THE DAY YOU WERE BORN




Dear Reanna,

Today you turn one year old.

Last night, your ninang and I took you to the mall to have your pictures taken in your Dedication dress and bonnet. You were so well-behaved and cooperative and I was so proud of you. The pictures came out wonderfully too. With such a beautiful subject, how could they turn out otherwise?

It's hard to believe a whole year has passed since the day you were born. I only regret that I never really blogged about your birth in earnest. Things were so hectic when we brought you home that I never found the chance to write about that very special day. Until now.




I still remember when they first brought you to me, all swaddled up, still covered in the waxy residue which protected you from the liquid environment of your home for the past nine months.

I gave you a kiss on the forehead, goo and all, and held you close to admire God's handiwork. Within seconds, you flashed your deep dimple at Daddy and me, and I thanked the Lord for making you so beautiful.

We spent the next precious moments together, the three of us, while the nursing staff scrambled to find me a room. It was a full house at Doctor's Medical Center that night, but we didn't mind the wait. It meant more precious bonding time for us and we weren't about to complain.

After a few minutes, the nurse appeared with a wheelchair. They didn't have any regular rooms available so I would be bunking in at LDR (Labor and Delivery Room) 1 for the night. I held you in my arms for a few moments more before reluctantly relinquishing possession of you. It was hospital policy that all babies be wheeled in their bassinets.

When we got to my temporary quarters for the night, the nurse let the three of us bond for a few more moments before wheeling you out to the nursery. There you would be cleaned and bathed, washing away the final vestiges of your physical bond to me. Your Daddy asked me if it was okay to leave me alone so he could join you. I said yes, feeling the first pangs of hunger and fatigue.

I gave you one last kiss, knowing you were in good hands with your Daddy around. I watched them wheel you out of the room, listening as the sounds of your departure grew more and more faint. Then I wolfed down the lone turkey sandwich the night nurse found in the fridge and fell asleep soon after that.

In another part of the hospital, your Daddy was documenting every detail of what happened next. They wheeled you to the nursery, where they proceeded to give you your first bath. You weren't too happy about it. I don't blame you one bit.

And while the nurses were ministering to your ablutions, what would come on the radio but a familiar song, sung by Stevie Wonder to another precious girl, his newborn baby daughter, Aisha.

The timing was so apropos to the occasion, it could only be divine.

Isn't she lovely
Isn't she wonderfull
Isn't she precious
Less than one minute old
I never thought through love we'd be
Making one as lovely as she
But isn't she lovely made from love

Isn't she pretty
Truly the angel's best
Boy, I'm so happy
We have been heaven blessed
I can't believe what God has done
Through us he's given life to one
But isn't she lovely made from love

Isn't she lovely
Life and love are the same
Life is aisha
The meaning of her name
Londie, it could have not been done
Without you who conceived the one
That's so very lovely made from love

In all our years of hearing this sweet song, I don't think Lorenzo and I have ever appreciated the meaning behind it as much as we did that day.

Finally, after having five boys between us, The Lord blessed us with a girl.

And she is lovely indeed.



Happy birthday Reanna!


(PLUGGING: more pictures of Reanna's arrival in my BRAG BOOK, also "Day 6: The Pilgrims' Progress", the latest installment in my "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series at 87 GENTLE STREET.)

HOOKED, LINE AND SINKER




I have a new reason to look forward to Tuesday nights now.

Last year, it was "American Idol" which backoned me home on Tuesday night. Unfortunately, La Toya London's premature exit sort of killed it for me, so much that Lorenzo and I didn't even bother to watch a single AI episode this year. Then again, that whole Paula Abdul fiasco might be a reason for us to tune in late in the day, but I've always questioned the producers' choice of Paula as a judge anyway. She was obviously much better at dancing and choreography than she was at singing and choosing lovers.

But I digress. I wanted to share with you my new reason for staying home on Tuesday nights: "Deadliest Catch" on the Discovery Channel.

"Deadliest Catch" is about the most dangerous job on earth, crab fishing. The series began with the Alaskan king crab season, which takes place in October. It gives its viewers a free berth in all of the six fishing boats featured, letting us in on the intimate details of the crab fishing industry.

Previously on "Deadliest Catch". they showed the Alaskan king crab season's biggest winners, the captain and crew of the "Norhtwestern", whose deck hands brought home $16,000 each for five days work. Not shabby at all.

