Thursday Night

I've always loved Thursdays. Not quite Friday, yet close enough to the weekend.

And I had the perfect Thursday night last night.

I put Charly to bed, where we had a good old girls' snuggle. She patted my cheek and said "Mom, you ok?" (she always asks this when I'm sick, and last night, I had a cough). She's very thoughtful, that kid.

I said "Yes, bear, I'm ok."

"Mom?"

"Yes?" I asked, hugging her close.

"I love you, Mom" she said patting my cheek again and smiling, before drifting off to sleep.

"I love you too, bear, all the way to the moon. And back."

I crept out of her room and joined the hubby and snuggled in bed to catch the new season of Heroes. 

Back to back snuggles with my favorite girl and best guy.

This is what life's all about.

Tits

Charly was tucked in for the night and ready for her bedtime story (did I say story? More like stories as we usually have at least half a dozen runs).

"Tits, mom" she says "I want tits".

Flabbergasted, I said "What did you say?"

Charly giggles and pushes a big book of stories at me. "Tits" she repeated clearly as if I was a bit weak in the head. 

I played along, "Well, bear, seeing as how I'm not short in that department, you'll get yours soon enough." Ok, now I was just talking to myself and just tripping out over the funny things kids can sometimes say. But then most new moms have these moments in abundance.

"Dad dad reads tits" she calmly explained to me, making me wonder what they read when I'm away.

I flipped through the big children's stories collection book as she was eagerly grabbing at it. She finally zeroed in on a short story entitled "TITCH". She always did have trouble with her s and tch's. Laughing again, she looked relieved and said "Please read Titch".

Oh. 

Bad mom.

My Baby Can Read

Charly has a number of bedtime stories that she likes us to read to her over and over again. Among her all-time favorites are her Mini Masters board books. 

There are times that David and I read them to her over and over that we can practically memorize them.

However, I was still surprised when she actually started "reading" aloud a "A Magical Day with Matisse" to me. Word for word. The entire small book.

David has been teaching her how to read and I know that babies have a tendency to remember what they hear. Still nothing had prepared me to actually have Charly reading - mostly from memory, some from remembering how certain words look like - an entire book to me.

It was like role reversal. My baby reading to me, instead of me reading to her, as we snuggled up in bed.

Desperately Seeking Nanny

This goes out to all our dear friends who read this blog.

As most of you know, we've been yaya-less for almost a year now. (Note to my non-Pinoy friends, 'yaya' is what we call nannies in the Philippines.)While this deserves at least a couple of high fives, especially in a country where having 2 or 3 yayas trailing after a family and hefting shopping bags of different sizes are the norm, it can be quite nerve wracking at times. Especially when you're a work-at-home mommy.

We've tried out / auditioned 3 yayas or so but have had to let them go after the initial 2 week trial period for several reasons that read like a cross between Stephen King and a script out of Comedy Central:

1. They can't understand a word of English - not a good thing as David cannot speak Tagalog.

2. They don't care much for kids. One yaya preferred stick to housework (something unnecessary as David and I do this on our own), and more or less ignored Charly. You had to see this to believe it, but when Charly tried to be friendly or play with her, she would mostly just stare back. I know this sounds scary, but it's true. I always wondered if this particular yaya was quite right in the head.

3. They are tied to their cellphones. One would-be yaya accompanied us shopping in the houseware section and I barely turned my back for 5 minutes as I paid for some items and the next time I turned around, Charly was doing a pretty good imitation of Norman Bates and Jason, running around with a huge kitchen knife she had pulled out of the display. And where was the yaya? Why, she was standing around oblivious and texting away! Scary, but true. It would have served the yaya right if Charly had dropped the knife on her foot.

4. Another one did not use toilet paper (Now that's just wrong - if she can't clean her own butt properly, how will she clean Charly's? The word 'rotavirus' comes to mind).

5. Yet another one was afraid of heights. Not good, we live on the 18th floor. She also did not like airconditioning (Charly sweats a lot, more often than not she needs airconditioning, especially during the summer).

6. Our latest candidate went into Essences with us this weekend and instead of making sure Charly was entertained, David ended up carrying her and when we looked around for the yaya, she was at the Murad counter asking for a demo and catalogue of their skin care products. So much for keeping an eye on the baby. By the way, this yaya also asked us for an advance on her salary and took a day off within a week of joining us. Supposedly the advance was for her to be able to send money back to her parents. I'm not sure exactly how much of that advance she sent, but she did come back with a cellphone nicer than the one I am currently using.

