A Bangus Belly Anecdote

January 1 2013: New Year's Day lunch included oven-baked whole bangus (milkfish) stuffed with onions and tomatoes. Now, I am known in our family as one who, in the past, would fight tooth and nail for that delectable part of the fish -- the belly, with its succulent layer of dark fat that just melts in your mouth.

In Ilocano, we call the belly "buksit". So I guess my moniker could be "Buksit Monster". My younger sister also shares this appetite for this most-coveted part of the bangus' anatomy. You can then just imagine how mealtimes would be when we had bangus -- fried, inihaw, sinigang, paksiw. My sister and I would jostle each other to get to the buksit. Fortunately our parents knew the drill and, the selfless folks they were, proceeded to equally apportion their share of the belly to their two little girls.

Mmmm, those were good times.

Thank goodness for the convenience of boneless bangus belly portions nowadays.

My older daughter finds the belly too "nakakasawa", so she prefers the meaty part of the fish. My younger one though is more than happy to get her Atchi's share -- she loves buksit just as much as Mama! Her chubby little face just lights up when she sees bangus belly on her plate.

And so I have gotten used to giving up some (take note: not always all) of my buksit for the little one.

Back to New Year's Day. I was spooning some of the fish to put on someone's plate (I forget now whose that was, we had a lot of family members in the house that time). I then turned to get something else, and when I looked back, I had a big chunk of prime buksit on my plate, courtesy of my loving hubby!

He knows me so well.

Serenity and Contentment

It's a beautiful Saturday! The sky may be overcast and the day may be a bit damp with drizzles here and there, but for me, it might just as well be drenched in sunshine, with cheerful bird-song and warm soothing breezes all around.

I am in quite a buoyant mood -- and it's not even lunch time yet!

No, the daily cares did not suddenly vanish magically, nor did a fairy godmother unexpectedly appear to wave all our worries away.  It was the realization that these things would not be solved by the extent to which I frowned and ranted and moped all day. 

Solutions will be found, and new joys and sorrows will surely come, but I could in fact choose to live in the moment and be happy. 

Happiness is a choice.  It is a state of mind.

Early this morning I had a walk with my two daughters, just meandering around the residential area we live in, peering at a neighbor's pet dog (my younger one likes to 'visit' the dog and say Hi), marveling at the butterflies that darted amidst the flowers, watching a caterpillar make its way slowly across the ground.

We then swept the fallen leaves from the driveway and gathered them into a pile, after which the two little girls jumped around and over and on it to their hearts' delight. 

Then came a round of deciphering secret codes -- our older daughter is currently in an "I-want-to-be-a-secret-agent-someday" mode.  She went and got a book about secet codes from their school book fair, and she lassoed me into hunkering down and solving the codes with her.  It was surprisingly interesting -- it's my inner geek peering out again!

Simple pleasures, simple joys.

When I accidentally erased the draft of this post and had to do it over, I had a brief flash of irritation.  But only for a moment.  Then I went ahead and rewrote it -- I have to say that I find this version better.

I find that the Serenity Prayer sums up my feelings quite well.  This oft-quoted prayer, commonly believed to have been written by the American theologian Karl Paul Reinhold Niebuhr, has been widely adopted by twelve-step programs such as Alcoholics Anonymous.  Its appeal stems perhaps because of its plea for help while acknowledging one's all-too-human limitations.

There are a number of versions of this prayer, and it os commonly only the first part that is widely cited, but I like this one best:

God, grant us the

Serenity to accept the things we cannot change,

Courage to change the things we can, and the

Wisdom to know the difference.

Patience for the things that take time,

Appreciation for all that we have, and

Tolerance for those with different struggles.

Freedom to live beyond the limitations of our past ways, the

Ability to feel your love for us and our love for each other and the

Strength to get up and try again even when we feel it is hopeless.

Happiness is a choice.  It may not be easy to come by, but with some Wisdom from Above, it's well within our grasp.

There's Something In the Air...

Yippee, it's December!

There seems to be a switch in my brain that makes the kid in me go oh-so-excited once December comes around. 

December means Christmas.  Simbang Gabi.  Piping-hot bibingka and buttery puto bumbong.  Yuletide carols that bring to mind a more innocent time (no, it is simply NOT the same having to listen to these ear-splitting songs blaring over the sound systems in malls!).

Nippy evenings that invite you into taking a relaxed stroll outside.  Dewy mornings that seem to bring promises of fresh starts.  Reconnecting with family members and last-seen-a-few-months/years-back relatives, all the while munching on holiday goodies that everybody has brought to share.

