An Answered Prayer

My Divine Writer has spoken.

Guess that US trip needs to wait for a few more months.

Schools of Thought

I called my mother the other night and told her the exciting news that I just enrolled my son in nursery school.

At the risk of making an understatement, she was not thrilled at the prospect. She was dismayed that I broke one of her cardinal rules: that we, her children, pledge not to enroll our kids (especially male kids) before they reach the age of five. So across about 3000 miles, I got a sound scolding from my mother. Why are you putting my grandson through this? At his age, he should be getting his fill of sleep and play! I'm telling you, you're setting him on the wrong path...he'll get tired of school quickly and you will regret it! And when the time comes he starts skipping school and flunking, don't tell me I didn't warn you!

I think I got the equivalent of Ronald Weasley's Howler.

My mother admonished me on shirking my responsibilities. She is under the impression that I do not want to take charge of my son's education under my personal watchful eye, which is why she says I would rather stick him in school. I just kept quiet because I know getting a word in edgewise, once she gets heated up, is virtually impossible. Especially when it comes to these things.

Let me set the record straight. In all fairness to my mother, she is in a good position to know about these things. She was, after all, an educator for more than 25 solid years (and counting, if you include the lectures my siblings and I get at the slightest provocation). Perhaps she had observed a pattern in my brothers, in my nephews and other male relations, or in her gazillion students, such that she made her own conclusion. She has this theory that the male of our species tire easily of rigid education, and so we must endeavour to delay formal schooling until the last possible minute. In place of school, it is a parent's duty to instruct the child from home, in as conducive a manner as possible, using a play-to-learn approach.

It does sound very ideal. In fact, she used the system on me (even if I am female), so she likes to dangle my intellectual superiority over my siblings to drive in the point (disclaimer: the point expressed is my mother's opinion and not mine).

So why, then, did I not subscribe to her school of thought?

For one thing, I have an opinion on why her system worked so wonderfully for me: SHE was the one teaching me. In my mind, she is still one of the best English teachers around (which explains why I excel in grammar and literature, while failing miserably in Math and Science). I don't think it will work as well for my son if he is stuck most of the day with only the caregiver around. Case in point: after only about two months of being with her, malutong na syang managalog ngayon. At may puntong Ilonggo pa. And I can't blame him because he only spends a few waking hours with us parents during weekdays.

Now don't get me wrong. I have no intention of completely eradicating Filipino from his vocabulary. In fact, I want him to be strong in both languages in oral and written form. My thinking is, the household is mainly Tagalog-speaking, and since he can understand and converse perfectly well in the language, then what remains for us to build will be his English vocabulary and grammar (which is mostly my job, because he knows it's English when he speaks with Mommy). That's on top of the Mandarin which he has yet to learn (and for which he will not be able to get help from any of us).

Secondly, I believe that the time is right to send him to school. He is showing an eagerness to learn, evidenced by the thousand-and-one "why's" I receive daily. His curiosity is insatiable, and I'm afraid the knowledge I have may not suffice. It is truly marvelous for a parent to observe a child's hunger to learn. He can't stop reading, he can't stop asking. And so, there's that window I will NOT miss. I want him to be eager to go to school. I don't want to risk waiting, and find out later on that I have to force him to go because the eagerness had passed.

Most importantly, perhaps, I am painfully aware that my son sorely lacks some age-appropriate company. He is stuck with us adults 24/7. I had that kind of childhood, being the youngest in the brood (my nearest sibling is 11 years older than me). I get all kinds of praises from my parents' friends, on how well-behaved I am, and how very adult I was acting. Now, I hear that kind of opinion often expressed about my son. Which, in my opinion, is not so good for his well-being.

With all due respect to their parenting style, focused as they are on developing my intelligence, they kind of overlooked the growth of my emotional intelligence. I know that it's a fairly new concept and may not have been en vogue when I was a kid, but the fact of the matter remains that EQ is important in making a well-rounded individual. I had a hard time adjusting to my peers when I was younger, and I don't want my son to go through the same difficulties. True, I get compliments that I am "wise beyond my years" and have "older insights", but can one not be precocious yet fully-adjusted to peers? At this point, developing his social skills is something I want for him.

I am blessed to have such an opinionated mother. She is the type who will form her own judgment and will fight you tooth-and-nail for what she believes in. Unfortunately, it is also a trait I seem to have inherited from her.

My heart says I should send my son to school. And I believe it.

Mommies in the House

I’ve just had some pleasant mommy chit-chat with some of my officemates. There’s sort of a baby boom here…a few months after I got pregnant, about three other officemates of mine suddenly confirmed their interesting conditions…! Hmm, I’d like to think that I’m sort of a trendsetter here…

It’s surprising how obsessed one can become with pregnancy and motherhood (well, assuming, of course, that you’re happy conceiving your little bundle of joy). We’d affably compare our experiences: the pregnant mommies would ask me what I went through when I was at the same stage as theirs, while those who have older kids would tell me about their experiences as new moms, as well as the things I should look forward to when my baby grows up.

And even as it’s now three months since I gave birth, I would still greedily sift through webpage after webpage on write-ups about pregnancy and parenting. I just couldn’t get enough information crammed in! The result…? I’m now scared to death that my little one could get SBS (I told the entire household to NEVER EVER shake the baby)…or he could be a victim of SIDS (I now obsessively remove any and all pillows around him when he sleeps, and I make sure he sleeps on his back. I’m also close to being an insomniac, just watching over him.)…I’m also wondering in retrospect whether he had acid reflux when he was two weeks old (he used to vomit out his milk in projectile, poor thing)…sigh…so many new fears are awakened in my highly-impressionable mommy brain!

But it’s not to say that I’m living in constant fear. In fact, I live for those moments when my son would surprise me with another one of his milestones. Yesterday, my mother-in-law showed me how he could now roll on his belly all by his little self. When he was about two months old, he showed the capacity to roll over, except that he couldn’t get his arm out from underneath his body…well, yesterday was a different story altogether, he could do it by himself now! My little boy is also becoming increasingly boisterous, enjoying all his toys and would only nap when he’s really, really worn out. Today, they showed me how he loved to sit up propped against the sofa (have some pictures and videos taken, to boot!). We also found out today that he now likes to sit up in his tub when he’s taking a bath, instead of lying down on the bath supporter. He’s growing up so fast!

I’m sure that, like most mothers, I tend to think that my baby is the smartest, most gifted little creature that was ever born this side of the planet. It’s simply amazing how many new things he can learn in the space of a few days. So now, I become increasingly agitated the longer I spend time at the office – it could only mean that I’m missing out on so many new feats!

But I’m glad that my little son is a lot more forgiving towards me than I am to myself. I’m elated that he always has a ready smile for me whenever he’s awake. He also coos delightedly at me whenever I speak to him, as if eagerly telling me about his entire day, happily sharing with me the little things that I’d missed.

I love my son beyond words. I love having a family. I love being a mom!