massive relocation

One of the online tasks I hope to accomplish before the summer ends is the relocation or transfer of my blog entries from my other site which, I fear, is in danger of extinction, to this site. A great many very personal stuff had been stored there and which I spared this site for the squalid nature of those posts. But I guess there is something about squalor that makes for interesting read. If anything, it is something to watch for.

shopping delight

Shopping is a great source of delight. Yesterday afternoon after we had encashed the Google check with Optimum Traders Love, Dewey and myself drove to Cang's Inc. to buy some curtains but ended up forgetting to buy them. We were so engrossed in choosing and fitting clothes that we forgot what we came there for. We only remembered it on the way back home. It sounds funny but this is the second time that this happened. The last time was about a year ago when we decided to buy some plastic flower pots. So we went to Super Lee for that purpose but wound up buying a lot of other stuff except flower pots. We remembered them only when we reached home. Shopping is fun but when we are immersed in it, oftentimes we miss the most important things to buy. As a result of that impulsive shopping expedition, here's what we got for ourselves: Dewey got a pair of pink step-ins, a cool blue dress, a toy, and some knickers. Love got herself some new set of panties, four maternity dresses, and a pair of white flat shoes. For myself, I got a light brown Secosana bag , a pair of sandals to match it, and a couple of undies. No curtains. While driving home, Love asked me if I was able to get some curtains. I said no, was she? No, she hadn't either.

sad, sad music

Last night as I was working on my discussions at Mylot and doing a blog at www.blogchex.com/everydaywear/ I was filled with so much sadness when the radio played one very touching and painful song, "Somewhere In Time". The music just brought in a flood of memories from lost youth and suddenly I realized the depth of loneliness this music creates each time I hear it. I used "Somewhere in Time" as background music to a radio program I used to have many years back and it was partly because of what the music did to my feelings which made me effectively deliver each life's story with great success. It was a radio program with DYWC entitled "Kini And akong Kaagi" where I used Inday Tess as radio name. Today, the music still succeeds in wringing my heart and bringing back memories that happened at a time and place so far away.

Naughty

Naughty was the name we gave to the first pet my two kids had. I had always been a dog-lover since I was a kid myself but when I had my own children I knew that having a pet dog would have several complications. So we did not have any pets at all until one day we heard the cries of a puppy somewhere near the house. The househelp said it came from the vacant area nearby and it was from a cute white puppy which was obviously abandoned by whoever it was that owned it. My two children and I went to the place where we saw a white and very cute puppy which seemed very lost. The abandoned puppy wagged its tail when I tried to whistle for it. However, thoughts of the complications of having one dog in the house made me decide against it but my kids wouldn't hear of it most especially when the puppy followed us. That was when I consented and adopted the puppy which was female, probably the reason why it was thrown away by its owner. We named her Naughty because she had been quite playful who destroyed many of our things. Naughty soon gave us more puppies than we could handle. Her first batch of litters consisted of nine healthy puppie of different colors: black, brown, white, spotted, striped. She delivered them inside the house and we even assisted her for she wanted us to be there when she delivered them one by one. That experience was followed by many more deliveries for even when she was already old, Naughty continued to bring forth more and more puppies.

Menopause

Most women are frightened of the idea of menopause because it brings with it a lot of unwelcome signs of aging, ill health, infertility, etc. According to those who have reached this phenomenon in their lives, menopause results to many mysterious illnesses ranging from headaches, hot flushes, muscle pains, itchiness, moodiness and the likes. However, there are some women who don't give a hoot about menopause and I am one of them. For me, I don't care. It is bound to come, so what? At 52, I must be on my menopausal stage now. I am not sure because I never have given this much thought until today. It struck me suddenly that I have not been entertaining my "monthly visitor" for many years now. Yes, and I mean many years for I had stopped buying sanitary napkins for a long, long time now. It just stopped without much ado. I could not even remember when it stopped coming. I do not have an OB-Gyne that I go to for monthly check up. I met my sister's OB-Gyne one day (she is also my acquaintance) and I just asked her opinion about some nagging pains I felt somewhere below the stomach and she retorted, "See me at my clinic so I can also make money." Ha,ha, ha. You bet I didn't show up at her clinic. I only did some water therapy and the pain just disappeared. You see, doctors have a way of giving labels to everything you feel. They give you illnesses in other words. At the moment I leave everything to Him. As I said in one of my posts, I have been confined in the hospital only twice during my two deliveries and I know that there is really someone greater who is taking care of us. Yes, I must have reached my menopause sans the headaches, itchiness, etc. My fertile days are over and I am not crying for they left without even saying goodlbye.

