Delineating Des

"You took everything! You took Cj, you took Mozart, everything!" "No, honey. I did not. You kept your real estate, your liquid assets and your golf clubs. I just took what are rightfully, legally and sentimentally mine: Cj, Mozart, and the photo albums." Thus went the highlight of our drama which culminated in a special trip (Mommy Moments theme this week), special in the sense that I was taking a family member home. Home to the Philippines with grandma. Poor Mozart is the final casualty of this divorce. But let's look on the lighter side. Everything went fine. Mozart's immigration papers were sorted, although it was one of the most expensive trips we've ever done. Ex-hub, bitten by the nicety bug, drove us to the airport and took this pic Mozart had to travel in the belly of the plane among the bags. I had difficulty explaining to Cj why Mozart wasn't sitting with us. We submitted Mozart to the special cargo unit with Cj protesting all the way. Whe...

~ brought to you by Alicia of More Than Words ~ The month of August has been filled with birthday celebrations of friends and family (read: mine and my canine). As I've already blabbed about people's birthdays, I thought this FPF post would be about Mozart. He's my toy poodle who turned 7 on August 2nd. I had him two years before my biological son arrived. This was taken on his first birthday in 2003, using my ancient Kodak camera. Like they say first baby, first birthday: big deal :D. So Mommy threw this cuddly guy a little party. ~ waiting for his guests ~ Actually there were only two invited guests. One didn't make it to the fun because she overslept. Her name is Dawn, the youngest 'child' of our next door neighbor, a local film actress. Dawn's mom handed a gift. Over the fence. ~ and this is Salapao, the other neighbor's 'baby' and Mozart's partner in ruining my alugbati patch every single week ~ They snobbed the cake, but had fun w...

Before there was Cj, there was Mozart (the very guy below Cj on my left side bar). Mozart is my "first-born." I had him when I was a happy-go-lucky, brand new wife. When I started noticing that Mozart's milk is more expensive than my coffee, his toothpaste quadruple the price of my Colgate, I began thinking I'd be better off having a real baby . Little did I know that with Cj's birth came along a tough job explaining to Mozart why I was spending less time with him. I gave him a toy saying it's a friendship gift from Cj, but Mozart, the spoiled brat that he is, snobbed the toy. When Cj arrived, Mozart welcomed him with tiny, dry pebble-poo in groups of 3-4 all over the floor. I had to give Mozart lots of hugs to assure him he was still Mommy's baby. That was the first lesson I learned on sibling rivalry. I had no prior experience on what it's like to be insecure or jealous of siblings as I am an only child. I just learned it from my boys. The chaos has ...

View more FFF participants at Living to Tell the Story This week was just great. Here are my faves : 1. Just on time. If there's one luxury I am enjoying nowadays, it's TIME. Thus, all this blogging, all this net surfing, all this time in front of the pc. Lately though I seem to have forgotten that no matter how long the free time is, it still has to be managed properly. I have procrastinated on other important things that I felt alarmingly surprised to find out my work uniform isn't ready and it was only a matter of hours til the requirement to wear it was imposed. Clock was ticking, ticking fast! I pleaded with the seamstress. It turned out Lady Luck was on my side. She finished the uniform just on time for me to go to work without having to cook up an alibi why I wasn't wearing the prescribed dress code. *Exhale* That was close. 2. Lost and found . Aside from books, soft TV noise lulls me to sleep. That makes me very attached to the remote control. Alas, my son play...

It's Father's Day and in my case, it's remembering-Papa day. Sweet things that remind me of him have a place in my heart, and in my palate. My father had a sweet tooth. When I was little Mama lectured the two of us about the hazards of too much sweets. Papa did the opposite and secretly allowed me to eat all the sweets I wanted. Sometimes he would take me out to eat ice cream until the tip of my nose was cold. When he passed away in 2005, I lost my 'partner in crime.' I made sure there was enough ice cream for everyone at the funeral reception. It has been four years of collecting memories of him, and the list now includes a weekend self treat that has become rather indulgent. Macadamia choco cheese cake and durian ice cream - my old man would have loved these. This is my imperfect shot of a perfect indulgence: Papa would have spoiled my boys just as he spoiled me. I just know he would have. History has a sweet way of repeating itself, doesn't it? The eldest...

This morning I received a text message from my mother about Mozart. Mozart is my 6-year old toy poodle. I had to fly him home to the Philippines when my divorce became final. He's been staying with my mother who, I suspect, spoils him more than I did when he was with me in Bangkok. Mother's text message read, "Mozart caught a huge rat from the edge of the yard this morning. He wanted to munch it but I didn't let him. Now he is a cat." I replied, "Not letting him eat the rat is a good decision. After all a rat is not his diet." Back in the pre-divorce days Mozart caught a bird from our tiny garden. With his mouth bulging, he ran to me. He was very pleased with his catch. I had to tell him firmly, "Mozart, drop the bird." He obeyed and I ended up nursing the poor maya until it was ready to fly again. That earned Mozart a stern lecture about things he can play with and creatures he should leave alone. I emphasized the importance of being himself ...

G.B. Stern says, "silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone." I agree. Keeping mum with your thanks is tasteless. I admit I have been sometimes guilty of what I have just described. I am attempting to redress that silence, and henceforth try to be more specific and regular in expressing gratitude for my blessings. The following are what I am thankful for this week: my cold is gone! (I sooo hated it) it disappeared before I could even pop the second pill the fun of discovering new avenues to express myself and for the nice people I met and will meet in blogosphere the thrill of interacting with my son through baseball and Japanese cuisine I am grateful that my Cj is well past his tantrums over weekend commutes between me and his dad. And I'm certainly not complaining that ex-hub takes care of Cj's major expenses. My other baby, Mozart (my spoiled rotten canine who had to be flown home as the final casualty of my divorce) is in good hands with Grandma Philippines. E...

From the first spurts off the nozzle til the towel is pulled out of the hanger, my shower room turns into a vocalization nook for a Pavarotti score. If I am lucky I get a kick. Little Mr. Bath-hater struggles to master the art of not missing a breath while water cascades down his face. I grapple with the effort of making him comfortable while getting rid of suds the quickest way possible. The pic below shows him having a great time on the tub playing with his cousin in Digos city (I have to tweak it for obvious reasons) . Anyway, how in the name of Thailand's goddess of water and the Philippines' own San Juan, did my ex-mom-n-law, my mother and all talented yayas bathe my kiddo without a single scream from his diaphragm? Three Fridays ago after work, I sat listening to Cj splashing. Number of screams: zero. He even emerged from the bathroom grinning with his proud yaya in tow. I turned purple with jealousy. Bathing my other boy, Mozart is entirely an opposite experience. We are...