Wish You Were Here

So I was asked, “How do you avoid spending energy on cleaning?”

Turning my head left to right, I say “Pardon? Are you talking to me?”

But what I really wanted to say is, “Did I hear the word cleaning? What’s that? It’s not in my vocabulary.” Ha! *eyes rolling heavenwards*

You bet you can trust me to say that. To save energy, I will not move any muscle just to clean come what may. *hallelujiah playing in the background*

Isn’t it practical to just let thing be? Let the dirt gather on the floor, the dust on the furniture and the earth on the doorstep. Let them all be. And I’ll still live and breathe comfortably.

But all that really is wishful thinking. Cleaning really is an integral part of me –especially since I have a very allergic son. *snapping back to reality on full force now*

I vacuum our house regularly, disinfect toys and just clean, clean, clean whenever I have time. I’m actually a little OC about cleaning and our vacuum is my bestfriend, thus our high electric bills (oh, how I complain!).

While I don’t think there is a way to avoid vacuuming, there is a better way to save on energy and minimize on power consumption. Introducing the Dirt Devil ® AccuCharge™.

I so wished this is available here since it is a wonderful that there is a vacuum available in the market that uses 70% less energy. And so, the AccuCharge Stick Vac and Hand Vac are the first cordless cleaning technology to earn Energy Star approval.

Next to hearing that I don’t need to clean anymore, I just think this is just music to my ears.

Summer

I took this one fine afternoon while I was getting my son acquainted with the sights around us. These are some of the bougainvillas that cover our front fence. Others are darker in color but I found this more to my liking (the color, I mean).

Wordless Wednesday: What's On The Tree

Angels of Destruction

I hate termites. They are more of an inconvenience; they are a symbol of destruction to me.

A year ago, we had one of our cabinets eaten by drywood termites. Lots of books were in there. I have my Engineering books and my paperback collection of teenage lovestories :D in there. Our old photo albums were in that cabinet, too. And most of these were destroyed!

I remember feeling the agony of throwing them into fire and seeing them reduced into ashes. Such helplessness! We had not known any drywood termites treatment then and thought that burning was the easiest and fastest way to annihilate these little angels of destruction.

We salvaged a few items but lost a lot of things. I’m just glad nothing happened to my pertinent records like Transcript of Records, certificates, etc. My younger brother was not so lucky though. His College Diploma was among the “casualties” of that incident.

So you can just imagine how grateful I am that there’s an online site to help us conveniently eradicate the termites.

Monday morning

I woke up this morning with my son hugging and shaking me awake.

It's still few minutes after 5AM. Too early. Groan.

But then, that's expected for someone who slept earlier than usual.

What's not expected though was Matt demanding, "Papa, hug, hug. Papa, hug." Fancy waking up with more than a ruffled hair? I honestly don't.

That left me racking my brain and fumbling for words to gently explain to a one-year-old that Pop's gone back to work.

Oh, I hate Mondays. Growl. Groan.

I just hate Monday mornings, after hubby goes back to Cebu. I really I hate the feeling of seeing Matt waking up and finding out that his Papa is no longer in bed or anywhere else around the house.

Caramel

I might never get tired of this one I love you. Hearing it or writing about it. Actually, it’s Bah-bu, a two-syllable sentence which in my dear son’s vocabulary means I love you. And which is officially his first sentence.

It’s life-sustaining, and I’m breathing it like clean sanitized oxygen. It’s an analgesic, the magic salve to my sore, aching muscles and joints. Music to the ears, sweeter and more pleasant than any of Jose Mari Chan’s. I’m so addicted to it. Everyday, I’m sinfully craving it like the heavenly Haagen Daaz.

To-die-for, that one line (but then I don’t wanna die just yet because I still wanna hear it over and over again). And coming from a chaste one-year-old kid, it’s even made more special, it’s sooo endearing. So moving. I’m always swept off my elephant-skinned feet and blown out of my wits every time I hear him say it. I’m inclined to think that it must be powerful enough to melt all metals.

It’s a magnet that pulls you back home. When I’m in the office and I call my mother and she gives me the chance to talk with dear tot, hearing him say Bah-bu makes me want to abandon my work and go rushing back home. That powerful. And my theory is, it makes hubby want to come rushing home, too. It certainly is even meaner than my killer mango float (shameless ad!).

Although I‘m raised in a happy, loving home, I just wasn’t brought up saying I-love-yous all the time. My parents unquestionably showed love to five of us sibs in all different ways other than saying it. No, it’s not a taboo or something like that. It’s just that saying it is not really on a daily basis, it’s somewhat limited to certain occasions like a birthday or Christmas and the like. Or when you’re away and you call the folks at home, you sometimes end the call with that. Or it’s just seen scribbled on notes and cards. It surely felt awkward saying it just-because. You’d only get the are-you-okay-or-has-the-alien-from-mars-gotten-into-you kind of look on their faces.

But no, I’m not blaming my parents. They are just like that, and my environment is like that, so that’s just that. I have no issues whatsoever with that because I understand them. Maybe not completely, but I understand their ways.

Now with Matt, it’s a different story. Hubby and I silently agreed, and we really are one in showing dear tot affection verbally, and even physically to some degrees. Maybe because we’re just *throat clearing* naturally affectionate *wink* Is it called teaching by example? I hope so.

