“We used to have fruits almost everyday”

Those were the words of my daughter, Angel as we were talking about the happy days when their mother was still with us.

And she was right, when my wife was still alive, she would often buy fruits for the kids. To think that the market was really out of her way and going straight home was easier.

Still, she didn’t mind the extra trip just to be able to bring home some fruits.

Unfortunately, it is one thing that I neglect to do.

I do not buy fruits for the kids. While Angel’s words were harmless and not in any way meant to put me down, it dawned upon me that I just cannot replace the love, caring and thoughtfulness that my wife has shown us.

The “fruits on the table” could be just a representation… just a surface… when you scratch it… when you look beyond it… it could also mean that there is really no substitute for a mother’s love.

I could have remembered the fruits, I could have done more.

But I failed… I failed the “fruit” test.

What could they be missing?

Isn’t it obvious?! THE GENUINE LOVE AND WARM CARING OF A MOTHER!

There’s just a need to balance the tough and over-imposing aura that a father provides… the kind of balance that only a mother can bring.

Sadly, my kids missed that balance. Upfront, they look fine as if everything’s normal… but I know deep inside that everything is NOT normal.

Of course, I try my best to fit both shoes – the tough, firm and disciplinarian father and the warm and caring touch of a mother. Trying to bring “balance to the force,” so to speak.

Then again, we all know that it’s just not the same… it will never be the same.

Nothing can bring the balance back.

Because there could only be one mother who can really fill that void… unfortunately, it can never happen. EVER.

The kids are fine. Now.

But somewhere down the road, that imbalance could take its toll. I just hope that when it happens, I have already made good in my dual-role for them not to be shaken too much.

As it is, there nothing much more I can do aside from whining.

As the sayings go… breaks of the game… that’s the way the cookie crumbles… the cards have been dealt and I have play with my hand (yes, pun definitely intended).

“Sir, why are you here?” asked my son’s former classmate who saw me in school one day.

“I will buy books for Edgar,” was my reply and stood behind him on the line to the bookstore.

Lately, I’m becoming a familiar face in my children’s schools – enrolling them, paying their tuition fees, buying them uniforms and books. I’m finding myself doing errands for my kids. Things that they could have done, but I opted to do them myself.

Don’t I trust them with the finances? Of course, I do. I know my kids. They can be trusted with anything. It’s just that I wanted to do those things for them.

I missed a lot of my kids’ childhood because I was “too busy” at my work then. Now that I have a lot of time in my hand, I want to do anything that I can to show them that “hey! I’m still here! I’ll always be here for you.”

School plays, academic competitions, sport events, name it! I missed them all because I have to work.

Isn’t it ironic? We devote so much time in our work, because we want “to provide the best for our family.” We prioritize the company that we work for over our kids. The same company who is very much willing to drop us at a snap of a finger.

While them, our kids, are just there waiting for us to have even just a little of our time.

With my kids almost all grown up, there’ll be less of those activities that I missed and maybe not enough time to make up for the lost opportunities. That is why I’ll do everything I can for now to let them know that I am here for them… for anything.

UPDATE: There seems to be a problem and some friends can’t vote because my photo won’t load properly. Please make sure you “Like” the Century Hotel page (here) , and then click this link to like our photo too. If there’s still a problem, from the main wall of the page, scroll down until you see our picture, and like it from the main page. Thanks.

Okay, so I passed on Mother’s Day and accepted the fact that being a single father doesn’t qualify me to join Mother’s Day promos.

I also said before that I really do not like Father’s Day. That still holds true at this point.

So, why am I asking you to give me this Father’s Day?

Because this Father’s Day, I saw an opportunity to fulfill the childhood wish of my son — to stay overnight in a hotel.

Shallow?

Let me put it this way, in  a separate post, I said how it would make me happy to grant that simple request, that I even entered it in a “make a wish” contest last year. Unfortunately, it didn’t win.

I can’t afford it. Just in case you want to tell me that I should just pay for it instead.

And so there’s this Father’s Day contest wherein the prize is an overnight accommodation in a hotel. PERFECT! Just the thing I needed to fulfill a wish.

I just need to upload a favorite father and son (or daughter) picture and whoever got the highest number of votes win! Easy.

But I do not like campaigning, begging, pleading, imposing and twisting arms just to get people to “Like” my photo, which is by the way how you can vote in the contest.

Then again, for my kids…

So, I uploaded this picture of me and my eldest son when he was about one or two years old. We were watching TV when my wife fancied our position and decided to capture it.

Cute, isn’t it?

Is it worth your vote then? If so, please go the Century Resort Hotel page here and like it. And then go to our picture here and like it too.

Remember, like the page (here) first and then like the picture (here), for the vote to be counted. I need all the help I can get.

Help me and my kids make happy memories. Please, give me this Father’s Day.

(By the way, just in case you’re wondering, my son is now 18 years old. Which can tell you how old the photo is now)

Just when I thought I have prepared myself to combat any intruders and other unwelcome visitors (READ: SUITORS), I overlooked the small details that really means a lot to a growing child… a growing daughter, that is.

