Settled With An Urge To Dive

Just when I'm finally starting to own this reinvented life I've recently made, the ocean beckons, prodding me to take a dive. I've been enjoying my sweet time walking on the shore, finding seashells, despite the occasional stormy weather. I don't know if I could muster the strength and gain the wisdom to rough it up in the deep waters again.

I need to make a decision about it soon, a stand upon which other aspects of my life hinge. I know too well that everything is connected to everything else. Hard as I try to compartmentalize, my very essence affects the whole universe I am in.

Yet, how do I decide?

Should I look for signs everywhere and let them speak to me? If this is the way to go, then the signs I see are egging me on to take the plunge.

Should I ask myself what do I want? Is this even a fair question, knowing that I have responsibilities to others? What do I owe my family? society? myself? I know I cannot please everybody, but if there was one that should be at the top of my hierarchy of values, who should it be? Going back to the question, what do I want? Balance in life, which I am already slowly learning to achieve. And then this, the possibility again of losing what I've worked hard for.

Should I listen to what well-meaning people may have to say? Or do I just trust my own voice?

What about things I cannot plan, cannot predict? Do I leave it all up to chance, to fate, to faith? And then hope that there is a divine something, someone looking after me and taking care of me.

I don't know. How will I know?

And when I finally make that decision, will it lead me to my happiness?

I don't know.

I'm feeling: an inner tug of war.
I'm listening to: KT Tunstall's Someday Soon.

Confounding compounds

I am dumbfounded by this song from Counting Crows. Utterly eloquent and, well, hits home bull's-eye.

Colorblind

I am colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am
Taffy-stuck and tongue-tied
Stutter-shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...fine
I am covered in skin
No one gets to come in
Pull me out from inside
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding
I am
Colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...fine
I am.... fine
I am fine

I'm feeling: this song on repeat mode.
I'm listening to: myself say the song's last line.

The School Bell Rings Again

Nope, I didn't fall off a cliff or anything dramatic like that.

School started this week and I've just had to keep up with the rhythm of the new season. It's crazy how the ebb tide at work has once again stirred a whirlpool of internal doubt, uncertainty, and anxiety. But not to worry, I think I thrive best in an environment that lets me face my fears. Hopefully, I come out of it, scathed maybe, but a wiser and richer learner.

Anyway, it's been exciting to have the kids back in school, and I can't wait to see the walls peppered with their wonderful creations. The five-year-olds have been a joy to be with; I am floored at how candid but honest they can be. Many of the younger ones have adjusted to their school routines and took to their new world easily. Of course there are still some children who like the idea of going to school but are still mastering how to let go of their security blanket. Believe me, I know the feeling. But I know, too, that this will soon pass.

As we were busy dealing with our back-to-school blues, I finally got lucky reconnecting with some of my first batch of students who are in college now. Imagine, these now adults are still calling me teacher, when twelve years ago I had no clue if I was doing any teaching at all, whether I had more hits than misses in the pedagogical sense. I found the answer when each of them shared their own short story about what they remember most when they were first graders.

Meanwhile, my students from last year who are now going to the big school for the first time have their own success tales to tell about their huge transition. Their parents have been sending messages about how bravely they embraced their new role, how eager they are to learn, and how independent they have turned out to be. One mom said: She likes her new school and teacher but says will love you and Creative Explorers forever.

What a week it has been. In a word, it was a reunion for me. I got acquainted again with our present school community, reestablished communication with my former students, and most importantly, I was reminded again why I teach. It's not about the lessons written on my weekly plans; rather, it's simply the good and happy things that children learn about themselves that really matter.

I'm feeling: the passion again.
I'm listening to: the passion again.

Pantoum

Our sun is in a gray hue
Do you see it?
I do.
I'm tired of feeling nothing

Do you see it?
The empty looks
I'm tired of feeling nothing
I need more than your words

The empty looks
Love
I need more than your words
What ever happened to our

Love
Our sun is in a gray hue
What ever happened to our
I do.

I'm feeling: drawn out.
I'm listening to: that part of myself which really matters.

About Mom

I'm home alone for the three-day-weekend. The kids, together with my husband and his family, have hied off to a rest house up north to have their last vacation before school begins. I have to hand it to my husband to understand my need for space, but I digress.

I hopped on over to my parents' house before lunch yesterday and spent lazy time mostly with my mom. She made sure to cook one of my favorite chicken recipes (the one with chorizo de bilbao and mushrooms!) and served two of the yummiest fruits around, santol and cherries.

