Sweet Dreams

I don't have a sister so the concept of sibling rivalry is totally lost on me.  Since the boys have always been as different as night and day, I  naturally thought  they'd have their own sets of friends and want to do totally different things.  Wrong.  They really dig hanging out with each other.  They both still adore football.   And much as I try to yak on and on that it's not about who wins, my reasoning doesn't always win. 

On many nights right before we doze off I have to deal with bedtime prayers such as this:

Mak:  Thank you, Papa Jesus for letting me beat Tato 4-1.  

Tato:  Thank you for the side tackle on my brother so he couldn't make the last goal.

And I say a little prayer myself asking the Almighty  to stop me from strangling them both in their sleep. 

When We Were Six

About to blow her birthday candles while having afternoon tea with her neighborhood fairy friends. My little girls says that's what fairies like to do. So that's how she wanted to celebrate turning another year older. 

Here's a poem by A.A. Milne dedicated to the our resident six year old.

When I was one I had just begun

When I was two I was nearly new

When I was three I was hardly me

When I was four I was not much more

When I was five I was just alive

But now I am six, I'm as clever as clever;

So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.

She's so much fun to have around, I do wish she would be six forever. I know it's not going to happen, but mamas imagine things like that occasionally.

When girls that age live with you, you'll have fairy wings fluttering all over the place.

Then a certain big brother and his cohorts will attempt to attack the fairies fluttering around with those wings!

But they are no match. February Birthday Girl told the rest of her winged friends: "Those are just guns. We are fairies! We have fairy powers!" 

Kaaaboooom! The fairies prevail. Oh, to be six years old. These days are so precious. They are to be relished, my dearest little girl. 

Peanuts and Philosophies

If you haven't already made plans to catch 9 Works Theatrical's production of You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown over at the RCBC Auditorium, I suggest you take the kiddoes along and do so.

I didn't know what to expect, only that it would be a welcome diversion for the boys. Call it a small window of opportunity or a desperate attempt on my part to expand their horizons.  Our one year anniversary from the time they firmly decided football would be king in our homes and in our lives is coming up.  They still wear jerseys at every chance they can get.  When they're not catching the games at the oddest times of times of the day on TV, or talking about who's being traded to what team or who's wearing the latest Mercurials,  they're on the field playing it.  They trained five out of seven days a few weeks ago.  I told you: crazy-obsessed.

Now back to the play. Surprise. Surprise. They loved it. They both sat at the edge of their seats laughing out loud at some point, I would have otherwise guessed they were watching Real Madrid clash with FC Barcelona. Ok, maybe not completely but it was good enough for all of us.

Mak and Tato were still talking about it days after.  Mak says the show is  not just funny it is really, really funny.  He's been asking when I'd be taking him to the next "episode".  He's also decided Happiness is the musical's best song.  Good choice.  Good times.  

Tato: Mama, Sally was so funny she kept changing her mind about her philosophy.  What's a philosophy anyway?

Me: It's asking questions and trying to find answers about things you don't know.  

Tato: Like what is good for me?

Me:  That's a  good one.  And if you don't know the answer to that right away, that's cool.  Many grownups don't even have the answer to that one. 

Tato: But I already know.  FOOTBALL. That's my philosophy: Football is good for us.  

Hmmm....

Human

Sorry, Brandon Flowers, you have nothing on us.  Tato covers Human and kills it.  Minus the trademark feathered shoulders of course. With special participation of musical director stage brother at the 24th second mark cueing "psst...cut the cord..." 

Human from Nana on Vimeo.

I kid.  I kid.  Giving the actual floor to the Killers.  Current favorite song over here.

We know what we'll be jamming to this weekend.  Thank God it's Friday. 

In the Loop

If you've been here a while, you'd know that I found out I had breast cancer twelve years, five months and ten days ago. (yes, keeping count) If you're pretty up-to-date on this part of our cyberworld you'd also know that I finally told the boys I was once diagnosed.  I hesitated for a while but felt like a load had come off as soon as I came right out and said it.

Mak, first-born twin, wanted to know the details.  Tato, born three minutes later, listened intently then decided  "we would not talk about it ever again".  I totally respect and get it.   The subject hasn't ever really come up again.  I'm armed and ready with answers just in case. 

