by rossanahead | Jan 21, 2012 | children, Education, family, parenting
By Romelda C. Ascutia
Father and son were squatting in front of their gate, hunched over black dots on the ground that as I passed by took on the shape of adorable ducklings.
Children and animals go beautifully together like coffee and cream, and my two sons had their own share of animal bonding while they were growing up.
A long list of pets became transient visitors in our home over the years. During mall visits, a stopover at the Bio Research store was a must for the boys, who wanted to admire all the animals on display. Sometimes my kids would succeed in convincing their parents to make a purchase, promising to take good care of their wards. We were naïve to believe them.
One time we bought hamsters, which came complete with a convoluted cage that had all the works including spinning wheels, tunnels, and turrets. For weeks the boys would rush home from school eager to check on their pets, feed them, caress them, and clean their cage. But as time passed, the boys, with the typical short attention span of children, lost interest and moved on to the next attraction, and I was saddled with the care of the abandoned creatures.
The parade of critters in our house included turtles, tropical fish, and white mice that my kids snuck into school, kept hidden in their breast pockets to be shown to their classmates during recess.
The school was another rich source for acquiring pets. Ambulant vendors outside the school premises would entice the pupils to buy goldfish contained in little plastic bags filled with water. There were also chicks and ordinary brown birds given a makeover and dyed garish pinks and blues and greens. My children never let any of these opportunities to bring a surprise pet home pass.
At one point they brought back ducklings, and had a merry time being trailed everywhere by the baby ducks that had mistaken them for their mothers. Unfortunately, the ducklings would later be accidentally squished underfoot.
Of all the animals they had, my children were most obsessed with, to my dismay, spiders. They used up their school allowance to buy spiders locked inside matchstick boxes. These were not regarded as pets, but as combatants to be placed on broom strands and pitted against the spiders of peers. I was glad when they outgrew that phase.
Two particular pets stand out in my memory. One was a pair of outrageous quails which had the most eardrum-splitting squawk I ever heard. Like roosters with a sore throat, they woke us up in the morning with their hoarse noises, and curious neighbors would come by and ask us what those horrid sounds coming from our house were. We grew fond of those awkward fowl which, sadly, met a horrible end in the jaws of the neighborhood cats after my sons forgot to bring them inside the house one night.
The other unforgettable pets we had were hermit crabs. These creatures were sold by pedestrian vendors then, but recently they have found their way into malls. Their shells have been painted in bright colors or cartoon designs and they come housed in proper cages. Of course, they also carry a much fancier price tag.
Our hermit crabs resided in a cardboard box and were actually a breeze to care for. But when my children got tired of them as usual, the neglected crabs escaped from their box, and I assumed they had died from lack of food. Then one day, like Sigourney Weaver in Alien, I saw a strange form dart from behind the refrigerator. It was a hermit crab. The hardy creature had apparently survived for months scavenging on its own (which probably does not say much about my housecleaning skills).
My kids no longer ask me to buy all sorts of pets for them. But they have learned the valuable lesson of taking responsibility for other living creatures they take under their wing, and they now help me feed and care for our pets. They have also learned to respect the right to life of all animals, and during heavy rain would catch frogs that cross our street to put them back safely in the vacant lot where they came from.
Photo by David Jusko on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Jan 19, 2012 | children, Education, family, parenting
By Maridol Rañoa-Bismark
“What do you like more? High school or college?” I ask my son, who’s on his third year at the university.
“College,” he replies, without missing a beat.
In college, he tells me, you get to meet more people from all walks of life. You also have more freedom, the freedom to choose your teachers, your schedule, and your extra-curricular activities.
If high school is the time to form cliques, then college is the time to widen one’s social circle, and to create as many of those circles as one can. No longer bound to one section, your teenager can hop from one college to another like a butterfly flitting from one flower to the next. He may make friends with schoolmates who are so unlike him, or who come from a province or a country that he has never been to.
I myself am fascinated at the big university my son goes to. When I enter the building, the guard greets me “Good morning,” thinking that I’m a professor. Since my age and eyeglasses allow me to assume another identity, I get to enter different school buildings and walk through an ongoing exhibit or diorama. Why, I even get to know about job openings for students. They’re posted all over the bulletin board!
Another big bonus: finding out what events my son has signed up for the month, at least we have something to talk about at the end of the day.
I pepper him with questions: Did you find the career talk useful? Are you joining the college fair? Did you meet anybody interesting in the outreach program?
It’s a great way to bond with somebody who’s turning out to be harder and harder to catch up with.
School activities are generally safe subjects to discuss; he won’t recoil when I ask about them. Sometimes, when I’m feeling lucky, I segue to more delicate matters like grades, teachers, and girls. I step on the brakes when he suddenly turns quiet or starts answering my questions with a standard, “It’s okay.”
It’s his way of saying, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I’ll just try another day. He’ll ask for my opinion when he needs it.
For now, I enjoy the sights and sounds of the university. I walk around the campus that it is my child’s second home and try to see it through his eyes. And here’s what I saw: all these young happy people, eager to learn, eager to grow, and excited about all their tomorrows. I am instantly filled with joy and say to myself, “Wish I were in college too!”