The thing is, David and I are pretty hands-on parents. Definitely more hands-on than the average Pinoy family. Being yaya-less doesn't really faze us, nor does the fact that we don't have any maids. In fact, most of the problem probably is that these yayas and helpers are used to their employers being quite dependent on them. We have our own way of doing things and operate like a fairly well-oiled tag team when it comes to the baby. So we never just let the yaya 'do her thing'. After all, Charly is our one and only baby. Letting someone raise her in their own way is not an option. We are looking for someone proactive, who will take instructions well and work with us as a team in taking care of Charly. After all is said and done, we also want a bit of time to ourselves.

So. If any of you know of any yaya who fits that description, understands English, likes kids (and of course can take reasonably good care of them), is not glued to her cellphone, with fairly good hygiene (read: use toilet paper and take showers everyday) and are ok to live on the 18th floor, and likes dogs and is over 35 years of age (the ones younger tend to be attached to their cellphones or boyfriends or girl friends) or isn't a shopaholic who will ditch the kid the minute she enters the mall...please, please let us know!

We're not looking for Mary Poppins or Nanny McPhee. Just their distant cousins.

An Impromptu Love Letter

Charly has a habit of knocking on the door to our room, closing it behind her, saying "oh, hi guys". Most times, she does this just to make sure that mom and dad are safely home, then she goes back to her room or goes about her own business playing elsewhere in the apartment.

Sometime last week, David and I left to do some food shopping and left our place while Charly was asleep. When she woke up, she tried to check up on us and was incredibly distraught to discover that the door to our room had been locked.

My mom, who stayed behind with her, sent me frantic SMS messages that Charly was hysterically banging on the door. For some reason, she was convinced that we were in there and were sick or something. Ever the quick-thinking and improvisational grandma, my mom quickly scribbled a short note that read:

Dear CHARLY (her name in bold letters since she can recognize how it's spelled),

We went to the bookstore to pick up some books for you. We will be back in awhile.

Love, Mom and Dad

She read the letter to Charly, who promptly brightened up and kissed the letter. She clutched it in her hand and when we came back home, she had fallen asleep and was still holding the letter some 2-3 hours later.

Something about seeing her asleep with the letter clutched in her chubby fist just made a little 'ping' at my heart.

Coming from a week where David and I were frazzled with errands, chores, and keeping up with the baby, this took all the fatigue away.

The universe is a wonderful thing. Just when you feel rundown, it sends you a little chuck to the chin. Almost like a yo, mama, chin up.

Take my word on this, parenthood may have its trials and tears, but nothing beats being a mommy or daddy when it comes to having surprisingly little feel-good blessings come beaming down your way, uncalled for.

Improv Lessons

Scene One

Me (in a singsong voice): It's time to eat!

Charly (predictably): NO!

Me (dangling some noodles from a fork and singing and talking to the noodles): Hi, hello, my name is noodle, would you like to sit and talk today?

Charly (moving forward with a smile and singing too): Hewooo, noodle! Me want some noodles! Hi, hewoo, my name is Charly, would you like to be my friend?

Me (bringing the noodles close to Charly's mouth): Hello, Charly!

Charly (opens mouth wide and munches on noodles): Thank you mom, more noodles pleeeaaaasssseee!

Scene Two

David: It's time for bathie!

Charly: NO!

David: Look, look, the Duckie is swimming in bubbles with Froggie.

Charly: Want to see the duck, the duck...old macdonald had a farm ei-ei-yooowww and on his farm he had a duck!

And in she goes to the tub. The splashing sound of success.

In the immortal words of the Little Einsteins: "mission completion". The hubby and I resist giving each other a high five.

Now who says only actors are good at improvisation?

Channeling My Inner Groupie

David: Did you know that Kathleen got married to that guy from Savage Garden and left in 2006?

Me: She did? No wonder I saw a new girl, Sun, the other day. I didn't like her too much.

David: Oh, and apparently Tim got in a motorcycle accident

Me: Oh, what happened? Let me google it.

No, we weren't talking about cast members of our favorite soap (I think the last time David or I followed the soaps with any regularity was when John Stamos and Demi Moore were in General Hospital. Ok, that just gave away how old we are.).

We were talking about cast members of Charly's beloved show "Hi-5", the Australian children's pop group that had her singing and dancing even before she could walk.

As I googled what's happened with Charly's favorite Hi-5 members (hey, she even mentions Kathlene, Nathan, Kellie, Charli, and Tim in her evening prayer lineup!), I got another one of those OMG, I'm such a mommy moments.

I was googling celebrities.

