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On a light note, I am now well.

Thank you, Taylor Swift and Paramore, for the accompaniment.

Thank you, Monalisa Smile, Flor, Daryl, Hazelourd, and Jimmychooo, for the company.

It was easy to slip down and stay submerged in a dark hole, but I never thought it would be good to get up and reach out to your extended hands of love for help.

Tables turned when I became a mom and a wife. Priorities changed. Schedules changed. I even get to embrace routine—something I don’t even touch before. One time, a cousin asked me if I ever get bored. I told her I never get bored. With children, husband, career, and chores, I can never get bored. I cannot afford to be bored.

However, lately, I cannot understand the utter and mere presence of boredom. I was never bored, but now I am bored beyond I can imagine. I even feel lazy! I know we feel lazy sometimes, but to feel it for weeks is something else.

What is wrong? That girl who loves the random, crazy way of life is now dead? I still watch cartoons and read sometimes and listen to music. Is this midlife crisis? Funny because I set my lifeline to end at 60 (it would be a blessing to go beyond that) and now I am 33.

I feel like a muddy puddle, stagnant and thick and really not moving. I don’t feel challenged. I don’t feel adventurous. I don’t feel that spark I feel every morning when I get up. Most of all, I get sick easily.

Year end. I feel okay but not better—not the usual crazy person I am and with a flu! Flu! They say shop, go out, eat out, and see people. I am actually happy with staying at home with coffee and a book. I am not the social type, always have been. I am just brave enough to strike a conversation because its interesting to me. I go out with people I know and talk with them. But these are temporary fixes or are they? When I get home, I feel the same boredom.

Now, this creates a new page on something I have to discover. What is happening to me? I wish I know right away. This is definitely uncomfortable and definitely not good to linger on. Maybe I should write a book or go to Tibet or skydive. Whatever. Hey, brain, talk to me.

Why the old roses?

I’ve been digging. The vintage rose prints gives me that feeling of calmness and contentment and happiness. When I was a kid, these prints were all over in a room in our first house that I cannot even remember the structure, were on my dresses, and on my nana’s dresses. Pure nostalgia. Simple memento of happiness I found sharing to people who matters to me. So if you get a miniposter birthday greeting from me with the vintage rose/flower print all over it, it means I love you and I want to share a piece of memory that never fails to make me smile.

Oh, I thank the amazing artists behind these prints. You are awesome.

I didn’t realize I am in this situation until my five-year-old told me her life is boring.

I work at home. I requested my bosses to grant me this special arrangement since  we are moving to the countryside which would take around three hours of travel time each day and my work is on the net anyway. God is good and he touched my bosses’ hearts.

I expected this would be a challenge, but not as challenging as what I am experiencing right now.

Part of my plan is to be a hands-on mom, a homemaker, a worker, a hobbyist, and an artist all rolled into one thick bundle. It’s been a month since we moved in, and I haven’t done an inch about the crafts, the readings, etc. I expected a slow turn of events and voila—so slow turn of events.

I haven’t been thinking about being a mom in action—to be with the kids. I thought it will just come naturally. Then there’s this screaming kid. “My life is so boring.” My emergency alarm is flashing all of a sudden. Oh my! What have I been doing? To keep them busy with things appropriate with their age aside from running around the neighborhood with friends, I did nothing—literally nothing. I was all work and sweeping and washing the dishes and doing the laundry and telling them to stop fighting. Gaaaa!

To remedy this alarming declaration, we will do artsy things three times a week during mornings since her prep classes are in the afternoon. We started by watching Art Attack. It’s a great start to learn arts and crafts. They have simple crafts, drawings, and tips that my daughter can make. Yesterday, we made party hats and she glued some shiny sequins on them to make them pretty. Tomorrow, we will make party banners and for Friday, we will make paper cups. Sounds like a party is coming, huh. But I bet she’ll be ready enough by the time her birthday comes.

So close yet so far. I need to have quality time with my kids. It doesn’t mean I work at home I am doing my mom job. Presence and time should go hand in hand. Making arts and crafts which gives us tangible results of our quality time together are actually good memories in the making.

Wait

She misses her Nanay. She won’t be coming until the afternoon, so I told my daughter, “All we can do is wait.”