After lunch, she napped while I blog-hopped. I joined her after a while and woke up feeling renewed. She had agreed to accompany me to buy curtains for school, and she was ready to go when I got up from bed.

She let me drive for her, too, an occasional phenomenon. See, she's one tough cookie, so independent and free-spirited. On our way to the shop, I told her I've been experimenting with eyeliner and asked her if she liked it. She said yes, but hesitated that it was the eyeliner; she said my eyes looked rested because I napped. She went on about not being able to get enough sleep since she had children, and I was nodding my head behind the wheel, thinking about how I woke up at 5:30 in the morning that day.

We talked about my kids going back to school soon and reminisced about how she would prepare labels for my books and notebooks with her own calligraphy. I was still nodding because I vividly remember being proud of her handwriting, showing off to my classmates her masterpiece imprinted on my school stuff. At this point, I reminded myself that I had two books to lend her, both about our lives as women, about loving others and respecting ourselves. She'd like that, she said.

When we got to our destination, she tried to talk me into considering a certain style she had in mind for the curtains. She attempted twice but she gave in after I firmly told her that I knew what I was doing. I knew she forced herself to keep quiet because just two days before, I was in a similar scenario with my daughter at the beauty parlor. Reisa finally agreed to get a haircut, but had me promise that no more than two inches would be trimmed. Hushed and obliging, I sat through the whole procedure, remembering to keep my vow.

After our trip to the curtain store, I drove back to her house and had a snack of fried bananas. She asked me to stay for dinner, and I knew she really wanted me to keep her company. I went back and forth about giving in, but duty called. I told her the truth: I had to go home because there's a pile of books and notebooks that I had to label before my daughter goes back to school in a couple of days.

And there it was, right before me. I realized...I am my mother's daughter. More so, I have become my mother. Judging from the way I was whistling on my drive back home, I knew... what I've become isn't so bad at all.

I'm feeling: like a child again.
I'm listening to: The Shins.

Breaktime

I'm taking a quick break from work to have a little fun. I've been sitting in front of my laptop the whole day--my back hurts, my eyes are red from their workout, and my mind is racing and picking up the pace by the minute.

It's time for an impromptu number.

There are just 10 more days of summer left,
Making 9 staff members anticipate the start of a new cycle.
8 letters in the word creative,
7 in the verb explore.
6 women friends, both teachers and learners
In 5 classes,
or is it 4?
Takes 3 children to spell the difference.
2 classrooms that will hold children's smiles and laughters
in 1 school year, no less, no more.

I'm feeling: hopeful.
I'm listening to: Nirvana in my iPod.

The Preschool Send-off Checklist

If you're a parent who'll soon be bringing your child to preschool for the first time, please get a copy of Smart Parenting, June issue. I contributed a checklist of things parents need to prepare for before that big send-off to school. Entitled "I'm Ready for School!," the guide includes questions you need answered and helpful tips in the following areas:

First Day Blues and Clues: the critical first weeks of classes
The Daily Details: the routines of schooling
The School Supplies: everything material
The Emergency Toolbox: information you'll need, just in case
Home-School Partnership: yes, it is a PARTNERSHIP
The Intangible Backpack: preparing your child in all other aspects

Take a deep breath, co-parents. This is a milestone, not only for our young children, but for us as well. :)

I'm feeling: sentimental about River being in kinder this year.
I'm listening to: River's footsteps as he inches his way to my room.

Happiness

Got up in the wee hours of the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. I'm still hung over this song from yesterday's activity in school. I'm glad I found this video...the teachers will be thrilled.

If I could add lines to this song, these are some top-of-mind ideas I have for now:

Happiness is...
...eating pasta and not having to keep a calorie count.
..."okay, mom!"
...getting eight hours of sleep.
...watching the moon from my bedroom window.
...big ideas for a better world.
...big ideas for a better me.
...ticking off items in my to-do list.
...a new box of sharpened colored pencils.
...eloquence.
...Once, the movie and the soundtrack.
...taking naps.
...a hearty laugh with friends.
...a heartfelt cry with friends.
...Saturday afternooons.
...hugs and kisses from Reisa and River.
...being in love like the very first time.
...being in love.
...being.

What is happiness to you?


I'm feeling: like going back to bed.
I'm listening to: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Tribute to the Gym

I've been going regularly to the gym since July of last year. It started as an effort to trim down a bit and lose the extra pounds. My friends will kill me if they read that last sentence because I don't really put on weight like other people my age do. Credit goes to my fast metabolism, I suppose, although I swear, it has somehow slowed down in the past years.