While I admit to watching the occasional ET weekly and going through People magazine during mani-pedi sessions at Dashing Diva, the last time I actively sought out updates on celebrities was during my Tiger Beat years. Those were the days when Rob Lowe (before the sex scandal) and Andrew McCarthy updates were enough reason for me and my girlfriends to meet up. Common crushes were definitely reasons for girl bonding ( I actually hear that grown women these days still meet up to talk about their favorite Korean pop stars, what's up with that.) I just thought those years were gone.

However, now when we meet other parents who seem to know one Hi-Five video from another, it's like meeting someone who knows a common secret handshake. Almost like an I know you. And if they know the words to the songs in Hi-5 Hits, well then I REALLY want to bond with them and get the kids together for a playdate. Maybe even swap some CDs.

I'm learning that this parenthood thing is like a brotherhood (or sisterhood) in many, many ways.

I have this theory that the number of times a toddler says "NO" from 2-4 years of age will nowhere go near the amount of times she will utter that word for the remainder of her life.

Well, maybe if she lives to be 107 years old like my grandfather, but that's still debatable.

These days, Charly is asserting her independence so much that David and I have barely finished our questions and she's already shooting back a "NO".

On days when her sense of humor is up, she will even do a little dance, singing "No, no, no-no-no...." to the tune of Chaka Khan's "whoa, whoa, wo-wo-woah..." refrain from "I'm Every Woman" (yes, I plead guilty, I taught her that refrain while watching 'Bridget Jones' for the nth time).

We so want her to say "YES". Life would be so much easier. Maybe we would even get to places on time.

Ironically, I know the tables will be turned on us when she hits puberty. Then, David and I will be telling her it's alright to say "NO". No to drugs, no to alcohol, no to sex, no to playing hooky from classes...you get the picture.

Why can't kids just be cooperative and do what we want. OMG, I sound like my mother.

Excuse me while I check my head for graying hair.charl

Head, shoulders, knees and toes...

After a child learns to identify their head, shoulders, knees, and toes...what next?

Well of course their curiosity progresses to other body parts.

Charly now knows that girls have vaginas and boys have penises. Yes, we refused to succumb to calling it pee-pee or wee-wee or some other name that may lead to confusion.

She now proudly tells my mom over the phone that Pepe and Riggs have penises. And, like most kids her age are wont to do, repeats it over and over just to make sure her listener got what she was saying the first time around.

Charly: Pepe has penis, penis, penis.

My mom: What?

Me: She's just saying her dog has a penis.

My mom: Why does she need to say that?

Me: I don't know. Why do kids say anything really? Maybe in case we didn't notice?

Is this listed as an official milestone in the baby books?

Mamma Mia!

Funny how the same movie, seen at different stages in your life, can affect you in two completely different ways.

When I saw Mamma Mia! on stage in London in 2002, I remember dancing in the aisle to 'Dancing Queen'. Great fun! I remember thinking I must book that ticket to the Greek islands that I had always planned with my girl friends.

Last night, I saw Mamma Mia, the movie, I still had fun, Pierce Brosnan's terrible singing voice notwithstanding. But more than wanting to get up and dance to 'Dancing Queen', much to my chagrin, I got teary-eyed when Meryll Streep sang 'slipping through my fingers' as she prepared her daughter for her wedding.

Damnit. I hate being 'such a woman'. I thought those teary-eyed moments ended when the baby was born and the pregnancy hormones let up.

I was wrong, though. Those moments were just the beginning. As my little baby has moved into toddlerhood and now looks more like a little kid than the toddler she still is, I really realize that motherhood is a series of celebrations and goodbyes. Of holding on tight, and letting go.

When she was a little baby, I used to dream of the day she would hold her head up. All too soon, she did. Just as I was enjoying having a little doll of a baby just bouncing on my lap, she started crawling and wanting to be free. Although her lower lip still quivers at times when I say goodbye, there are also just as many moments when she tucks her wubbie and favorite little pink bag under her arms and confidently waves, "bye mom!" as she goes off with other relatives. She runs head on into pet shops now, not even looking back to see if I am following behind. Her love, which used to be focused solely on David and me, is now getting spread around. It's not that she loves us less, it's that she has more and more to give.

Everyday is full of new milestones, and of saying goodbye to the stages gone past. Stages that she will never be at again. A little reminder that I had better enjoy what I have right here, right now, rather than worry about the future, for this moment will never come back again.

I can only take a deep breath, pray, and enjoy the ride, keeping in mind that this parenthood thing is all about the journey, not the destination.

An Unlisted Milestone

While running across the mall to meet my mom this afternoon, Charly stopped and pointed to an aqua blue t-shirt with KungFu Panda on it. She dragged me into the store, stopping only at the display rack.

"Mom, please pay. Please pay." This was said with big wide eyes, and the cutest smile.

