On Turning Two

Rafa is turning 2 in January. I'm amazed at his development. He is a smart boy. He learned his ABCs, 123s, colors, and shapes early. I think being hands on helped a lot. Ever since he was a few months old, I would play with him using flashcards and books, every single day. My friends were amused because they felt I was very matiyaga to do this. They would ask me if Rafa would even understand at a very young age. I answer, maybe or maybe not. But there's no harm in trying. Fast forward to a few months after, I'm surprised Rafa has taken a lot of interest in books and flashcards. He doesn't really play with his toys much. He likes playing with his ABCs and numbers more than his toys. It is very evident in all of his flashcards and book as it is well-used; some already tattered and torn. I also noticed he can grasp concepts easily and his memory is very sharp. This has led me to think that early teaching (even just the simple showing of flashcards) indeed plays a big factor. We sometimes take for granted that kids will not understand us, but never underestimate the power of a child's (or a baby's) mind. They say the first four years of a child's life is where they can learn and absorb things fast. That is why we have to take that window of opportunity to teach them, as this will also help shape and form their values later on.

Easy to say right? With so many things to do and errands to run, it is very tempting to just turn on the television or give them the ipad instead. It sounds convenient but it isn't in the long run. Although I admit I also do turn on the tv and give into the ipad occasionally, but only when I really need to do something important. I always make a conscious effort to allot time to teach and guide Rafa when he plays. It took a lot of adjustment for me at first (as it is with everything related to motherhood) since a huge chunk of my time and energy is devoted to him. But it was only when I consciously decided that I was going to prioritize him first above anything else and that, THIS is what matters the most to me that I stopped struggling with everything. It was when I accepted my reality that I cannot conquer the world all at once that I soon began to enjoy motherhood. Perhaps I just need to take a back seat, enjoy, and make the most out of this particular season of my life. Seeing Rafa grow into the boy he is now makes me the happiest and proudest mom. I could not ask for anything more.

Best Thing Ever

Sometimes all we need is a reminder that what we have is an incredible gift. We should not be so intent in counting down the days that we forget to make every moment count. We need to enjoy this journey called motherhood and cherish all the highs and lows that come along with it. Soon our little ones will grow and we can look back, reminisce on the good old days, and proudly say, "I had the best adventure of my life."

10 Ways Having a Toddler is The Best Thing In The Universe
by: SELENA MAE

These toddlers of ours, they seem to get a lot of flack – especially in the blogging world! I can’t excuse myself from this; I’m a part of the “guilty” party.

I mean, the crazy things these small, beautiful children do are funny. Exasperating. Frustrating. Maddening. 

But they are also soul-filling, heart-rendering, earth-shatteringly amazing. As much as I appreciate the community of moms and dads I’ve found online and in real life, those ones who can commiserate with me when I’m haggard and at my wit’s end, I appreciate what my kids do for me even more.

Which, one would hope, is how it should be; that for every tantrum there is tooth-gaping grin and squeaky voice at the end of the day that bestows the best, “I wuv you mama,” that you’ve ever heard. The chubbiest arms that flop and grab at you around your neck to pull you in close, building up your reserves for yet another day in the land of the grand, the bad, and the mighty.

Life with toddlers doesn’t suck nearly as much as life with other adults can. In fact, they can be quite the refreshing reprieve…

1 Cuddles
No one knows how to cuddle so sweetly more than a toddler. That moment when I pick up my girl from daycare, or my guy from school, and a huge smile spreads across their face as they come running at me, melts my heart. Every single time. Rocking them and singing songs is still the best way that I have to get them to go to sleep peacefully as they curl up in my lap or lay their little noggin on my shoulder, curling up into the curve of my neck. It's in these moments where I press my nose into their hair, inhale deeply, and wish for time to stand still. Any stress from the day slowly withers away. That's all it takes. A cuddle session with both or one of them and I'm golden.

2 Only You 
That moment when no one else but me will do. When their arms reach for me and only me. When they shy away from a new person and their little bodies scurry around to the back of my knees, holding on with all their might, and looking up at me for all the answers. All of the reassurance that they need. Those are some mighty fine feel-good moments right there and they happen all the time.