Yesterday we were at a birthday party.  All the other little girls hounded the glitter tattoo table to get their arms all shimmery with fairy and princess designs.  The boys were next and many went for the lightning bolts and dragons.  Mak and Tato took their turns but they rushed off to the bouncy castle before I got a chance to see their temporary tats. 

When the boys finally emerged from every party's black hole - the bouncy house,  I saw a bright pink tat on Tato's arm.

Tato:  Look! I got a breast cancer ribbon.  It's for you, Mama. 

Aww. Sniff. Sniff. 

Enjoy the Silence

My favorite Depeche Mode song refreshed by RAC. Words are very unnecessary, indeed. But I just had to say, this is the perfect soundtrack for this Sunday, while hanging out with the three coolest people I know. 

All I ever wanted, all I ever needed is here in my arms… Yes, yes, yes! Love and positive vibes back to all the kind people out there, wherever and whoever you are. 

Numbers and Poetry

Dear Vico Bear,

I was happy to hear from Teacher Steph how eagerly you have been applying yourself in Math. Way to go doing Optional Work and Extra Challenges! Despite doing very well the last two terms, when asked your personal goal for Term 3 you wrote, To be better in Math. I suspect you’ll grow up making good use of your passion for numbers and figures. You are my favorite Visual Spatial Thinker, you! As the motto goes… Work Hard. Be Nice. And that’s what you have been doing. And you’ve just turned 8. This serves anyone well, whether age 8, 38 or 88.

To celebrate the school portfolio you have been working hard on in the past months, I’m posting some of your work here. One day you might read this when you are all grown up and get a real kick out of it. This is you writing as a fictional character.

Without realizing it, you made a “dissertation” this year—researched with some help but written independently. In second grade, you and your classmates call it your All About Book. You decided on this thesis statement: "LEGO is epic! Because you can build anything you can imagen." You do love exclamation points!!! And actually, it's i-m-a-g-i-n-e. 


Anyway, thanks to your book Teacher Steph and I know facts about LEGO we didn’t know before.

This is what you came up with when asked to emulate Shel Silverstein’s poem One Inch Tall. Your poem is called 1 Nano Bite Tall. 

This one emulates the Zoe Ryder White poem Inside My Heart, but you chose Sadness as a theme. 

This posterity post is also a reminder to… Keep expressing yourself. Keep the poetry in your heart. There’s a place for it even inside grown men full of patterns, plans and equations in their head. Your words are who you are. Sometimes you’ll feel like no one is listening. That’s okay. Do it just for yourself. Besides, Mama and Daddy will always want to hear what you have to say and we will always want to read what you write. Always!

Love 20x12

Sharing some moments from the last day of 2011.

You will see more of Her than Him... 

Because she just loves to pose...




While he's more a behind-the-scenes sort of guy...

What they both love is cheese, which plays a big part in New Year's Eve gluttony.

This photo I will call, "Mama and Dada by the Tree"

All those photos are meant to go with RAC's remix of Love U More, as sung by Sunday Girl. Although it reminds me of carefree college days when Sunscreem first sang it, I Love It More Now (pun totally intended) when it is cheesily dedicated to  all the loves of my life--including those who aren't in the pictures above. All of you, I could not love more. You know who you are. Now click play if you want to dance and be happy!

Isn't that just one of the happiest songs you have ever heard? I am still celebrating the arrival of 2012, so this post is extra mamamushy and indulgent. Thank you very much! Happy New Year, blogosphere! 

December Days

...more like December daze, really. 

We've welcomed a new little girl to the clan (my brother's daughter) after a serious shortage of girls. I've turned a year older, sent out the gifts in record time (finally!)  and managed to eat every single cookie and cupcake that has crossed my front door.  So help me.  

