the site. I’m glad that some of my friends have still visited despite my absence and I am grateful for their words of support and encouragement.

I’m almost there where I should be, in terms of catching up with housework, my teaching load (with Alphonse), my part-time business (I make laminated PECS cards and I also sell autism awareness jewelry), and my writing (I’ve submitted two articles this week, edited two more, and started on another one just now- not bad). Once I get over this huge hump, I plan to blog more and write about what I’ve been up to in the last few weeks. In the meantime, while I savor a few minutes of downtime (I just emailed my article to my editor and I am awaiting his comments via SMS), I thought to say hello to everyone I’ve missed. HELLO!

Once my work load is decently managed, I am scheduling more ME time. Time to blog. Time to take pictures and edit them at leisure. Time to listen to music. Time to meet up with friends. Time to watch movies.

Speaking of movies, I just saw the trailer of Sharon Cuneta’s latest movie, Caregiver. I’m a big Sharon Cuneta fan, really, and I’ve had the opportunity to meet her (and hug her in person!!!) because of my writing (I do reviews of music and movies, on the side). I’m not a big movies fan; moreover, I’m not a big Filipino movies fan. Still, despite the limitations of our entertainment industry, we do manage to come up with stellar performances that are at par with world-renowned talent.

Aside from being a Sharon-starrer, this movie caught my attention because it tackles a theme very close to our heart- the plight of overseas Filipino workers. We are a country of migrant workers scattered in every corner of the globe. We are doctors, nurses, caregivers, engineers, bankers, domestic helpers, seamen, entertainers, and teachers. 

I hope that you enjoy the movie trailer as much as I did. When this comes out on the big screen, I’m hauling A and forcing him to watch this with me.  

  

 

Fill ‘Er Up

I think A realized that I was this close to “flipping out”-  from dealing with this nasty, mutating cough bug, to Alphonse breathing down my neck almost every second of the day (yup, he’s that close!), to unfinished work staring at me like a guilty reminder of sin, and still the day-to-day demands of a household — that he’s been very generous with the time I spend outside the home. Many times, he would take over the responsibilities of the household (including care of Alphonse) just to give me some breathing space. And I really, truly appreciate his kindness.

When Toto came to the country, A got us tickets to the show so he and I could have some time alone. Unfortunately, I was running a fever then and was hardly in any mood to jam with the band. Still, not wanting to spoil the mood, I went along, only to be horribly dizzy when the band segued into snippets of popular songs like Rosanna and Africa.

Three days later, Swing Out Sister was in the country, and once again, A and I had tickets. This time, he was the one who was febrile and coughing. While I enjoyed this concert more than I did Toto’s, it was hard to soak in the pleasure of the moment when your partner was almost delirious with fever.

Later that week, my brother and his family invited us to lunch at a country club to celebrate my niece Arielle’s 13th birthday. The whole family came, including grandparents and aunts and uncles. Then the boys (my brothers, A, and Alex) went bowling in the afternoon while Alphonse and I quietly watched and enjoyed from the sidelines. I’ve never seen him enjoy a day as much; usually, we’re not able to stay in one place for any longer than an hour. That day, Alphonse was all smiles as he basked in the loving attention of his family. 

The next day, April 14, A and I took a couple of  hours to attend the launch of Batjay’s “Mga Kwento ng Batang Kaning Lamig” at Fully Booked at The Fort. A and I are fans of Kwentong Tambay, Batjay’s weblog, and so we got a copy of his book to have it signed. I saw him at the corner of my eye while I was queuing for books. He was having pictures taken at the time, and my hand suddenly itched to grab a shot, too. Unfortunately, I was struck with a sudden case of shyness so I waited for A to catch up with me (he was paying for the book at the ground floor) before we went up to introduce ourselves. As much as we would have wanted to stay for the duration of the launch, A got a call and had to get back to the office. I had to get back to Alphonse, too, who was waiting patiently for me at home. Still, I got a book signed, and even without the BatJay’s picture to complete the experience, meeting one of our favorite bloggers was definitely well worth the trip.

I had a meet-up with friends the next week, all moms of Alex’s classmates. Being part of the same class has forged a special friendship and kinship among us. I’ve made quite a lot of friends in the last year, yet none as special as these moms. For people who’ve achieved and done so much, they are truly some of the kindest, humblest persons I’ve ever met. That was an afternoon well spent in talk and food. I truly love E, C, and S! (Not to mention C, S, R who were not able to make it that day.) Later, C and I went for coffee and more talk, until Alex called me up to remind me to go home early since one of the nannies was leaving. Drat!

These days, I’m attending a night school of sorts. Six to nine in the evening for the past five nights has been my “away” time from the family. A encouraged me to sign up for a special 10-day Applied Behavioral Analysis training program for parents run by Mrs. Miriam Sy, our gracious host, and Teachers Ian Agustino and Anna Abad (two of only three ABA practitioners with individual accreditation from the Philippine Association of Behavioral Analysis in the country; teacher Ian also used to be Alphonse’s case manager). We are a motley group of 14 parents- two dads, two love teams (husband and wife), and eight moms. All of us have children with autism of varying degrees and diagnoses, with ages ranging from two to 13. I immediately bonded with the moms of older kids, but the entire group is very easy to get along with. We have a lot of fun working out on training scenarios. Moreover, I am impressed by our teachers’ abilities to translate theoretical knowledge into more tangible experiences for us. We’re set to complete the course on Sunday, and while I’ll be very happy to have more time at home, I’m almost sorry to see an end to our “school” nights.

Looking back, I think A knew that I needed these activities to sustain me when I was near empty. When I reflect on A’s generosity and concern for me, I can’t help but be eternally grateful that this loving, loving man is mine.

