Three years old
How time flies. Who would have thought that before i hit the 3 mark, i would be bearing another 3 in my life. And that is the age of my beloved little banana---Musa. I secretly call her my banana because her name is part scientific name for a common banana. Too bad she doesn't like to eat one. You know.. kids and their fried chicken.
I remembered it well that day she came. I had a blurry vision of everything in the ER. I was lulled by sedation as they had to crack me open. After a few minutes of the drug taking in effect, they had to wake me up and make me see the baby. I don't know why they let me sleep and then suddenly burst me awake again... perhaps to assure that a human came out of me or perhaps to spare me of the dreaded teleserye syndrome of switching babies. Hell yeah... i write those things i sure hope it won't happen to me. No mother moment there because i was seriously drugged but i saw her looking really weird... and then pffft I go.
The mother moment came in the nursery. She really wasn't much of a pretty baby straight from an ad. She was swollen and looked as if she went thru a black hole... like she had a rough day coming out of my womb and that she'd want to be left in peace. Well, the feeling was mutual. I, too, had a rough day after all those 3 minute interval of labor pains and silent tremble.
I stared at her again. She looked like her real mother was Tina Turner in Mad Max. But then i held her, took a picture of her in my old phone and for a moment there i knew... my life would never be the same again.
Now, 3 years after coming out of me, she has a mind of her own. She doesn't like me to buy her pants because she only wants dresses. Very familiar fashion sense. A fan of Donald Duck, Belle of Beauty and the Beast, and Angry Birds where she mimics the howling of the birds when you get thru past a level. Eats only crispy fried stuff and carbonara done by her Lola. She can speak English and still spot a garapata a few steps from her. She knows the old Tong Tong Tong pakitong-kitong alimango song. She sings Tomorrow and belts it out when she feels like it and not because i asked her to which she won't oblige if i did. She's a bit on the adorably cute maldita side.
But she's slowly becoming a beauty... dusky and bright eyed with almond shaped eyes to boot. Not that i am biased but she really is beautiful and what's keeping me more at peace is that she's growing up strong willed. A strong mocha beauty named after a banana and public school principal---Musa Dimasidsing. When she really goes out there, a lot of things will bend and break her... make her into something she is not and what's valuable, i guess, is to know who truly one is. A strong sense of self to get her thru the day, an imbibed value of what is just, true and good. The feel of I am what I am. An individuality.
And much like the guy i got her name from--Musa Dimasidsing, who died clutching the ballot boxes away from those who wanted to grab it, i hope she gets to imbibe that sense. Of course, i don't wish for her to die if someone is to take it literally if you know what i mean. She has a long way to go. She's just a three year old rascal!
But for now, i wish she'd eat vegetables and just kiss me more often. She still is my little peanut butter colored banana.
I remembered it well that day she came. I had a blurry vision of everything in the ER. I was lulled by sedation as they had to crack me open. After a few minutes of the drug taking in effect, they had to wake me up and make me see the baby. I don't know why they let me sleep and then suddenly burst me awake again... perhaps to assure that a human came out of me or perhaps to spare me of the dreaded teleserye syndrome of switching babies. Hell yeah... i write those things i sure hope it won't happen to me. No mother moment there because i was seriously drugged but i saw her looking really weird... and then pffft I go.
The mother moment came in the nursery. She really wasn't much of a pretty baby straight from an ad. She was swollen and looked as if she went thru a black hole... like she had a rough day coming out of my womb and that she'd want to be left in peace. Well, the feeling was mutual. I, too, had a rough day after all those 3 minute interval of labor pains and silent tremble.
I stared at her again. She looked like her real mother was Tina Turner in Mad Max. But then i held her, took a picture of her in my old phone and for a moment there i knew... my life would never be the same again.
Now, 3 years after coming out of me, she has a mind of her own. She doesn't like me to buy her pants because she only wants dresses. Very familiar fashion sense. A fan of Donald Duck, Belle of Beauty and the Beast, and Angry Birds where she mimics the howling of the birds when you get thru past a level. Eats only crispy fried stuff and carbonara done by her Lola. She can speak English and still spot a garapata a few steps from her. She knows the old Tong Tong Tong pakitong-kitong alimango song. She sings Tomorrow and belts it out when she feels like it and not because i asked her to which she won't oblige if i did. She's a bit on the adorably cute maldita side.
But she's slowly becoming a beauty... dusky and bright eyed with almond shaped eyes to boot. Not that i am biased but she really is beautiful and what's keeping me more at peace is that she's growing up strong willed. A strong mocha beauty named after a banana and public school principal---Musa Dimasidsing. When she really goes out there, a lot of things will bend and break her... make her into something she is not and what's valuable, i guess, is to know who truly one is. A strong sense of self to get her thru the day, an imbibed value of what is just, true and good. The feel of I am what I am. An individuality.
And much like the guy i got her name from--Musa Dimasidsing, who died clutching the ballot boxes away from those who wanted to grab it, i hope she gets to imbibe that sense. Of course, i don't wish for her to die if someone is to take it literally if you know what i mean. She has a long way to go. She's just a three year old rascal!
But for now, i wish she'd eat vegetables and just kiss me more often. She still is my little peanut butter colored banana.
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