New Place

This blog has been moved to a new home.

For more of us, you may also visit us at Makimeji or Verb.

Wordless Wednesday: Too Sociable

Don't walk out on me - yet

The other day, my son succeeded in getting himself into his shoes. All by himself. The only problem was, he got the pair interchanged -the right shoe to the left and vice versa.

Soon he'll be walking out of that door. All by himself. But for now I got to hold on the fact that he's still my baby. Even at 2.

Wordless Wednesday: His First Invention

Do you know what this is? Check story here.

Why I Decide To Make The Big Switch

Why am I insisting on a no-bottle affair with Matt? BECAUSE.

Obviously, he's got a very voracious-like-Mama healthy appetite. He eats rice, yes. And loves soup.

And eats fruits and vegetables. He can even be demanding when it comes to eating his meals.



He drinks his milk religiously.

This was what his actual dinner composition last Saturday. AND he's improved. He can fairly manage eating now. It gets a little messy, and I have to remind him to not play with his food (and be with him to make sure he won't hurt himself or drop the china or something like that)- but it's a great improvement.

Cup-feeding Progress

It's been a week from when I started to use a mug to serve Matt's choco milk and I'm not sure if I can call it progress. But I've kept tabs of it so I can establish a pattern.

Day 1.

Successful. Drinks all served from the mug or cup. Clap, clap, clap!

Day 2.

Not-so successful. In the morning, my mother resorted to bottle feeding much to my dismay. Just once, she said because Matt demanded for a bottle and so she gave him one. I was utterly disappointed.

As if to let me into Nanay's (my mother) dilemma in the morning while I was working, that night, Matt cried and cried and asked for his bottle. What can I do?

Day 3.

Partially successful. Before working, I left my mother specific orders requests (wink!) to not indulge in his Bottle romance. And it worked. Drinks in the morning were all served from the mug/cup. 1 bottle at night.

Day 4.

Successful. Drinks were all served from the mug or cup. I wish everyday's like this, but no hurry we'll get there soon.

Day 5.

Partially successful. Drinks in the morning were all served from the mug or cup. 1 bottle at night

Day 6.

Successful. Drinks were all served from the mug or cup.

Day 7.

Partially successful. Drinks, in the morning, all served from the mug or cup. 1 bottle at night

Suck No More

He's right. Matt.

For 24H, he didn't have a suck with his bottle. He's been using a mug. Like tatay's.

I actually planned to wean Matt before he turned 2, but my husband and mother was so against it. From their point of view, it's as if I am depriving Matt of some comfort. So I let him hold on the bottle.

Not until few days ago. I felt a little guilty. But it's for his own good and I don't think he'll miss it. He's ready for a change.

At 25 months, he is all ready.

Like Father, Like Son

Today

Matt's writing here.

Today, I drank choco milk from a mug. No bottle for me today, said Mother. She said I'm a big boy now but I think she's hiding the fact that some thief stole my bottles. Oh my precious Pigeon bottles. But then, she even gave me the privelege to stir my chocolate so it makes up for all her lame reasons. I know I looked cool like Tatay, stirring my chocolate and sipping from the mug like that.

Today, I drove my mother to the brink of insanity when I bumped my head on the wall. I really believed she lost her mind when she applied some ice on my head. I know she hates it when I carelessly run around like I always do but I didn't know she wants to freeze my brain?

Today, I broke the lid of the sugar container. Nanay was mad, my mother kept her cool but I know she's seething inside. What's the fuss? They should be happy it's just the lid! For goodness' sake, I was only inspecting it and making sure that it's breakable like the honey bottle (I broke before).

Today, I was singing He (Jesus) Holds My Hands with Nanay. In my peripheral vision, for a second, I saw my mother getting misty-eyed but she easily camouflaged the look with her winning smile. I wondered what's gotten into her.

Today, I ate a lot. I've been wondering why mother's suddenly feeding me like there's no tomorrow that I completely forgot about my stolen Pigeon bottles. And this choco-milk she's giving me just tastes so good.

Today, I was having a blast with my mother. She's really silly. And crazy. I wished Papa could see him when she's like this. And yes, I miss Papa - oh how I missed Papa. We called him on the phone but the calls were a poor substitute. I kept on asking mother, Abot na taxi (with) Papa? (Has Papa arrived in a taxi?), half-expecting that she'd say YES but father didn't came home that night.