3 Different Perspectives 
Oh, all of the things us adults think we have figured out, or that were SO important before we have kids. Now, I'm not saying that those without children don't really know what life is all about, but one's ideas on what's really important in life does change after having kids. This isn't about parents vs. non-parents. This is about seeing the world, people, and experiences through my child's eyes. I've let go of some of my narcissism, self-doubt, selfishness, and self-entitlement and it's taken a few years for all of that to sink in. Their childlike perspective and necessary demands on my time both have a hand in re-shaping the way I think about things in life. For the better.

4 Appearance 
Admittedly, I have a grand time in dressing my children. Which has nothing to do with the amazingness of their endless curls, silky soft skin, luxurious lashes, or big beautiful eyes. Accessories only put it all over the top. As do their humorous antics, penchant for entertaining, interpretative dance moves, and constant songs on their tongues. In miniature, unabashed form. I love how social, care-free, and creative they are in most all that they do.

5 That Toddler-Speak 
I mean, it's just non-stop entertainment, the things these toddlers say! From unfortunate mispronunciations to silly stories and exaggerated gestures, it truly is a joy watching and listening to their vocabulary, minds and imaginations develop. It happens multiple times a day where one of my children will say something that slays me with adorableness or humour and they don't even realize. Often my partner and I will look at each-other during these times as if to say, "THIS, this right here makes everything worth it."

6 Unconditional Love 
This two way street is the glue. The magic that people hope for in life. No matter what happened that day, this is the look my little ones give me most often, and I to them as well.

7 Discovery 
Watching my childrens' interests develop, watching and fostering their learning as they become more brilliant as each day passes, is the most satisfying, rewarding job I've ever had. 

8 Laughter 
When all else fails a good round of play wrestling, tickling, swinging them up in the air, belly kisses, and general tom foolery of that sort is all we (or they) really need or want. No materials or award winning toys necessary, just them and us. Hearing those little gurgles of laughter, squeaks of joy, and uncontrollable fits of belly laughs are some of the best sounds I hear during my day.

9 Teachers 
What I think I know, I don't. Even when I think I have it all figured out, my kids show me another way, teaching me new lessons every day.

10 Gamers 
Kids can make a game out of anything. A song or a even just a chorus on demand. The world is their personal play-house and nothing will get in their way. It's like they have a direct line to this big, pulsing jackpot of imagination and they have no fear about tapping into it, all the time.

Stage Parenting

Parents are more competitive these days. Kids are put under a lot of pressure to excel early into their childhood. I see parents who endlessly boast of their child’s achievements and make shameless comparisons so they can put their kid on a pedestal. “Look! My kid has learned to walk before his 1st birthday” or “Oh, my kid is more behaved than her”. That kind of thing. The competition is cutthroat among the adults in making sure their child is THE best. While I perfectly understand that some parents are really just happy and proud, sometimes it can be a bit too much. I am a proud parent myself but I am not the type who would openly talk about my kid’s accomplishments unless asked. I would rather let my kid shine on his own without forcing him to “perform”. As much as possible I also stop myself from doing comparisons since a child’s growth and development vary and will ultimately depend on the child. When parents announce their kid’s achievements, I restrain myself not to outcompete them even if it is true. I just agree and let them indulge.

I am making a mental note to myself that I will do the more relaxed type of parenting. Chill parenting as they call it. I will not (and refuse) to be a stage parent. If my kid decides to throw a tantrum in front of everybody or if he decides to run around and not sit still, then so be it. He is a KID after all. I do not need to rush things and make him the perfect model child. Who is anyway? There will be a right time for everything—he will eventually learn, just not now.

Terrible Two's

My little one is about to turn two in a few months. I have been hearing “terrible two’s” stories from friends, and I am already dreading it. I am crossing my fingers we will pass this stage with flying colors. He is generally a good boy but as he grows older and become more acutely aware of his surroundings, he is starting to have a mind of his own. Thus becoming more demanding and makulit. There have been instances where he has cried and stomped his feet when he does not get what he wants. There are also a few times where he would go from being happy one minute then crying and irritable the next. I can still handle it for now, just as long as it will not turn into multiple tantrum episodes.

