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.