Gifts, gifts, and gifts! Thinking of what to give family and friends, and making endless lists (for me half the fun is in making them!).  Doing the rounds of countless bazaars, just taking a peek at all the gaily decorated thingamajigs that seem to beckon (oftentimes successfully) you into taking a second glance.. and a third... Wrapping gifts with brightly colored paper and ribbons.  And putting them under the Christmas tree.  And the fun part -- yes, even for adults -- receiving and opening presents!  

For me, the time for setting up the Christmas tree is right after All Saints' and All Souls' Days.  That's my mental marker.  After the somber mood and time of reflection during the early days of November, the stage is now set for merrymaking and laughter, for counting one's blessings and giving thanks.  Then it's time to take out the tree and star and boxes of lights and balls and garlands from the storage closet and start erecting that ubiquitous symbol of the season.

Our Christmas tree has been put up, just waiting for the presents to be placed underneath it.  My older daughter helped me, and she was so excited!  She wanted to put brightly-hued balls all over the tree, while I wanted it to have just gold ornaments this time.  We compromised -- I promised to hang the other colored balls around the house, as long as the tree was left in its monochromatic glory, haha!  She has also always been the one to put the star as a finishing touch -- quite a joyful experience for her every time.

 

Our little Christmas manger scene has also been set out. I like to turn the living room lights down low during evenings, turn on the lights, and just sit back with my husband and enjoy the soft, warm glow that watching the twinklers gives me.  It makes me feel that somehow, in that little pocket of time, everything is at peace in my world. It makes me thankful.  It makes me feel.. blessed.

It may sound naive to some, that I still hold a feeling of wonder whenever Christmas comes around, esp. in this day and age when life is so fast-paced and modern and diverse. Christmas just brings me hope that there is still a lot of goodness in the world.

This is what I would like my daughters to believe. This is what I hope they will remember when it is their turn to set up their own Christmas trees with their own families.  

It must really be something in the air -- I feel so hopeful and lighthearted, grateful and at peace. What I would give to have this feeling stay on even after the holidays!

Happy holidays everyone!

These I Remember...

When people ask you what your fondest memories are of your childhood, where do your thoughts automatically turn to? Is it the Christmases past when gifts galore were yours to open, or the summer vacations when you simply had nothing to do but sleep and eat and loll around, or even the comfort you felt when Mommy cooked your favorite, piping-hot bowl of arroz caldo?

As for me, these are what I remember.

