Bits and Pieces for the New Year

I know we're six days into 2010, but still I wish everyone a happy new year! I hope you all had a good celebration over the holidays with your family, friends and loved ones.

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I was supposed to put up a post before 2009 ended. However, the holiday rush caught up with me, and between my work and my family life, I lost the opportunity to complete the entry. Well, better late than never.

Looking back, last year:

...hubby and I were still struggling a bit in this new place. Now, I think we are in a much better position than we were a year ago and can afford a few of our small luxuries. We're also closer to completing payments for some of our major purchases. Woohoo!

...I just started out at work. Today, I am more comfortable in the workplace and gained friends in the form of my colleagues.

...I lost a high school friend and an uncle. But I believe I just gained two more prayer warriors who'll incessantly plead my cases to The Big Guy Up There.

...I missed Manila a whole lot. I still do.

...I argued a lot with my mother on the phone. We now end our conversations with I love you and I miss you.

...I lived with my family in a very basic (read: crappy) flat. We have since moved to a better location, with a very homey atmosphere.

...the quantity and quality of my blogs increased. I hope to outdo myself this year.

Overall, I was very blessed in 2009. I thank my Divine Writer for making it a challenging yet rewarding time. I ask for His continued blessings in the coming year.

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And because He was very generous to me, I would like to pay Him in a small measure by improving myself. This year, I resolve to:

...find more opportunities to communicate with Him.

...be less critical of myself and others.

...be more patient and less short-tempered. I know I sometimes hurt my husband and son when I have those occasional - okay, not-so-occasional - outbursts, and I am endlessly sorry for that.

...be wiser with my spending. I know I should take my savings more seriously this time around.

...drink more water and take less soda.

...spend less time on the internet (Facebook seriously hogs time!). Less time on the computer means more time for my loved ones.

...be less whingey when hubby goes on his business trips.

...be more productive, both at home and at work.

...be more organised.

...blog even more.

I hope I can keep my resolutions. After all, a new year calls for new beginnings.

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Speaking of new beginnings, my son entered a new phase in his life. He is now officially a school boy!

Last Monday, hubby and I played the supportive parents by attending the school orientation with our son. He seemed happy in his new environment, and he was eagerly checking out the toys and all the interesting stuff inside. Actually, on our way to school, he asked me, "Mommy, why do you have to come with me?" Sigh. It stung a bit, but I was glad to see then that he would have to trouble adjusting.

Turned out I spoke too soon. Yesterday, Grandma reported that he threw a royal hissy fit in class. Two hours into the session (he is scheduled for four-hour daily classes), he realised that none of us were around. He howled for all he was worth and none of the teachers could get him to quiet down! Dear Lord! Some of our acquaintances even said he was banging on the door. Good thing Grandma arrived and he calmed down, but everytime she would disappear from his sight, he would start whimpering again. Oh boy.

I understood he must have felt abandoned (he confirmed that he started crying when he saw Grandma wasn't around). I think what made it worse was when he saw some of the other kids' moms were peeping through the windows, but he could not see a familiar face to wave at.

It was time to put all my pseudo-psychiatry on a test run. I talked to him last night and explained there was no need to feel scared. I also took a desk calendar and drew a smiley face for 4 January, and a sad face on the 5th. I told him that if there are more smiley faces than sad faces for the week, he will get a reward on Saturday; if there are a lot of sad faces, then he won't get any treats. He looked like he understood, so he chose his reward: a trip to the candy shoppe to get some jellybeans. He also said the sad faces "looked weird and funny", so he vowed not to add any more to the calendar.

Apart from the bedtime pep talk I gave him, I also left a letter for him to read before he goes to school. Basically, I told him to be brave and have fun at school. (update: I just chatted with him a few minutes ago, and he said he promises "not to break his smile today")

I really hope all the encouragement works. I know that separation anxiety is all part and parcel of a child's growing pains, and that it's perfectly healthy, but of course I do not want him to be traumatised by the experience. School is meant to be a happy place, and I hope he believed me when I told him that his class is his  very own special place to enjoy. Let's see what happens today (all fingers and toes crossed!).

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I started catching up on my reading late last year. I'm glad to report I'm gaining some headway into the little reading list I made a few months ago. It's a nice feeling when you finally purchase a hard-to-find title. My first purchases for the year:

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And, finally, the first Monday of the year saw my hubby on yet another business trip. Oops, I promised not to be whingey. Right. I'll shut up now, I think.

