Facepalm

I know, my love. Sometimes it feels better to just cover your face with your palms, tell the world you can’t watch, not surface again until things are less gloomy.

Unfortunately, you won’t always have that luxury. You will realize that more and more as you grow up. So during those facepalm moments, sing this song to yourself, ok?

If the struggle you’re facing
Is slowly replacing the hope with despair
Or the process is long
And you’re losing your song in the night
You can be sure that the Lord has His hand on you
Safe and secure, he will never abandon you
You are his treasure

And He finds His pleasure in you

A love letter to Mito

Do you have any idea how sweet your smile is, my beloved? You melt my heart with even just a sliver of it. Sometimes, when I’m busy with something else, and you’re playing, and then you catch me looking at you, you smile at me with such reassurance, as though to calm my guilt at not spending my every waking moment with you. You are such an angel, Mito.

Every day, we go off to work and you smile at us before we leave. You accept that we do what we need to do, and you don’t begrudge us that. When we get home at night, you grace us again with your smile, and you show your excitement that we can spend time again together. What did we ever do to deserve you, anak?

I am sorry that we don’t have a perfect family, Mito. Your father and I are adults, we mess things up. But you, you are innocence. And forgiveness. And love personified. You convict us of our selfishness, you make it possible for us to go beyond ourselves and do whatever is best for you.

My prayer is for you to always be healthy, always be safe. Don’t let our faults harm you, my son. Don’t let our failures drag you down. You are so much more than your father and myself, combined. You are the favor, the blessing, the responsibility God gave to us.

We love you, Mito. We will be eternally grateful for you, and to you.

A day in Mito's life

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if people remember their first year of life. Would we make statements like:

“Oh yes, I remember I started playing peek-a-boo at 6 months! That was tricky, I tell you. But it taught me about object permanence.”

or

“Dust tasted like old chicken, and the remote tasted like fish. The floor was okay, although its aroma packed a punch whenever it’s newly disinfected.”

I think it would be amazing to hear what goes on in the minds of babies. What can they be processing minute by minute? How exhausting must it be to learn about the world?

Mito is at the stage when he’s unbelievably active and curious about everything around him. He’s a whirlwind of activity. Sometimes he wakes up before 4:00 a.m. and starts playing already, and no amount of begging or even pretend sleep on my part deters him from whatever has caught his interest. He can get so engrossed in whatever he’s doing, so determined on a goal, (say, reaching the night light, or tasting the seat bottom of his daddy’s computer chair) that no matter what obstacles we put in his path, he’ll barrel through that.

And then there are times when, right in the middle of an activity, he powers off. Like right here in this picture. One second he’s honking the horn, mouthing the key, pounding on every little knob on his walker. And then the next second, he’s slumped, asleep.

I sometimes lose energy following him around, but I will never tire of watching my little boy grow up.

You are worried about seeing him spend his early years doing nothing. What! Is it nothing to be happy? Nothing to skip, play and run around all day long? Never in his life will he be so busy again. ~Rousseau

Lessons from Mito #1

I envy the way Mito behaves every morning.

When Mito gets to that point each morning in between sleep and wakefulness – when he’s not fully awake yet, and yet he can’t really sleep anymore – he gets cranky. He rolls over a lot, restless and whining. He crumples his face, shuts his eyes really tight, scratches his head. It’s like he’s letting me know that he’s not pleased at his current state.

I mentioned this to my sister-in-law before; I said I don’t understand why Mito has to be cranky just because he’s about to wake up. She replied, “aren’t we all?” And I had an “oo nga, ano!” moment. I realized I’m cranky too when I am roused from sleep and I don’t want to get up yet, only I don’t show the same fuss as a baby because I am not (supposed to be) a baby anymore. I wonder, though: if I were able to let out my frustration at having to get up when I don’t want to yet, would I feel better after?

