Getting into the Philippine High School for the Arts

Dear Gabee, 

I was the first to find out the exciting news that you qualified to study at the Philippine High School for the Arts, the country’s prestigious arts school. I shrieked with utmost surprise and joy! I called out to your dad to break the very happy news. You were still asleep. I woke you up and startled you with the greatest surprise of all. “Gabee, you did it!”

Wow! Amazing! God is amazing. He heard your fervent prayers to study at PHSA! You wanted to get out of Poveda. You didn’t settle well there, or just could not blend well with the Poveda students. Truly, this is an answered prayer. I couldn’t be more proud of you, and more thankful to God for his amazing blessing.

I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t believe you were gonna make it. Well, the chances were too slim! Only 7 of you made the cut for visual arts field. That’s out of more than 100 young visual artists who auditioned from Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao! But I was secretly rooting for you, holding on to what little chance you had. I would check the PHSA website every day to check if I would see your name there.

Congratulations, Gabee, my sweetheart! I pray you soar high and truly discover the artist in you!

Love,
Mom

One Happy First Grader

Gab turned six last June, one day after school opened and welcomed her as a first grader. She has joined her brother in a progressive school located in Antipolo. Their classes started later than in most other schools, and they are now only on their fifth week, excluding the week when classes were suspended for four days due to Typhoon Glenda (international name: Rammasun). Gab was quick to settle into her new school, as we had expected. I have always admired how she easily adapts to any person and environment. She’s not one to fret or become anxious about being left at school on the first day, as she’s the chameleon type, blends well in just about any place and crowd.

Except for the usual battle we have over waking up and getting ready in the morning, every single day has been a happy one, peppered with lots of anecdotes. Her stories have become more detailed, pertaining to this and that classmate. She now knows all the names of her classmates, teachers, and even the manong that she refers to as Kuya Bok. Kuya Bok is apparently the one who brings her and her classmates snacks from the canteen. Yesterday, she told me that Kuya Bok is the “maintains.” “Ah, maintenance,” I corrected her, recalling seeing school staff wearing pink shirts with the word “maintenance” printed on the back.

It was on the second week, I think, when, at the dinner table, she engaged her brother in a pagalingan banter, and asked, in a she-knows-you-don’t tone, “Do you know what a “paradise” is?” Kuya was quite taken aback by the question, wondering perhaps what prompted Gab to ask. Earlier that day, Gab was telling me, on the way home from school, what protozoans are, and how they can make the tummy ache. Knowing where she was coming from, I laughed and jumped in, explaining to Kuya that Gab meant to ask what a parasite was, not paradise. Kuya gamely shared what became a joke between us (to be shared with their dad later), and laughed with me. And Gab went on to explain about good and bad germs she saw under a microscope—another new and exciting word for her.

Gab seems to have learned a lot about the human body over the course of her first few weeks into grade school, proudly sharing her new learnings and singing to me songs about the skin, eye, ears and brain. Last Wednesday, she was so happy to share that she cooked spaghetti at school, and it was so yummy, she finished her share. She was made to bring tomato sauce, spices and a food container. She came home with just a dirty (with a few spaghetti noodle bits) food container.

I look forward to fetching Gab from school. She’s still full of energy at dismissal and would want to linger and eat lunch with Kuya at the canteen. I just sometimes wish she would still look as immaculate as she is when I drop her off. But, each time also, she’d be in various states of disarray, whether it’s her long hair strands that escaped her braids or  pony tails, or her knee-high black socks pulled down to her ankles, or her stained white polo, or muddy black shoes, or combinations of these. And I just have to accept the child that she is, and that I can’t, no matter how I try, get her to stay put, prim and proper, and get herself the “Most Orderly” award that I got during kindergarten. Gab is nothing like me as a child. And, honestly, I’m happy about that.

Last Monday, Gab did something that amazed me and got me a bit weak in the knees, awed at her braveness. They have a weekly school assembly, like a flag ceremony, where there is a class designated each Monday to give a presentation—a skit, song, or dance, with a theme about values. The value that was presented last Monday was “prudence.” After the presentation, the school principal gave a short message to reiterate the importance of the “value” that had just been demonstrated. When the principal threw the first question, “What is prudence?,” I was watching the program from outside the gate and heard the principal remark, “Yes, Gabee?” I looked closely, and lo and behold, it was my Gabee being called to the front to answer. It took her a few seconds to reach the principal and speak on the microphone. She spoke in a very soft voice, I didn’t catch what she said, but the principal repeated it, saying that Gab said prudence was about loving. Not exactly correct, but in a way connected. That was how Gab understood it based on the skit which had some students dressed as angels with halos. That’s Gab. I hope she stays that way, confident and happy.

