Lumaktaw sa pangunahing content

(^,^) 3rd Mo

     
     Along with your turning of your 61st day was August’s gush of wind and longer pitter-patter of the rain on top. There are the scales of proof you are every inch growing if not for the tops that used to be draping until your ankles; now  inching above your protruding abdomen. Thanks to your ravenous appetite both for sleeping and suckling. Your tiny toes and prickly fingers to your arms and thighs were ballooning. Your cheeks are stuffed and are puffed some more. When you wriggle to stretch – told to tickle your growth plate, contract your abdominal muscles, fix your stare, squeeze your forehead into redness with some folds that ashen, will mom has to hear the passing of gas of abominable sound? Chuckles are registered on mom’s face but the worry of formidable colic ebbs away. Your lids droop to slumber with your arm draped over your forehead or somewhere else over your face. Even to the innocent sounds of everyday, you stir up into either slow prying of your eyes with some or even no coaxing brings you back to dreamland, or, crying for mom to pick you up and let her do some Lisa Macuja steps and Anne Curtis hum. Mom’s unbelievable talents are known each day and skills are whetted. Some days, mom frets for your taming and toning down. When mom is not sure would she keep you tucked in her arms for hours until she gets convinced, she painstakingly sends you to cradle. Mom’s baby after an hour or two would be awaken on a wet nappy or rooting. Baby’s mom frantically has to be unexpectedly fast in finishing the laundry or whatever that spins her like a non-stop top.
     Fainting from my thesaurus, pleasure became synonymous to work as sleeping homonymous to slipping into the world of mom-hood. As mom clips your nails, tousle your pinchful of hair, caress your belly buton, sniff your milky breath, and tickle your feet, she leaves panic at bay with the checking that you are all OK.

     Today you wake up with bedding creases on your fledgling skin and everybody gets to you simultaneously as if there was a crowd to weave through and the need to elbow one out to who will carry you. Tomorrow you will skid harum-scarum around getting everyone’s attention, and will chortle, “Moma. Dada… Yoya Ema, Wowo Ludi, the other Yoya Wima and the other Wowo Emeh are the best in the world!”  Yesterday was a learning of first timers: first-time parent, first-time aunt, first-time uncle, first-time granny and first-time grampy.   

Mga Komento

Mag-post ng isang Komento

Mga sikat na post sa blog na ito

World Day for Cultural Diversity

21May. World Day for Cultural Diversity. (Christ), in whom the whole building being fitted together,grows into a holy temple in the L-rd (Ephesians2:21) In the next coming years, I cannot imagine my daughter, a half-blooded Igorot whose father speaks Tagalog, mother who speaks Kankana-ey and Ilocano and schoolmates who speak Kapampangan or teachers speak English, how her liner would be. Further imagination brings me to hearing her say, "Adiak like idiay kung nasaan sina Lolo tan awan unay tao." 
Mag-post ng isang Komento
Magbasa nang higit pa

The Big "F"

On October 25...        I have this very bad attitude I disdainfully deny but with life's lessons, I am earning the bravery of admitting it. I hardly forget people who wrong me. Everything excruciatingly painful. The retaliation: the I-don't-care-attitude towards you. I don't see you. I don't hear you.      I have read about stories of forgiveness a zillion times, heard about the enlightened hearts after letting go and attended enhancing workshops about being a Christian yet the struggle of setting myself free from holding grudges have imprisoned me for a long time.      Designed by Him that a life ends. The people I haven't talked to for the longest time remained never to be talked with. They're gone. Messages constructed unread. This I would not want to happen.      So while I can see and hear, I wanna reach out...      Everyone dies.      One day, it would be me. It would ...
Mag-post ng isang Komento
Magbasa nang higit pa

Celebrating Life w/ Mother

I was about to get off being quadriplegic and ready to roam free when I was diagnosed with bronchopneumonia primary complex. My mom in her profession of teaching became my instant quack physician, therapist, nanny, caregiver and nurse for years of this struggle of weak respiratory system. I always find her having me being babied so lavishly, a realization made after leaving the outskirts of home post-high-school. On a first hear of sniffling or coughing, she would warm coconut oil on my back and do some reflexology she believed would ease me off my wheezing. Mother would be boiling leaves from the yard and be setting a certain glassful of the concoction leaving me bloated. If she hears about a new approach to health such as pills or machine she would let me try. And if her line of first aid would not work, only then she would consult a medical expert. A classmate laughed it off upon seeing me, I was I think 13 that time, being carried at the back when my mother had to bring me to the ...
Mag-post ng isang Komento
Magbasa nang higit pa