One Sunday morning, I decided I needed some respite and escaped from my boys. I caught a cab and gave the driver directions to go to Sunday market. Having nothing really in mind to shop for, I wandered aimlessly around the market when I got there. Found a couple of blouses for my sis and bought them.
Not long afterwards, I passed by some people offering massages. They had this cozy little corner at the clothes section, and aromatherapy scents filled the air. Their comfortable-looking massage chairs looked very inviting, and my tired and aching feet just couldn't resist the invitation. So a foot massage I got. For the first time. And hooked to massages I became.
That was just about three months ago. I can't believe I've been missing it all these years I've been here in Thailand. Where massage parlors are as bountiful as seven-elevens. But that's history now. Now I know that foot massages are relaxing and blissful, and not painful like I believed it was, they have found its way into my monthly budget. It's perfect especially when I'm experiencing that monthly cramping and aching.
There was this black pastor who came to visit our church with a group of other blacks from England a few weeks back. He shared how happy they were to have visited Thailand. And that for many of them, it was their first time to have a massage.
"You guys live in paradise!" he exclaimed.
Yup, massages can be synonymous to paradise. You know, you're all stressed and worked up over so many issues in your life, then you enter this sweet-smelling room, aptly decorated to make you relax just with the sight of it, with soft music in the air, and you can't help but feel that you've entered wonderland. You drop into the luxuriously soft leather-upholstered chair and you instantaneously unwind. The masseuse then gently washes your feet with warm water, dry them with soft towels, and props your feet up in a perfectly relaxing position. If you're anything but like me, you'd fall asleep right there and then.
And you'll wake up refreshed and completely relaxed. And so looking forward to your next massage.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
In The Mind of a Three-Year-Old
I have seen my baby evolve from a helpless tot who could not do anything for himself, to a now striving- to-be-independent toddler who wants to do everything himself. I continue to be amazed at how this wonderful little being that I live with, and spend time with, 24/7, has grown and developed. Everytime he opens his mouth to talk or ask something, I stand enthralled at the words that give me but a glimpse of what goes on in his mind. At times when he is quiet, I can almost hear the wheels of his brain gear turning as he processes information we give him, or stuff that puzzle his young mind. His daddy and I often wonder, what does he think about? What and how do three-year-old kids think, do you know?
I don't mind his questions. In fact, I enjoy them. I welcome them. His whys and how comes are getting more and more complex, but I love the challenge. Makes me think hard too for he will not rest till my answers satisfy his curious mind.
What perplexes us are the little stuff that he gets so worked up about sometimes. Petty to us, maybe, but the way he reacts about them tells us that they mean a great deal to him.
Haircuts, for example, are a big no-no! He will NEVER say yes to a haircut. Months or weeks before he needs one, we start prepping him. "Roo, you need a hair cut. Your hair is getting a lil too long, don't you think?"
No! I don't want a hair cut.
"You will look nicer with a haircut. You won't have hair sticking in your eyes, making your eyes itchy."
No! I don't want to look nice. I want my eyes to be itchy.
No amount of coaxing worked. We even resorted to bribes, like he can watch all the videos he wanted while getting a haircut, or he can ask for a treat afterwards, but all these fell on deaf ears. He made himself clear, he does not want a haircut.
I had to put a clip on his hair to keep them away from his eyes. Until his dad changed words. Yup, words. "Roo, would you like it if I make your hair shorter?"
"Okay, daddy!"
Just like that. No fuss. No further questions.
We're still trying to make sense of it, but I guess it has something to do with what books say about how toddlers feel like when their hair, or nails, are cut, they think they lose them. They still have to grasp the idea that hair and nails grow; that when you cut them, you don't really lose that part of yourself, they will grow back.
The thing is, my Roo does not only fret about losing his hair, he also panics when he sees my hair, or his dad's for that matter, go down the drain in the bath. He can be blissfully happy playing with his bath toys one minute, and the next second he's weeping over hair that's washed down the drain. And there's no way to comfort him, you'd think he'd lost his bestfriend!