After a few minutes of fussing, Mito usually rolls over and lifts his head. He will then see me, and he will notice that it’s light inside the room. And then just like that, all the fussing will immediately stop, and he will give me his sweet smile and he will start exploring his surroundings again – tasting the blankets, trying to stand on the pillows, pounding on the bed’s headboard. It’s as if he’s embracing the new day with wonder. And I sigh and think, if only my day can be as exciting as his. Or if only I can have the same sense of excitement that he has.

Hay my little boy, you’re teaching me so much.

Not so fast, please, Mito

Mito’s growing up so fast! I see him everyday, and I still recognize him as the boy with the big cheeks that I gave birth to almost 8 months ago. But when I look at his pictures, I am amazed at how little he was before, and how big he is now.

This is 2-day old Mito in his Daddy’s arms. He looks so delicate and fragile. Moks was very cautious whenever he carried him.

Look at him now! His Daddy carries him like a log! And my little crazy boy loves it!

Great job growing up, my sweetie. But don’t grow too old for Mommy’s hugs and kisses so soon, ok?

Mito's Name

In a previous post, I referred to my then unborn son as “Ira”, which should have been short for Israel. Well, obviously, that flew out the window. I can’t pinpoint exactly when we decided to drop that name – I guess we were never really sold on it anyway. I just liked it at first because it sounded close enough to Ayla, my favorite name and the name I would have given my baby if it turned out to be a girl.

We went through a long list of names before we finally decided on what to give our baby. I remember Joaquin, Markus, Benjamin. I remember several sheets of post-its and a few pages of my organizer filled with names and their meanings. I remember nights when, over the dinner table or right before sleeping, I would present the names to Moks and we would discuss which ones to drop immediately, and which ones to set aside for later consideration. I remember fights when Moks would veto a name I liked, and he would say that it is his right as the father to name the baby, and I would cry. We had a particularly nasty fight when he suggested naming the baby Briasir, or something else monster-like, and I was just so frustrated at him - and him at me – that we just stopped talking for the rest of the day. In my head, I was seething at how stubborn he is, and I rehearsed angry lines to say to him – accusations about how he didn’t love the baby, because if he did, why the heck would he give him a name that he will hate forever?! And then I would go online again and I would spend a few more hours browsing new baby names websites. Oh, it was a long and painful process for me.

Then one afternoon, we were eating and I was just going through the alphabet, conjuring up names – basically, just thinking out loud, as I so often do – and then I said, “Miro.” Moks suddenly looked up from his plate, eyes interested, and said, “Mito, yeah, Mito.”

I didn’t immediately agree to that name, but then Moks never really bothered to solicit my agreement. It was evident in him when he said the name Mito and he realized that it’s the Filipino word for myths, legends, stories. He loved it, and its meaning. He knew he found his son’s name, and he knew that I would just have to accept it.

Which I did, eventually.

Now, looking at my baby, at his chinky eyes that look so much like my father’s, I can’t help but think that his name is really perfect for him. And I love it. I love Mito.

Life is beautiful

Out of sheer exhaustion at work and a serious need for something to read other than contracts, I remembered this blog.

It’s funny to be reminded about how scared I was – how utterly clueless – about what will happen when I give birth. And now, almost 7 months after, I can only exclaim:

LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL.

Yes, I am now blessed with an amazing, sweet, smiling little boy who just fills my heart with so much joy. And despite the difficulties of mothering for the first time – and it is difficult – I found that it’s just so worth it.

It’s worth it to wake up 5 times every night to nurse my baby, thankful that we can have these moments, this bond.

It’s worth it to have to clean up his poop several times a day, with each one being my assurance that he’s fine and he’s healthy.

It’s worth it to ache all over after a long day out, with him almost constantly in my arms.

It’s worth it to wait and watch and applaud the littlest developments in his simple, happy, busy life.

Life with a little boy is a wellspring of stories. So I am deciding to revive this blog, but with a make-over first. Because see, the old line just doesn’t suit anymore. I’m still as clueless as ever, but I’m no longer rambling. I’m now a happy mommy cruising along – at times scared, confused, harassed, but still in each and every time, amazed and thankful – and enjoying every single minute with my boy.