Starting Fresh (After 14 Years)

July 29, 2013:

I just read this post from a blog I follow:

No one is going to fall in to my lap while I am sitting at home though! Time to come out of the cocoon. Take a risk, probably have a few panic attacks and go meet people on my own.  Just thinking about it makes me nervous.  But time to just do it.

I so wish I can do this in a snap. Just go out and do it. Ugh, now I sound like an endorser.

The how of dating again, after a looooooong time, is a frightful thought. How does one go back to dating, after being married and separated, after having children, after struggling to get up and get on with life. Scary. Frightening.

Fraught with thoughts of rejection and unrequited love, of trying again, I suddenly laugh at myself for being silly. Who would reject me when I haven’t even met anyone nor put myself in any situation where I am likely to meet someone.

So now that the second half of the year is about to start, I figured it is not yet too late to get a move on in 2013. How? Let me try and figure this out, do a daily check of what I have done and what I should be doing, and maybe I will be on to something.

For starters, maybe I should take stock of the me now, 11 years after the fateful event in my life. Who is me now? And how does the me now look at life and men?

——- fast forward to today, March 24, 2015

I came across this post I wrote on July 2013 but never got the chance to publish. I may have gotten distracted as was usual. My days are usually one harried blur to the next. Stumbling into this post struck me as very ironic but timely indeed.

Two days ago, my estranged husband was talking to me of annulment and moving on. We have been separated for almost 14 years now but have never taken any steps to legalize the matter. The Philippines, being the last hold out on instituting a divorce law, this is not really very surprising.

His reason, though, is a timeless classic. He wants to marry his new girlfriend. Haha. Not that I am surprised, this being the second time he broached this subject. But I think this time, he means it. As in seriously mean it to actually go through with the whole process.

I said yes, I will cooperate as long as he meets my conditions:

1. the kids will not be required to give testimony
2. I will be a non-appearance
3. he pays for everything
4. he will support the children financially (amount to be agreed on)

Harsh much? I don’t think so. I have really been quite lenient the past 14 years, not demanding anything from him. I almost single-handedly brought up the children with the loving support of my family. But like I have told my dear soon to be ex-husband, it is all in the past now.

About time for all of us to completely move on with our separate lives.

My mother, my hero.

My mother taught me to read even before she taught me to write. I was maybe four or five years old then. I remember her patience in teaching me the alphabet, the vowels and consonants and putting the letters together to form words.

I remember the giant (or so it seemed to a little girl) shelves we had at home, full of books and mags (read: reader’s digest, teacher’s journals) and the countless visual aids and flash cards she painstakingly put together to make learning to read easy for us.

I was already a mother myself in the late 90s when I came across an old book in one of the Book Sale shops I frequent. Printed in 1984 by Dell with a 1983 copyright, I couldn’t put the book down.

What kind of mother would…

…hang up on E.T.?

…tip the tooth fairy?

…wash a measuring cup with soap after it held only water?

A humorous take on motherhood while being perfectly serious about it, I love Motherhood: The Second Oldest Profession by Erma Bombeck. This book reiterates the love of a mother for her children and what she can and will do for them.

 

 

 

 

Whose turn is it to wash the dishes?

dirty dishesThe dinner table is where everything happens in my family. The kids and I go our own ways during the day. As soon as the children go out the front door with their own variations of “bye, mom!”, we are off to our own individual worlds, separate from each other’s – high school, college and work. It is only during dinner that we become a single unit again – a family.

Lately though, our family of four (big sister, only brother, little sister and I), have been trimmed and now, often numbers three only. Big sister gets home too late to join us for dinner. Little sister and brother had to adjust to this considerably huge change in our daily routine,

Though this has been going on for several weeks already, little sister would still ask where big sister is and aren’t we going to wait for her. I think it’s more to do with the fact that the clean up chores are suddenly just divided into two instead of three, the way it has always been. I’d hear them talking and arguing about whose turn is it now and isn’t it big sister’s tonight.

Most of the time I leave them to their arguments, often lasting till the time big sister gets home and would join in the melee. Not that I am encouraging their petty quarrels but because I am secretly enjoying evenings such as these, when I still have a brood under my roost. Soon, my nest would be empty when all of them are off to college and living their own lives, separate from mine.

But why borrow trouble? Soon won’t be here for another two years and I’d do better to enjoy all the chicks and their antics while I still can.

My daughter, the College Girl!

Kye (although she now goes by Kass outside the home), my eldest daughter had just started college, after almost half a year of agonizing (and endless arguments) over what course she will take. She finally decided on BS Food Tech at PUP. No quarrels from my end on that choice. I know of a lot of food techs from PUP who have made good careers in the food industry. Of course, I would have preferred her to study in my dear alma mater (UPD), but alas, it is not to be.

She seems to be enjoying college life despite the commute via the overcrowded PNR (which she really really hates, btw), the fastest and most economical way of getting from Taguig to Sta. Mesa everyday. She came back from her course orientation excited and encouraged and is now looking forward to Freshman Night with all the enthusiasm that a 16 year old has.

I remember when she was just barely four and about to start school. I enrolled her in a private school over the protestations of my sister (a school teacher) and my father (a school principal), encouraged by the above average score she got in the entrance exam. She wore her uniform (a scottish inspired plaid skirt, a beret, black knee socks and the smallest boots we could find) with such pride. She smiled at me in that endearing impish way she had and told me, “I am big girl now, Mommy!”

Fast forward to 12 years later. The cute girl is turning into a beautiful woman. I just hope that she will go through life a little more cautiously than I did and enjoy each stage of womanhood as she deserves to.

Carpe diem, Kassandra!

My (not so little anymore) girl is college bound

My daughter, Kassandra Pearl, is graduating from high school on Sunday (update: graduated March 17). We have not yet reached an agreement on where she will go for her college education. She is hell bent on dentistry while I am trying to sway her into a 4-year BS course (Food Tech, Psych or Bio) or a nursing degree. I would have wanted her to take engineering (ECE or IE) but she says that as she hates Math and Math hates her in return, why bother?  It doesn’t help that there are a lot to choose from and my daughter is so easily influenced by her peers and what she believes is lucrative. (update: she has chosen Food Tech)

I have told her that there are basically just  two reasons in choosing a college major: to prepare for a specific job or to immerse yourself in a subject that interests and excites you. But then, after deciding, these two should be merged and embraced with passion and vigor.

I remember when she was little and would often tag along when I go to work. The fact that I am a Food Tech and have been working a long time in food manufacturing must have influenced her decision a lot. Little do we know that the things we parents do serve as examples and models for our children to emulate.

My little girl may change her mind over the course of four years and opt to become a dentist after all. But knowing that she, at one time, wanted to be just like me, fills my heart to bursting.