Yesterday, "Deadliest Catch" moved on to the Opelio crab season, which takes place in January. This time around, the crab fishermen would be tackling the notoriously deadly Bering Sea in the dead of winter. The show's atmosphere was ominously darker this time, mirroring the weather. The reason for that soon unfolded. Barely into the first day of the "Opie" season, a ship sank, taking with it all but one of its six-man crew.

The tension was palpable, the fishermen's emotions spilling over to the viewers themselves. It was compelling television at its finest.

So I resolve to dedicate the rest of my Tuesday nights to this new series on the Discovery Channel. There's no doubt about it: I'm hooked. My enthusiasm, however, doesn't go so far as to embrace the show's theme song.

There's only so much I can take of Bon Jovi's abrasive rendition of "Wanted Dead or Alive", which comes on before every commercial break.

Note to the sponsors at Budweiser: that song won't send me scurrying to the fridge for an ice-cold Bud during the next commercial break.

I'd just as soon head for the nearest drugstore for some aspirin for me...

And a lozenge for Jon Bon Jovi.



ON BIRTHDAYS




Before May 11 ends here in California, I would like to greet my first cousin, Maita Barredo Gaerlan, Happy Birthday!

I still remember Maita as a pretty little toddler, always at the hand of her mother, my Tita Dina. She would've been my flower girl too but unfortunately, both of my weddings ended up taking place abroad.

Tomorrow, May 12, would've been the birthday of her late father and my Mom's brother, Maj. Gen. Felipe Gaerlan of the Philippine Air Force.

It's too bad my Uncle Pipes, as we fondly called him in the family, missed Maita's High School graduation this year, where she marched onstage as salutatorian of St. Paul's in Pasig.

And of course, the day after tomorrow, May 13, is Reanna's first birthday. That's three consecutive birthdays spanning three generations in the month of May.

Which isn't so unusual, unless the pattern is repeated within the same family.

See, July 11,12, and 13 (notice the same days in the month) also happen to be family birthdays: of my Uncle Butch (the 11th), my Lola Elvie (the 12th), and my cousin Malyn (the 13th). Take note that each of the three generations are also represented in the July celebrants.

Uncanny, isn't it?


(PLUGGING: "Day 6: The Pilgrims' Progress", the latest installment in my "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series at 87 GENTLE STREET. Also check out my recently resurrected BRAG BOOK, with updated family pictures.)

OPEN FOR BUSINESS

It's official. The Sereno family pool is now open for business.

The sun was out in full force today, with no sudden hailstorms looming in the horizon. The wind still had a slight chill to it, but the lure of the pool proved to be too strong for our two boys.



As soon as Lance got off the school bus, he asked me if he could go swimming. The breeze was still a bit too nippy for my comfort, but he was insistent. When we set foot in the house, Troy joined the lobbying. Little did I know that while I was waiting for his big brother at the school bus stop, Troy was already working on convincing his Daddy to let him swim outside.




Within minutes, our two boys were suited up and ready to go. Lance made a quick detour to our next-door neighbor's house to invite his friends, Lupe and Darlena to join him and Troy. The girls are no strangers to my swimming pool. In fact, Lupe even learned how to swim in my backyard.




Lupe is Troy's "girlfriend". She will be in Junior High next year, but Troy claims "she loves him and that is why she is his girlfriend". Lupe and Darlena, as well as their big sister Brenda, are surrogate sisters to my boys. They take care of them and fuss over them just like they were their little brothers.

The kids frolicked in the water while Spot and Reanna looked on. I could see that my daughter was curious about the water. She didn't know what she was missing but thought it was unfair, nevertheless. After all, even Spot got a hosedown from Daddy!




The sun was shining brightly but the breeze still had an edge to it. Pretty soon, Troy had to make a wardrobe change.



But even with the added coverage, there was no denying it was cold out there in the water. The kids bravely soldiered on (the way kids do), but soon their teeth were chattering uncontrollably. It was time to get out and wait for warmer weather.

Good thing that's a given, here in Modesto.


(PLUGGING: "Day 6: The Pilgrims' Progress", the latest installment in my "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series at 87 GENTLE STREET. Also check out my recently resurrected BRAG BOOK, with updated family pictures.)

POSTSCRIPT TO MOTHER'S DAY

I LOVE my Mother's Day presents.

Lance presented me with a laminated sheet of paper, scrolled up and tied with pink ribbon. It was a picture he drew of me in the beach, complete with raindrops and two directional arrows pointing to each side, with the right one marked "No". Why? Because, as my son explained to me with an air of the obvious, "if you walked THAT way you would be going the wrong way."