"You want this?" I asked her.

"Please pay. Want to wear now" and she actually started taking off the t-shirt she was wearing.

Finding this very cute, the first time she has ever spotted an article of clothing and specifically asked me to buy it for her, I paid for the t-shirt and let her wear it.

A milestone, I thought to myself. Although not one officially listed in the baby books.

And then it hit me.

Just two years old, and she's already joined the ranks of female shoppers.

My day so far...

I was going to write about toilet paper in our fish tank, scratches across my beloved bookshelf, and almost hurting my already-injured hip sliding across doggie drool on the floor.

And that was just this morning.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Just as I was about to start talking to Charly like the adult she isn't ("Why would you do that???" and all other such questions that I have no business posing to a toddler since I imagine if she did answer me logically, " Why, mom, I believe I did that because I needed an outlet for my frustration over not being able to catch the fish", I would actually run screaming for surely an alien had taken over her body)... I stumbled upon this cartoon online.

Truly worth a thousand words.

Best Friends

When I was single, I used to scoff at Barney. And when Charly was born, I told David that there was no way we would turn into parents who would sing along with a crazy purple dinosaur who looked like a lump of clay.

Then one day Charly grabbed my legs, and hugging me to her, sang "I love you, you love me. We're best friends like friends should be, with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you, won't you say you love me too?"

She placed an emphasis on the "We're best friends" part as she hugged my legs. Hit me straight in the heart.

From that day on, I've been a fan.

Barney, I love you.

"Why don't you..."

I was lucky enough to be one of those rare women who didn't start 'showing' their pregnancies until practically the 8th month.

Meaning I had less than 4 weeks of unwanted attention. People patting your stomach (anyone ever heard of the word ' personal space'?), asking whether I was having a boy or a girl, and numerous unsolicited horror stories about childbirth that would have made Stephen King proud.

All this, however, did not prepare me for the barrage of well-meaning, but mostly ill-timed, advice that came in all forms from the mildly-irritating to the downright-lunatic.

If I'd been given $1 for every single time I heard "Why don't you...", I would be a rich woman now.

When David and I decided that Pepe and Riggs would sleep in the room with Charly, there were more raised eyebrows directed at me than I would have gotten wearing last season's Manolos at an art gallery opening in Chelsea. The dogs would bite her, she would bite the dogs (germs!), she would get all sorts of diseases, it was irresponsible....etc, etc, etc. The ones who stayed politely mum had such a huge thought bubble over their heads that I wanted to tell them to just come out and say it.

This was just the beginning of the barrage of comments and yes, even criticism, that I've discovered gets directed at you with all the subtlety of Typhoon Frank the moment you become a parent.

Why is it that the moment you have a child everyone thinks they know better than you? During the first quarter of Charly's life, I was told that the baby was too fat (where was her neck? wasn't she becoming a little too tubby?), her male-sounding name would give her a complex and cause gender-confusion, did we want a boy - was that why she was not in pink 24/7?, she needed socks the minute the temperature dropped below room temperature (try this on a baby who hated wearing socks and mittens)...and on and on it went. In my recovering-from-a-c-section haze, along with the pressure of planning the baptismal party in less than 3 weeks to the day we brought the baby home, I soon developed a way of zoning out (think of your favorite peaceful place and transport yourself there) which soon became a hardened mask to protect me from buckling under the weight of all the advice.

Two years later, I am still getting hit with it, but I've now developed a sense of humor (and this blog) to keep my wits about me.

I've learned that parenting is something which everyone will always have an opinion on. Best of all, I've learned to keep my mouth shut and not argue back and defend my parenting style. After all, Charly is healthy, happy, knows her Matisse from Van Gogh, her Gucci from Hermes, hiphop from jazz, and most of all, loves, loves, loves to read. Pepe and Riggs are her best friends and they have not bitten each other. Despite her guy-sounding name, she is a girly girl who says 'yuck' when handling wet clay. Yet she is also rugged enough to put on her favorite baseball cap backside forward.

The bottom line: we all know our children best. And because no two children are alike, you can only take what you think will work and screen out the rest. And pray, pray, pray.

Yes, I do give mommy advice, but only when asked or when comparing notes.

And yes, I do resist the urge to pat pregnant women's tummies and ask if it's a girl or boy.

The Post That Started the Mommylogues

Since Charly was born in 2006, I have regularly sent out what I called "the Charly diaries" to our close friends, relatives and Charly's godparents. Partly to keep in touch. But mainly as an outlet for my proud mommy moments while trying to make sense of and celebrating the new mommyhood that still continues to amaze me.