Mother- she's asleep now. She didn't know I'm typing this. She must have unwittingly fallen asleep thinking I'm asleep already. But that's not unusal - she always does. Gotta scram before she finds out screams like a madwoman.

Magic To Him

Early on, my sister and I had decided not to set up lights - on the tree or around our house. Not this year.

Truth is, after the highly circulated Christmas (light)-related accident last year, I felt unease creeping on in me everytime I think of the setting up the Christmas lights - which had caused the big fire that cost the life of the daughter of a prominent politician.

I felt safer -and comfortable with our decision.

But early this month my cousin gave us a couple of Christmas (light) Globes after seeing Matt's fascination with their globe lights. So okay, I reckoned that a couple of this will not hurt us and asked my brother, before he left for Korea, to set up the whole thing.

To my surprise, when I came home one afternoon, not only did he install the Globes but some of our lights from last year. I was planning on letting him know about my concern but before I could do that, my son seeing the lights all lighted said, "Wow! Blinking lights!" with the fervor only a child can muster.

Matt actually says that everytime we flick on our Christmas lights. All the time, he sounds as if he's just seen the lights for the first time. It's funny. But everytime I hear him say that, I have to silently thank my brother for all his effort - and my cousin who sent the Globes.

Wonder No More

My son - he just loves to sing. Nursery songs. Not-so kiddie songs that he'd hear around. Even songs in our dialect that my parents are teaching him, he's been trying to learn and sing them with all the effort of a two-year old.

And there are songs that he can finish til the last note and last word to the lyrics. Most are nursery songs. ABCs, You Are My Sunshine... and more. But for awhile there, I just wondered why he keeps on skipping a line of the Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. There's just this one line that he misses singing -despite all our my mother's effort.

One time, while talking to his Papa over the phone, Matt asked him his "generic" request that he says every time he's on the singing mood. "Sing (song), Papa please." That time it was the Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

What's a father got to do but to comply. So over the phone, my hub sang -and because the phone was in loudspeaker mode, I heard my hub sing, too. He didn't have the voice but that's fine I’m use to that and Matt will get used to that . What's not fine to me though was the fact that he missed a line - and it was the very same line Matt keeps on skipping!

Saying At The Right Time

(I'm) Sorry. I love you. Please. Excuse me. Thank you. He's learning to say them at the right time. Matt really is becoming better at it - everyday. I mean, his timing is much improved. And I really couldn't complain.

Except with the I love you. He's saying it rather too well at times that I can't help but think he's doing a gentle maneuver with my heart.

To involve him is to teach him

To involve him is to teach him. I gather that I couldn't just show him, or tell him or describe to him what I'm doing, I have to involve him.

So lately I've been asking my son to hand me a pillow or two, a blanket whenever I tidy our bed. He's really catching up fast and is good at following instructions lately. And I'm just so glad at this big improvement.

One time, I asked him to return the clothes he pulled from my cabinet and he willingly did. Slipshoddily, though.

***

When before I'd only request his help in throwing a soiled diaper (not poopy diapers though; anyway, he just loves throwing diapers) in the garbage bin, now I am involving him with other tasks like returning his toys or his books before we leave the room. He still cannot put them in proper order but at least he's learning to return them to their places. Some might think it's too early. Maybe. But I'd like to start early with him.

No Sense Of Time Yet

Yesterday. The other day. Last night. Last Monday. Although he know how to verbalize these, I can say that Matt doesn't grasp the concept of these yet.

Like this morning, when we sent my brother off to Manila (for a connecting flight to SoKor), Matt bade him goodbye.

"Go-bye. Ba-bye, Tito Boyet."

"See you later."

I know he was only imitating something he often hears without knowing its full meaning.

Extra Pair Of Hands - Soon!

Last Sunday, being my day-off, I was driven crazy with my son the whole day. The sight of our room alone, in total disarray, would do that.