Jesus

That's the name of my father---Jesus. But my father wasn't the son of God. In fact, he was one of the most unique fathers I've ever known. For one, he was the homemaker, the one who did the marketing and cooking for the family while my mother pedalled the sewing machine to support the family's needs. Indeed, ours was truly a unique family for it was my mother who earned the daily bread and it was my father who prepared our food. When my father was young, he used to be a drunkard and a chain smoker. He had gotten out of the first bad habit late in life but the smoking continued until he died at 72. But we all loved him although he had his bad side like his habit of picking fights with some neighbors. He was not afraid of anything. He was fierce and was always ready to start a fight with anyone who'd hurt or harm us. Ironically, he never hurt any member of the family. In fact he was always my mother's "errand man", never complaining, always aiming to please her. My friends and classmates would always compliment my father's good looks. He was a very handsome man who could sing like a pro while my mother was just a simple woman who could only carry a simple tune. They were an "odd" couple that was why nanay's sisters never approved of their relationship for they knew that my mother was just swept off by his good looks. He must have seen my mother's inner beauty for him to leave his first wife with whom he had eight children in order to be with my mother until he died.

hospitals

I hate hospitals because my associations with them are all painful. Believe me, I only got confined in hospitals twice----when I delivered my two babies. After those times however, hospital trips became frequent---for consultation, immunizations, treatment, etc. The first time my first child was confined in the hospital was like nightmare. I must have been six to seven months pregnant of my second child at that time when my first one was having lbm and was vomiting and I did not know how serious that could get. It was my landlady who told me that dehydration could be a very dangerous consequence of lbm. Nervous to the point of breakdown, I scooped the child and took the first pedicab I saw. Dressed only in my old and tattered house dress I must have looked likeI have escaped from a nut house but I did not care about that. I was in a state of panic especially when a nurse started taking his measurements while he was lain on the examination table. Why was she doing that? Why were they not giving any medicines yet when they could see that the child was already weak and limp from vomiting? At that time when I was very scared the nurses were acting like nothing was happening and were drilling me with questions like "what did he eat?" "How many times did he make poo-poo?" I mean, how would I know the exact number of times? I did not even know that I was supposed to make a tally of this. At that moment while I waited for these people to give some medication to my sick son, it seemed like all the questions they were asking were irrelevant----the correct spelling of my family name, my address, where I worked, etc. For a scared mother like me, the questions sounded like, "What is your son's favorite color?" "Who is his favorite actress?" "What is his ambition in life?" "What is his motto in life?" They all sounded so stupid for asking those questions when they were supposed to give him treatment. He was confined on the 2nd floor and while there I expected that he would finally be given his medication but no, another nurse, a student nurse obviously, came in to ask me the same questions they had asked on the first floor! I mean, who wouldn't lose control? I said, didn't they give duplicates to all those who are interested of the answers to the same questions? My son needed treatment! That made the young nurse rush out of the room to tell those people there that I was angry.

giving birth Part II

Of course I did not die during my first delivery. If I did I wouldn't be able to post this. However, that initial experience at childbirth caused some amount of "fear" in me that I vowed never to have another one again. But fate just wins all the time and before I knew it I was already expecting another baby. I just had to accept everything as part of life. Unlike my first delivery which was in a private hospital for CDCP Mining employees, my second one happened in a public or government hospital. This time it was my mother who showed me how to make real successful "utong" for a successful and faster issue. I could still remember her face acting out, grimacing and holding her breath for a long, long time showing me how I could cheat by breathing for a sec and immediately pushing right after. I did just that and delivered my second baby after only two "utongs".