 It is so easy to put the blame on the “oh, he’s just in the terrible two’s stage” and not do anything. But everything must have a reason right? Toddlers can even barely make up a sentence; so much more express their emotions. Perhaps crying is their only coping mechanism or way of communication when we are unable to understand and give them what they want. It could also be due to all the excitement and stimulation that they get from their surroundings, which can be overwhelming and scary especially for a first timer. Whatever the reason may be, I really need to prepare myself in dealing with a terrible two toddler. My only fear is that I do not want to be caught screaming and disciplining my child in public. That will be a nightmare situation. The question is how do I prepare myself? I am torn whether to go the traditional route of scolding and spanking (which I am a byproduct of and I guess it worked!) or take the more popular choice of being diplomatic with lots of calm, positivity, and peace offerings. I will probably take the middle road depending on the situation. I am also seriously considering sending him to school early (my initial plan was when he turns three) so he learns how to listen and behave. Many have reported significant improvements both in behavior and social skills after sending their child to school. So let’s wait and see.

A Good Read

This is a good read. It is so true. I'm sure all the mothers can relate to this. The author must have read every single thought of every mother in this world. I love going back to this article especially on days when I feel blah (for the lack of word). It's a source of encouragement and reminds me of my true purpose. It takes away my fears and worries, especially knowing that my thoughts (and feelings) are completely sane and normal just like everyone else. It has helped me get back on my feet and appreciate what a precious blessing I indeed have. For all the mothers, this is definitely a must read.

Beautiful Catastrophe: The Death and Rebirth of Becoming Mother

by renegademama

So I was hanging out the other day with a friend who has a newborn. A freaking gorgeous newborn boy, to be exact.

He is her first baby. She has recently become a mother.

You know, when we hear those words we hear them like it’s no big deal -- “become a mother,” like you might “become a doctor” or “become a pet owner.” As if it’s just this thing that happens, without anything else happening -- it’s just this exciting addition to one’s life. You add this new thing and go about your business.

Like a new-home owner, or a resident of a new town.

“A mother.”

But this particular transition comes with a cost. A BIG ONE, yet nobody really talks about it.

And if you do talk about it, you have “postpartum depression.”

I have an idea: Let’s talk about it, right here and right now, and call it nothing other than a human, adult reaction to a giant shift in identity, a presence of mind recognizing the end of an entire chapter of life, a heart mourning the woman that once was, and a soul shaking under the weight of a new giant world.

I’ve talked about it a little before, and in my case I actually DID have postpartum depression, and obviously I’m not trying to say that having these feelings does not indicate PPD (um DUH). What I’m saying is that it seems to me that every woman who becomes a mother, no matter how much she loves her kid or wants to be a mom, will most likely, at some point, mourn the loss of her previous identity.

And it will hurt.

You’re sitting in the house a few weeks after your perfect baby is born. Everybody has gone home. The help is gone. Your husband (or wife) is back at work.

Your belly is still sagging. Your boobs are exploding. You’re bleeding still, maybe, but you’re definitely leaking milk. There are big pools of it on your bed and couch and everywhere. You don’t really sleep, but rather fade in and out of a half-sleep, alongside your baby, checking him every hour, acutely aware of his breath, as if it were a freight train roaring through the room: Do I hear it? Yes, I hear it.

Breathe.

His temperature, his blanket. He stirs and you’re there, boom. Awake. You are infinitely connected. You seem to be melting into this tiny body. He wakes and you stare into his eyes, struck and dumbfounded at his beauty. You coo at him and notice the way he moves his mouth, as if he wants to speak. What will he say?

Someday he will speak. And you know you know him better than everybody else, and always will, and you know when he’s sleeping you’re there when nobody else is there, and you’re watching him breathe so you can breathe and watching him sleep to drift into your own.

And you’re falling into a love you’ve never known. It’s like quicksand; the more you struggle the deeper you fall. Only you’re not struggling, because it’s a gorgeous catastrophe, and there’s nowhere else to go.

But you watch people leave, too. You watch your husband go to work. You see friends come and go, bright and capable with energy and direction, as if the world is still going on outside, out there.

And you’re isolated and stuck.

As you watch them there are moments, moments when you remember when you used to run around and visit people and live your life and work and be alone. You remember when your body was just your own and you were thinner and felt contained and like the owner of your boobs and vagina and life. You remember having a couple shots of tequila or maybe a cigarette with some friends, and you did it like it was nothing, never knowing it was somebody who was going to stand like an old friend some day, a thousand miles away.

You were twenty, twenty-three, thirty, thirty-five. You were free and young and somebody else.

We were free and young and somebody else.

But now, we’re mothers.

At some point the reality will hit us: We are never alone again, no matter where we are, and we are the only ones in the world who have become this person toward this child.

