Comfortingly familiar

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Photo by ΠœΠ°Ρ€Π³Π°Ρ€ΠΈΡ‚Π° Жуковская on Pexels.com

I don’t know if I should be upset but I have recurring dreams about or set in our old house where I grew up. It was a small house in an area that J would have called ghetto. But it was a place where I learned how to deal with people from all walks of life. My father was obsessed with home ownership as he grew up materially/financially insecure. Home ownership was something my parents worked at even though they were struggling PhD students/candidates, assistant professors working on their tenure, putting four children though private school. So that was they all could afford–a small house in a neighborhood that you had to access through an esquinita (street corner turning into an alley). But as early as 1984 they were already working on building a bigger house right inside the university so they knew we won’t have to stay there that long.

Anyway, for the past few weeks or months, I had vague dreams set in that place or a similar-looking place. I cannot remember what exactly those dreams were but I knew by feeling it was set there or it was about it.

It was sort of…comforting. It was familiar, it was like being in a womb. After waking up, I have some kind of feeling similar to what I feel when I hear the song “These Dreams” by Heart.

I don’t know…maybe I’m looking for some kind of comfort because I’m just a fraud. I pretend and put up a front that I am brave and a strong single mother and I get things together but in reality I’m just scared and insecure. Maybe I just want to feel protected. Maybe I’m just tired being strong.

This is also probably why Kimchi keeps on sleeping near me or with me. It’s familiar, it’s comforting. It’s like being in a womb. She can just let go because she knows she is protected.

Here’s to a better year

Our neighbor’s fireworks on the street. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
My girls’ sparklers’ dying out. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Fireworks in our village. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Here’s to a healthier 2022. More camping trips. Hopefully we would have roadtrips and diving trips.

Less stress from work. Better working conditions for us.

No more Covid please!

Please no Bong Bong Marcos presidency!!!

More personal growth for me and the kids. More love for family and friends.

I hope I hurt less. I hope I no longer hurt. Period. I hope I become more numb so I can finally move on.

But I should be kinder to myself because it’s not easy to emerge from that kind of heartbreak when you have given your love unconditionally like that. This is not a race. I should give myself time to heal better. As my shrink said, I should heal in a proper way so I won’t have another relapse and get into a cruel cycle.

2020 is horrible in every possible way. 2021 is like walking through fire barefoot. I hope for 2022 I come out stronger than steel forged by fire of the past 2 years.

Growing

My kids have appetites of grown-ups. They eat more than I do these days and that’s a good thing. Since they’re healthier these days, they were able to withstand Covid even without vaccines yet while I was knocked down despite being fully vaccinated. They were only sick for 48 hrs max (Twin A; Twin I was 24 hrs but she’s healthier) I make sure they have their veggies 3x a day and their daily dose of Vit C or multivitamins.

Hokkaido Ramen Santouka Greenhills. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

They had a full meal set for our late lunch this afternoon when we went to Greenhills. It had a bowl or ramen, rice, tonkatsu, cabbage salad, hot green tea, and fruit salad. I was afraid they won’t be able to finish it.

Demolished it. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I was completely wrong. They cleaned their bowls really well πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘. As a mother, I’m happy that they’re eating whatever they’re served with and are no longer that picky when it comes to food. They can already tolerate the Korean spicy chicken that we normally buy at Jjangke along Kalayaan Ave. It’s a far cry from what they were when J was still with us.

You know, they grow up. They don’t stay as whiny little brats forever. They mature if you just have the patience to train them well. And so far I have been successful. They’re cleaning up after themselves now and doing chores so they can earn pocket money. They know now the value of money and how to manage their resources that’s why they were featured in my TV friends’ talkshow about personal finances. They save up for whatever they want to have, like the second-hand folding bikes and other extras. If they want something, they need to do more chores and we tally by the end of the week how much they’ve earned. If they fall short, they just do more the following week.

Next school year, they said they want to prepare their own bento boxes for school. Let’s see. ❀️


Speaking of Covid protection, I’m still trying to book my schedule for the booster shot but no such luck yet. I also applied with my barangay for assistance. K told me his sister, who is a nurse in California, got the omicron variant and she said it’s highly transmissible vs delta. Even if she followed the protocols to the letter, she still got it and omicron is really a nasty one.

So until then, I am double masking and wearing my glasses instead of just contacts to protect my eyes from any bodily fluid that may accidentally hit my eyes (just in case some Neanderthal talks or coughs without a mask. To make sure I won’t be down again with Covid.

The girls said they rarely went out of their grandpa’s house when they were in their dad’s hometown because people outside were not wearing masks! It’s as if they feel the pandemic is just a hoax or an elaborate conspiracy. πŸ€¦πŸ»β€β™€οΈ

On minimalism

I’ve always admired people who are able to live minimally, like the girl here in this video. I tried picturing myself as a minimalist but couldn’t. Although I have less stuff than other people I know (i.e. the girls’ dad and my ex-in laws), I still need closets and cupboards to store them.