A Christmas Story

My son started learning how to write sometime last year, before he turned three. And in the tradition that I grew up in, I asked him to write letters to Santa to ask for his Christmas gift (Okay, I know I'll have a hard time explaining when he finds out that the jolly old man is just a myth, but that concept made my childhood so I'm not going to deprive my son of a bit of holiday magic).

This was his letter last year:

Done with a lot of coaching from Mommy, but it's in his own handwriting.

Fast-forward to 2009. One Sunday evening, I reminded him to set aside some time the following day to compose his letter for Santa. I thought it would be another way to keep him occupied while I was at work. However, when I came home that Monday evening, it turned out that he forgot. When I asked him where his letter was, his eyes turned into two big O's (I was guessing his thought bubble read "oh, shit!", if only the words were part of his toddler-ese) and he got all panicky. You see, the previous night, I told him that Santa had a deadline for letter-collection (I was hoping for maximum recall and motivation. Well, trust a three-year-old's attention span to nullify all your adult theories.).

As I sat down to dinner, he bugged me over and over to help him to write. I told him to wait until after I've finished my meal because I was starving. He kept quiet for a while so I thought he complied. As I was putting away my dinner plate, my precocious boy showed me this, done with absolutely no adult intervention:

With such a darling letter, who is Santa Claus to resist?

(By the way, I drew the star on the upper-right corner to let him know what a great effort he made!)

Here's his Christmas loot from Santa:

A blue scooter (with flashing lights!). Santa was also thoughtful enough to include a toddler-sized helmet, in matching blue with yellow trims.

And because he is such a wonderful boy, Daddy and Mommy got him these:

          

That's a Zhu Zhu pet starter kit, as well as a hamster (Scoodles) to complete the fun. He's a fan of the game "Hamsterball" so he enjoyed this one, too.

Well, Grandma was not to be outdone, so my son got another gift in the form of a Vtech Read and Learn. If you must know, my son can already read very well, it's just that he gets a bit lazy with writing (blame the technological age for this...he'd rather be chatting complete with audibles). Grandma thought this will help motivate him to write more.

To cap off his Christmas, we went to watch Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakuel. Mighty proud of him for sitting through the entire movie without his usual loud chatter. It's either he's starting to behave like a big boy, or he was completely pooped out from staying up too late the previous night (and waking up bright and early to play with his new toys). He didn't enjoy it as much as he did Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, but he did get some laughs from the cute critters.

No wonder kids love Christmas so much. They get spoilt to bits! But I guess we parents are also guilty of a bit of self-indulgence: seeing our kids' eyes brighten up and hearing their loud shrieks of delight are just too much of a pleasure to pass up on.

P.S. Daddy and Mommy also had their share of a ho-ho-holiday:

          

LTD F50 for the guy, HP Mini for the gal :)  Woohoo!

I felt stupid watching this movie...

...because my mouth was hanging open the entire time! Just when I thought there weren't any good movies this year, the last few weeks of 2009 gave me something to remember. The last movie I watched with as much drooling intensity was The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

I have no coherent thoughts to even begin a pseudo-movie review. Suffice it to say that I enjoyed myself immensely. So much so that halfway through the movie, I was already elbowing my husband and telling him I want to see it again. Hubby was very impressed with the CGI (he does CGIs, too, so it is obviously very hard to please him in that department). To call the animation "spectacular" might be a bit of an understatement. Stupendous would be more apt.

Film critics might have a thing or two to say about the storyline, that it's bordering on being patronisingly tree-hugging, but I'm not complaining. The movie's overall message was more powerful to me than what a good old disaster movie can muster. It's a bit predictable in some parts, but all things considered, it was engaging enough for me not to notice that it's about 2 1/2 hours long.

True to its press releases, Avatar does take you to a world beyond imagination. Just see it. I mean, if you've watched 2012 and you let this one slip by, someone ought to knock some sense into you ;)

Growing old, Desperate Housewives-style

It may seem an irony for a full-blooded production person like me, but I rarely watch TV. I used to, in heavy doses, but that was when I was much, much younger. The time when I didn't drift off to sleep within five minutes of staring at the tube.

However, there are some TV series that occasionally catch my attention and have me looking forward to new episodes every week. Desperate Housewives is one of them. I find the characters funny, the plot engaging, and the writing style equally witty and insightful. I think that if I were half as good as their writers there, that would be my writing style, too (although I do not think I would make a racial slur like they did one time, but that is a separate issue altogether). I was watching an episode last night and one particular scene touched me.