The other evening, while hosting friends over at our place, we got a frantic knock at almost midnight.  There was a fire in my next door neighbor's house.  Yup, for sure it's one of those thoughts that have crossed your mind - the what-would-you-take-with-you-in-case-of-a-fire scenario.   I always joked half-joked with MacDaddy that we'd each run off with my two favorite sculptures.  It would probably feel like us bench pressing our body weights but I always assured MacDaddy the adrenaline would give us that extra push.  Thankfully, with quick thinking on the part of the neighbor and the fire department, no one was hurt, the fire didn't spread and a smoke-filled place was all I had to contend with.  It was also a relief to know that both MacDaddy and I, at that point,  wanted to take the boys out to safety and absolutely nothing else.  Talk about putting  Christmas in its proper perspective.  It's way too easy to lose sight when you have those crazy carols playing since September, you've wrapped your hundredth gift and you're nowhere near done and Christmas commercialism is out of control.  Sometimes, just sometimes a little jolt like this all we ever really need.  

Flashback. This is our very first Christmas with the boys. 2005.  We're brand new, giddy and wide-eyed all psyched for parenting thinking Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Perfection.

These are a few other Christmas photos over the years.

Look below. 2009. Am I the only one noticing we're losing our hair?  Tato has a bandage on his forehead after sixteen stitches and surgery. Did we really think easy peasy? Really?

It's 2011, I don't have a decent Christmas photo and you're not getting a photo card this year, sorry.  If you can get them to sit still long enough without one sticking out his tongue, or looking away or whining or wrestling,  I'll give you my arm. 

So here we are settling for a booth shot equipped with ample warning and about a twelve-second allowance to get the money shot.  We still can't seem to get that done right.  But we've learned to both laugh at ourselves and go easy on ourselves because sometimes that is the only way. Easy peasy, my a$$. We are perfectly imperfect at this parenting bit but perfectly happy and blessed we get to have a go at this. And that is viva la vida mama. 

Merry Christmas!

Super 8

Very early this morning Bear crept into our bed. Half-asleep I said, "good morning birthday boy." To which he replied so sweetly and so earnestly, "thank you mama, thank you…" with the warmest cuddle and hug. 

Good Day Sunshine! from Nikka Santos on Vimeo.

Thank YOU baby bear. My heart is much bigger, my mind more open. Hope and happiness are mine… thanks a huge part to YOU. 

Be Happy

So says my Chicha…

Just a post on random sweetness and memories. Here's something she recently tacked onto my Kindle. The ID picture she found is awful, but the whole thing is awesome for me anyway. 

To go with this Chicha-pachicha post, here's a song she loves because it reminds her of trips to Subic and this year's trip to Coron in Palawan. It was played in the van, the boat, by the beach while the adults were sipping cold beer, while on the hammock, in the cottage, etc.


 
I agree Chicha, RAC's Armistice remix goes well with these memories...

Remember waking up to the sound of the waves and having the shore just a few steps away?

Remember Kayangan Lake? Where salt and fresh waters meet and make love into the best National Park in Coron.

Remember when we had Bomol Beach all to ourselves? 


And so.

Just awhile ago I chanced upon her dancing to that Phoenix song blasting from her room, while big brother Bear was playing Minecraft and belting, "and when the lights are cutting out... and I come down in your room..." Et voila (Phoenix is a French band), a blog post is inspired.

She was in this outfit. Happy on a lazy, rainy Sunday, indeed. 

Positive weekend vibes Internet!

Silver Lining

There.  I said it.  Monkey off my back. I finally got up the nerve to tell my boys that once upon a time, in a galaxy not far, far away,  their mother had breast cancer.  

It was easier than I had imagined.  We were all curled up in my bed all set for lights out because thats what we do on weekends.  MacDaddy was still in his dinner  and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to come clean.

Remember I told you I'm going to Davao next week?  And that I'm going because I will  meet hundreds and hundreds of sick people that might need help? I'm doing that because a long time ago Mama was sick just like them.  I had breast cancer also.  I was scared and didn't know anything about it.  And now that I'm okay I want those girls to know that they can get better also.

If you've been reading this blog for some time or actually spent more than five minutes with the boys you would know how different they are.  Night and day.  Day and night. And I mean it all in a good way.  Mak will sit through the scariest, most frightening scenes in a movie.  He will ask you every gory detail.  I once left him with MacDaddy and he sat through the entire Trainspotting flick.  I hear he didn't flinch once. Yes, even that scene with the vomit and the child demon on the ceiling. I know, I know.  Censor censor.  Whole other post for that one.  Tato, on the other hand,  needs to know the ending before a movie even begins before he agrees to sit through it.  He looks away and even runs away completely when a movie is sad or scary or springs a surprise.


