…when I saw that my 8-year…my 8-year old, you know, my baby, can now fit into my clothes.
Omg. And it was by pure accident. She wanted to cover herself because she was wearing a swimsuit.
Mischa and I had some much needed girly time yesterday. Actually mama was also next door having her hair done, while we just our nails prettified. It was Mischa’s first time so I asked the attendant to go easy on her hands and feet. It’s a good thing most nail salons and spas nowadays offer packages for young girls like her. Now, I wouldn’t regularly do this, but from time to time, it is nice to have it. Can’t wait for Maxine to join us.
This is a super late post (read: supposedly posted about two months ago hehe). Ma and I were treated to the wonderful home service spa of Celebrity Nails last Mothers’ Day. Mothers, in their haste to fulfill their obligations to the world (home, work, school, etc.), tend to neglect themselves. I, for one, realize and try to give in once in a while, to the need of the body to be pampered and taken cared of, the royal way. I know things usually go crazy and overwhelming, hence, I try to take advantage of treats every now and then. Being losyang is so uncool, and so uncalled for. We need to take good care of ourselves, otherwise, how can we take care of others? When I have time (and the budget), I go for foot spas, manicures and pedicures, and facials. Massages and hair treatments have been a rarity, but will try to have these soon.
I loved Celebrity Nails! It’s too bad they only service Metro Manila. I only get to have them whenever we come over to Mico’s. Pampering has become just a phone call away, yey! They offer a variety of services in the comfort of your own home. So you need not get up and worry about what to wear (relax nga eh!). They bring these big luggages full of beauty paraphernalia, including soak machines, special lights, massage stones, makeshift chairs, even spa decor you can find in actual spas, you name it! Once treatment starts, you almost forget your worries for a while and give in to that couple hours of complete rest and pampering.
Fees are also not bad. I would think they would charge more considering they go to your place, but their rates are more or less the same compared to those in business establishments. Guess, they save a little on overhead.
I really hope something like this operates in the South soon. I would probably be one of their regulars. I can then pamper myself to my heart’s content without feeling the guilt of leaving my daughter.
I am glad to report that both mommy and baby are well on their way to recovery from our long bout of cough. While it was nothing to have a heart attack for, both our coughing spells are really annoying and irritating to say the least. With the absence of other symptoms, specifically fever, I know that we are far off from developing serious lung and heart diseases. But one really couldn’t bear to hear and see the little kid sputtering with hard to suppress coughing fits. These would even wake her up in the middle of the night, and disturb her otherwise peaceful sleep. I really hope that the antibiotics that the pedia gave her would work doubly fast to get all of us out of our misery.
Mine, on the other hand, has gone away so swiftly this week, it actually surprised me. I wouldn’t go to all the details but it all just boiled down to stress. ‘Nuff said.
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.
Been browsing through albums again, and I can’t help but grin widely as I look at Mischa’s and my likeness (sorry stage mother lang haha). She looks so much like me when I was her age, we are almost indistinguishable. I often tell her, although I know she couldn’t understand it yet, that there is hope yet for her pango (flat) nose. I think mine filled out nicely as I grew up.
When I showed Mischa the pictures, and asked her who were in those, she proudly says “It’s Mischa!”. And then I would tell her, “No, it’s Mommy when she was younger.” And she would retort back, “No, it is Mischa!”.
I rest my case. But I have to say my daughter is way prettier than me. I just hope she doesn’t take after my height.
See for yourself.
Mommy, some thirty odd years ago:
Three generations of mothers and daughters. I wish my lola, my second mother, were still here to be with Mischa. To see her, hug her, be proud of her. Sigh!
Anyway, I don’t want to get all senti and all. I wish I could, but as it is, I am always swamped with work and I couldn’t muster enough energy to open my laptop at night to post. We didn’t even get to celebrate mothers’ day as is the norm. Both brother and I are trying so hard to fit seeing each other into our schedules. We’ll find some middle ground soon.
Happy mothers’ day to all!