When Real Life Gets In The Way

It’s been ten days since my last visit, and for an empty page, it seems an eternity. They say that life can get in the way of blogging, and for many of us multitasking parents, this is more often the rule than the exception. These days, I feel like I’m running on empty. I feel overwhelmed. I am tired.

Since the start of the month, I’ve been struggling with a nasty cough and fever that’s made the rounds of the whole household. It couldn’t have happened at a worst time.  We’re in the middle of Nanny Transitions, amd things are iffy enough as it is. And just when we were making good progress, we hit another brick wall and everything came tumbling down again.

Mind you, we certainly can’t be accused of lack of planning. As parents of a child with autism, we have long learned that preparation was our best weapon in our arsenal of parenting tricks. As early as January, when  the old nannies made their intention to leave (one of them is leaving for good, the other is coming back after a brief vacation), we had set a timetable to start transitioning new nannies. We started looking as early as then, and by March, we had two new hires vetted by an employment agency. We got them a month and a half early to allow Alphonse the time to get to know them better, and vice-versa. Also, we thought that to make the transition more seamless, it was wiser to have the nannies’ stays overlap so when the first set leaves, Alphonse won’t feel their absence too much.

We got a pair of nannies with movie-star sounding names, Ruffa and Gretchen. (I kid you not!) Alphonse fell head over heels in love with Gretchen the day she set foot into our home, but completely ignored Ruffa. As is our practice with people new in our household, we kept them included in our home activities but initially limited their active participation. It was Alphonse who noticed their addition to our family. He saw both of them sitting in on his afternoon class, observing. Suddenly, he went up to Gretchen, smiled broadly, and gave her a big hug. Success!

Gretchen was with us two weeks when one morning, she passed out for no apparent reason. Alphonse and I were still sleeping when we were awakened by loud knocks on the bedroom door. Alarmed, I stood up to find Gretchen unconscious on the living room floor, the other nannies fanning her furiously and wailing in fright. I proceeded to check her vital signs, while I assessed the circumstances surrounding this episode. Despite our attempts to awaken her, she would not respond to any stimuli. We brought her to the Emergency Room at once.

The doctors were puzzled over the ambivalent signs they elicited from her unconscious state. They drew blood, put her on a cardiac machine, did a complete physical and neurological work-up- and found nothing. Two and a half hours later, she suddenly sneezed, opened her eyes, and looked at us smiling. Upon the recommendation of the neurologist, we had her admitted for observation and more tests. These, too, all turned out to be normal.  

During her confinement, I found out that she had had two previous episodes of unexplained loss of consciousness before, both of them already diagnosed to be of psychiatric origin. I was furious at the employment agency for their failure to inform us of her condition; they already knew she had a problem and yet continued to recommend her to people. The employment and medical records history submitted to us did not indicate any health problems, and naively, we took them at their word. I had to let her go after that. Her two weeks stay turned out to be an expensive lesson for us.

I stayed with her in the hospital during her confinement, and soon after, I started feeling ill myself. Then Alphonse got sick, then A, and then a week later, the other nannies succumbed as well.
 
Taking care of four sick people (five, including myself) was no joke, and many mornings, I had to literally crawl out of bed to get anything done. Thankfully, my fever disappeared after a prolonged round of antibiotics, but the cough simply won’t go. I still hack and hawk and wheeze and snork all day.

The old nannies left on schedule and we’ve been hard pressed to find new ones. Alphonse is depressed and is not eating. Since his nanny left, it’s been very hard to put a smile on his face. I reassure him as much as I can that I will always be here for him, but he looks for Nanny Michelle everywhere- in the bathrooms, in the laundry room, in the basement, even in trash cans. And not finding her, he sits and stares forlornly. Other times, he weeps inconsolably and clings to me as if lost. How can a mother ease her son’s heartbreak? 

And so, there is little time for myself these days. My world revolves around a son who seems lost in the world again. I am constantly by his side, waiting, anticipating, expecting. I have to keep running even when I’m almost empty myself. I’m afraid that if I stop even just to take a breath, I’ll get stalled.  

Affirmation of Respect

Before we are able to love anyone else, even our children, we must love ourselves. To love ourselves, we must believe that we are worthy of respect. Some days, it’ll be hard to believe even this, when we are overwhelmed and tired and dispossessed of all good humor. There’ll be days you will have to butt heads with others, be it on something as important as your child’s IEP or something as petty as fashion choices. Sometimes, it’ll be easier to fold the hand dealt to us or accept others’ critical views without comment than risk the displeasure of others. But if you remember that our children’s self-esteem springs from our own, then the impetus to demand and hold respect becomes even more necessary.

Respect is a two-way street. Just as we give out respect, expect it back in turn. Never sell yourself short.

Affirmation: Making A Difference

Too often, we measure our children’s progress by the leaps and bounds he or she makes. We  like to measure things in big chunks of miles and kilometers, in grades surpassed in one leap, in medals accrued on Recognition Day. And yet, when we see our child’s milestones creep at a snail’s pace or when progress seems disappointingly slow, we often ask ourselves, “What are we doing wrong?”

True, it is not altogether wrong to look back at our mistakes in order to improve ourselves and our children. But to solely concentrate on what needs to be fixed belittles our abilities as parents and puts to short shrift our children’s efforts. Not only do we overlook the importance of the distance, no matter how short, that our child has covered in his journey of life, we also shortchange ourselves by believing that what we put into those “inches” did not count.

Our children’s achievements, no matter how seemingly insignificant in the scheme of life, are proudly their own, but these would not have been possible if their parents are not the wind beneath their wings. So let us allow ourselves a celebration, a pat on the back, even a hug, for each step our children make. After all, when they all started out their journeys in life, they all walked hand in hand with us.

We made a difference then, you and I. We still do.