If I made a bet  and guessed how each boy would  react,  I would have won big.    I had played the possible scenario in my head over and over again weeks before this and I was spot on.  Ha! I do know my boys.  

Mak:  You were sick before? What else?  What did you do?

Me: I did everything I could  to get better.  I listened to my doctor and followed him.  I even took this medicine that was so strong like a superhero fighting the bad guys that  my hair fell out.

Mak:  Wow! You looked like Papa with no hair?  Wow!

Tato: Forget about it.  Don't talk about Best Caster again.

Me: Its Breast Cancer.  Did someone tell you it was scary?  

Tato:  No I just know it.  Don't say it ever again. 

Me:  Okay deal.  But if you ever want to ask me anything about it, just ask okay? 

Bedtime prayers.  Bedtime hugs and kisses. End of story. End of discussion.  Lights out.

Days later,  all set and ready  to head to the airport to attend Silver Linings, our foundation's cancer conference and homecoming for over a thousand women diagnosed all over the country, Tato stood beside me and the bag I was packing and spoke in a whisper looking around making sure his brother wasn't around to hear it.  His pride gets the better of him lots of times. 

Tato:  Mama, what if you catch cancer from the girls where you're going?

Me: Cancer isn't like a cold or a cough, Tato.  And I'm not sick anymore.  I'm well.  

He gave me the biggest  kiss on the cheek and  we each went our way.  

My own little silver lining. 

Getting Ahead of Google

In a Breast Cancer conference I attended in Orlando early this year, I joined a session called: The ABC's of Talking To Your Child about Breast Cancer.  The rest of the conference had us all generally upbeat with yoga classes, chit chat sessions,  and good news  on the breakthroughs and  trends in cancer. This session had us passing around the Kleenex box quite a bit.  It is true.  Tough as we are and  as mighty as we think we can be when we brave these storms, we all turn weak in the knees and marshmallowy-soft when it comes to our children. 

Our speaker was a top-notch surgeon who, after years of dealing with her own patients who in turn deal with their own children, discovered she had  cancer.  With roles reversed all of a sudden she was forced to talk to her own children about  her cancer diagnosis. She has since gone on to write several children's books for children that help them understand and cope with the issues that come part and parcel with being a child of a survivor. At the end of the lecture, when it was time for the usual Q&A I asked something I had not thought about initially and then suddenly been thinking about for sometime.

MY QUESTION:

"I am a twelve-year breast cancer survivor.  I have five-year old twins.  Apart from  my real job I work with other breast cancer survivors  so my boys are exposed to this, to other survivors  and know all about what we do as a foundation.  Should I tell them at all I have had cancer myself and if  I should when is the right time to do it?"

HER ANSWER:

"To your five year olds? NOW.  Now is the time.  How would you present it to them? You would say, you know what these women have gone through because you have gone through it yourself. What are you telling your children? Something bad has happened to you but you made something good out of it.  Now. "

Now.  To think that was seven months ago and I never got around to it. Blame it on real life getting in the way again or conveniently  just forgetting  or me just being  plain old chicken. So  why  - apart from the fact that the -BER months remind me that breast cancer awareness month is just around the corner  and that I need to make that appointment for my annual mammmogram - is this suddenly back into my stream of consciousness? 

Because the boys have discovered the wonderful world of GOOGLE. 

Tato: Mama, I am only in Google. It's the list with my finishing time when we joined the race. I am not in Google Images. I want to be in Google Images.

It seems they have also discovered the dangerously spectacular world of Vanity Googling.  

Ahh.. Vanity Googling.  Verb:  Searching for one's own name on a search engine to check out  what the world wide web has on you.  Synonym: egosurfing, egogoogling

And since it seems to be a trend in our own home, I decided to egosurf myself.  No humiliating high school photos, thank god.  Equally thankful Facebook and Twitter weren't around then to record the bad breakups and the equally bad hair dos.  I did discover quite a number  of articles and interviews I have done over the years about my own cancer journey.  

Tick tock.  I better get to it before Google beats me to the punch. And yet,  just like vowing you will never ever  sit through another excruciating episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians  the next time you chance upon it, some things are easier said than done.