Why? Why Not?

On Wednesdays, Roo and I drive to Jusco around nine am to buy groceries. Jusco is a Japanese-owned general merchandise store about one km away from our place. Wednesday is market day at Jusco. That means on Wednesdays, all the farm produce just arrived, therefore they are fresh. And cheap. Cheaper than they are on other days. So many people who live in our area go to Jusco on Wednesdays to get their weekly supplies.

We used to drive there as a family late evenings, when daddy E came home from work. But ever since I started driving again, Roo and I head there soon after we eat breakfast. It's so much nicer to go in the mornings. The shopping experience is more pleasant. The staff look refreshed, they smile, and they are more helpful. Parking near the entrance is available, and the vegetables and fruits look so much more delectable and luscious. Not to mention our fellow shoppers don't look haggard and stressed out. Most of them are senior citizens, those who are already retired for they look even much older than my dad. Wednesdays at Jusco I imagine, must be a much anticipated event for these elderlies, an activity that must look forward to every week.

Anyways, so much for the intro. Today, Roo and I were having fun identifying the produce at the vegetable section, when this darling old lady peered closely towards our trolley, and inquired curiously, "Mai pai rong riyan wan-nee ha noo?" Literal translation: You didn't go to school today huh little boy?

I gave her a smile. Khao yang mai pai rong riyan khah. (He doesn't go to school yet.)

Apparently she did not understand that. "Khao pen wat lo khah?" (Is he sick?)

This is the second time an elderly lady we met at Jusco asked us about Roo not being in school on a school day. On the first encounter, the much-concerned senior, upon learning that Roo was three, looked like she would have given me a scolding had I not been a complete stranger. She was like, "He's three?! Shouldn't he be in school?!"

I'm not surprised at this reaction anymore. Since Roo turned two, MY man has been getting a lot of pressure from his colleagues about this issue. When MY man shared our views about too early schooling with them, they looked at him like he was from another planet. They think we are depriving Roo of an education. They mentioned that here in Bangkok, kids go to school when they are two. "And doesn't your wife get bored, just staying in the house with your son? Why don't you send him to preschool now?!"

I must admit I am affected by all these feedback. But because our decision was made with a lot of prayers, careful thought and consideration, I'm not about to back up. I taught third-graders for only five years but I've seen enough of the disadvantages of kids going to school at an early age to not want that for my son. These kids' parents send them to school very early, primarily because both parents work, and they think it's much better for their kids to be in the school with teachers, than be at home, doing "nothing" with uneducated nannies. And what happens? These kids who don't get to play as much as they want to, play or act up in the classroom. They become 'problem' students and the more parents, and (most often) teachers put pressure on them to put their act together and do what they're supposed to do, the problems just continue to worsen or escalate. Enter any classroom and you'll find more than half of the students bored or not showing much interest in their studies.

MY man and I have had to make sacrifices because of this decision. First, financially, we'd surely be earning more if I'm working too. Then, there's the career thing for me that's put on hold. God knows the struggle I'd had to go through, putting all my plans aside, just so I can be home for my little one. I do enjoy interacting with my toddler, asking questions and finding answers to questions. I just love watching him blossom and grow. But I wouldn't be honest if I say that there are no downtimes at all. It's not easy being a stay-at-home mom. Sometimes it feels like a lonely thankless job. I'm at it seven days a week (sometimes it feels like eight), twenty-four hours a day, no day-offs, no sick leave.

But why do I stick at it? MY man and I believe it's for our son's best interests. We want him to enjoy his childhood, be free to play and explore the 'world', and his imaginary world without the limitations and structure of school. Yet. With God's grace and wisdom, we hope to build and plant values and virtues in him before he goes out into the 'real' world. We want to get bonded with him in a way that whatever happens to him later on in life, he will know he has a place to come home to, where he's loved for who he is, and where he will always be safe being who he is. We yearn to lead him to the Saviour, that when he finds himself in difficult situations later, he will trust that His Saviour will see him through it all, and that he will choose to be on God's side no matter what. We know that our time to do all that is very limited. Time flies fast, pretty soon, he'll zoom out into the world, all ready to explore and be on his own, to find his own niche and purpose in life.

