For Alex

At 5 am this morning, Alex asked me to take his vital signs. “I feel my heart racing, Mama,” he said, as he handed me the medical kit. After having his heart rate, respiratory rate and blood pressure  checked (all normal), he kissed me gently on the cheek and whispered “I love you, Mama. Thank you.” Then, he left the room to get ready for school, leaving me and Alphonse alone in the room.

I’ve missed this boy’s kisses. I missed the little child he once was. I should never have let him grow up too fast and too early. All too soon. my little baby — premature and fuzzy, too small even for small-sized infant clothes — has become a man. Today, he is mere moments away from complete independence and I miss all the moments in between.

I will always be grateful for this young man’s love. Alex — romantic and sweet, headstrong and stubborn, emotional and fiery — is my wellspring of joy and my source of humor and lightheartedness. Only Alex can make me laugh the way he does.

***

At six

When he was six, Alex brought home wrote an essay he wrote about the woman he loved most in the world — me! In it, he wrote that I was kind and generous, thoughtful and caring. I was very flattered until he told me his classmate wrote that his mother was, ahh, ehhm, sexy. I remember him punctuating the sentence with a little gasp.

“And why didn’t you write the same of me?” I feigned hurt feelings.

“But Mama, that would be a lie!”

May you always be honest, my love, even if the truth may hurt.

***

picture borrowed from The Celadon's FB page

A few weeks ago, Alex told us that  he had applied for membership to the Celadon, his university’s official Chinese Filipino organization.

“Are you sure, son? You are only an eighth Chinese!” I reminded him.

“Well, Mama, if there were eight parts of me, I am sure that one of them is a hundred percent Chinese!”

May you always be proud of who you are, my son. Never let anyone make you think or feel that you are less than who you are.

***

Saturday afternoon, A and I were discussing a family issue and the debate was fun, lively, and engaging. Alex, on the computer, seemed oblivious to it all at first. After a while, probably tired from hearing his parents go on and on, he suddenly said, “In marriage, one person is always right and the other is the husband.” A readily conceded defeat and we all started laughing.

What can I say? I trained my boy well!

And may you always remember that love means giving of yourself, even if it means losing in the process.

***

I love you, Alex. Don’t you ever forget that.

Missing Alex

Dear Alex,

I wanted to start my day thinking of happy thoughts so I thought about you. I miss you, son. It’s been a week since we were last together under one roof. When Alphonse was in the hospital, I hardly saw you as you were in school the whole day. Your short visits at night, just before going home, meant a lot to me, to us. Your daily visit was the one “normal” event of our days, where you would tell us about school, your teachers, and all your friends. In those short hours, we could all pretend we were at home and we were the family we always were- loud, quirky, yes, a little weird- and together.  

I’m sorry I sent you away to live with your grandmother for a while. I know you didn’t want to go when I first told you. You said you had just been home with us and you had to leave again. I hope you understand that I didn’t want you to have to come home to all the chaos and despair of our days. Alphonse is still far from being well and I hated for you to see him like this. And with final exams this week, I didn’t want you to have to dwell on any other thing except that which is most important. Just think about school for now, okay?

It could not have been easy for you, having to grapple and restrain your brother when he goes amuck. You know what? It’s not easy for me either and I’m an old hand at this already. I know you could not study at home because he would rummage through your school bag and destroy your bag, books and notebooks. Even our family dinners have disappeared in this siege. We could only eat when he was asleep late in the night. There were many times you had to endure eating separately, alone, in some dim corner of the house he would least likely visit, because if he saw you eating, he’d throw all your food on the floor. I’m really sorry, Alex.

Remember the night two weeks ago when he grabbed me by my hair several times and attempted to bite my head? You had to pull him by his hair because that was the only way to get him away from me; his hands were already held back by your dad and the nannies and he was still so strong he could come at me over and over again. Oh, how miserable you looked afterwards. You kept apologizing to me and to Alphonse long after the day had passed. It’s okay, son. It really is. I know you didn’t mean to hurt him and I’m sure he knows it too. We love you very, very much.

I know you’re doing well at Mommy Lola’s. Aside from your daily phone call and your text messages, I call and talk to Mommy to ask about you whenever I can get away from Alphonse. They all love you there, I’m sure of it. I bet you’re even getting a wee bit spoiled there.  (Don’t enjoy the pampering too much!) They say your little cousin Sese idolizes you. I heard he makes your tummy his bouncy mattress as well, that little squirt. Be patient with him, ha? Continue to be loving to your grandparents, aunts and uncles. I want you to remember that their love must always be reciprocated with obedience and respect.  And, oh, don’t forget to say thank you always to Kuya Teteng, the driver who brings you to and from school.