Anyway, the reason for the thrice-a-week visits to the gym was because I began noticing that I tired faster. Being a teacher-mom requires physical exertion; running after kids being the most demanding of all. I felt then that I wasn't as quick and as bouncy as I used to be.

At first I went for the dance classes and spent increasing time at the treadmill. I literally danced like no one was watching. It was liberating to have your own small space to make your moves to Beyonce and Shakira tunes, and to find that there were thirty others in the room who were having a grand time as well. I had to part with the treadmill after two months because I was doing too much cardiovascular training.

The next group exercise I discovered were the weight lifting classes. I've never considered myself a strong person; quick to move, maybe, but not powerful. I don't really do heavy weights but I've slowly increased my load from the time I started. Push-ups that used to be my Achilles' heel are now one of my favorite portions of the routine. I've noticed too that my abs, triceps and biceps are already taking shape.

A new gym activity I'm loving now is the tai-chi/yoga/pilates combo class that really challenged my flexibility in the beginning. I'm still nowhere near being Mrs. Incredible, but I learned from that class the importance of balancing and breathing, of ridding the mind of worries, of quieting the soul. I didn't know before how the body, mind, and spirit could move together with such grace.

It's ironic how a sense of calm envelopes me at the gym amidst the blaring & pumping sounds from the background. More than the aerobic activity itself, it's the exercise of physically detaching myself from responsibility, and immersing myself in pleasure, strength-building, and solitude that keeps me going back. It's the time and place I've set aside for my lone self.

The gym gives me more than just a workout. More importantly, it's a work in.


I'm feeling: the fact that I haven't exercised in six days.
I'm listening to: no reason why I can't go tomorrow.

In The Company of Women

The teachers and I are on to something. We had agreed to improve on our faculty lounge, to make it more of a haven, a sanctuary that's separate from the battlefield that is the classroom. A safe room that we can run to when we want some peace and quiet. A time out that we call for ourselves.

Whether single, married, with or without children, we all committed to transforming the teacher's lounge into a sensual and soulful feast for the six teachers who will occupy it for the school year. For our well-being, not as teachers, but as women.

I like it.

Here are some ideas that we thought we could add in the room:

• Eye candy such as flowers, a display of artwork and photos

• Mood music to fill our tired ears

• Mouth fest of sweets such as cookies, chocolates, and other yummy treats for sharing

• Delightful scents like potpourri, candles, and oils

• Feel-good pillows and fabric for the couch, quaint curtains

• Soul food in the form of books, poetry, inspirational thoughts, or personal stories to tell

It's rather amazing how each one of us is able to relate to this need. We are so different and yet the same. Women.


I'm feeling: the need to pamper myself.
I'm listening to: the voice that's telling me 'Go!'

Random Poetry

My mom and sister recently gave me this book, How To Have Creative Ideas by Edward de Bono. The book features 62 exercises that tap the mind into thinking creatively.

Here's one such exercise on poetry that's quoted from the book:

1. Obtain two random words.
2. The first word obtained gives the last word in the first line.
3. The second line of the poem ends with a word which you choose to rhyme with the first line.
4. The second random word forms the last word of the third line in the poem.
5. The fourth line ends with a word you choose to rhyme with the third line.

From the book's table of random words, the ones I got were brakes and end. Here it goes:

Step on the brakes
Do whatever it takes
Place a dot, put an end

I'm beginning to mend.

That was fun. And fast. And random. Or not.

I'm feeling: bloated from the junk food I ate all day.
I'm listening to: my daughter asking if she could use my laptop.

My Bed Bugs Don't Bite

My kids are finally sleeping in their own room. Started more than a month ago. They have a sleepover in my bedroom on the weekends, or when they explain, "But we miss you, mom."

I was unsuccessful in making my firstborn sleep in her own room six years ago when she was still our only child. She was willing to try it out, but I was the one not quite ready for it then. My husband worked late nights and it didn't make sense to me why my daughter and I had to sleep in separate rooms. It was lonely.

The compromise came shortly after, when the family bought a pull-out bed that was supposed to be for the kids. Tiny but sure steps, right? Well, the kids hardly used the bed; it became my husband's crib, much to his dismay. He'd complain every morning of backaches, but what could he do? The kids always beat him to his spot on the main bed.

This summer has been the perfect time for the big move. The kids are discovering more things to do together. Sure they fight like they'll never speak to each other again, but still. They're free to stay up and rise later than usual. They read their books and play their mellow music to lull them to sleep. It's amazing how well they took to this new arrangement, like clockwork. Everything in its own place and time.