So for those who ask why he's not in school yet, I say, He'll be in school soon enough.

Happy 60th Birthday Daddy!

Growing up, my dad was my hero. My superman.

Not once did I doubt his love for me. In fact, I never showed any interest in boyfriends when I was in my teenage years because no one, I believed (or was I raised to believe? ;D), could love me more than my dad did. No boy could ever be as kind, as intelligent, as loving and caring as my father. No one, not one, measured up to my dad.

My earliest childhood memory associated with daddy is the life-sized doll he bought for me when he came back from a stint in Saudi Arabia. The happy memory of playing with that doll stands out in my mind. It was pretty, and when wound up, its blue eyes opened and close as it swayed from left to right to tune of a lullaby. When I started school, the times I needed help with my homework, I didn't run to my mom as most kids do. It was always to my dad, because if ever I had problems with homework, it was either in Math or Science, and my mom would always say Your dad knows that better. I also remember him helping me write an essay for some Science Contest, which I won at the District Level, and eventually brought me to the Regional Level. So it was my dad too who spurred my interest in writing.

I will never forget those times in college when I'd come home and my dad would be ready to cook everything my heart desired. He'd go really early to the market, make sure he can get fresh fish, cook sinigang just the way I like it, and set aside the parts that I love. Monday mornings, I would always be late for school, or miss classes altogether, because I just had to eat one more favorite that daddy concocted in the wee hours of dawn.

When I left home for Thailand, it was my dad who brought me to the airport. I found out later from my mom that my dad didn't leave the airport until he was sure that I had passed immigration. He stuck it out at the waiting area until my plane left. And that became a tradition. Then on my homecomings, as soon as he found out the date of my arrival, he'd start a countdown, and every single day, announce to the household how many days are left before THE day. Day of arrival, he'd be up really early, go to market, buy his ingredients, then cook up a storm so that I'd eat my favorite right on my first meal at home. These, he did, for me and all my siblings.

One thing that I like about my dad the most was his devotion to my mom. He and my mom were like Siamese twins. Inseparable. At times when my mom had to be away, my dad couldn't even sleep on their bed alone. Then long before mommy's arrival, he'd be up and about, ready to meet and welcome her. There was even a time that he wanted to go to the airport like a day before mommy was supposed to arrive. Funny, it could be sometimes, but I like that kind of love. I always prayed that if God would give me a life partner, it'd be someone like my dad, who loved my mom for life. They didn't have the perfect relationship, of course, but it was near perfect as it could be.

And I should never forget to mention that my dad was a channel through which I met my Saviour. Daddy's faith in God and his zeal for God's work has inspired me to work out my own relationship with Jesus. I am thankful that God is at work in my dad's life, and that He is giving my dad strength to move on and help finish His work here in Thailand.

Today is my dad's 60th birthday. It pains me to see my dad alone without my mom, but I just have to believe with all my heart, that this is what is best for him right now. I look forward to the day when I'd see my dad really happy again, when I will once more see the twinkle in his eyes, which understandably disappeared when my mom passed away. Last night, during his birthday celebration, we caught a glimpse of the old daddy, my daddy who used to be so happy with life.

Happy birthday Daddy! I love you!

Roo helping Lolo with the candles

Tito Jr is on the phone ready to sing Happy Birthday with us

Lolo's ice cream cake, his first.

My sis' creation: Lola's favorite, according to lolo.

Happy 60th birthday Lolo!

In Dire Need of Zzzzzzs

'Twas the best of nights...

Roo was exhausted. Had a full afternoon playing and running around at Little Gym. Plus there was a lego fair at Emporium so we let him play there for a while. He fell asleep in the car on the way home.

So we had a quiet evening. Caught up on news with my sis and dad when we got home. MY man speedraced on Facebook. I spent some time reading some friends' blogs. My bro called, we had a nice chat.

'Twas the worst of nights...

Just when we were dozing off to sleep, Roo wakes up. He wanted milk. He was itchy. We asked if he wanted to take a bath, he didn't answer. Just nodded off again. So I changed him to pajamas, and wiped him down.