• Those long, sweltering summer days, when everybody felt lethargic and so not-in-the-mood to lift a finger to even get up and get a snack. When everyone, even the insects and the lizards, seemed to go on a temporary hiatus to doze away the hot afternoon. And rest. And wake up and do nothing. To vegetate was bliss.
• When kids could still be seen on residential roads, happily and safely playing street games like piko, patintero, tumbang preso, Chinese garter, kasal-kasalan, Dr. Quack-Quack, taguan. The best times were morning, afternoon, and evening, esp. when the moon was bright and full. Power failures were also excuses to go outside and call the neighborhood friends to play -- what better way to spend the time waiting for the electricity to come back on, eh?
• Reading books for my own amusement, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. I still remember trying to "ration" myself to a few chapters a day, so my stash of books could last me the whole summer! Nowadays, the experience of reading a good book seems to be overshadowed more and more by the lure of video games, the Internet, and other electronic gadgets. I still get excited by the chance of tearing open the plastic wrapping of a new book, the crisp new smell of the pages, the uncreased spine.
• Eating an ice-cold, brain-freeze-inducing glass of halu-halo is one pleasure that can be enjoyed year-round, but is mostly associated with the heat of summer. I am quite partial to a spoonful of halu-halo with crunchy pinipig, colorful kaong and nata de coco, the gritty sweetness of monggo, ripe saging na saba, and topped with a generous slice of luscious leche flan and a dollop of creamy, brightly purple ube. Yummy!
• Fruit flavored ice candy, popsicles and ice drop could be found in every street corner, just awaiting the boys and girls who would surely come running and willingly fork over their precious coins just to be able to savor the cold, refreshing goodness from these treats.
• When we were young, a family picnic at the Luneta Park was something to look forward to during the weekends. One could enjoy the welcome sunshine and soft breeze coming from nearby Manila Bay while simply running around and enjoying the day. Nowadays, one would be lucky not to encounter a smirk or be branded "jologs" at the mere mention of a visit to Luneta.
• I remember when blowing soap bubbles meant having embarked on a pseudo-scientific foray of gathering gumamela flowers and leaves, pounding them into a paste, and adding detergent to the mixture. The bubble-forming implement would then be made from a piece of wire bent to just the right shape. Nowadays, there are instant bubble-making mixes in just about every toy store -- convenient, but somehow unsatisfying.
• Knowing the phone numbers of one's friends and family members used to be a good exercise for the brain, when memorizing them was expected, and one did so, without any complaints. With the advent of mobile phones and laptops, the need for doing so has been rendered almost obsolete.
• Viewing the Christmas display of the now-closed COD Department Store in Cubao. This was a treat for the whole family, watching the mechanized Christmas figures go through their programmed motions.
• Looking back to when we were young, our Christmas presents then seem to have had a magical aura that we so joyously welcomed. With all the toys and electronic gizmos that the children of today are exposed to, I fervently hope that they not become jaded by it all, and stil be thankful for all that they receive.
• On weekends when our family did not have anything pressing to do, we would all pitch in to make some guinatan: Papa would peel the camote and the bananas, Mama would prepare the gata and slice the langka, my sister and I would form the bilo-bilo. Then we would all wait for the bordering-on-the-ceremonial cooking of this really filling snack which was satisfying whether served hot or cold. I would consider myself a happy child if I got a cold bowlful of guinatan with loads of saging na saba; hold the camote please! Indeed, there are far easier ways to get one's guinatan fix, but I doubt that the atmosphere of familial togetherness can be recreated.
• Watching cartoons then was a treat usually reserved in the afternoons or during Saturday mornings. The rest of the time we played or studied or had fun with friends or talked with our families. Nowadays, cable TV provides a virtually unlimited supply of cartoon programs, so much so that children are increasingly glued to the boob tube and not playing, really playing enough with friends.
• The art of storytelling, and of listening to the myths and legends and folk tales of Philippine culture, should never die out. Stories of tikbalang and kapre and duwende have been part of my childhood, but I have not grown up a scaredy cat because of these things. I still remember the excitement my sister and I felt when our parents would tell us these tales, particularly on rainy nights, or during evenings when the electricity failed again in the city, as it was wont to do back then.
• As much fun as listening to folk tales was hearing about our parents' and grandparents' life stories. I was such an inquisitive little girl that I would routinely ask numerous questions about how things were when they were young. I was even the one to tell my mother that I discovered that my Lolo (her father) had a second (given) name! He did not use his second name, and so was known only by his first name. What a surprise that was. I also kept on pestering them for stories on how my Lolo and Lola met, how my mother and father met, how life was like in the province when they were all younger. These bits and pieces of our ancestors' lives should not pass on unnoticed and unsaid, and it would be a crying shame if children should be so blase and uninterested that they do not ask about them anymore.
• The first rainshower in May usually signalled the end of summer. It signified the end of a carefree vacation and heralded another year of poring over books. It was not a harbinger of sadness though, as we kids knew that we could walk happily in the rain and get wet without a care in the world, knowing that there was another summer to look forward to.

The world where we grew up in slowly receding. It is being replaced by a world of gadgets and glitz, of convenience and shortcuts, technological advances and bright possibilities. However it is also, increasingly, a world of fear and suspicion, of people not knowing and not wanting to know who lives in their neighborhoods, of people not feeling free to knock on their neighbors' doors to borrow a bag of sugar, a ladle, or a book.

Yes, the world today has all the modern conveniences: mobile phones to be in touch with our friends and families while on the go, PSPs and iPods to entertain us while we're on the road or just plain bored, microwave ovens for meals in minutes, laptops to do work at home or play games with, a multitude of cable TV channels to choose from. No doubt, life has become more efficient with all the gadgets at our disposal. Information has never been easier to come by.

But don't you sometimes feel a sense of sadness, melancholy even, for the times when life was simpler and safer? I would love for my kids to experience walking around the streets without fear that bad things may happen to them. I would like them to experience jumping up and down in rain puddles and taking in the first showers of May.

I would love for them to be interested in things that are not related to cartoon characters or TV shows, and instead ask questions about life and family. I would love for them to be kids, and not just mini adults with kid-sized stuff.

I would love for the children of today to still be thankful for the simpler pleasures in life. I would like them to feel the peace and joy in simply sitting down -- without any electronic distractions whatsoever -- and just... be.

The Best Day Ever

I never cease to be surprised by how children can be so hair-pullingly demanding one minute, and so heartbreakingly easy to please the next. The tension one gets from the whines and the tears can just as easily be erased by a spontaneous hug and a kiss, by a simple sentence delivered in all innocence.

It's so easy at times to say "No" to the seemingly endless requests made by a pesky (at times) kid, esp. when made in wheedling tones. "Later" becomes another pat reply. "Stop it or else" becomes a stock answer when parents get dangerously near the boiling point.