The weekend sleepovers are just as interesting. They announce on Thursdays that tomorrow is sleepover night, and nothing is going to get in the way of that. There's always a discussion, a battle as to who gets to sleep beside me. The 10-year-old argues it's always you, while the second-born defends himself but I'm just five! We agree on a pattern: he, she, he she, he, she. That does not fully solve it because both kids need to physically connect with me, whether arm to leg, foot to foot, hand to face, or hair to hair. While the three of us are busy figuring out our choreography, their dad sets up his pull-out bed.

Some things will never change.


I'm feeling: like wearing a hair clip for dinner out with my family tonight.

I'm listening to: myself thinking, "if I could only remember where I put that clip..."

Separation Anxiety

New things are happening in my work life, and it's taking me all this time for it to finally sink in.

I won't be handling my own class this year ('though I'll be assisting in one) to fill in the big shoes of a partner who rightfully needs to find her own place elsewhere. I'm still thankful that I'll get to spend three hours a day inside the classroom; I cannot imagine not being able to be part of the fun, chaos, spontaneity, excitement, and the creation of masterpieces like these:

I'll continue doing my tasks as school director, but will take on the daily administrative chores that I thought I'd left behind when I quit being part of the corporate world ages ago. That means more office work for me, and so far, this is the hat I like wearing the least. So far.

New possibilities and ideas are brewing, too, about expanding for next school year--a progressive grade school is in the offing. But that's another topic altogether and the only thing I can say about it now is that the thought of it opens a whole new window (no, door) of opportunities for our professional growth. Must. Think. About. It.

I am currently experiencing separation anxiety from things familiar; it's a shift from frolicking in my comfort zone to diving into the deep unknown. But like what we tell our parents whose children are going to school for the first time, separation anxiety is just a phase that they go through in order for them to move forward. With the support of their parents, these young children will eventually learn to trust their new environment and realize that school is a fun, friendly and safe place to be. I should learn from this bit of wisdom because like our kids in school, I, too, am a creative explorer. I will find a way to make sense of everything that's happening around me.

I told my former partner at work the other day, these are good times. I need to believe that this is true for me as well.


I'm feeling: homesick with my kinder kids. Thanks, Kit, Josh, and Eljo for the illustrations.

I'm listening to: the chirping of birds outside my window, signaling that it's the start of a new day.

On Piano Lessons

One of the chores I enjoy doing is bringing my daughter to her piano lessons.

Going to her class is bonding time for us--just mother and daughter, listening to our favorite music, singing along, playing silly, or sharing our thoughts with each other. We get to her school, she goes in, and for thirty minutes, it's alone time for me. While reading my book, the wind wistfully makes its presence felt, and I willingly bask in the warmth it gives me. My ears feast on the music that's ringing from the different corners of the place. It's a free piano, violin, or marimba concert and I am the awed audience.

My daughter comes out of the room, her look that of a joyful learner. She doesn't know that my heart is fuller.


I'm feeling: happy.
I'm listening to: Reisa's Fur Elise playing in my head.

Play

When you start having kids, it's close to impossible pursuing things just for the fun of it. Having to keep up with the children's busy schedules and immediate concerns, there just isn't enough time for play, my play, that is.

Last year, though, I consciously made an effort to find time to do the things I've been putting off for a long time--things that give me sheer joy and pleasure. I know now that it's important to have my own space and time to nurture myself so that I can be a better giver to others.

My Current Play List:

1. Website-seeing. Having DSL installed at home was well-worth it.
2. 
   
3. Going to the gym. As the Lifehouse song goes, "It's easy to be who you are when no one knows your name."

1. Jamming on the piano. More like playing chords while singing my favorite Dishwalla and Coldplay songs.
2. 
   
3. iPod in random play. I like to be surprised.
4. 
   
5. Reading more novels. It helps that I'm getting along with my new reading lamp.
6. 
   
7. Watching DVDs. Please don't ask me about titles or actors, my memory always fails me.
   

Now if time or money were no object, I'd love to turn these dreams into reality.

My Play Wish List:

1. Whitewater rafting. Grand Canyon this time, haha!
2. 
   
3. A tour of Italy with Reisa. We'll have the best pasta in Naples, among other things.
4. 
   
5. Beach + hammock + good book
6. 
   
7. Learn to play chord embellishment on the piano. I'm too old for the classics.
8. 
   
9. Learn to cook. If talent were no object, too. ;-)
   

Many times, it really doesn't take much to find leisure in the comforts of my own home. All it takes is a room to myself, drawn curtains, a fresh bed, and a mind that can shut down from all the worries of the moment.