A few minutes later, he started scratching again. Daddy, I need to wash. The snoring dad woke up, brought him to the bathroom, changed him. Came back to the bed, turned the light off, dozed off.

Where's my icepack? My feet! My feet are painful. Daddy, carry me! Daddy, please massage my feet!

The usual nightmare. Whenever he's too tired, he dreams about painful feet and wakes up crying. The mommy and daddy got up, turned the lights on, and assured him that he was just dreaming. Please massage my feet.

But because the mommy and daddy were tired and sleepy, the massaging soon stopped. As soon as we stopped, the crying started. Sigh. Then he's back to being itchy.

Daddy, I want to take a bath! (Carrying and itching matters are delegated to daddy so he knew he couldn't ask that from me.) The daddy refuses and tells him to go back to sleep. Howling ensued.

That was at 2 am my dear readers. You bet the daddy was not exactly in the best of moods to give baths to howling toddlers, but he did. I finally got up when more bedlam followed and I heard chattering of teeth inside the bathroom. My poor boys!

The dad went right back to bed and I cuddled with my little Roo who was asking to play. Had to explain that it was in the middle of the night, that mommy and daddy need sleep, that he too needed to sleep. I don't know when exactly we fell asleep but we did. Next thing I knew, it was morning, and he was all over me, asking Is it morning? Can I play now?

To our dear family and friends...

Myspace Happy New Year Comments & Graphics

Love to all from Roo and family

My Little Missionary

Since the day he uttered his first word, Roo has been trying to communicate with the lady who comes to clean our house everyday. She speaks purely Thai, and Roo speaks only English. When they try to talk to each other, each would say a word in her/his own language. The thing is, both of them are so intent on teaching the other his language that neither of them listen to each other. The khun pa we call her, for instance would point to the ball, and tell Roo, "bon." Roo in return would tell her "ball" and insist that it's a ball, not a bon.

Ball.

Bon.

Ball.

Bon.

That's what you'll hear for a few minutes. Eventually one of them gives up and goes back to his/her own thing. The next day when they meet, the same thing happens. Many times, it's another word. Most of the time, it's the same word.

We've been telling Roo to listen really carefully when the khun pa talks so he can learn Thai. Ever since he found out that the khun pa does not know Jesus, he has been itching to tell her. He tried several times, but in English, so the khun pa couldn't understand a word he's saying. He even watches Thomas the train in Thai at times, just so he can learn to speak Thai.

Today, he found a way. The Holy Spirit is evidently at work in Roo's heart. While I was surfing the net, I noticed that Roo was standing in the narrow space between his lolo's bed and the locker, so I told him he'd have to move out of the way because the khun pa would have to pass that way from the porch. He said, no mommy, I have to show her Jesus. On the bed was my old yearbook, and he had turned it to the page where Jesus picture was. So when the old lady came in from the porch with her mop, Roo cornered her and pointed to the picture of Jesus. The old lady acknowledged, and said, "Phra Yesu."

Apparently, she knows something about Jesus. I struck a conversation with her about it, and learned that she has read tracts and books and knows that Jesus was here on earth before and that he was crucified. She told us she liked reading about him. So Roo and I gave her a book to read. My little missionary wore a huge smile on his face as the khun pa said "khop khun khap!" (thank you!)

Bye to Nappies?

Guess what? I have great news!

Yesterday, I was loading the wash when Roo came to the door with shoulders all scrunched up, saying, "Mommy! I need to go to the toilet!"

I dropped everything and rushed him to the bathroom. As I hurriedly put his toilet seat in place and removed his diaper, I noticed that his shoulders were still up. Apparently, that was his way of holding it. And he made it!!!

Hahaha! Only mothers I guess will understand the joy of seeing a little child successful in his toilet training. Actually with Roo, my attempts at toilet training were all futile. He has always refused to go to the toilet, and the few times he did go, nothing came out. So I've kind of given up and decided to take my friend's advice to just let him be, that he'll go when he's developmentally ready. And he did! In his own time. His own good time.

On Massages

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.