The reason why I am thinking about minimalism is because I am planning in my head the closets I will have to have my contractor make in my flat. My place will be small so my closets should not take up precious floor space…

I clearly have too much stuff.

So I started purging yesterday. I put my old shoes in shoe boxes and put them outside of our gate this afternoon. I also put the rubber slippers that my girls have outgrown in a plastic bag along with the shoe boxes. They disappeared the next moment I went out of our gate to run errands. Then I culled clothes that I haven’t worn in more than 3 years or clothes that I’m no longer interested in wearing and chucked them in a paper bag for donation.

I have adopted Steve Jobs’ style of having a monochromatic wardrobe to take out the complexity of choosing what to wear for the day. People barely remember what I wear anyway and they only take note of the accessories I have to dress up my plain dark clothes. Jewelry take up just a tiny space. However, my bags do take up room. I can’t give them up yet since a lot of them are expensive (I won’t give up my Michael Kors, Kate Spade, and Coach bags. Nope.) I think I may have to have a special cupboard made to store them…

Come to think of it, I have a lot of bags but less than 10 pairs of shoes.

When the girls come back (I’ll pick them up at the airport tomorrow), we will have a de-cluttering session before we usher in the new year. It’s just going to be 1.5 years before we move again and I will be hauling boxes upon boxes of stuff. And I will be spending 6 months unboxing them, just like when we moved here in this apartment. The last stuff I was able to unbox and organize are my books. Teehee!

Meanwhile, the girl’s apartment in the video above also gave me an idea how I can have an efficient pied-Γ -terre in Makati after I’m finished with my flat in my hometown and buying a new car. A studio will be enough, which I can AirBnB if I’m not there.

Beer

Christmas gift from a CEO of a bank

I have received beer–a lot of it–for Christmas this year. The ironic thing here is I can’t drink anymore (alprazolam + escitalopram + alcohol = intoxication) or else I may end up like Dolores O’Riordan drowning in a bathtub. I have more than a dozen bottles of craft beer (such a shame) and this two dozen beer cans. And a couple more I gave away.

I can’t give this to my brother since he has gout and does not really drink. My sister will get the craft beer as she and her high school friends will have their annual get together on the 30th. I will give this Brew Kettle to my high school friends/talk show co-hosts/ex-band mates. They are laughing at me now because I used to drink a lot with them before and here I am giving away alcohol without partaking. FB Memories reminded me of Dec 20, 2009 and we were in a bar in our hometown and they were serving wicked mixed cocktails in a glass vase and we all drank from the same vase and pitcher. Yes, pitcher. Obviously COVID is yet to be a thing. We were so hammered then.

I partied hard in my younger years. We used to bar hop a lot before and what I loved to do on weekends is to hear rock bands play live in bars. My bestfriends and I (when they still worked here in Manila) went to Xaymaca because some friends played there.

Now my guy high school friends couldn’t imagine me mellowing like this in our 40s, sewing during evenings and weekends πŸ˜‚

At least I can look back and say, I did all that and still came out decent and somewhat successful. 🀣 We grow up and mature but we are still essentially the same goofy people that we were.

Growing up so fast

At the salon. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

My girls have asked me if they can have haircuts because their pandemic hair already looked unruly. So since today is a Catholic holiday, I obliged and went to a salon that didn’t require prior appointment.

I took advantage of the free time and brought them to their dentist for their prophylaxis. What was supposed to be an emergency procedure (because Twin I broke her molar tooth but it turned out to be a clean break) became a routine procedure–annual cleaning. Might as well get that out of the way.

It was kinda awkward that one of the assistants asked about J, whom they referred to as the girls’ dad. I was at the waiting room when that was asked so I didn’t know. Isay honestly said, oh he’s not my dad and he’s no longer around.

The assistant said, oh but you looked like him that’s why I mistook him as your dad.

It must be the eyes. My girls got my small eyes.

Anyway, after dentist, we braved SM Marikina because I need to buy them underwear–especially bras–because they have grown up so fast. I’m surprised that they have matured earlier than me. My body started to change when I was 12 and really didn’t have pimples until I was in college.

Their choices for their clothes and other personal stuff are no longer child-like. They hate princess stuff and gravitate towards more mature colors like teal, grey, and black.

My little girls are no longer little. They’re turning into ladies. πŸ₯Ί

At the same time, I’m preparing myself for the changes my body will also go through. This essay on Huffpost is like a slap in the face for me who had become so insecure about my age after I have had an ageist ex-partner who went after a girl almost 15 yrs his junior. I didn’t mind before that I was already 40. It was a badge of honor that I reached that age and hopefully much wiser. But then…I met J. Oh well πŸ€·πŸ»β€β™€οΈ

I have to get over that trauma. I’m fine. My age doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just me and my friends, who thankfully don’t care about my age. I just need to lose my belly and I’m ok.

I will be ok.