To explain the word “wait” to a five-year-old is quite a challenge. You need to cite examples of waiting, and you have to point at the clock which would just look like numbers in a circle with three hands rotating around it. I bet she wonders why people have to follow that device. I bet she wonders why we are bound with time when our desires are boundless and our mind can think about just anything we want.

It is difficult to keep waiting when all that’s left of your wall-like patience is a thin mist.  When your stubbornness wanes and your spark dies and when you feel so empty you cannot even dig a particle of dust in that hollow, how to keep waiting? Waiting for change takes courage, a daily dose of it; and on some tough days, a double to a bottle.

I have been saying to myself to wait and to wait even more and to build patience back up brick by brick. It’s a tiring work, but it’s a decision I have to keep. It’s unusual of me to say this, but I’ll scream it anyway, “AJA!” I am not a fan of the soap where this came from, but her optimism is really contagious even though she is just a character of a fiction.

I wish I can explain to my daughter a secret to keep the waiting a less boring and frustrating work. I wish I can tell her to think happy thoughts to keep going and keep waiting in a simple way especially when she can’t just stop crying.

I keep waiting and wait I shall. My God is a god who can see and who can hear. I shall wait on the Lord. 

Homeward

Two more days and we’re off to move in to our own home. With a relationship with mood swings like a PMS-stricken woman, it would be a rough ride for sure. It’s not that negativity has touched its icy finger on my spirit, but we have to consider every angle we can and should see. It can’t be all smiles.

For once, the all-time excitement I have been feeling for a year now is starting to wane. I can’t let fear sink in; I can’t let weakness get into me. I am afraid, but I’d be stupid not to be afraid. I don’t lie to myself.

We have packed most of our things last night. I can feel his fear while he was stashing away his law books. I want him to know or feel or telepathically whatsoever understand that it’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to know that you are afraid because you don’t know what lies ahead. Who knows the future anyway? No matter how organized you want your life can be, the future gives you a whack at times you don’t expect. I want him to know that we’re in this together. We can make good things happen, and we can face and solve every problem we can encounter.

I wish he’d communicate without literally blowing his lungs and to not think on the downside of things all the time. I need him to be dependable and to be man enough to keep a family together. I need him to understand that money is never everything. It’s just one single thing. It’s important, but it cannot buy true peace and happiness. I need him to understand that we need him. We need him strong and able and peaceful and present.

I pray he’ll get over all the hang-ups and start good memories with us. Together we can do this and make things work.

God, be with us all the time and guide us through this new journey.

This should be short. 😀

I have this attitude to never give up until I get it right or I get what I want when I set my mind on something.

If I have made a final move to leave him and break our family, what would there be? What will become of our children? What will become of us?

I am an advocate of having a complete family—together and living in the same house, at that. I don’t believe—not right now—that parenting or being a family can be done rightly when the pack is not living together. Sorry for being stubborn.

Amid and after all that had happened to me and my husband, I still believe that we can make this family better and stronger. I still believe that people change for the better. I always believe in moving forward together.

We sure have a lot of differences and we sure have a lot of disagreements. However, we slowly make amends and develop into two people who think more about the welfare of our small family and less of our personal gains. I now know how to shut my mouth, and he now knows how to help me with the chores without my telling. I now know how to support his interests, and he now knows how to respect my crying over a cheesy movie. We now both read—different books, yes, but we now both do something together. And, golly, how much we sing together during weekends!

We still keep each of our own money. We still buy our own share of expenses separately. I pay for our daughter’s school fees, he pays for our son’s. He still has the habit of throwing everything on the floor. I still don’t like to pick them up for him. He likes to play the blame game and I don’t have a lot of patience.

There are things we can live with and there are as many things we can’t stomach. There are two people in this relationship, two different people with different personalities. We have to compromise and meet in the middle.

Don’t get me wrong, I still think of giving it all up sometimes. In fairness, we didn’t plan about anything before we got married. We didn’t plan about a house, how many kids, who’s going to keep the money, whose this and that—didn’t. That’s a mistake on our part. But we need to keep moving forward and patch up those holes and level in those humps because we are here and we have a family.

Whenever low times hit me, I will always remind myself that we are not perfect people. We grow, we wither, then we grow stronger. We just can’t give up because we don’t like what we feel and see. We will always be a work in progress, and we shouldn’t and wouldn’t give up—not yet.

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