giving birth

One of the most harrowing but unforgettable experiences I had was giving birth to my two children. The first one was particularly difficult. I could remember vividly on September 16, 1983 that I was in my last morning class when I started to feel some pains around my stomach. I did not expect to give birth yet for my sister told me before this that I would experience terrible pains when I was going to deliver the baby. At that time the pain was just bearable so I thought it could only be some gas. I still did the cooking for lunch bearing the pain when I remembered what the doctor said on my last visit-- to see her when I felt any pain. So my husband and I headed to the hospital right after lunch. I told the nurse that I was there for check up because I was feeling some pain. The nurse pointed to a door marked "Delivery Room" so I said, "I am not here to deliver a baby. I am here for a check up." But she still motioned me to the delivery room. My heart began to beat wildly for I was not prepared to deliver a baby at that moment. My thoughts were negative, that I was not going to make it, that I was going to die. I cried like I've never cried before because I was so afraid at that time. As I stepped into that room, I was given a hospital gown and a pair of sanitized slippers. I could not believe it! I was going to have a baby and I did not know if I was going to make it or not. Stories had been told about how giving birth could cost the life of a woman. It is a woman's ultimate test of endurance and I knew that a woman so thin like myself at that time has little chances of surviving this test of tests.In the labor room I was instructed to do as I wished---lie down, stand up, whatever while experiencing labor pains. So I asked, "Isn't there any way of alleviating the pain?" The pain had progressed into unbearable level. It was only around 3:00 in the afternoon and the doctor said that I was going to have the baby middle of the night yet. Imagine having to bear the pain from three 0'clock until midnight. However, things have moved faster for at around 4:00 I felt something "burst" in where the baby was supposed to come out. So I called the nurse who immediately transferred me to the delivery room where I was shaved and prepared for the delivery. The doctor had to be recalled for I was going to have the baby at that moment and not at midnight. Then the ordeal began.A young nurse, obviously fresh from college and single, was giving me instructions as to how I was going to hold my breath and push when the time came. I did exactly as instructed but the progress was next to nothing. I could not push the baby out. Nurses were helping me by encouraging me to push. At eight 0'clock in the evening they became worried for I was supposed to deliver the baby already. The hospital at CDCP Mining in Basay did not have any equipment for a caesarian delivery so the doctor decided to cut me and pull the baby out. I closed my eyes when the doctor told me that she had given me local anesthesia so she could start cutting me there. I closed my eyes and said, "This is it. I am now going to die."

acceptance

Years back, growing old was such a painful thought. I had to do a lot of lying regarding my age. I would take off five to 8 years from my age because "old" seemed to be an embarrassing thing in the past. However, after meeting and talking with a lot of "seniors" especially on the net, I have come to terms with the reality of my age. Now I can say my real age without any guilt because I am now able to accept the fact that I am already 52 years old. Some people say I look younger anyway, so that should be a bit of a consolaltion. And probably my having my first and only granddaughter who is now four years old has a lot to do with this. I am 52 and a grandma. But my granddaughter calls me mommy. Her real mommy, my daughter, fell in love at the wrong time with the wrong person. She got pregnant at 16 and became a mother at 17. Because of her tender age, I had to play a major task in raising the baby. All these and the things that are happening now are accepted as part of life and I am thanking our Creator for all the things He had given me and my family.

frustrated ballerina

I know that I would have been a very good choreographer now, teaching others how to dance instead of teaching Literature, had my late mother supported my desire to enrol at a ballet school when I was a young girl of 10. All my friends , neighbors and playmates were enrolled at a nearby ballet school where I would watch and wait outside instead of learn the steps with them because my mother wouldn't hear me. I'd been pleading on the verge of tears that I would like to enrol but she wanted none of it, said that it would only forcibly stretch and destroy our fragile bodies. Looking back now, I think I was very pathetic for I was dying to dance with them as I watched their practices everyday. At home, I would lock myself in a room and follow or imitate all their moves. I watched all their concerts even if I had to go alone. And after each concert I would try to do the dances by myself even if it was in the middle of the night. Oh, how I loved ballet then. I still love to dance and can already afford to go to a ballet school but I am too old for that. I guess I will forever remain a frustrated ballerina for I never got to wear those tutus and dancing shoes.