Two of the characters, husband and wife Tom and Lynette Scavo (played by Doug Savant and Felicity Huffman), were having an argument. As a quick background, Tom wanted to have plastic elective surgery done to his face. He felt that the years have taken their toll on his features, and he's blaming what he perceives as his unsavoury appearance for his lack of employment. He is convinced that prospective employers give him a cursory once-over during interviews, and he immediately loses out to the next fresh graduate sitting in the waiting room. Apart from his increasing insecurity stemming from Lynette's flourishing career, his ego received a further bruising when they chanced upon an old classmate who looked about 10 years younger than Tom did. And Lynette just happened to rub salt into his wounds when she laughingly remarked, "Seriously? You two were classmates? You were IN THE SAME CLASS?!"

Lynette tried dissuading Tom from the procedure. Of course, there was the money issue; they had several school-age kids plus a toddler in a single-income household. She is also afraid that once Tom's outward appearance improves, he would think she looks unsightly and would dump her for a pretty young thing. She went as far as inviting an officemate to their house - someone who had a botched-up surgery - just so she could drive her point in. But Tom is adamant. And as they argued in the kitchen, far from their guest's hearing, Lynette revealed her true reasons for not wanting him to go under the knife.

Lynette said she did not look at Tom's lines as wrinkles, but as a map of their life together. Each crease represented an important event. The thought lines on his forehead, "That's you worrying about how to provide for us." The frown marks, "That's my cancer" (she is a cancer survivor). The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, "That's all the laughter we shared together." Needless to say, Tom relented and did not pursue the surgery.

Touching and true. Each moment of laughter, each heartbreaking instance, the marching years make sure that they are all indelibly etched into our countenance. Most of us choose to pay attention to the superficial; I, for one, am guilty of that (I find myself increasingly attracted to wrinkle-control creams, and I actually keep a nightly regimen to keep the creases at bay).

But, perhaps, what we must all aim to do is to look beyond the sagging skin and diminishing youth, and focus on how well we journeyed using the Maps of our Lives. And it is only when we are truly happy with our life's voyage can we stand in front of the mirror, look at those wrinkles without batting a heavily-mascara'd eyelash, and still say that, "I am beautiful."

I hope to remain beautiful for my husband. And I pray that, someday, many years from now, despite my age and outwardly appearance, he will continue to bestow me with the same loving look and say, "You are still my beautiful wife."

Tom and Lynette's photo courtesy of ABC.

Old couple's photo courtesy of Getty Images. 

Home for the Holidays

...is exactly what I would like to be, but unfortunately, I will be spending another Yuletide season here in Lah-Lah-Land. That's two years in a row. Sigh.

With less than 20 days to go before Christmas Day, I feel all sorts of nostalgic thinking about the fun traditions I'll be missing out on. So I compiled the Top 10 things I miss about Christmas at home (in no particular order):

1. Food - a Filipino holiday is just an excuse to shamelessly indulge in cholesterol-laden, heart-attack inducing, waistline-growing dishes like there's no tomorrow. I always took the fiesta ham for granted, but I found it conspicuously missing from our table last year (ham just doesn't taste the same here). And what I wouldn't give for the lechon and the ever-reliable lechon paksiw the following day. Puto bumbong and bibingka are also sorely missed.
2. Someone else to plan the holiday spread for you - Now that I'm the one doing the planning for the Noche Buena and Media Noche feasts, I do appreciate my mother's time and effort. I never knew it could be so stressful! Hats off to you, Ma!
3. The crisp Christmas chill - it's a bit colder here now, but not nearly as nippy as December nights back home. It seems absurd listening to "Winter Wonderland" when you're all drenched in sweat.
4. Tinsel-laden streets and homes - living in a multiracial community has its drawbacks, foremost of which is the lack of yuletide spirit! If you don't go to the central business district, or to the homes of your fellow Pinoys, chances are you won't be seeing any glitter or tinsel. Where I'm at, Christmas is just like a regular Sunday - an extra day off work, and more excuses for shopping. Our company keeps business hours on the 24th and 31st, mind you (although I do plan to take half-day leaves for Christmas and New Year's Eve, at the very least).
5. Gifts - at the risk of sounding materialistic, I do miss the gaily-wrapped parcels. I miss the unexpected packages waiting for me on my desk or beside my pillow (especially if it's from one of your subordinates or younger family members - no matter how small the present is, I am always very touched by the thought that goes with the token). And I sorely miss wrapping presents for family and friends - it's my favourite thing to do (my family knows that absolutely no one else can touch the wrapping paper and adhesive!).
6. The Starbucks planner - oh, yes, I so miss the daily pilgrimage to the nearest Starbucks branch to get my stickers. I know I fell for the sick marketing ploy, but, well, one of the owners is a personal acquaintance so maybe I'm willing to be a bit of a sucker :) But, no, I will not be asking her to send me a planner. Where's the thrill in that?!
7. Christmas parties - do I sound sick yet? Well, maybe I am - HOMEsick, more like it. I used to hate attending these, but since Christmas parties here are virtually non-existent (save, perhaps, for MNCs or other bigger companies), I do miss the fun and silliness of it all (and the ensuing inebriation).
8. Christmas plugs on TV and radio - there's a smattering of that here, but they don't feel the same as ours do. They're not as warm as how we do them. Our TVCs and RCs back home make you feel as if you're stepping into a Hallmark card, or getting on the Coca-Cola Christmas train with Santa.
9. Family and friends - need I explain?
10. Alvin and the Chipmunks - this is one of my little quirks, but Christmas just doesn't feel Christmas-y if I don't hear "Christmas Don't Be Late". The silly song heralds the season of cheers for me! And they don't play it here!
    

