Parenting conflict

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“Why are you sending her away?”

Oh dear. Am I a bad mother? I thought. My husband called out from the dining room as I was busy fixing the food for my second daughter in the kitchen. M planned to move in to her friend’s apartment near the UP campus. See, she’s taking summer classes coupled with daily singing rehearsals. I tell you, her schedule is crazy. Classes start at 7:00 AM and her rehearsals end at 10:00 PM. Driving from Makati to Quezon City was out of the question. It’s not the gasoline expense . My time is wasted because of our stupid traffic jams. I can do more productive work like fixing the house or letting my business grow instead of getting stuck in traffic. But no…our traffic is so bad that 3 hours of my daily life is wasted down the drain just driving to and fro Makati and Quezon City. Hiring a driver is out of the question. I can’t afford it. Besides, drivers need to rest too.

You know how tiring it is for me to drive back and forth. I said. She needs to be semi-independent. When I was her age, I had no mother to take care of me. I had to mother myself.

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Book Launch of “Beyond the Great wall”

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beyond the great wall (View enlarged book cover) Alma Miclat, a friend and co-founder of The Compassionate Friends finally gave me the date for the book launch of their book, “Beyond the Great Wall”. It’s a family journal written by award winning writer, Mario Miclat, his wife, Alma and daughters, Maningning and Banaue. Maningning died a few months after my son’s death in 2000. Unlike me, Alma transformed her grief by starting the Maningning Foundation, whose mission is to recognize, nurture and promote Asian, especially Filipino artists 28 years and below through awards and creative programs. I hope you drop by the book launch to meet Mario and Alma Miclat and eventually buy their book. The book promises to be an interesting read . For 15 years, Alma’s family lived in the shadows of the Great Wall.

Here is the press release:

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The bunny look-a-like

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catpeeping.jpgA few days ago, as I pulled to the driveway I noticed a cat sitting on its hind legs near the gate. How cute!, Lauren yelled “A rabbit!“. I said No , “it’s a cat” I grabbed my camera phone and took a picture. Lauren wasn’t satisfied . She snatched my cellphone , got off the car and quietly tiptoped towards the kitty. This orange bundle of fur seemed to be staring at the bushes in our garden. I caught sight of Lady, one of our [tag]pet cats[/tag] looking at the same direction as the orange kitty. Hmm, no wonder.

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Chocolate Lover & The Micro entrepreneurs

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chocolate loverMy daughter dragged me to Chocolate Lover , in Quezon City yesterday because she wanted to try her hand in chocolate molding. It’s been years since I’ve molded some [tag]chocolates[/tag] but the process remains fresh in my mind. When the kids were well, little kids, I stayed mostly at home except when I needed to meet clients for real estate transactions. My hobbies varied from cross-stitching, grandmother’s quilting, Chocolate candy making, cake decorating, baking and crafts. I even baked and iced their birthday cakes. How proud my kids were when I churned out Barbie themed or cutesy dolly cakes. The smell of cinnamon and molasses filled the air during the Christmas season. Christmas decors created by the girls and myself adorned our little home. That was until I discovered the internet in 1995 and neglected all those hobbies behind. But hey, those days were not in vain. My kids still do crafts and baking. During special occasions, I still bake but I avoid cake decorating with fancy designs.

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The ultimate stage mother?

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I believe that college kids are responsible enough to take care of their own peer problems. So why did the mother of an actress confront my daughter because of “an offending entry” about her daughter? Can’t her daughter just talk to my daughter? And why does the mother want to report her to the Dean? Report her for what? I hope she reads the Student’s Handbook before she complains or she will look really foolish. I want to say more but maybe this mother will report me to the police.

/me shuts up.

The rebirth of a stage mother

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Gone are the days when I’d wait patiently by the lobby of the ballet studio, the Cultural Center of the Philippines, the Folk Arts Theater or wherever my 2 girls performed piano, ballet, voice recitals or a choir performance. Ohh, how enthralled I was listening or watching them on stage! Tying their hair to a neat bun, dabbling with their makeup or lugging their costumes were now a thing of the past. Those were my stage mother years. My hubby thought I was this frustrated mother who used her girls as a tool for her unfulfilled ambitions. Haha. Funny. My maternal instinct sought to develop the God-given talents of my daughters. I cannot for the life of me, carry a tune or tap my toes so there were no ballerina or opera singer dreams.

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College kids

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To oversleep on a Sunday morning is heavenly . No carpool. No phone calls. Kids are asleep. No office. So , hubby might oversleep too. But no. Butch is up and about tapping at the keyboard of the computer . Another pleading? A memo? An urgent email?

 

I have to finish this paper. I have an assignment

Glancing at the monitor, I notice the English translation of Karl Marx socio-political theories originally written in Pilipino. Haha, I poked his back.

Earlier in the week, I overheard my daughter talking to her dad over the phone about needing help in a Pilipino article. (She stays at the dorm during weekdays .) Wow for the love of our daughter. I thought.

Can you imagine reading Karl Marx in Pilipino? Karl Marx as a topic is difficult for a politically-challenged person like myself. I felt sorry for my daughter.

My husband looks up with a chuckle.

Prof. Ronas, M’s professor used to be my Political Science teacher.

Really? He is still teaching? To think that was over 30 years ago. What a dedicated professor!

Was it that long ago we were once college students? I can’t believe these girls are in college. I feel old.

Sssh. I’m concentrating

Leaving my husband in peace, I move over to my daughter’s room to check my email.