A Journal

More than any shining gem and wide acres of lands , the much coveted heirloom which I thought I would receive till later has found its way into my hands.

Just when I thought it would be passed on to me when my son is of age just like Mirzi did when Kelly turned two, my mother must have thought it’s time.

A belated happy mother’s day gift from the woman that exemplifies unconditional love.A wise man once said “A person’s life is measured through what he is, what he has been and what he has become.

“But an even wiser man said ” Look back at where you came for it has brought you to where you are now.”Reading my life through my mom’s journal has made me realize that “my life” even if I do call it mine was not made by me alone.

Life’s journey had my mother and my father by my side .They did a lot to bring me where I am now.. The first few pages of what she has written has already left me misty eyed.

“ My first born, my first inspiration and my first line of defense”, so she writes about meAs I go on , I am marvelled with the encompassing love she has afforded us.

And as for the sacrifices rendered? She truly has given up a lot.Despite some instances of me falling off the crib just like my son did, she made motherhood sound like some sort of revelry.

Or that one of her children was stubborn and refused to be taught. Guess how well she turned out now?

This once little tot has finished college at the state university, cum laude. My sister Mirzi of course.

She presently too has a first honor bemedalled kid to boot.Or that little tyke who did nothing but draw on walls on tables and on chairs, my now Civil Engr brother Vito.

Or my sister Pia who as a little girl, used to shy away from people is now a registered nurse and hosted a lot of college events in her university.

Or that little kid named Steffi then nicknamed “washy wa” who did nothing but put different things inside her bag, some trash and stray cat included.

Or those four toddler boys playing indian-indian namely Marco, Vito, Gierek and Geo who lit a match and set the curtain on fire.

Im glad to say they now are presently doing well , none became a fireman though.My mother sincerely enjoyed the challenges, turned them into ladder rungs till she manage to be on top of things.

With all the eight of us, she had a few trials and major errors till she came with what could really work.She did not come empty handed though and so I was not what one could call “ the proverbial guinea pig”.

She came equipped with mental notes from her mother, my lola from Tupsan, Camiguin, Mrs. Rosario “Sarah” Paderanga-Espinosa of the renowned Paderanga clan of Lawyers, Doctors , Teachers and U.P grads.

The “reading clan” they call us then.I recognized that she was not teaching us for she made it so much fun and it did not look like a routine.

But in fact she was following a certain scheme which she sincerely numbered 1-100.

But of course this could not apply to other kids for their experiences are different with ours & that is why she did not carelessly gave out pieces of advices for fear that it might not work with them.

This too is what she warned mirzi and I that is “ not to meddle with other people’s affairs where child rearing is concerned for in the end you will receive the blame” .Let other parents be parents to their children.

They will discover the techniques themselves.Do give them the chance to grow with their kids.

“There is no general rule” she says, “as long as you love your child”. She just encourages other mothers to go and “discover your child’s needs and eventually , you will find out what she or he wants”

Her teaching style was customized according to one’s behaviour. She conceived an approach that was uniquely ours.

Learning was so much fun in the house.And I see now with what she meant that with every child she has applied different teaching styles

But I am fortunate then for I have my mom who has handed me out some homemade recipes on rearing a bright and funny kid.

She has guided me ever since I was pregnant.

Now I seemed to be in synch with motherhood most especially with teaching my child .

So I am on my way afterall, in raising a kid who would hopefully be as exceptionally bright, funny and loving like my niece Kelly.

My mother’s mother has taught her well, my mom has taught us well and I hope my son would say the same when he is all grown up.

May I have what it takes to be just like my mom.May I have children as greatful as I am.

May I hear them say I am the greatest in the world just as I am telling my mom right now.

Pier Angeli B. Ang Sen

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READ ME

Reading is fun.
My mother ,her mother, ,her mother’s mother before her, all took this to heart
and they passed on to their children the love for reading.

We are a “reading” family.We belong to that household surrounded with encyclopedias, guinness, dictionaries, biographies, the atlas and the bible.

At three and a half I already knew, spelled, read ,pronounced and identified correctly the word: chevrolet. Genius? indeed not.Reader?YES. I couldn’t miss it. It was our neighbor’s pick- up truck.

The love for reading was not genetic nor was it imprinted in our DNAs.Nor was it surgically implanted in our bodies.It was encouraged in us.

The very first step of infusing into the minds of children the love for reading was quite a dilemma in our family. But just as parents today have found hundreds of ways in encouraging their children to EAT, my family deviced creative ways in encouraging their children to READ.And books were not even the essential tools in the introduction to reading.

At the onset, the children just read aloud the words present in their immediate surrounding.
During breakfast as a can of evaporated milk was about to be poured to my cup of chocolate,my mother made sure the can was within my eye level.So that I could read aloud the words “….guaranteed to contain all the natural richness of pures cow’s milk….”
While preparing our meal, my mother would ask me to read aloud my aunt’s cookbook.
Diced, minced and chopped which were so high faluting for me then became familiar terms .Or that one time when I was helping my little brother take off his shirt (a gift from a relative abroad),my mother made me read out the shirt tag :”wash cold with like colors, do not bleach.” Back then when I have never ever seen a “live” washing machine yet , I already knew what tumble-dry low , meant.My father on the other hand would set down in front of me that old piece of newspaper with which the dried fish was wrapped with. He would then ask me to decode words with him.

On my first trip to the airport,as my parents were about to fetch an uncle who just came from Saudi, the signage “Airport 45 kms ahead” never missed my eye. And the numerous signages
thenafter…..”Dangerous.Men at work.”..”Sorry for the inconvenience, your taxes are working for you”…”House for rent”….”Wanted Driver…”Or that blue and white plywood which hangs on our neighbor’s house and which had the words : “Atty-at-law” under his name. And even the words……”In loving memory of wife, son and daughter”…Epitaphs, that too.

My introduction to books was a unique one.My mother, storyteller that she was, began to tell me a story.It was a tale of a village girl who lied to the King that she could spin thread into gold.And how an enchanted little man helped him make that lie into reality.And later on, in exchange for the favor, she must give him her first born.However, should she guess his name right, the baby stays with her. Just like it was in Arabian Nights, my mother told me that story piece by piece,day by day. But much to my disappoinment, when the story was about to reveal the little man’s name my mother simply stopped telling the story.And left me wondering what the little man’s name was. My mother had just enticed me in “wanting” my very first book.And that christmas, my present had on it, in bold golden letters, the words “Rumplestiltskin”… my first book, ever.

Thus, the beginning of my love afair with books.

I simply found myself inching my way to our bookcase, to our neighbors bookshelves and up to the public libraries. Given my personal experience on the precedents of reading, I believe parents should be creative in encouraging their children to read. And to start with, the child does not even have to be in a huge library filled with books. The kitchen will do. That is where my formative years of reading were. It didn’t turn out bad.

And in our family, today, we have carried on the habit.

My cousin sometimes turns on their DVD.Her little girl would belt out a song from Shania Twain.And it’s not all because she wants to have a diva for a daughter.But she is trying to bring out her daughter’s skill in reading through the KARAOKE!

As for me I am passing it on to my baby RAFA…at four months he already has a few favourite poems most of which would make him giggle with glee..and some poems i have read to him while he was still in my womb….

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