Photo by Mateus Campos Felipe on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Jan 16, 2012 | career, Education, woman
By Paula Bianca Abiog
I say “athlete” because I don’t think I am one in its strictest sense. I don’t follow a really strict training routine, or compete in tournaments. I’m not even excelling in a particular sport. But my friends say I’m an “athlete” because I’m into tennis and running. And I’ve tried (and loved) boxing. Now I’m learning to swim.
I never thought I’d end up an “athlete.” I wasn’t a very active kid. Sure, I was able to try volleyball, softball, and a host of other games and sports during my PE classes in grade school and high school. But outside of PE, I pretty much just sat in a corner and read books. I started tennis lessons when I was 13, and I loved it, even if I only got to play in the summer. My only other hobby that involved movement was dancing, and I didn’t even do that often enough.
Things changed, though, when I started working. The long hours spent researching, interviewing, transcribing, and writing articles, and fast food lunches and takeout coffees that had more sugar than actual caffeine, have taken their toll on my body. Ballooning to almost 170 lbs wasn’t pretty, and I had to do something about it. So I signed up at a gym.
At first, I hated it. I couldn’t lift weights properly. I was exhausted after five minutes on the treadmill. I got cramps when I first tried the cardio martial arts class. But as months passed, as I got stronger and my endurance improved, I began to love gym more. I looked forward to attending group classes, even on weekends. After about a year of going to the gym, I went on the tennis courts again. And shortly after that, a friend introduced me to boxing.
I was enjoying my newfound love for sports, that I didn’t even notice the pounds slowly melting away. I just started feeling more confident and more content in my own skin. What started as a way to shed the pounds has led me to discover how I loved being active. It also gave me enough encouragement to try running (which I originally didn’t like, as I didn’t see the point of running just for the sake of running, and not because I’m trying to escape from criminals or zombies), and then swimming.
Sure, I still don’t have that 24-inch waistline (given my body type, I’m not sure it’s possible at all) and there’s still (lots of) room for improvement with muscle tone. But I’m proud of the 30 lbs or so that I’ve lost so far. I’m even prouder of myself because I learned that I can last seven rounds in the boxing ring with my sparring coach, that I can finish a 10K run in less than 90 minutes, and that I can hit pretty decent forehands and backhands.
Being the accidental “athlete” has led me to a new passion; one that I never thought I’d be able to, or have the guts to do. For a very long time, I was branded the “chubby nerd” and “the inert one.” Discovering that I can do sports now, in my 20s, made me realize that you’re never too old to try something new, or discover an aspect of your personality that you never thought existed.
Photo by Element5 Digital on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Jan 4, 2012 | career, children, Education, Lyra Pore, parenting, woman
By Lyra Pore Villafana
Every weekend I drive to the nearest aquatic center to take swimming lessons with other adult learners. My classmates are all parents to young children: one is a mother to a sixteen-year-old girl and a seven-year-old boy, another has three children all in grade school and yet another has a two-year-old son.
“I’m doing this for myself,” the mom to the two-year-old said last week. “I work and look after my family, but I need to get away from it all every now and then.”
“Me too,” the mother to the three kids agreed. “I don’t work but I need a bit of time for myself so I don’t go crazy.”
“I have the same reason for coming here,” I revealed. I work full-time and do my best to look after my young family too. It reinvigorates me when I am able to spend even just two hours a week doing something for myself. This is my “me time.”
The mother to the teenage girl and grade-school boy listened intently. She had told me on a separate occasion that she enrolled in swimming class to help her manage her asthma.
My swimming buddies and I are all Asians who have migrated to Australia with our families. None of us is really aspiring to become a strong swimmer. Of course, we want to be able to survive should we fall into the water but to us, it’s not simply about the swimming.
Life overseas is so different to what we’ve all been used to. We don’t have extended families to support us, we and our husbands have to do all the house work ourselves as there is no domestic helper who can do the cleaning, washing, cooking and other chores for us, and none of us has the benefit of live-in nannies. Amidst all these, many of us strive to hold a job as well.
But doing something for oneself isn’t unique to Asian moms coping with the stresses of building a new life in a different country. A few weeks ago, my family was invited to the home of an Australian family ― well the wife was Australian while the husband was British. They had a twelve-year-old daughter who’s been born and raised in Australia.
Every week the wife, who’s an operations manager in a chain of nursing homes, attends piano lessons. “I do it for my brain. I have to keep it working,” she said. So once a week, she spends an hour improving her piano playing techniques.
I do not view these one- or two-hour excursions without husband and children selfish at all. A busy mom has to take care of herself too. It does the whole family a lot of good when the mother takes a bit of time to do something that will help keep her mentally, emotionally and physically healthy.
Photo by Serena Repice Lentini on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Dec 17, 2011 | career, Education
By Paula Bianca Abiog
Since I was a child, I have always known I wanted to become a writer. I learned how to read by flipping through newspapers and magazines at three; started writing my own stories (patterned after my favorite fairy tales) at six; composed long entries in lock-and-key journals by 11; and seriously considered writing as a career when I was 16.