Yeah, that’s right. I said it. NOT EVEN THE DAD.

It’s hard to put into words, but something becomes very apparent when a baby enters a relationship: There is something different between my relationship with this baby, and everybody else in the world.

I am the only one who is The Mother to this child twenty-four hours a day, and will be for the rest of my life.

I’m not trying to speak for everybody. Obviously. I’m speaking for myself, and for my friends, who I’ve seen living the same beautiful catastrophe.

My husband always goes back to work relatively soon after the baby is born. In some ways his life, though obviously irrevocably changed, goes on in more or less the same way it was before. My husband’s sleep patterns haven’t changed. My husband’s body isn’t suddenly owned by a 9-pound nursing machine. My husband’s vagina isn’t, well, let’s change the subject. My husband doesn’t have stretch marks. My husband didn’t give birth.

My husband doesn’t spend hours eye-locked with the newborn, cooing and talking with infinite fascination with a ball of chub. My husband doesn’t pick at the baby’s head and eyes and ears like an attentive monkey.

My husband didn’t become a mother, but I did.

And there are moments when I know it. There are moments when I look at that baby and myself and feel my body that isn’t my body and wonder if maybe I didn’t make the biggest mistake of my life, because what have I given up? What have I done? Was I ready?

Why didn’t I appreciate my life more, when it was mine? What if I want to leave one day?

I’ll never be able to leave one day, ever.

I’ve been the same woman my whole life. What about her? Where is she? Is she just dead?

Yes, she is just dead.

Does that seem harsh? Well, it is. So is motherhood.

Perhaps we can soften this whole thing by saying our identities are “transformed,” or we are “forever changed,” but the fact of the matter is that the woman you once were is gone, and she will never come back.

Period.

You can pretend she’s not dead. You can even leave your family and act like a kid again and not a mother. But you will not be free, and you will die under the weight of your lies, because you know you’re something else, and there’s a little girl out there who misses her mama, and has replaced her with a box full of notes and cards and memories and yearning.

I’m speaking from experience.

I will never live a single day as an individual. Always, somewhere, my heart will be beating for that child. Always, somewhere, though I may not even know it, my mind has wrapped itself around her, wondering how she is, seeing a shirt or dog or book, “She would love that.” I miss her.

One thousand miles away, but tied.

And so she’s gone, that woman. Old friend who partied with you and spent hours absorbed in herself, her work. She’s gone, that girl that lived for herself, and maybe you for a moment, but always, in the end, for herself.

And yet, I’m still here. This is still me. I am untouched, unscathed. So maybe I have not died?

If I died, how am I here, nursing and changing and mothering this baby? Who’s doing this work now?

And who is she?

I don’t know her yet, but I will. I’ll know the woman who wraps her baby against her chest and storms the world. I’ll know the woman who goes back to work with one foot and her heart at home, always. I’ll meet the woman who races to preschool to get there on time and holds little hands and chases kids in restaurants.

I’ll meet the woman who disciplines. I’ll meet the woman who yells. I’ll meet the woman who works to be better, who holds a child as it grows and grows and grows and I’ll meet the woman who does it a couple more times, until she’s the one sitting by a friend and a newborn, telling her it’s alright, talking about death, and rebirth.

Of a mother.

Thinking my god, I guess I’ve known her all along.

Thoughts on Motherhood

When I became a mother, time has become a luxury for me. I couldn’t go out whenever I want nor do the things I want to do without considering the little boy first. I had to train myself to sleep and wake up early.  There are times I had to postpone plans with friends and skip important events. Even date nights with the hubby took a back seat. And whenever we do get to go out, it’s mostly quick dinners and trips to the supermarket and then rushing back home just in time for the little boy’s naptime or playtime. My daily activities revolve mainly around his schedule. I squeeze in some “me time” in whatever pockets of time I may have during the day (usually during his nap time).

Being a newbie to motherhood is overwhelming. Your life inevitably changes; major adjustments have to be made whether you like it or not. I think no one or no books will ever prepare you for motherhood (note: breastfeeding is another story) until you have experienced it yourself. You can get all the advices and tips you want but ultimately it’s when you are fully immersed into it that you are able to discover and learn things on your own. The first few months are tough but it begins to get easy once a routine is established and you get the hang of it. If I could describe motherhood, it would be a one big oxymoron—it’s a calm storm that brings lots of harmonious discord and crazy fun, leaving you happy tired in the end.