It’s not time to make a change.
Just relax, take it easy.
So the lyrics of a song say.
I was 17 years old when I found myself singing that song.
Subconciously, I knew that the major change in my life then was getting into a
romantic relationship.
I was 17. Young and wild and free, as another song says.
When I met my first boyfriend, I knew he was The One.
My instinct just told me that he must have been The One.
If being an accurate psychic takes a lot of practice, then I failed in predicting
that my first boyfriend was The One.

My experiences in love and life pushed me to become a protective parent.
My children’s welfare comes first to me than anybody or anything else.
I am not your typical modern Filipina mother who lets her kids do things on their own.
I keep a suspecting eye to my children’s moves and moods.
Having a toddler and a baby is a challenge, I know.
But I underestimated the fact that having a teenage child is the most challenging.

When my teenager blushed at the message alert tone of her Nokia phone in February this year,
I thought that having an avid admirer was cute and harmless. She mentioned to me about her
admirer’s traits but denied that she had fallen into his persistence.
My daughter could never lie to me, I thought.
I was a twelve year old girl when I had my first brave suitor.
My father confronted the guy and he hated me for years for not fighting for us.
I hated my father’s concern then but I was so afraid of him so I never got the chance to
even say good-bye to my first brave suitor.
Years later, I considered my father’s concern as a blessing-in-disguise; the first brave suitor
didn’t turn out to be the man that’s meant for me.
So there, while my daughter was delightful for every message alert tones that she hear,
I was cool about it because I thought that she was not interested in pursuing a serious relationship with him, anyway.

When my daughter confided in June that she and her admirer were already an item since March, I was put
into a do or die situation. It was a situation as delicate as a double-edge sword. What would happen if I resent?
Would she still confide her daily activities with me? What would happen if I allow? Would they go beyond my limits?
Being such a diplomatic person, I allowed their relationship if and only if it’s a healthy relationship.
As long as both of them maintain their good grades and class standing, then it’s fine with me.
Then the issue of the boyfriend being a non-believer of our religious faith came in. I realized that no matter what,
the beliefs of our faith should emerge on the top 3 reasons on why their relationship should put to an end.
I reminded my daughter about our doctrines and she responded that the boyfriend was more than willing to
embrace our religion. I knew I had to deal with her in the most tactful way.

I was a hopeless romantic but not to the extent of obsession. If calling up each other early in the morning and late at night
and seeing each other after class is called obsession, then my daughter and her boyfriend were guilty of that.
There was a time in July when I panicked because my daughter was not yet home at past 6PM! She knew my
curfew rules and hello, 6PM is already late when you’re living in the countryside.
I’ve seen a lot of red flags in their relationship and tried my best to point them out to her in every chance that I could
but the girl was obviously enjoying in her lovelife so she didn’t listen.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was when her boyfriend wouldn’t allow her to take her exam just to be with him.
Her adviser texted me to invite me for a meeting with the school principal. It turned out that that meeting was actually
a conference attended by no less than the boyfriend’s mother and his teachers. It was no small issue, I thought.

Cutting of classes cum stalking is not acceptable to me. This is not a normal behavior and theirs is not a normal relationship.
I decided that it was time to cut their relationship. I’ve let them enjoy their time and now, it’s time for them to
behave and act like any 15 year old children. My gosh, when I was 15, I had sleepless nights because money was the problem then.
I kept asking myself if my parents could afford to send me to college. Here is my 15 yr old and crying helplessly over her
first heartbreak!

It breaks my heart to see my daughter cry. But as a parent, it is my obligation to guide her and protect her.
I received more than a hundred missed calls and more than fifty text messages from her ex-boyfriend asking me for
a second chance to prove himself. I didn’t reply to any because he could get so insisting, I’m tired of explaining my decision.

My father, sister-in-law and brother were all supportive of her. I didn’t get a good night sleep last night because of my daughter’s pain.
In my mind and heart, cutting their relationship was the best option now that things were getting out of hand.
It breaks my heart to see her cry. It breaks my heart to see her ex-boyfriend cry.
There will be a better tomorrow soon, I hope.