Tomorrow is my daughter’s graduation. Of course, I am proud and happy that my daughter is graduating from elementary. She has overcome the first hurdle in her life. And a graduation is one significant moment for her… and she needs to prepare for it, physically.

The problem is, being a single father and as expected, clueless about make-up and other girly stuff, how can she prepare and look beautiful on her graduation when there’s no one around to help her?

There are no other ladies in the house, she’s the only girl and only 13! We tried to contact her cousin but she won’t be available tomorrow.

Parlors? I don’t want to take her there because I don’t want them to touch my daughter’s hair. And based on our experience, parlor workers can be very stubborn. Tell them to cut only a small portion, and expect it to cut some more.

Okay, back to the graduation. What to do now? Don’t have much women friends I can really impose upon on, I mean asked to them to go to this house, help Angel prepare and then leave. Yeah, sounds very ungrateful, I know.

Anyway, like what I told her, she doesn’t need any make up really.

I hope she won’t feel deprived if we weren’t able to work things out tomorrow.

Last January, my daughter turned 13. Yes, I know. That was already two months ago. Well, it didn’t sink in on me then yet. She was still a baby then… I’d like to think that she still is.

There were apprehensions, sure. At the back of my mind, paranoia was stubbornly bugging me. I was trying my best to brush it off. How bad could it be? I mean, she was not the first teenager in the house! She was the third, actually.

But she was the only girl… and the youngest. Yes, her brothers didn’t bring me much concern when they turned 13. I refuse to be bitten by the double standards of child rearing… nothing could go wrong!

Or could it?

Then, there were screen flashes. Images of Steve Martin from the movie Father of the Bride kept on playing on my mind. Followed by Robin Williams who was so sweet and playful with a cute little girl on one scene, and then the next screen showed him fighting and arguing with the girl who’s already a teener in the person of Jojo from the movie RV (Runaway Vacation).

Paranoia?

Nah! There’s nothing to be worried about. I am on top of the situation.

First, my daughter now goes home by herself. She doesn’t want me to pick her up from school anymore. Okay, no problem. She should learn to be independent anytime soon.

Then, phone calls. Not really often, and not really as long as those we see in the movies. But they happen, whereas before, they were not non-existent.

Next, receiving a phone call or text message from her that says, “Dad, I’m in my classmate’s house. Were doing a project/practicing a dance routine for school.” “Okay, fine. Just take care of yourself.”

See! I’m in control! I am on top of the situation. NO NEED TO PANIC!

NOOOOOO!!!!!

I am being pushed out of the picture… little by little.

I promised myself that I will never be a hindrance to my children’s growth. I will let them learn, experience, discover, and enjoy life just as any growing kid should.

Can I take back that promise now?

It’s barely six months into her teen years, and already there are a lot of changes… and I sometimes want to shout…. HELP!!! I HAVE A TEENAGER FOR A DAUGHTER!!!

I had another scare as my daughter got sick last weekend, and on the occasion of her birthday even. Was observing her the whole day as she was constantly complaining of pain and irritation. At nighttime, seeing that she won’t be healed by home medication, I took her to the hospital where we were immediately met by medical personnel in scrubs who were running to and fro because of many patients in the emergency room.

Yes, we were at the emergency room as it was already eight in the evening. She was made to lie in one of the bed. While we were there waiting to be attended, we saw some medical personnel wearing white lab coats and going to some of the patients, getting some blood samples from some of the patients there.

When a doctor finally attended to my daughter, she asked some basic questions, like her temperature, how long has she been sick, medications takes, etc. Then she checked on her tonsils, and immediately said, “She has an infected tonsils. We don’t need to test her blood anymore. Her tonsils is what causing her fever. I’ll just give her antibiotic.”

I was relieved and thankful that it was not dengue, a case which has been prevalent lately. While waiting for our prescription and the bill, my daughter who was still in pain asked my if I could buy her one of those  scrub sets because she said they looked comfortable to sleep with. I smiled and said, “Yes, of course. My baby, I will.”

Sharing something that I wrote back in year 200… on my son’s Ralph first field trip…

Letting go…

Do you know how a child feels when he let go of a balloon that he loves so much? Or how it feels when you set a bird free, after you took care of it in its cage for so many years? Or of letting your fish swim in the ocean, after it has swam in your aquarium for so long?

That’s how I felt when I left my son this morning in school, to join his classmates and teachers to go on a field trip.

Of course, you might say that the metaphor wasn’t right, because balloons, fishes and birds don’t come back. But my son will surely go home after the trip. Nonetheless, the feeling of fear and anxiety doesn’t differ… perhaps more intense.

Actually, this feeling isn’t really new to me. I felt the same way the first day that I left my boy in school. I was able to survive that, what would make a difference now? I don’t know, but as I was walking away this morning, frequently looking back, I can’t help but worry.

Looking at him, so young, small and fragile, after all, he is only eight years old, in the company of absolute strangers, well at least they are strangers to me.