Five years ago, I got my dream job. I was finally going to write for a magazine. And with getting my dream job came plans to eventually become an editor one day.
I loved my job. I got to interview and write about celebrities and inspiring men and women; I was able to tackle relevant, sometimes controversial, topics, and more. I was able to go to different places around the country and write about what I saw, from Batanes in the north to Bohol in the south.
But as the years went by, while I still loved writing about people, places, and issues, I found myself doing the same thing over and over again. I felt that I was stuck in a rut, and lately, I felt I wasn’t improving as a writer. I also wanted to try other things, to see if I can do more than just writing. And after a few months agonizing over whether to stay or to go, I finally decided to try my luck in doing something new.
Even if I knew I made the decision for career growth, I initially felt I was abandoning my childhood dream, my plans to become an editor, and the friends I made in those five years. But life doesn’t always pan out the way you envision it, plans don’t materialize exactly when you want them, and friendships don’t end when one leaves to pursue something new. More importantly, I realized that I won’t stop being a writer just because I wanted to try a different tack.
Sometimes, getting what you want, when you want it doesn’t always lead to the fabulous ending you’ve always wished for. Perhaps one day you’ll get what you want when you least expect it, when God, or the fates, feel that you’re ready to finally have what you want. And to be able to grow and move forward, you sometimes have to take a different and unfamiliar path to shake you up. You have to step out of your comfort zone, test the waters, flounder a bit, and find your footing once more, so your growth doesn’t get stunted.
Paula now works for the corporate communications office of a large corporation. And yes, she is still very much a writer.
Photo by Estée Janssens on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Dec 11, 2011 | children, Education, family, parenting, woman
By Romelda C. Ascutia
“Your cholesterol is high,” the doctor says, scanning the result of my blood test. My blood cholesterol level is nearly 240mg/dl, above the limit of 200mg/dl.
She prescribes cholesterol-lowering medicine and puts me on a low-fat diet. I’m told to avoid fried, fatty foods and stick to dishes boiled or grilled. She also advises me to cut down on rice and skip the full-cream dairies.
Now I cannot deny my age. I can no longer get away with eating foods that are smothered in grease, fat, butter, cream, and all those ingredients that make eating such a pleasure.
My eating habits will have to change from now on, if not for my sake, then for the sake of my two boys. I don’t want to follow in the footsteps of other parents who died of a heart attack or stroke at a relatively young age, leaving behind young, helpless kids, because they neglected their health.
Contrary to popular belief though, cholesterol per se is not bad for you. It’s actually an essential substance (it looks like wax) that our liver produces to enable certain body functions to continue. It’s required in manufacturing vitamin D, building cell walls and hormones, and producing bile salts for fat digestion.
It’s when there’s too much cholesterol in your blood, usually gained from what you eat, that the problem sets in, because then not all the cholesterol is removed from your bloodstream. The excess is deposited along the walls of the blood vessels as plaque, clogging them to the point where it can block blood flow to the heart or brain, triggering either a heart attack or stroke.
Taking care of one’s health is part and parcel of being a good parent. And that’s why I’m doing research on how to lower blood cholesterol. In addition to taking medication, I found out that dietary and lifestyle changes must be included for any cholesterol-reduction program to work.
I must take note of my cholesterol intake. Cholesterol intake should be less than 300 milligrams a day, total fat intake 30 percent or less of my total calories, saturated fat intake 10 percent or less of the total daily calories, and trans fat intake less than 1 percent of total calorie consumption.
I must maintain a healthy weight. Obesity has been linked to high cholesterol levels.
I must build up a sweat. Thirty minutes of moderate physical activity (biking, walking, swimming) most days of the week can lower cholesterol and help lose extra pounds.
I must choose low-cholesterol foods like fruits, vegetables, whole grains (like oats, whole wheat breads and cereals), legumes (beans), and fish. Experts recommend five daily servings of fruits and vegetables every day.
I must go for lean meat and remove noticeable fat before cooking and use skinless poultry. Rather than frying, I will try boiling, broiling, baking, roasting, poaching, steaming, or sautéing. I can also get protein from non-meat sources, such as fish, beans, peas, nuts, and soy products.
I must learn to substitute like choosing low-fat or nonfat milk over the full-cream variety. They have all the nutrients of whole milk, but none of the fat. Rather than cream cheese or sour cream, I’ll opt for low-fat or nonfat dairy substitutes like low-fat buttermilk or yogurt.
I must be picky with eggs. One of the things I miss the most is eggs. Because the yolk is high in cholesterol, I content myself with just the egg white.
I must snack wisely. Fast foods and junk foods are high in fat, sodium, and cholesterol that burden the heart. It’s better to eat fresh fruits, raw veggies, low-fat dips, low-fat whole-grain crackers, unsalted popcorn or pretzels, gelatin, or low-fat yogurt.
Photo by Hush Naidoo on Unsplash