On the other side was a Mother's Day "fill-in-the-blanks" message. The answers, shown in Italics, were supplied by my precocious five-year-old, and written down for him by his kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Ortega:

"HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

My mom's name is Renee. She is 35 years old. She weighs 50 pounds, and she is 5 feet tall. She has black eyes and black hair. Her favorite food is spaghetti. Her favorite toy is dominoes. My Mom is very smart, she knows all about homework. Whenever we're together, what I like to do best is play dominoes. My Mom really makes me laugh whenever she surprises me. Once when I was sad, my mom made me feel better by hugging me. The nicest thing my mom ever did for me was talk to me. When I grow up I want to be like my mom because she's nice. I love my mom because I like her.

Love, Lorenzo"





Meanwhile, my husband was able to meet his self-imposed deadline. He had opened up our in-ground pool in time for Mother's Day. Lorenzo worked hard, deep into the night, so that by the time I woke up, my backyard didn't look like a pristine white skate park anymore.



Lance and Troy were proud to have helped their Daddy too...



So, without further ado, I proudly present to you my other Mother's Day present, courtesy of my loving husband and my two precious boys:

A picture-perfect, sparkling clean, backyard pool and spa.





Believe it or not, within minutes of taking that picture by the pool, the skies darkened ominously and a full-acale hailstorm was upon us, complete with thunder and lightning.

It all happened so quickly. The sun was shining brightly when I started cooking my monggo guisado. By the time it was ready, the sun was shining brightly again. No one would ever believe that a full-scale shower of rain and hail would take over the skies between the patis and the baby bok choy.

Yet here are my pictures as proof.



Nadine, my green Diamante, was peppered with ice pellets while Vanna, our white minivan, wore an equally white ice mustache. The only car who was spared the sudden onslaught was Tibby, my husband's Tiburon, who was safely tucked in our garage by virtue of being the youngest of the lot.

The kids were having a field day watching the noisy hail fall on the ground. I scooped up a bowlful of ice from Nadine's hood for them to play with. It actually took a while for the frigid mass to melt on my kitchen counter. By this time, the sun was out in earnest again, with nary a trace of the freak hailstorm that assailed us mere moments before.

I shot this surreal picture of the sun shining amid the backdrop of leaden skies.



Mother's Day may be over. But just like a sullen PMS-ing hausfrau showing all of us lesser mothers who's boss...

Mother Nature just had to have the last word.


(PLUGGING: "Day 6: The Pilgrims' Progress", the latest installment in my "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series at 87 GENTLE STREET. Also check out my recently resurrected BRAG BOOK, with updated family pictures.)

MINI-MUMS

My Mother had a very interesting observation she shared with us.

See, she has three daughters. And none of them refer to her in the same way.

I am the eldest of the three, and I call her "Mom". My youngest sister, Haya lovingly calls her "'my" (pronounced mee).

It is my second sister, the middle child, who happily bridged the gap, and I mean that literally.

See, Maya calls our mother "Mommy".

"Magkakapatid nga kayo," my Mom said with a smile.





It's Mother's Day weekend, and Lance and Troy had another party to go to.

It was the seventh birthday of their friend, Miguel, and our whole family was invited. The last time we saw Miguel's family was during Reanna's DEDICATION. Next weekend, it will be Reanna's first birthday celebration. Miguel's family is invited to that one too.

And through this whole process of parties, invitations, more parties and counter-invitations, the inevitable has occurred:

My sons' social life has finally eclipsed ours.





While my boys were busy partying, my husband was toiling under the hot, scorching sun. He had drained all the water out of our swimming pool overnight, and was busily pressure-washing the surface and repairing minor cracks in the tile.

We have a huge inground pool in our backyard, with a 34,000 gallon capacity. Cleaning it singlehandedly is no joke.

I didn't know it then, but Lorenzo would later tell me he was inspired to open our swimming pool in time for Mother's Day.

Now that's what I call a labor of love.





Tomorrow, we will be going to my in-laws' house for Mother's Day.

My husband actually apologized to me for making plans, asking if I preferred to do something else since it was, after all, MY day too. But I told him I didn't mind.

If I couldn't be with my Mom for Mother's Day, at least we could be with his.



Happy Mother's Day, Mom and Nanay!


(PLUGGING: I've finally updated 87 GENTLE STREET with "Day 6: The Pilgrims' Progress", the latest installment in my "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series. Also, more family pictures in my BRAG BOOK.)

OF GOODBYES AND I LOVE YOUs

I'm not a big fan of goodbyes.

Especially when members of my immediate family are concerned, and even MORE so when they happen to be my Mom and baby sister.