I hope we can all be together soon, Alex. Pray for all of us here at home, Alphonse, most of all. I think he misses you because he sleeps in your bed while you are gone. When exams are over, you can try to come home for a short while and see if Alphonse will respond to you the way he used to. You can even sit in his classes and help out his new teachers. We have more men coming in the house all day to help so you won’t find it too hard alone here.

Stay safe, my love.

♥Mama

In happier days (November last year)

Wake-Up Call

I didn’t realize it was Wednesday all over again till I sat down and found corned beef at the breakfast table. Corned beef is always Wednesday morning’s breakfast, the same way tocino (sweetened cured pork) is on Sundays, or boneless tinapang bangus (smoked milkfish) is on Saturdays. Everything is downright predictable in this household, save for some rare days when someone wants French toast made from old raisin bread with a generous dollop of apple cinnamon marmalade (that someone is usually me), or a less imaginative but always hungry young man wants fried crisp Spam with garlic rice. Regular days with regular schedules keep this household running smoothly… until something goes wrong, that is.

I wanted to share the details of Alphonse’s most recent misadventures, but on advice from my better half, decided against it. A feels that Alphonse deserves a bit of privacy to his life and that as Alphonse turns older (he will be 16 in exactly 14 days) I will have to be more discreet about the things I share about him with the public. I should have realized that much earlier. That Alphonse has autism and that he still is very much a young child in terms of cognition and experiences should not take away his right to privacy. This is most important now that he is on the cusp of manhood and on the brink of a new self-discovery and voyage. Some things- not all- will have to be just among the family.

I write about my children often, that cannot be denied. When they were smaller and my world revolved around parenthood, every single moment of my life was about them. It would have been impossible then to separate the writer from my person as a mother, seeing how my history and experiences of the world were almost always seen through this particular perspective. And yet, now that the kids are beginning to pull away from my apron strings, I will have to let them speak of their own lives themselves and choose what they want to share with the world or keep to themselves.

The truth is, it’s difficult not to see Alphonse as a baby, not when he is dependent on us for almost everything. From morning till night, his world is the world we built for him. Even as we help him discover new things in the world, this home, this life, and this family are the things that keep him grounded to us. We look at him and still see a child when the whole world already sees a young man. I guess that’s where the lines are sometimes crossed, when I share too much of his life that may not be mine to share anymore.

I won’t stop writing about my kids, but I will be more discerning when I do. I will keep in mind that these are young men, who regardless of their abilities and/or disabilities, must always have a choice on who and what they want to be. It won’t be long now before they test their new wings. As a parent, all I can do now is to let them fly.

Parental Intimacy 101: PDA

It was one of those rare nights when we were all done with chores and homework early. It was time to relax and unwind from the long day. My husband and I wanted to catch a show on television and my son asked permission to use the brand new desktop (mine! all mine!) in the room.  

My husband and I lay in bed, watching, when I moved nearer to my husband to cuddle. He welcomed me into his arms. During a commercial break, something struck me as funny and I whispered this nonsense to my husband. We started whispering to each other some more, and after a while, we were giggling like crazy kids.

Alex suddenly turned his head to us, a look of sourness crossing his face. “Guys, go get a room! Please!”

My husband and I burst into laughter. “Son, this is OUR room. Why don’t you go to YOUR room?”

Then we started laughing again. Alex stood up to leave, muttering a loud “Rats.”

In son’s words, “PDA in Parents. Ewww.”

Sleepless Nights

Two in the morning and Alphonse and I were locked in a battle of wills. Sleep was the last thing on his mind as he pranced around the room, making loud happy noises. Despite my entreaties for some quiet, Alphonse willfully ignored me, in turns, pacing and prancing and shaking the room with sudden jumps, all the while making his guttural noises and ear-piercing shrieks.  

Tired from bargaining (which obviously was not doing the trick), I loudly announced that that was it, I was tired and I was going to bed. I made  a big production out of yawning, rubbing my eyes repeatedly, and stretching my arms. I noticed Alphonse pause for a while and look at me from the corners of his eyes. Pretending I was oblivious to him, I rustled the sheets, making sure I had got his complete attention by then. And then I said “Good night, Alphonse” and promptly closed my eyes.

I held my breath for what seemed like ages as Alphonse seemed to consider what had gone on before him. And then, quietly this time, he returned to his pacing and prancing, this time, with soft, happy noises.