But how often have we stopped and put ourselves in our children's shoes? Are they doing it simply to test our patience? Do we think it's a let's-see-what-will-make-Mom/Dad-blow her/his-top game for them?

Or do they simply want our presence at that moment? Not the physical presence that's made up of listening with one ear while thinking of the thousand and one other things that need to be done before the day ends. Not the one that ends with Mom giving a vague answer to a question that she did not really hear at all, nor with Dad asking for a repeat of the lengthy story that was delivered with such gusto by the sweet little kid who only wanted to share the highlights of her day.

How many times have we stopped what we were doing, knelt down to ask what the little one wanted, and gave our undivided attention -- no straying thoughts, no interruptions, no hurrying -- to whatever story, question, joke or comment she happened to want to say? If we are the typical parents wrapped up in the myriad details of surviving in this day and age, much less than what we want, I would guess.

We get too wrapped up in "important stuff" like work and study and paying the bills and cleaning the house, that we lose sight of some of our children's needs that cannot and should not be replaced by material things.

My older daughter is actually ridiculously easy to please -- a simple cargo box becomes a play castle for her, or a camping tent, and she has been known to decorate it with colors and swirls and drawings to make it her own playhouse. A ribbon from a bouquet of flowers becomes a belt for accessorizing her dress-up costumes, or a headband, a bracelet, even a tail for a kite (whether it flies at all is of secondary importance). A spot in the golf course near our house becomes her "magic meadow", and is a place full of sunshine and happiness for her.

Sure, she's happy playing with Barbie dolls and stuffed toys, puzzles and board games. She derives great satisfaction in doing her art stuff, and is very passionate about books. But they're not everything to her.

What makes her happiest is Time. Time that Mama and Papa spend with her, whether it's swimming or walking around, baking or taking photographs, watching TV or going to the mall, playing games or reading books -- it is the time spent with her that she appreciates the most.

One lethargic afternoon during summer break, when the baby had been fed and was sleeping soundly, and I was enjoying my time off from work and having some "Me-time" in the living room just drowsily reading a book, my older daughter quietly sat beside me really closely and just leaned into me.

And just like that, I felt the need to put down my book and focus on her, to make her feel loved and wanted and appreciated in that moment, without distractions, without hurrying, without reservations.

And so I got us a flannel blanket, wrapped it around us, and hugged her tight. While sitting snugly together, cocooned in our combined warmth, she then said something that made my heart break and swell at the same time.

"Mama, this is the best day ever."

Don't our children deserve more moments like these?

Little Pockets of Happiness

What is happiness for you? Does it give you that warm and fuzzy feeling inside? Or is it having that joie de vivre that makes you think "I feel so blessed and thankful and I can take on anything and know that everything will turn out fine!"?

It's a little bit of both for me, and these are some of the things that give me little pockets of happiness in everyday life:

• Waking up to bright yellow sunshine streaming through the curtained windows, at peace in the fact that my husband and 2 daughters are safe and sound.


• Being given a dimpled smile and silent laugh by my 2 month-old when I gaze at her in the morning. She recognizes me now! That's such a heartwarming feeling.


• My 5 year-old handing me a bunch of flowers she painstakingly chose and picked in the yard. Doesn't matter if they're calachuchi, santan, yellow bell or sampaguita -- it's how she put so much thought into selecting what she thought were the best ones, and giving them to me.


• The crisp smell and feel of a new book, esp. one that I've been waiting for months to appear on the shelves.


• A piping-hot slice of pizza, with lots of melted cheese running down the sides, and I have to catch it with my fingers or else it will drip on the plate and I have to scrape it from there. Never mind the mess, it's just so yummy to lick your fingers!


• Crisp sheets and pillowcases, fresh from the laundry and smelling cleanly of soap. Makes me want to curl up and doze off.


• The smell of wet earth, when it has rained after a long spell of hot, dry weather. Yes, yung amoy alimuom! It makes me feel as is the world is reborn, and that new things are possible once more.


• Going on a drive, with no specific destination in mind, just enjoying the sights, and finding beauty in unexpected places.


• No long queues at the grocery checkout counters. Who wouldn't be happy with this?


• Gaily wrapped presents tied with shiny ribbons. The child in me still enjoys unwrapping these gifts. Of course I now pass on the ribbons to my older daughter.


• A cold refreshing beverage on a sweltering day, one that is served in a tall glass, beaded with droplets of water.


• Watching my favorite series (House, CSI, Numbers, NCIS,Bones) in a marathon DVD-and-chips session.


• Book sales! 'Nuff said.