It's hard to believe they were with us for all of nine days. Where did those days go? And now, all too soon, goodbyes have to be said once more. Who knows when I will be seeing them again?

My Mom has been a faithful visitor since Lorenzo and I moved back to the States in late 1999, making her way from New York at least once a year. She was around to witness our wedding and all of her grandchildren's BABY DEDICATION ceremonies. She also celebrated our first Christmas in our new house with us.

Haya's visits, on the other hand, were more sporadic, since she was right in the thick of Med school when she started coming. She was about to start her third year when she visited us first, at our old townhouse in Milpitas. Lance was just a toddler then, and I was still pregnant with Troy. The whole family went to Canada that year: my Mom, my stepfather, IRA, Haya, Lorenzo, Lance and me. We all rented a beautiful two-bedroom condo right in the heart of Toronto. It was one of the most memorable trips my family has ever taken.

Mom and Haya also visited last year, shortly after Reanna was born, but it was quite hectic considering we had a newborn in the house and Haya was busily reviewing for the Medical Board Exams, which she sucessfully passed last August.

Yes, that cute little girl, my petite baby sister who was able to get into MONTEREY BAY AQUARIUM using a student ticket (aged 18 and under) is now a DOCTOR. And no one can be prouder than her big sister (moi) and her big sister's husband (Lorenzo).

I miss having a doctor in the house. During those nine short days when they were here, my sister was privy to all of my family's maladies, imagined and otherwise. She was also a calming presence when her nephews were feeling under the weather, ready to dispense medical advice and the odd cuddle when needed.




It was sad to actually see them packing, my sister and my Mom. Sadder still to see my husband load their luggage into Vanna, our white minivan. The short drive to Modesto Airport was punctuated by a wild animal "Old MacDonald", where everyone, from Lance and Troy to Mommy, Daddy and Auntie Haya, had to think of a wild or scary animal to the tune of the nursery rhyme. MY contribution was:

Old MacDonald had a boa constrictor, E-I-E-I-O.
With a squeeze-squeeze here and a squeeze-squeeze there...


Within minutes, we were at the small municipal airport in Modesto, where United Airlines actually operates a flight to San Francisco. My Mom and sister have always flown in straight to Modesto, sparing us the long drive to Oakland or San Francisco Airport to pick them up. We realize it's a lot more expensive to travel this way. Although we never really minded driving the distance to pick them up, we appreciate this thoughtful gesture on their part.




Lorenzo unloaded the van and Mom and Haya checked in at the counter. Our airport routine was about to begin. My husband and I found seats at the terminal, knowing it was just a matter of time before our two boys started hounding us for dollar bills to feed to the omnipresent vending machines. Sure enough, Lance and Troy did not disappoint us. For some reason, the appeal of those ubiquitous hulking displays seems to grow with each return visit we make to that airport.

Soon the flight to San Francisco was announced and Mom and Haya dispensed their last goodbye hugs and kisses. We were able to shoot this last picture before they lined up at the security counter.




Lance and Troy waved through the glass at their Auntie and Lola, who were in the holding area while the plane was being emptied. We did not exit the terminal until Mom and Haya boarded the plane. And then we walked to the fence by the runway to watch the plane taxi and take off from the tarmac, waving all along. This routine has become a family tradition through years of Mom's visits.



Lance and Troy were sad to see their Lola Arlyne and Auntie Haya go, but a chance discovery of a roly-poly beetle on the ground happily distracted them from the long goodbye. I, on the other hand, was starting to feel lonely. Lorenzo wisely kept the mood upbeat, suggesting that we explore a road by the river which we had not taken before.

Soon we stumbled upon the Tuolumne River Lodge, a private park located on the banks of the Tuolumne River. We drove in and saw the caretaker, who seemed interested to sell us a membership so we asked him if we could look around the place.



It was a lovely reserve, set in seven and a half acres of river frontage. We took pictures by the river bank while Lance and Troy played in the little park under a cathedral of trees. It was the perfect setting to lift me out of my melancholy.

Soon I was back to my normal self, and ready to concentrate on the next task at hand, Reanna's first birthday party. There were invitations to be addressed and promptly delivered, all of which had to be done later that day. But first we made a delicious detour to Del Taco for some fish tacos and quesadillas. We knew we had a more pressing issue to address, the main priority in any family made up mostly of males:

Hunger management.


(PLUGGING: I've finally updated 87 GENTLE STREET with "Day 6: The Pilgrims' Progress", the latest installment in my "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series. Also, more pictures at Tuolumne River Lodge in my BRAG BOOK.)