After a while, he went back to bed, covered himself with his blanket, and fell to sleep himself.  It seems like with the audience gone, the star finally needs his rest.

Keeping Our Cool

I don’t know why we didn’t think of this before. It’s a brilliant idea – one that Alphonse came up himself  – to deal with the heat and reduce electric consumption at the same time. That boy is a smarty in disguise.

At lunchtime today, the kids and I turned off all the lights, fans, airconditioners and other electric appliances (refrigerators exempted) inside the house and headed outside to the shaded garage. We have an Intex easy-set family pool (eight feet in diameter, height of 30 inches, can accommodate a volume of 639 gallons) that’s been up since the start of this long summer. Mindful of the water shortage, we have kept the water level low at around eight inches. This makes changing it and re-using it for cleaning much easier.

The pool easily accommodates six regular-sized adults sitting up, so the kids and I sat down inside the pool and enjoyed this water for a few hours. Alex and I played Harry Potter UNO with plastic laminated cards;  we turned over a bucket and used that as our table. Alphonse poured water into different containers. When they got bored from sitting with their mama, Alphonse took off, bubbles in hand. Alex then got his guitar and played his repertoire of songs.

We had lunch outside, too, on our plastic lawn furniture. When we got hot, we went back inside the pool, poured water over our heads, and played UNO again. By the time the kids were ready to call it a day, the worst of the sun’s heat had already dissipated. We had saved a few hours of electricity and enjoyed each other’s company at the same time. Alphonse really loved the time with his brother, staying inside the pool only as long as Alex was in it. And Alex finally disengaged himself from his game consoles and handhelds, even if only for a while.

Me? I got a lot of kisses from Alphonse and even one, grudgingly, from the UNO loser, heehee.

Not a bad afternoon, really. 

Wacky Wednesday

Welcome to Kittymama’s Sylvanian Stories. Today’s story is:

A Day in The Sylvanian Market

It was time to do the groceries again and Mama decided to drop by the Sylvanian Market to check out their new items. Papa wanted to get himself some dried herbs from the apothecary and Mama thought Baby could use a new dress.

The Sylvanian Market

The Sylvanian Market was filled with lots of things. Mama could not decide whether…

Alex: Uhm, ehrm… Excuse me, Mama.

Mama: Err… what is it?

Alex: (points to cat mother and baby mouse and starts laughing)

 That’s not her baby! That’s her dinner!

Oh, my. Kids. Got to love them.

Is It Next Week Yet?

The hardest part about slowing down for Holy Week reflection is finding the inertia to get started again. Yesterday was a particularly difficult day; Alphonse resisted resuming his regular routine, and well, for everyone else, it seemed like the extended holidays left us all feeling lazy.

Maundy Thursday and Good Friday were quiet days spent inside the house. There was a lot of time for sleep, reading (I finished five books in those two days!), and some cooking experiments. I also managed to get a few hours of photography done with my Sylvanians. (See updated pictures here.)

Other than family bonding, however, we wanted to let the kids experience a Holy Week tradition called “visita iglesia” (literally, visit of churches). We haven’t done that in years as it is often difficult to bring Alphonse to unfamiliar places. This year, he seemed ready, so we decided to take a chance. Besides, with many city dwellers out on visits to their provinces, we figured this was the best chance to get Alphonse out again.

We made a list of five churches; seven would have been too much for Alphonse, we thought. The plan was to divide the 14 Stations of the Cross among these five churches. Get in, pray, get out- simple. No fuss, no detours, and Alphonse would be just fine.

It was sizzling hot on Good Friday but Alphonse was game and bore with the heat bravely. The first stop was easy. We went to the Twin Hearts Parish and that time of the afternoon, there were hardly any people there. Alphonse had plenty of room to move about, guarded by big brother Alex.

The second and third stops were busts as the churches were overflowing with people. We tried to squeeze in but soon realized that doing so might provoke a tantrum, and in public too. So we drove around, hoping to spot another church we missed, and we were lucky enough to run into a huge procession of people along Tomas Morato. We stayed with them until they turned left on E. Rodriguez Avenue (we turned right). “We joined an actual procession,” we all declared happily, not quite believing our luck that day.

The Christ the King Mission Seminary was also full but not as brimming as the other churches. Their Stations of the Cross were set outside and it was easy to maneuver Alphonse through. By that time, however, Alphonse was squealing in happiness at each stop, his man-voice breaking down in squeaks every now and then. Despite our reminders, he simply could not contain himself. Prompted, he made the sign of the cross at each station, but I think he understood that more as a signal to move on to the next station right away.  It would have been almost perfect had it not been for the the disappointment of seeing some people react to Alphonse either in fright or in irritation whenever he was loud.