I'm feeling: like having a cup of hot chocolate.

I'm listening: to the symphony of wind and rain on a summer afternoon.

Love

The Eskimo has fifty-two names for snow because it is important to them; there ought to be as many for love. (Judith Viorst)

In my book, these are the names for love:

Reisa, my ten-year-old, who, despite our fights and tantrums, tells me that I am the best mother in the world. Her every word, silence, look, wish, tear, laughter teaches me about unconditional love -- how can someone so critical of me be the same powerhouse of love, no matter what? I love you all the way up to the moon and back, Ren.

River, my five-year-old, who likes to quiz me, "Are you good or bad, mom?," after being scolded. He pauses for a while and answers the question himself..."Umm, good." He makes me laugh and cry at the same time. I love you to infinity and beyond, Riv.

My husband, Benjou, for his unfaltering love. You are a wonderful father to our kids.

My Santos family who reminds me of my history and gives me a strong sense of what I want for my future. My Elgincolin family who has a bottomless well of love for my kids. I am grateful for the support both have blessed my family with.

The teachers and staff of Creative Explorers who are like family to me. You teach with such great love, thank you. Group hug.

The school's creative explorers who inspire me to teach. You, with your little hands and big dreams, make me proud. Special mention goes to my 16 Kinder kids who always let out a smile when they hear me in my British accent. High fives to you from Harrietta Potter.:-)

My friends who, despite their busy schedules, still remember to text, email, call, or get together. Do appreciate the good conversations that make it hard for me to sleep after.


Just the other night, while the kids and I were lying in bed, River taught me another name for love. I was bending over to kiss Reisa goodnight and accidentally fell on top of my son. Sleepy and a bit cranky as he was, he made a big fuss and pretended to be hurt by the incident. Sorry, Riv. Love you! I said. He budged after a while. Okay, fine. L-O-V, read that, mom!

Lov.

I'm feeling: like I have a loose screw in my head.
I'm listening to: my kids and their friends playing.

Work

I remember one of Robert Fulghum's stories about finding it difficult to answer that question which defines who you are: What is it that you do? Didn't he finally decide on saying "I'm a breather of life" or something like that, for lack of a more apt and specific word? But really, how do you sum up in a sentence, a phrase something so immense?

What is it that I do? I teach preschool kids. And anyone who's had the experience of being with children will tell you it's not that easy. Sixteen children in a class, all coming from different family backgrounds, each having his own needs, moods, values, skills, character, and wanting your attention all at the same time. But it's what I love about it. I crave for the whole process of preparing lesson plans, making materials, communicating with children, teaching them, learning from them, managing behaviors, witnessing their growth, and liaising with their parents. Outside the classroom, I'm always on the lookout for new ideas that I can use with the children, a stroke of inspiration to make me a better teacher. I thrive on this creative process of educating children and being part of their young, impressionable lives.

But that's just one portion of what I do. I also respond to the following titles: preschool owner, administrator, program director, finance manager, teacher trainer, guidance counselor, cashier, receptionist, cleaner, guard. That's a lot of hats to wear in my workplace alone, but I will not trade my job for anything else. It's a crazy roller coaster ride but I'd rather be in it than just watch from the sidelines. The view from the top is incredible too, so if the only way up is to start down, or stay down many times over, I'd still take the ride.

Winston Churchill said "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give." What I receive financially from my work really isn't much. But I am blessed to be accorded the chance to make something of my life by giving a piece of myself to these children. I am quite a millionaire that way.

What is it that I do? In a nutshell, I am a giver, and for that I am enriched in many, immeasurable ways.


I'm feeling: like I am where I should be.
I'm listening to: the Backyardigans singing on TV.

Welcome To My WorldWildWeb!

Excuse me, but I need a journal.

A quiet place I can come home to at the end of the day to unload my burdens, smile about little anecdotes, tell trivial and important stories, share lessons learned, and just fire away my random thoughts.

This is my world, my wild web of interwoven details about my passion at work, the many loves I cherish, and finding time for play. As I'm writing this, I realize how seamlessly my work, love and play flow into each other. Like how the river meets the sea.

And so, welcome! I've opened a box of colored pencils for you. Choose a color and scribble something--anything. I'd love to hear from you.


I'm feeling: refreshed.
I'm listening to: the sound of my own silence.