When we went exploring at a cove about a month ago, he saw some mangrove leaves riding the waves. He frantically grabbed them and with tears in his eyes, launched the Operation: Save the Leaves! I heard panic in his voice when he solicited my help, convincing me that the leaves needed to be rescued from the waves. Mommy, the waves are bringing the leaves away, quick, help me! No matter how much we explained to him that the leaves won't get hurt in any way, he stuck to his mission with great determination and fished out all the leaves that he thought needed rescuing, and brought them safely to shore.
Then just this noon, right before his afternoon nap, I gave him a bath. He busied himself pouring water into containers while I shampooed his hair and soaped his whole body up. When I turned the shower head on him, rinsing his hair, he suddenly started toe-tapping, and agitatedly waved his hands up and down.
Mommy, no! No, mommy!
"What is it, Roo?" "What's bothering you?" I asked. Knowing full well that he didn't like the water running over his head, I continued at it trying to get it done and over with. Fast.
He looked up at me, water dripping all over his face, and with exasperation in his voice, blurted out in a loud voice (as slowly as he could so maybe I could understand), DO YOU THINK I'M A PLANT? WHY ARE YOU WATERING ME?!"
I don't mind his questions. In fact, I enjoy them. I welcome them. His whys and how comes are getting more and more complex, but I love the challenge. Makes me think hard too for he will not rest till my answers satisfy his curious mind.
What perplexes us are the little stuff that he gets so worked up about sometimes. Petty to us, maybe, but the way he reacts about them tells us that they mean a great deal to him.
Haircuts, for example, are a big no-no! He will NEVER say yes to a haircut. Months or weeks before he needs one, we start prepping him. "Roo, you need a hair cut. Your hair is getting a lil too long, don't you think?"
No! I don't want a hair cut.
"You will look nicer with a haircut. You won't have hair sticking in your eyes, making your eyes itchy."
No! I don't want to look nice. I want my eyes to be itchy.
No amount of coaxing worked. We even resorted to bribes, like he can watch all the videos he wanted while getting a haircut, or he can ask for a treat afterwards, but all these fell on deaf ears. He made himself clear, he does not want a haircut.
I had to put a clip on his hair to keep them away from his eyes. Until his dad changed words. Yup, words. "Roo, would you like it if I make your hair shorter?"
"Okay, daddy!"
Just like that. No fuss. No further questions.
We're still trying to make sense of it, but I guess it has something to do with what books say about how toddlers feel like when their hair, or nails, are cut, they think they lose them. They still have to grasp the idea that hair and nails grow; that when you cut them, you don't really lose that part of yourself, they will grow back.
The thing is, my Roo does not only fret about losing his hair, he also panics when he sees my hair, or his dad's for that matter, go down the drain in the bath. He can be blissfully happy playing with his bath toys one minute, and the next second he's weeping over hair that's washed down the drain. And there's no way to comfort him, you'd think he'd lost his bestfriend!
When we went exploring at a cove about a month ago, he saw some mangrove leaves riding the waves. He frantically grabbed them and with tears in his eyes, launched the Operation: Save the Leaves! I heard panic in his voice when he solicited my help, convincing me that the leaves needed to be rescued from the waves. Mommy, the waves are bringing the leaves away, quick, help me! No matter how much we explained to him that the leaves won't get hurt in any way, he stuck to his mission with great determination and fished out all the leaves that he thought needed rescuing, and brought them safely to shore.
Then just this noon, right before his afternoon nap, I gave him a bath. He busied himself pouring water into containers while I shampooed his hair and soaped his whole body up. When I turned the shower head on him, rinsing his hair, he suddenly started toe-tapping, and agitatedly waved his hands up and down.
Mommy, no! No, mommy!
"What is it, Roo?" "What's bothering you?" I asked. Knowing full well that he didn't like the water running over his head, I continued at it trying to get it done and over with. Fast.
He looked up at me, water dripping all over his face, and with exasperation in his voice, blurted out in a loud voice (as slowly as he could so maybe I could understand), DO YOU THINK I'M A PLANT? WHY ARE YOU WATERING ME?!"
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