Wait Sa

"Wait sa,” I often tell one or both my kids whenever they demand my attention. Be it to show me a drawing they made, one after another until we either run out of scratch papers; or to tell me what the other did wrong and thus should be reprimanded; or to ask permission to eat or drink what is normally a treat or dessert saved for special occasions or at least not to be consumed more than once a day; or to relate something very, very important to them, such as that there’s a full moon outside or the dogs are asleep. ”

“Wait sa” has been an automatic response on my part, simply because the attention they demand is more often than not when I’m on the phone, busy working in front of computer trying to meet a deadline.

“Wait sa” is actually a combination of an English word and a Cebuano term. “Sa” is pronounced with emphasis on the letter “a”. The way people here in Cebu say when we mean, “please wait.” It is usually accompanied by a non-verbal sign of raising one hand up, palm facing the person or persons requested to wait. At least that’s what I do and think when I do it.

I’d like to think that I get to teach my kids patience whenever I tell them to “wait sa,” that they cannot get what they want when they want it. Even my attention or consent. I’ve prided myself in successfully getting my 6-year-old son and 2-year-old daughter to actually wait until I am ready to listen to them. Of course, I don’t make them wait for more than 2-5 minutes. Besides, I doubt they’d let me get away with it longer than that.

Recently, though, I asked my son to come to the dining table for lunch. He promptly replied, “Wait sa, Mom,” as he wanted to finish his drawing first. It took him more than 5 minutes, 3 repeated requests on my end, and consequently 3 more “wait sa” responses before he actually went to the table.

A few nights ago, my daughter looked so cute and cuddly I wanted to hug her and so asked her to come to me for a hug. She continuted walking towards whatever it is she was going to get and told me, “Wait sa, Mom.” I asked her again to come to me, telling her sweetly that I missed hugging her and wanted to do so. Again, she said, “Wait sa.”

At this, I retorted and begged, “Wait sa, wait sa. You keep telling me to wait sa. Come na! Please?!!”

The moment I said it I realized that tables had turned and that it was I who was being taught patience by my kids. Elle finally did come over and gave me a big hug. Raj, who didn’t want to be left out or outdone by his sister, rushed towards me and also gave me a hug. And for these, all the “wait sa’s” make it all worthwhile.

To be a Better Mom

The moment I found out I was pregnant with our first child I vowed to myself that I would work hard to be a good mom. With my own mom as model, I told myself I’d try to even be better than she was. I’d be a full time mom, hands on, but would make sure I’d have professional fulfillment with a business I can manage from home (my mom gave up practicing law to be a full time wife and mom).

Of course, being human, I’ve had several shortcomings and mistakes as a mom. Not having enough patience and getting angry at my son; not securing him well enough on bed and so he fell down more than once; not having enough sense not to leave him inside a water pail and so he fell over and had a cut on his forehead; losing control and screaming at him out of frustration once too often. And more.

Each time afterwards I would pray and ask for more patience, more courage, more perseverance. Each time I’d vow to do better, to be a better mom.

Then came baby no. 2. I recall telling myself that I knew better. It was the second time around. I was sure I’d be a better mom.

Although I’d like to think I am better at it, I’m still human. I still falter. I still lack patience. I still lack perseverance. I still lack courage. And so I continue to pray to be a better mom.

But one thing I realized only at the marriage enrichment weekend seminar (entitled “Beyond I Do”) hubby and I attended last year — which I fretted leaving my kids alone with the helpers for 3 whole days (something I never did before) — is that to be a better mom, I have to be a better wife first. Educhild (Education for the Upbringing of Children Foundation) has always been about parenting and for the first time, we learned that parenting starts with mom and dad, hubsand and wife. A good, happy, loving marriage would consquently make a good, happy, loving family.

I still aim to be a better mom everyday. Only now I know that to achieve that, I have to work on being a better wife each day.

If I Could Rule the World

If I could rule the world, my kids wouldn’t have to suffer.

A little over a month ago my husband’s eldest sister and her family migrated to New Zealand. My kids “lost” their 8 cousins (yes, 8!), their bestfriends. Raj, my 6-year-old son, in particular, has been inseparable with his cousin, Mikel, who’s only 7 months older, practically since birth. They loved doing things together, sharing stories and adventures, swapping toys, clothes, and what-have-you’s.

We recently watched the “Brother Bear 2″ video and towards the end Raj went up to me and said with teary eyes, “I wish Kuya Mikel and I were like we used to be. But we cannot.” I hugged him tight and cried. I couldn’t stop from doing so. He didn’t see my tears, though.
Elle, my 2 years and 10 months old daughter, doesn’t fully understand the situation and looks for her cousins Maia (4 years old) and Lilo (2 years old). Much less, why her grandmother had to go NZ to help her aunt’s family settle in and took 2 months to get back. She exasperately asked me “Why” almost everyday, and afterwards, again why both her paternal grandparents left for the US to help out my sister-in-law (and her husband) who gave birth last March, to help take care of their (then) 1-year-old daughter and home.

Two weeks ago she had cough, colds, on-and-off fever, and (bronchial) asthma. She hasn’t been eating much and has been frustrated with about feeling uncomfortable and not being able to do anything about it, and much more about not being able to do what she normally does.

If I could rule the world, I’d make it so there was such a thing as teleportation so we could just go to NZ every weekend or have any of my children’s cousins from NZ or relatives from Manila visit us often. If I could rule the world, none of my children would get sick or I could just switch places with them in a snap.

But alas, I do not and cannot rule the world. I can only pray and give them all the love and time I can; hug and kiss them and help them feel better. One step at a time.