Dear Gabee

Dear Gabee,

How are you? I am sure you are enjoying your short vacation with Lolo and Lola in Bulacan. Please don’t think about Mom when night falls. I am just here at home. I’m not going anywhere far without you. Remember you had me promise that I should not leave you to go to Viet Nam again? Why, you remember the time Dad and I went away so well. I think it’s because of the Vietnamese costume we gave you as pasalubong. You loved it so, didn’t you? You had requested to wear it to school several times, but I only gave in once. I know, my “kuching”, Mom is such a kill-joy. You can ask Kuya what that means.

You had me worried last night seeing you on FaceTime cry so hard, begging me to fetch you. I wanted to, Gab, to do as you wished because I also miss you. But I doubt whether you really wanted to come home already while Kuya is still there having fun with your cousins. I think you just miss Mom as much as Mom misses you. But, I am not crying. You know why? Because I know you’re fine and having a good time, and making Lolo and Lola happy just by you being there. I know Tita looks forward to going home from work because the house is happier and a lot noisier with you, your Kuya, and your cousins there. Hug and kiss them a lot, Gab.

Oh, I saw your diary! Lola and Tita posted on Instagram what you wrote. You told Diary that you hurt your knee on Day 1, and that you got annoyed with Kuya who wouldn’t stop dancing “Just Dance” on Day 2, and that you dream of becoming a dancer. How about today, Day 3? Tell me what happened. Write every day, and put those pieces of paper in your bag. I know you’re very careful with your stuff, and that’s a very good thing, too. All the stuff that you packed, make sure you bring them home again, together with your Dear-Diary notes, ok?

Tita also posted photos of you eating balut and chips. Balut is nutritious. Chips (or tsitsirya as you call it), you know, are bad, but having them sometimes is okay. Did you thank Tita? Always say thank you, ok?

I went to see your Ninang Anna today. She gave me your early birthday gift. You will love it!

I love you, Gabee. See you soon. Take care not to hurt yourself. I know small wounds do not worry you because you're such a brave girl.

Say hello to Lolo and Lola for me. And hug Kuya for me.

I am excited to hear all your kwento when I see you.

Love much, 

Mom

My Pride and Joy

If you’re a mom like me, I’d bet you, too, are a stage mom. You’re not? Really? Well, you must have your reasons. I am admittedly sucked into that role, and can’t help share photos, videos, art and literary works, and awards of my own children. “Share” is a nice way of putting it. “Show off” might be the naked truth, but that’s instinctive. Aren’t we all show-offs? Some in loud ways, others in quiet, discrete ways. Well, let's be kind to moms. It’s hard to carry a child for nine months, harder to give birth, and hardest to raise a child. The hardships are rewarded by the adoration and love we get from our children, and are made more worthwhile by their little and big achievements. We find great delight when our children excel in school. But achievements are not only measured by merits from the school, but through many ways where they show their interests, abilities, confidence, and positive behaviors, in and out of a structured school setting.

Isn’t it 'instinct' that we become our children’s number one fan (and critique)? With social media on our side (plus the luxury of time in my case), we itch to share new photos of our children, their works/creations, stories about how they are growing up, their school activities, trips to this and that place. They grow up too fast, and soon I know I would not have much of a presence in my children's lives, and would be restricted to viewing their own Facebook accounts, blogs, etc. 

If we are friends on Facebook, you might have gotten sick of my many posts about my kids already. As I’ve indicated in one FB status/shout-out, you can always 'unfriend' me. Haha, no kidding. Like it or not, I am a mother, and my life revolves around my children. You would seldom see my own selfies or group photos with me in them, but you would be swamped by photos and (sometimes) videos such as the one below, which is of  my daughter. She recited the poem The Handwriting on the Wall (author unknown), during a poetry recitation at school. Among the 20 pupils in her preparatory class, she was the first to recite the lengthy poem. I am not sure if she volunteered to take the first slot. She, by the way, is the youngest in her class, having just turned five last June. I would like to think that her teachers trusted that she could set the confidence level. She was confident, and I was so proud of her. Her performance wasn't the best of all, but it was her best. Credits are due to the teachers for honing her confidence through their approval and encouragement, and providing venues where she and her classmates could shine and be applauded for a job well done.

Oh, yes, of course, this is not the first time I am sharing this. I have shared this to my Facebook friends right after the activity, as soon as I got my hands on a computer. Really, half of the thrill is in sharing it with family, relatives and friends who’d take the time to download and play the video, and enjoy watching this girl.

Ooopsie, the video is taking a while to upload. You may view it through the Facebook link in the paragraph just above. Thanks for your time. 

