Daddy-in-progress

Sympathy

2009-07-03T00:25:00.000-07:00

The other day, my wife sprained her pinkie toe. We placed a splint on her left foot to immobilize the toe. While the splint was being placed, my eldest son, Basti, was there watching and crying and shouting "Mommeee!" "Mommeee!"
It must have been traumatic for him to see her mother being placed in a splint and bandaged. At the time, I saw in my son a quality that I didn't expect from him.... sympathy. Sympathy for her mother who was in some pain. I may have the makings of a sensitive child.

Exiled

2009-06-25T20:36:00.000-07:00

I'm sick. I'm running a fever. My body is aching. I feel weak. I called in sick from work and what's worse, I have to stay away from the kids! Haay.... I could be playing with them right now...

Stare

2009-04-08T07:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my eldest son, Basti, was trying to grab some plates from the table. Afraid that he might drop the plates and hurt himself, I grab the dishes and placed them where he wouldn't be able to reach them.
His reaction: he gave me a look that sort of said "Don't mess with me, Dad!"
My reaction: I gave him a look that sort of said "Go ahead! Make my day!"
The Outcome: He found out that he shouldn't mess with Dad!

Funny Lizard story

2009-03-27T00:21:00.000-07:00

This was sent to me by Email and it was so funny, I had to post this story.
Enjoy!

If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome, including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD!

Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet.

Here's what happened:

Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was 'something wrong' with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room. 'He's just lying there looking sick,' he told me. 'I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?'
I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
'Honey,' I called, 'come look at the lizard!'
'Oh, my gosh!' my wife exclaimed. 'She's having babies..'
'What?' my son demanded. 'But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom !'
I was equally outraged.
'Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce,' I said accusingly to my wife. 'Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?' she inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!)
'No, but you were supposed to get two boys!' I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth).
'Yeah, Bert and Ernie!' my son agreed.
'Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,' she informed me (Again with the sarcasm!). By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
'Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience,' I announced. 'We're about to witness the miracle of birth.' 'Oh, gross!' they shrieked 'Well, isn't THAT just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?' my wife wanted to know.
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
'We don't appear to be making much progress,' I noted. 'It's breech,' my wife whispered, horrified.
'Do something, Dad!' my son urged.
'Okay, okay.' Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
'Should I call 911?' my eldest daughter wanted to know.
'Maybe they could talk us through the trauma.' (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
'Let's get Ernie to the vet,' I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. 'Breathe, Ernie, breathe,' he urged. 'I don't think lizards do Lamaze,' his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for G~d's sake.).
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
'What do you think, Doc, a C-section?' I suggested scientifically.
'Oh, very interesting,' he murmured. 'Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?' I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
'Is Ernie going to be okay?' my wife asked.
'Oh, perfectly,' the vet assured us. 'This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to
happen. Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um . . um . . masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back.' He blushed, glancing at my wife. We were silent, absorbing this.
'So, Ernie's just just . . . . excited,' my wife offered.
'Exactly,' the vet replied , relieved that we understood. More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
'What's so funny?' I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. 'It's just that ... . I'm picturing you pulling on its . . . its. . .
teeny little ' She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
'That's enough,' I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car.. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
'I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad,' he told me.
'Oh, you have NO idea,' my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.

Two lizards: $140.
One cage: $50.
Trip to the vet: $30.
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie: Priceless!

Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class. Lizards lay eggs!

Hating Kapatid

2009-03-19T23:54:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, we love to use the term "hating kapatid" whenever we have to share something. "Hating kapatid" when roughly translated to English meant "brotherly division." At the time (and sometimes up to the present), this meant fair and equal sharing. You wouldn't cheat your brother/sister of his/her fair share, hence, the probable origin of the phrase.
A week ago, I was listening to Men of Light (a weekly TV show here in the Pampanga that is also shown on the internet at www.rcasf.com). One of the host mentioned that hating kapatid can be interpreted in another way. Instead of fair and equal division, it can also mean giving more to the one who needs more. I think that is a very beautiful way of defining hating kapatid. You give more to the needy sibling because you love him/her and you are willing to receive less for the sake of that needy sibling. Now THAT is really brotherly division.

Chocolate cake and veggies

2009-03-05T23:44:00.000-08:00

I think that making kids eat vegetables is a problem that is common to every parent. We know that it's good for the body but we also know that it doesn't taste as good as chocolate cake. The problem is how to make our kids eat vegetables and eat them without the fuss...

Baby smile

2009-02-26T21:16:00.000-08:00

There's something about a baby's smile that, just by looking at it, makes you feel that everything is alright in this chaotic world! By the way, the cute baby above is my youngest son Paolo.

Terrible 2s

2009-01-03T01:18:00.000-08:00

I have 2 sons and they drive me crazy.