When Charly turned two this January, I sent out my usual update. I was surprised at the emotional response I got. Some got teary eyed, others laughed out loud, most told me I should blog.

I always wanted to start one, and now have finally gotten around to it.

To my dear friends who have been a part of Charly's life, and who continue to do so in so many ways, this one is for you - the post that started the mommylogues.


"Last month, Charly turned two.

When people used to ask me how old my baby was I would say 13 months, 15 months, 22 months...now it's a solid number. Two. It sounds like a little kid. And, indeed, that's what she is. A little kid. To me, she's the cutest, most sensitive, smartest, wittiest little girl I've ever met. And extremely adorable to boot. Hey, I'm her mom :)

The past 2 years have just flown by. When she could barely support her head I used to dream of the day she could walk...then before I knew it she was crawling! Then I didn't want her to start walking...I knew the days of hugging a baby that didn't want to jump around would be limited.
All too soon, they were over. Soon, she started toddling. Before I knew it, she was walking in the mall holding my hand and shopping with me.
Not too long after that, she knew how to walk to Fully Booked once we got to the 4th level of Powerplant running like a maniac to the children's books section. One time, she ran off while I was at Our Home and made a beeline for BioResearch pet shop (much like her dad, she loves all kinds of animals and fish).

Before she turned 2, she couldn't sleep on her own. She had to be either rocked or patted. Just into the new year, she started saying 'sleep' and walked to her room and lay down on her own, even if David or I were not with her. Yes, she still wants to be cuddled and there are times she insists I make her my live teddy bear and hug her to sleep, but she is now also big girl enough to sleep on her own, in her own room. In a bed, not a crib. She outgrew her crib shortly after she turned one year old.

She sings. A lot. I can't believe I now know each word to the theme song of Thomas & Friends. Not only that I have sung it more than a dozen times in a row, just because she likes to sing the refrain with me. She can't pronounce a good "r" so it ends up sounds like "Thomas and his fwweeendss". But yes, I sing with her. David too. To think that in the past, we never would have been caught singing at karaoke when sober. Now we have a repertoire of Disney Playhouse songs that spans Thomas, Jojo and even Sagwa.

She's a lefty. And incredibly creative. We bought her a series of mini masters board books (each one featuring an impressionist painter). It still blows my mind when she grabs one of the books and says 'matisse, matisse'...she can recognize paintings now. She will tell you if the painting is a matisse, van gogh, monet, or degas. Down to seurrat, cassat, and renoir. Maybe a visit to the Louvre or the Musee Orsay is now in order :)

Thanks to David, she loves insects and bugs and isnt grossed out on them the way I am. She even knows a yellow jacket from a wasp.

On her 2nd birthday, we took her to see Disney on Ice. I expected some howling or being bored. She was totally engrossed and really loved seeing all the Disney characters!

Everytime I leave home, it breaks my heart to see her lower lip jutt out in a pout. I wake up at least half hour early in the mornings just to catch her waking up.

Which brings me to an epiphany now :) Just as Charly has grown and changed, so have we. I used to think you could prepare for parenthood, in truth it happens in a flash and without warning your life does an amazing 180 degree turn. Yes, it's true new moms are sleep deprived, sometimes seemingly robbed of short-term memory, extremely challenged in keeping their clothes neat (ever tried carrying a baby who is trying to jump down, demanding for her milk bottle, while juggling a diaper bag on one hip? Huh. Let's see you keep your shirts unrumpled :), are ever rarely on time or make it to all their social commitments (hard to make it to that all girls coffee date on time when you are on your way out and the baby has just pooed), and yes miss their friends a great deal because even if we've morphed into mom, we are still after all the same person despite the extra pounds and lack of makeup :)What being a mom - and I don't mean just giving birth to a baby - teaches you is the most amazing of all discoveries. That love is in the little moments, that you shouldn't sweat the small stuff because what is in front of you is the biggest, most amazing thing that you could ever experience. Sleep deprivation used to drive me crazy, cranky and just not myself. Now, hell who cares if I've slept only 3 hours in a night or that I've waken up for the nth time because of bad baby dreams...all it takes is for Charly to pat my cheek with her little hand and give me a kiss and go back to sleep (snoring, most times) and I see the person I have changed into. Someone more patient, a total sucker for my baby :)And incredibly, mom in every sense of the word :)

I never ever thought I'd be 'mom'.

It's been 2 years and I've loved every moment of it.

To all of you who have shared with me in bringing up Charly from little baby to little girl, I love you guys. Thank you for sharing in Charly's growing up, and indeed in my changing into 'mom' :)

God bless you all."

David and Liz
January 19, 2008