And are we successful? Let’s just say we’re working on it. But what do you call, waking up in the morning with dear kiddo poking and saying “Mownin!” or shoving a battery-operated car while saying, “Mama, e on” but because it’s too early and you’re feeling lazy, you refuse to budge and move a muscle and then dear kiddo devices something wicked that would make you pry your lids wide-open. And that, my friends, is to finally reach out and plant a big wet kiss on the face double with a sweet “Bah-bu.” Rewarding. Gloriously fulfilling.

Even when you’re too tired and sleepy, you just have to really wake up and return the gesture. Otherwise, he’ll go on and on like that. At times, I just love teasing him a bit more and play stiff and still as a log because I know exasperated Matt would give me MORE than a once over! Hah, one scheming Mama, that I am.

Anyway, this whole thing is slowly changing a family who’s not accustomed to all this sweetness. When Matt says Bah-bu to my mother or my sister AJ, she just have to reply. Because as I’ve said to ignore him means to suffer the consequence of not hearing the end of it. Until he can coax an acceptable response from you, he’d tail you and say the line over and over again. I even heard my mother coaching and prodding my son (as if he needs prodding) to say I-love-you to his Papa, who’s on the other end of the phone. I’ve been hearing people in the house saying I love you more and more.

I’m just concerned when Matt says it to people who are not used with this kind of talks. Because one time he said it to my niece (his cousin) over the phone but got no response from her. And so I explained to her but she didn’t get it and so she didn’t say it. As expected, Matt said it again and again and for long. Still nothing, so he just stopped. That kinda bugged me because I’m not sure kiddo Matt can already take in the complexities of the love-begets-love concept.

But then let love worry about love, because soon or sooner, he will learn the complexities and all and then he will know by himself that love certainly begets love. For now, I truly hope we’re giving him a good start because that's all that really matters .

Hmmm home

I stayed home these past couple days. And really had a wonderful and fun time doing all the things I could imagine. So what other better thing to write than why I oh-so love staying at home.

1. There are always a thousand and one interesting things to do while at home. I could read and read and read my heart’s content (granting my son is asleep and that all chores are already finished). Mend old clothes. Tear down the house and clean. Do some yardwork..the list is never-ending.
2. Get to be silly with my son. Horse playing at every minute is possible.
   
3. No need to doll up myself. I could always walk around the house in my jammies and any rattiest shirt without people raising their eyebrows. Wear an unkempt hair all day long! I can even go through the day without taking a bath (but because summer heat is unbearable, this cannot be possible these days)
4. I can also take as many baths as I like.
5. Can munch and be merry. Ransack the fridge for some goodies and munchies without getting a bill. And can get double helping of everything on the table without worrying of extra costs. All that plus I can hand feed myself, without getting all self-conscious.
   
6. I can alternately hum, yodel and sing Sesame Streets and Barney songs without looking every bit insane. I can even let out some notes at the top of my lungs ala Philly Idol without doing a 360 deg-turn in the head to see if someone’s within earshot.
7. And last but definitely the best-est treat of all is hearing my son say “Bah-bu” (I love you) million of times; and get licked gazillion of times. Such sheer pleasure. Nothing can ever top that, ayt?
   

Part of..

I am a mother. And being one plus oh, the unexpected part of mothering requires me to be a wanna-be nurse like today. No, my son is not ill, thanks God.

I just spent the entire afternoon (being my day off), bandaging and stitching up the wounded.. uhmm, books of my son with the ever reliable Scotch tape.

In their worn-out and tattered state, it is almost unbelievable that they are only in my son’s possession for nearly a year, some a little over a year. And looks even more impossible to salvage them. The oldest acquisition of them all was the Nursery Rhyme Book I used to read to Matt long before I have given birth to him, that was nearly 2 years ago. And looking at its hideously over-used pages (that one would probably think I have it with me for ages), brings memories of my pregnancy. Oh forgive me dear for getting melodramatic but it really is my favorite as well as my son's.

So here comes Mama with a Scotch tape in hand and a pair of scissors in the other, and a dash of resolute determination to boot. A trick here and there and I might just improve their state.

Hours later, after doing everything that I could, I believe I repaired most of them to almost mint condition, some to their functional state.

A-Musing!

Maybe I have been so used with the presence of some men in my life, and the things they do for me. Before you get things wrong, let me explain. When my two brothers are still living in our house, I could just ask them to fix the light, the door, check the faucet, pick some coconuts (true!).. Or there are times, that before I could ask them these favors, one of them has already done what was still in my mind. I don’t think I am ultra-dependent on them. Contrary to that, I believe in the essence of self reliance. And though in fact I hate the picture of me being a damsel in distress, I think their presence can sometimes save you from other tasks.

But those were the days. Papa @ 64 is still healthy, thanks God. But there are things I don’t want to burden him with. Or there are new technology which he has not gotten used with. Like repairing the remote controls. Or the PC.

Or some other task which I could be only too happy to delegate..hehe..

But.

These days, with only Mama, Papa, my sister, me and my son – Matt at home- among us, I was left to do some things, my husband or brothers could have easily done. I miss those days, not because I hate these tasks but because with a tot --as hyperactive as Matt is--around, I already have more than enough in my hands.