My mother was fat.
My mother’s mother was fat.
My mother’s aunts were fat.
Ergo, I will also get fat.
It’s in the genes.

Before I gave birth when I was in my early twenties, I had a figure to die for. No joke.
The curves were all in the proper places, I had a long wavy hair to complement my figure.
After giving birth, I was a new person.
I became stronger and BIGGER, literally and figuratively.
In the years to come, I would engage in yo-yo dieting and fluctuating weights and measurements.
It was not easy to become the butt of jokes because of my size.
I was no longer an eye candy. Instead, I was likened to a candy: round and fat.

The worst part of weight gain is not having the courage to look at the figures like measurement and weight.
I was anxious at every annual physical exam because I did not want to know how heavy I was.
Ironically, I decided to lose weight weeks before I realized that I was pregnant with Rubio.
The pregnancy was unplanned and one of my initial reactions when I found it out was my concern about my dieting.
I could not stop from my wildly important goal (WIG) and that was to lose those unwanted pounds.
After giving birth to Rubio, I committed myself to eating healthy foods in small amounts.
I also became engaged in slight physical activities while recuperating from my caesarean operation.

Last Saturday, I was looking at our pictures and I was able to validate my claim that I really lost a
substantial amount of weight in 2012.

Eating a healthy and filling breakfast probably helped to my weight loss. Last year, I was only eating
2 pieces of pandesal and a cup of coffee. This year, I see to it that my breakfast is both filling and fulfilling.
As a result, my metabolism fastens up and my body was able to burn calories properly.

I stopped drinking soda and eating chocolates this year, too. I acknowledged that chocolates and soda are high in calories and adding them to my daily diet would produce a fatter me. Instead, I indulge in a slice of pineapple after lunch.

This year, I move a lot and do a lot of housework. Having a toddler and a baby is a sure way of burning calories but doing the laundry, sweeping the floor, polishing the floor and washing the dishes were like being enrolled in a gym class to me: the effect is just the same; weight loss.

Losing weight is like winning a battle. I feel triumphant everytime I’m able to wear my old clothes that has been stocked in my closet for five years. Good thing, I saved those clothes and believed that someday, I would be able to wear them again.

To begin my story, I have an obnoxious neighbor who I tried to be friendly with.
Neighbors are supposed to love each other, right?
In spite of the not-so-good stories that I’ve heard about her, I gave this woman (who’s in her 50’s)
the benefit of the doubt and tried my best to keep the relationship cordial.

She has a one-year old granddaughter who plays with my toddler occasionally.
My toddler prefers to play with the other neighborhood kids who are of the same gender and capability as him.
Of course, you can’t expect a one-year old girl to be kicking balls or riding on a bike.

Toddlers can be possesive of their things and when Adi saw the one-year old girl took his chair,
he reacted by getting the chair and pushing the little girl gently.
The little girl cried probably because of Adi taking away the chair or Adi pushing her.
The obnoxious grandmother scolded Adi like “Don’t do it, you bad little boy!”
Obviously, the little girl’s grandmother did not notice me because my children’s nanny was blocking me.
I intended to let my neighbor know that I was there and I did not like what she did; that of telling my young son that
he’s a bad little boy.

She can scold my child if he makes a mistake but there’s no way I will agree to call any of my children “a bad little one.”
It leaves a bad taste in the mind of young children.
I am not over-reacting to yesterday’s issue because that is not the first time that this neighbor of mine called Adi “a bad little boy.”
My eldest child often tells me about some neighbors scolding Adi and some calling him names but I just shrugged my shoulder
until I heard it myself.

This neighbor has two young kids from her recent relationship and her 4-year old girl used to frequent our house.
There are times when the 4-yr old girl becomes too playful and naughty and I never said anything bad on her.
I expect her mother to return the kindness and hospitality that I gave to her child.

Aside from “bad little one,” here are the list of words that must not be said to a toddler or any person:

– ugly
– weak
– incompetent
– slow
– fat/thin

Young kids tend to live by the words said upon them. Be careful to what you say to a kid.