The last stop was the Our Lady of Mount Carmel Parish in New Manila. We talked to Alphonse before we went in, reminded him to stay quiet, and he did. He sat down and waited quietly for all of us. When he got bored, he blew himself some bubbles. We all loved the  provincial feel of this church, with its wonderful statues and hundreds of candles lined along one side of the wall. The church felt old, but warm and homey inside. At the end of the visit, Alphonse waved goodbye to the statues inside the church and hopped along happily back to the car.

It’s not often we get to build family memories like this. Alex hardly remembers the last time we went on visita iglesia; he was only eight then. All he remembers is the ice cream treat he got at the end. Much like Alphonse’s halo-halo, which we got for him at the end of the visits.

“Do you want to do this again?” we asked Alphonse.

“Yes, yes, yes.” he nodded repeatedly.

Looks like it’s a date, son. Same time, next year then.

Happy Easter Tuesday, everyone!

Comfort

Then...

I woke up this morning to find Alphonse missing from bed. It’s so unlike me to sleep through Alphonse’s movements so I mentally cussed at myself for not waking up in time. Blinking a few times in the soft light of the bedroom, I took a few seconds to adjust to the light. I had forgotten to take off my contact lenses last night so they were stuck to my eyeballs and blurry from almost drying up. I jumped out of bed, my heart in my throat, ready to run and look for Alphonse. A few seconds later, I did find him, safely ensconced in layers of beddings and linens. Apparently, Alphonse had suddenly awakened, decided to use the bathroom, and then went promptly back to sleep. In his Kuya’s (big brother’s) bed.

When the kids were smaller, this was hardly a rare sight. Alphonse sought Alex’s warmth in the early mornings, and little kids that they were, they would sleep entwined, arms around each other, clinging to each other till light.

And Now- taken just this morning

Now, they are both teenagers. Alex, at 17 and a year short of college, has began to carve his own space in this world. He has an identity separate from us. He comes home brimming with stories of his friends, of the people he has met, and of the places he has been. In the last year, particularly, we have seen him grow so fast that he is already light years ahead of his younger, disabled brother.

And yet, whatever else has changed in Alex’s life, one thing remains the same. He is and will always be Alphonse’s early morning comfort.

Freedom from Hello Kitty Oppression

Hello Kitty Hell had another hilarious post last Thursday (March 18) and it reminded me so much of my eldest son’s relationship with all things Hello Kitty that I simply had to write about it.

It used to be that I got the run of the house as far as decorating was concerned. Our bedrooms were filled with girly things and the boys – all three of them – endured this mixed explosion of pinks and Hello Kitties without complaints.

As Alex grew older, however, he began to express his displeasure at having to sleep on Hello Kitty sheets or even wear Keroppi pajamas to bed. At six years old, he insisted on blues instead of pinks and willfully demanded Pokemon instead of Hello Kitty. My husband, perhaps seeing his chance at a Kitty-free zone, seized on my son’s demands and negotiated a treaty we all had to agree to. No more Kitties for the boys (except Alphonse, but only if he wanted to) and no more Kitties in the bedrooms, except for a small designated space by my side of the bed. Hello Kitty in the bathroom was a last concession, and Alex, in particular, seemed to find it funny that Hello Kitty stays with his poop.      

“Freedom from Hello Kitty Oppression,” my smart aleck son calls this movement, and his reluctance to have anything to do with Hello Kitty has only grown stronger with time. When he was younger and I could still force him to accompany me, he always showed his disapproval by standing in protest by the nearest escape route. He was immune to Kitty’s charms and not even Hello Kitty Café and its food could entice him. If you look closely at the picture below of him and me at the Café (Alex was only eight then), you will see that I had to hold him by both arms to keep him from breaking free. Today, Gift Gate is still the last store he would be caught alive in.

Son: "Let me go, Mama!" Mom: "Not before a picture, son. Now hold still."

These days, even Alphonse seems ready to break free from my Hello Kitty strings. One minute he’s cuddling my Hello Kitty dolls, the next, he’s decapitating them. He’s also given up the pink Hello Kitty comforter in favor of his red Spiderman blankie. As much as I wish otherwise, he’s starting to exercise a little bit of independence from my Hello Kitty influence. He’s not totally there yet, but one day soon, I fear that he will be.

Ah, these are the times I would have really wanted a daughter. Sigh.