It’s the crack of dawn on Black Saturday, and I am wide awake as an owl. It is such an injustice to have awoken at 4:30 in the morning on a holiday when I usually cram those available sleeping hours on workdays. On the one hand, it feels great to see daddy and daughter sleeping side by side peacefully. I spent a good half an hour just watching them as their chests rise with each untroubled breath. I could do this all day, you know.
But since I have been up for some time now, I got up, went to the bathroom, tried to sleep again, got up again, turned on the TV, opened the laptop and surfed the net. And as I have been in a reflective mood the past few days, here I am trying to get stuff off my chest and writing.
So what is it that I am now reflecting on aside from how-much-deeply-in-love-I-am-with-my-daughter fixation, and how she seems to be shooting up right before my eyes? Well, I am now thinking of our likenesses aside from obvious physical resemblance. While she got her general disposition from her dad (I disown that moody, suplada, impatient, headstrong nature hehe), she still took some behavioral things and tastes from me–from habit or by nature, I really can’t tell…
…like how she runs away from cockroaches, or calls daddy at the top of her lungs
…or how she hates ampalaya, or dislikes squash
…how she loves sour, sweet and salty food
…how sharp her memory is (this is like a prelude of my being mapagtanim hehe)
…how gregarious and loud she is when surrounded by the people she knows
…how she doesn’t want to be at the center of attention, and shies away from people who ogle her too much
…how she doesn’t plunge headlong into a new activity and watches first for several times before she does it herself
…how she keeps a lot of the pain to herself and doesn’t cry when she is berated, or stumbles or falls
…how predictable she is (or maybe I just know her too well)
And in more ways than I can comprehend. I am torn between surprise and awe at how I seem to be looking at a mirror every time I look into her eyes. I am also afraid if she grows up to be like me–how I absurdly value other people’s opinion more than my own, and always turn to others for validation. I hope she comes into her own, and doesn’t take after the pushover side of me. Oh well, this isn’t about me. As I keep praying to God to guide me, and let me be the best mom I can be, I hope to have the strength to lead her the right path to goodness and happiness.