After the crazy-busy month we all had, we all welcomed our time away to celebrate GrandadDoc's 81st birthday. I especially welcomed my early morning peace and quiet. The Mak-Tatos would just be getting up, MacDaddy either asleep or engrossed with his new toy and me all set for a good old-fashioned run. (One of the perks of taking Yaya K along on the trip!) I loved that hour. Just me and my thoughts, my lunars and my Ipod right before getting together with the whole kaboodle for trips to the zoo, the aquarium, picnics, restaurant-hopping and long, long walks.
The boys were totally digging the new home away from home. Happy and settled, yes. But. (There's always a but isn't there?) But... you can take the Pinoy out of the 'Pinas but you cannot take the 'Pinas out of the Pinoy. They were craving for our very own sinandomeng rice (sorry, calrose. nice try but no cigar), chicken adobo (world-famous Hawaiian barbecue not quite it) or any "sabaw" to drizzle all over their rice. Mac and cheese, nuggets, and fries just not fitting the bill.
On one of those morning runs, with two kilometers to go and just as I was feeling oh so cool with music courtesy of Editors blasting, I saw the boys' nirvana and the sudden demise of my Me-time. A Filipino canteen! Freshly cooked pinakbet, adobo, lechon kawali, tinola and bangus belly. Plus pancit and halo halo and bibingka (and boy bawang!) for snack time. Looking through the glass making sure it wasn't a mirage I thought should I or shouldn't I? I did. Of course.
So there I was: plastic container of a bowlful of freshly cooked chicken tinola soup on one hand, daing na bangus belly slices on the other, cool factor certainly down a couple of notches, half-jogging, half-walking, half-amused and half-hoping I wouldn't spill the soup all over.
And when I walked into the hotel room and Mak kissed the milkfish before planting one on me, I knew it was well, well worth it.
Mothers. Suckers.