Spreading good vibes into the weekend. Happy Bonifacio Day, folks in the Philippines! :-)  

Conversations with Gabee (1) - "Coke Girl"

Scene: Saturday. Cess approaches the dining table for lunch, with Gab already seated, ready to eat.

Cess: Yaya, pakibili mo nga ako ng  --

(Yaya, could you please buy me --)

Gab (butts in): Coke! Yaya, bili mo raw si Mommy ng Coke.

(Yaya, Mom is asking you to buy her Coke.)

Cess (laughs, feels guilty): Ikaw ha!

(Oh, you!)

Gab: Coke girl ka na, Mommy!

(You’re now a Coke girl, Mommy!)

Kuya (Garrett) enters.

Gab (holds my shoulders): Kuya, you know who’s this?

Kuya: Yes.

Gab: Hihihi! Mom is Coke girl. (chuckles teasingly)

Kuya (serious): Mom, you’re getting addicted, and you know it’s bad because of the caffeine. You should drink at least 2 glasses of water after drinking Coke.

Cess’s thought bubble: I’m a bad mom. I should stop this habit! Pero ang hirap, sarap ng Coke sa tinola!

Raw, Honest and Beautiful – Drawings of a Five-Year-Old

Wherever she goes, this girl has in tow her pen and paper. She takes them with her everywhere, even to the meatshop. J

The first day that she got to use a crayon, she already got a firm grip on it, and would make heavy strokes with it. I had a feeling that it would not be difficult to teach her how to write. I was right.

She doesn’t tote a doll or a blankie. Instead, she’s hoarding pens and markers, requesting for more fancy, girly notebooks, and spends almost all her me-time drawing, even in the car.

When having difficulty with her Math drills, arranging numbers from least to greatest (or the reverse), adding, or subtracting, she’s wont to stop and distract herself. And at times like this, there’s her pen and paper giving her relief from numbers. Gab, by the looks of it, could be right-brain dominant – expressive and creative. 

Interestingly, she has, on two recent occasions, demonstrated how she could wield her pen and paper to her advantage, using them to make new friends.

At a school fund-raising concert, she drew on a paper, quietly approached the two girls (fifth graders) on the row in front of us, and gave her drawing to one of the girls. The girl asked her name, and got interested upon knowing that she was Garrett’s little sister. Gab then asked the girls to write their names on a paper. Soon after, all three girls were crouching and drawing in the dark, and had altogether stopped watching the show.

A similar incident happened one Friday afternoon when I brought Gab along to fetch Kuya from school. Gab again had sheets of paper and her pen with her. While waiting for Kuya to finish a Science club meeting, I was seated on a bench near the school gate while Gab ran around. Minutes later, I saw Gab at the center of the school’s mini stage, seated squatting in her printed floral dress, surrounded by students. Gab was drawing as the students (mostly Kuya’s classmates) looked on. Gab was obviously enjoying the attention. She was a natural, I could see it. 

It was a happy, precious sight to me. It made me confident that Gab would not have problems moving to this (big) school and making friends. Back in my time, I had difficulty blending in or hanging out with the cool kids. I could see that Gab would not have to deal with the problems I had. I’d anticipate she’d only have to adjust to the longer school hours.

Her drawings have been noticeably improving, from the stick figures to images of princesses and princes elegantly dressed and crowned; from just a smiley to angry faces in different degrees and angles.

We have accumulated a thick pile of her drawings. Her drawings from last Saturday pasted below are worth keeping as they tell a story – funny to us, but not to this five-year-old girl. I first shared them on my facebook page as below:

Interesting show of anger and love via Gab's sketches.

Prior scene - Gab reprimands her dad on always using the aircon.

1st drawing, right frame - Gab's dad standing by the bedroom door, telling Gab that she's banned from the room.

Gab retreats, still mad and draws the first of the sketches below.

Left frame - Gab surprised, suddenly fumes with anger, points her finger at his dad and says, "Ikaw ha, you are a very bad 'woman' (Garrett and I laugh hard).

Hours later, Gab says sorry and draws again, this time full of hearts and I-love-you's. Our funny, passionate Gab... Scares us of times ahead.

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Here is a gallery of some of Gabee’s latest drawings (maybe over the last 3 months). There are more versions of her princesses and princes, portraits of me, Let and her kuya, sketches inspired by fairy tales and some movies she has watched, and lots of others only Gab could tell you the story behind. To my eyes, they’re masterpieces. It’s great that by taking photos of them, they’re instantly converted into digital files for keeping.

Let’s take a tour inside Gab’s mind and heart through her drawings. Cheers!

This got me laughing. I think she meant to write "Vincent Van Gogh." She made it for her teacher, T. Maris, who has introduced her to some of Vincent Van Gogh's paintings.