The irony of it all is that my son doesn’t show any sign of fear or anxiety.

He looks so happy talking to his friends, mixing, blending, and loosing himself in the crowd, without even looking to check if I’m still there.

Maybe that’s what I fear, to realize that my son can already take care of himself.

Ralph Emerson gave me my first taste of fatherhood. Everything that I know about being a father, I owe it all to him.

Nobody taught me better than my son, as I walk through life with him, I learn new things everyday. It’s like seeing it all for the first time, through the eyes of a child.

And now, he is teaching me again another new thing, that of letting go… too soon.

Just when I thought that I was ready for anything that life can give me, now this. I wasn’t prepared for this, I don’t think I ever will be. Again, it’s too soon.

Like they always say, being a father is a tough job. You got to work hard, to be able to provide your children all their needs. You got to be tough, to be able to discipline them. You have to teach them to be good and God-fearing citizens. You have to guide them so that they won’t go in the wrong direction. You have to be tough, in times of trouble for them to feel secure. And you got to be good, to serve as a role model for them.

Well, guess what? Those were the easy parts.

You have to be tough, to be able to let go. To be distant when you’re not needed to be around. To accept the fact that your child has grown up.

Perhaps, the father needs the son more that the son needs the father.

For through the son, the father develops a sense of confidence and a feeling of security.

For through the son, the father has someone who sincerely looks up to him.

Through the son, the father has enough motivation that can push him through the hardest of times.

And only through the son, the father can be.

Now that my son has a taste of freedom, he may like it. He may develop self-confidence, he may discover that he can take care of himself.

When that happens, does that mean that I’m through? Am I done being a father?

See? I told you. Nothing can make a father more secure than a child that he can be a father to.

You can teach your child lots of things. He may easily grasp some things, while he may have difficulty learning other things. But I think the hardest thing to teach is independence. Because for a child to be independent, you got to let him be independent.

That means, no breathing over his shoulders, no checking every five or ten minutes and no looking back when you walk away.

It means, you got to let go. Loosen your grip, cut that imaginary string, break those invisible bounderies. You got to let go.

It means you also have to be independent from your child. Trust that you have taught him enough, that you have established enough foundation that could carry your child through.

Move back and let go.

As I am filled with anxiety and worries about my son going on field trip, I am also excited in meeting him tonight. Back home from field trip, his first field trip.

Seeing through his eyes, all the things that he has seen, and I’ll listen to him patiently as he tells me, perhaps with enthusiasm, all the places that he has been, all the things that they did, and everything that he learned today… without me.

September 15, 2000
4:27 PM
FEBTC Subic

*Ralph is now, as most people know, is already 18 years old

It’s inevitable, they have to grow up… yes, they do grow up after all!

When they do, they explore… they go out… beyond your reach.

And I thought being a single father was all the challenge that I have to face… I forgot about being a single father to a growing son.

At first, there was a sort of tug of war battle, trying to pull him although I would not want to admit it. I am using the excuse that, “I have no one else to depend upon here at home. I need someone to look after your brother and sister while I work.”

Little did I know, that I was hampering his growth… giving him so much responsibility that I was unwittingly stealing his youth from him.

But it really did not take long before he made me realized… that previous conflict was just a start, an eye opener. It made me think, “What was I doing when I was his age?” I wasn’t exploring much then really, but it was my choice. It would be unfair to impose the same choice upon him.

Using “guilt” and “family first policy” as weapons was wrong!

I realized that I really have to learn to let go… he is old enough to make a decision and choose what his priorities would be, and hope that the values that were embedded within him were enough to guide him in his choices.

It is not easy, but I just have to accept the fact that they do grow up.

As I was always saying, nothing can really replace the love and caring that a mother can give her children. But with the absence of one, my kids have to make do with what they have — a single father who seems to be clueless, or just gets easily confused when motherly things are on demand.

That’s what happened when my son had a bout with sickness more than two weeks ago.  At first I asked him to take a rest, but later he was asking me if I can take him to the doctor… which is what her mother would have done in the first place – immediately.

So I did. We went to the hospital, and he was admitted. He has difficulty in breathing and the diagnosis was acute asthma. I was dumbfounded because my son never had it, nor shown any symptoms… or was I just not aware? See.

And so we stayed at the hospital. On the second day, my second son was displaying the same symptoms my first son had. Was asking him if he wanted to be taken to the hospital, but he declined. He doesn’t want to be confined, I guess.

So it happened that I was going back and forth – hospital and home – to take a look at how my two sons were doing. I had no choice, it’s just us. It’s a good thing my nine-year old daughter wasn’t sick at the time and was able to stay at the hospital with her brother.

Still, I have to check on him… and then back home to check my second son, who is left alone at the house everytime I go to the hospital.

To cut the story short, they were are both well now, although my eldest son is still under medication.

I know I have been amiss with my fatherly/motherly duties somehow that’s why they got sick, but believe me, I’m trying my best… trying to do everything on my own.

…and that’s how it will always be.