We just finished reading and I thought it would be wonderful if someone or he himself takes care of his mess I requested for him to “return his books,” which were strewn on the floor along with his toys and what-not. If only he’d do as I told him. I would really love for him to do that but I, knowing only too well that he would either ignore my request or he could put the books back in place, only to make twice as much mess of them moments later, didn’t allow myself to expect him to do that. Aahh, frustrating. I am just too well-acquainted with the pitfalls of expecting.

After a glance to my direction, he mumbled “return” and then he started to pick up his books and “returned” them on the spot (under a re-used center table) where he got them. When he was done, he gave them a cursory final glance, looked at me and said “thank you” playfully. Not only that, he left the books untouched after returning them somewhat carelessly under the table. Yes he did (and I will not complain about how he arranged them because he's only 24-months old).

Monday, we went through the same motions again with the same positive result. I just couldn't help beaming like a cat after a good feeding.

I really can't wait for the time when I can request him to take care of the laundry.

Newest Ray-Ban Model!

New Poster

Replaced Matt's old stuff with this and another poster. It looks much better and more attractive to my son.

Good morning!

This morning, we were in my sister's room and I showed my son the ABCs at Starfall. He loved it (thanks Melissa!) and was fascinated with the helicopter at Letter H. He kept on telling me "helicopter again." So our ABC activity early this morning was like moving one letter forward and then going back to letter H.

After we wrapped up, I was checking things in the Internet and let Matt "explore" my sister's room (where we dumped all our not kid friendly stuff). At one point he was exploring the CD ROM and kept pressing the open/close button - he is always entertained with this mechanism (in DVD/VCD players). It was while he was "exploring" that he inadvertently got an 8-mm mini CD stuck inside because he inserted it all the way through the ROM. So at early morning today, armed with a screwdriver and hair still unkempt, I found myself tinkering with our PC.

BTW, yesterday, he peed on a pile of CDs! I'm really such a good mom (smirk) that I left him touching things -and pulling some in the process. There was already a good pile of CDs on the floor and he peed on these. I had wondered what kept him quiet while I was composing an email and moments later found out the reason. :D

Shoes

Monster Moment

Screaming. I read somewhere that kids would adjust and adapt to it and you end up having kids that is so used to your usual shouting and they won’t budge unless they hear you raising your voice octaves higher. Or worse, they get too used to your habitual shouting that they develop deaf ears to your requests.

With that, I find myself always trying my best not to raise my voice. Not to shout, no matter how bad I feel. But let’s face it, there really are times when one is too frayed at the edges and unwittingly does that. Me, I mess up and do that at times. But it doesn't really excuse the act.

The first time I shouted at my son, I cried silent tears. No kidding. I cried because I saw fear and shock register on his face, not to mention the copious tears in his eyes. Fear is the last thing I want my son to feel towards me. I cried because I was frustrated at someone who should have known better and who should have let patience run a mile longer. Instead, I failed to control myself and allowed my emotions to run ahead of me. I felt so wretched at failing and letting someone pay for my unbridled emotions.

****

And again, here is an antithesis to something I wrote few days back, a tale from someone who is trying not to resort to spanking. Not positive, but it's a tale of truth (and reality) of my life as a mother.

Coming home from the night shift, I found myself sitting in front of Matt's cabinet at so early in the morning. I was folding the pile of clothing that he had lovingly strewn all around our room. Sleep-deprived, I had wanted to return the room in a semblance of order as fast as I could.

Plak! The door of a cabinet connected to my face, at the upper left side of my cheekbone, a millimeter away from my eyes. Caught by surprise at its impact, I recoiled and instinctively brought my hand to my face where a sting was beginning to spread. I was shocked. When I turned my head upward, I saw him - the culprit of this banging. Irritation, surprise, pain – I’m still not sure what but I screamed and shot my hand, grabbing his foot and giving it a spank.

I over-reacted and I was too flustered at my reaction I had to walk out of that door because I couldn't trust myself if I stayed with him a moment longer. Was it shock that registered in his face as he stared at me with tears streaming down his face? He looked so scared and was still crying “Mama, mama” when I walked out that door. Bad Mama, that I was. I felt horrible, and that's could be an understatement. But of course, who wouldn't? There's just no excuse that could justify what I did. No excuse, and I felt all the more awful knowing this.

I had apologized to my son (and he had given me his sorry) but I still haven’t forgiven myself for doing what I did.