My eldest, Basti, is two years old and being a two year old, he has so much energy he puts the energizer bunny to shame. He loves to explore and try out new stuff. He runs around the house unmindful of the danger of falling. He watches his favorite cartoons on DVD so many times, he actually knows them by heart. He raids the refrigerator for chocolates and throws out everything that gets in his way. When I come home from work, he runs to meet me and give me a hug. When he does something wrong, he has this smile that makes you laugh and forget about whatever he did wrong.

My younger son, Paolo, is two months old and being two months old, he cries when he is hungry, cries when his diaper is soiled and cries when he wants to be carried. And being two months old, he sleeps soundly in the daytime and is awake at ungodly hours. Whoever coined the term "witching hour" must've been a parent of a newborn. But when he smiles... he makes you feel that the world is a perfect place.

I have 2 sons and they drive me crazy. But sometimes... I wish they'd never grow up.

New Year 2009

2008-12-31T09:59:00.000-08:00

This new year was different from the previous new years.

It has been tradition that new year shoud be celebrated with a bang. And BANG is what we pinoys do! Year after year, firecracker makers have been coming up with stronger and deadlier firecrackers. Year after year, hospitals report an increasing number of firecracker related injuries. The banging start at around 9pm. By 10pm, going out of the house is like going into a warzone. Amidst the boom of firecrackers, wailing sirens are usually heard. It usually ends by 2am.

For the past few years, I noticed that the "boom-time" is getting shorter. Last year, everything was quiet by 1. This year, the banging started at about 11 and again, everything was quiet by 1. Even we, saw ourselves buying fewer and fewer firecrackers every year. Last year, we just bought a fountain (a firecracker that spews sparkles like a volcano) and a few "kwitis" (mini-rockets) and after lighting them proceed to watch the beautiful (and very expensive) fireworks of our neighbors. This year, we didn't buy any firecrackers and just contented ourselves with watching the beautiful (and still very expensive) fireworks of our neighbors. And the funny thing is, I also saw some of our neighbors just watching the beautiful (and still very expensive) fireworks of our other neighbors.

I could think of many reasons for this change. The continous ad campaign of the health department on the hazards of firecrackers, the financial crisis in our midst or (hopefully) people are becoming more mature in their new year celebrations.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Example

2008-11-11T09:11:00.000-08:00

This is a snapshot of my son during mass one Sunday. I was surprised that he kneeled on the floor during consecration and clasped his hands in prayer. It was then that I realized that he learned to do this by observing us. Just goes to show that kids really learn more by example.

What's in a Name?

2008-10-10T00:25:00.000-07:00

One of the hardest thing to do when preparing for the coming of your child is picking out a good name. Back in the old days, people would name their child based on the saint whose feast day would coincide with the child's birth. If you were born on the feast of St. Michael, you would be named Miguel/Michael (or any other name derived from Michael). Others would combine the name of the father and the mother. (Vincent+Maileen = Vileen? Maicent?) And then there's the often used "junior" (if it is a boy, of course! I don't think there's a female version for junior.)
Personally, I don't like to use "junior". For me, it 1. lacks imagination, 2. would appear that you want your son to continue whatever unfinished business that you had. I wanted my son to have an identity of his own, so "junior" was not considered.
When picking out a name, I usually follow the following guidelines:
1. How it would sound when saying the name? (Clark Kent Roa just doesn't sound right)
2. What nick name could be derived? Are they acceptable? (Vincent = Vince/Cent/Vicente/Enteng/Teng... haaay... pwede na rin)
3. The meaning of the name (Vincent = conquering, Carlos = strong, Sebastian = Venerable)
4. The length of the name when writing it. (A very long name would take your kid too much time writing it on his test paper)
5. The possible names that could be derived by my son's future playmates (Bart Fart, Francis Panis, etc.)
My first born's name is Carlos Sebastian. In a few weeks time, his brother will be born and as of this writing, I am still thinking of a good name.

Hide and Seek

2008-10-03T00:08:00.000-07:00

One of the hardest things that I had to do after my son was born was going back to work. Barely a week old, I wanted to spend more time playing with my newborn son. Alas, I was only allowed a week's leave and I had to go back to work which at the time was in another city.
That was more than year ago.
One of the games that my son likes to play is hide and seek.
"So what?", you might ask.
My son is now at a stage where he doesn't want to be separated from his parents. That can be a problem because we, his parents, have to go to work and we can't bring him with us. What we do is I take him with us when I drive my wife to the bus station. Then we go home and I ask the nanny ("yaya" to us pinoys) to play with him while I get ready for work. While he's distracted, I sneak out of the house and off I go to work. Thus started our game of "hide and seek" or "hunter and prey" to be more precise.
I became good at this "game". Unfortunately, so did my son.