I do hope we get to go home for next year's Yuletide celebration, though. Cliche, trite...but there really is no place like home.

A Question of Taste

I have to wonder these days if there's something wrong with my taste. A lot of people I know loved 2012, but as you have read here, I wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

Now, almost everyone is raving about the movie New Moon on their Facebook walls - either in eager, hip-writhing anticipation of watching, or in jubilation after being one of the first to catch it on-screen. Stephanie Meyer fans can rest easy, you have one less competition for seats here. I will not be queuing up for that movie anytime.

Don't get me wrong. I know the story of the Twilight series. In fact, I own the lot. So how do I explain owning the entire series when I'm not such a fan? Well, I finished the first book, and so I took it upon myself to go through all four books. After all, one must finish what one has started. Although some parts appealed to my long-forgotten teenage heart and reminded me how it felt like to have a really serious infatuation, I mostly suffered through the thick volumes. Especially New Moon. Bella is just too full of herself, and I am not about to apologise for that opinion.

I suppose the book version is okay, except that I am not the target market. Reading it did not feel any different from going through a copy of Goth-infused Sweet Valley High. It's too teenybopper. Which I guess would explain the brouhaha over Robert Pattison and his cohorts. (Imagine being hit by a car, trying to run away from frenzied teenagers - these rabidly "crush-ing" 16-year-olds will sooner drive RP to an untimely death, rather than succeed in having him kiss them)

Which leads me to another point. Why on God's green earth do people seem to think RP is perfect as Edward? So NOT! The book used glowing adjectives like beautiful, perfect, God-like, ethereal and all the wonderful superlatives you can come up with. Sadly, the screen version (I watched Twilight on DVD) falls oh-so-short of these heavenly attributes. RP looks like the classic vampire, which is a corpse. Awful acting, dead eyes. Oh dear, maybe that's why I thought he was perfect as Cedric Diggory. He died.

I expect an angry throng beating down my front door now, waiting to stone me to death. But, really, Brad Pitt is the closest thing to a perfect vampire if there ever was one. And Anne Rice will kick Stephanie Meyer's ass any day.

P.S. I am still contemplating whether I should post a question on my FB, as to why everyone is so excited about the gosh-darned movie. Then again, my Twilight fan-friends will probably try to talk me into watching it, and wax poetic over RP, so maybe it isn't such a wise thought...

The Gift

Last night, my son and I were having our usual pre-bedtime conversation.

Knowing that we live in a country with mixed religion, races and culture, I try my best to teach him about the Catholic faith he was born into. So I take these bedtime rituals as an opportunity to discuss things with him without sounding too preachy.

Since he likes listening to music before going to sleep (usually Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror", ad nauseam), I sang one of my favourite church hymns as a child, which was "Jesus, My Friend". I was telling him Jesus is our Father, yet He is also our friend.

After listening to the song, my son asked me where I learned it. I told him I went to a Catholic school, and so I learned the song as a little girl. He looked at me and said, "So I was listening to you while you were singing it?" I understand my son does not have a very firm concept of time yet, not quite grasping what is the past, present and future. I endeavoured to explain it, in simpler terms:


MOMMY:  No, you were not listening in because you weren't born yet.
SON: (PUZZLED LOOK) Where was I?
MOMMY: You were still in Heaven because you were still an angel.
SON: I was with my Father, Jesus? (MOMMY NODS) How did I get here?
MOMMY: (NERVOUSLY ANTICIPATING A BIRDS-AND-THE-BEES CONVERSATION) Daddy and I prayed for you. You were Papa Jesus' very special gift to us.
SON: (FACE BRIGHTENING UP WITH A CHARMING SMILE) Did I come in a box?

Photo courtesy of Getty Images