a raconteur’s attempt

I envy my snoring better half engulfed by the cradle and is way far ahead to dreamland. There’s my Lukie too, dozed, arms stretched, feet apart and ready to kick the quilt when I cover him with it.

Oh never mind me, I’m blogging here.  My left hand holding my Dylan who thinks its day time when its night. My right punching the keys while patting his back. He keeps on wiggling as if telling me, "le’me do it ‘ma, le’me, le’me!"

A friend came to visit us one time and told me not to spoil our baby. She had observed that I readily pick up my son from his cot when he cries and I carry him most of the time. "Let him cry, that’s his exercise",  she said.

Cry is their means of communicating for %&//&%sake and we’re working on trust here you know! I didn’t tell her that of course. She might have read a different book on child rearing and I miss that page.

I’ll simply put it this way and it doesn’t need a child psychologist’s expertise to back me up. " Hold your children as much as you can, hug them, kiss them. Time flies so fast and  a day will come, they’ll not let you do it any more."

I am now staring at the clothes my eldest baby took out from his wardrobe for him to use at school tomorrow.  That used to be my job!  I’m proud of this budding independence but inside I feel a pang. My, THESE little creatures really do grow!

Lukie, my eldest baby, soon to be 5 years old - to whom our first parenting credential is reflected. The primary venture of our union…the specimen. Yep, for real!

Her teachers told me maybe my son spends a lot of time on the computer and PlayStation. Ooopps! Is that good or bad?

They told me he reads well, Italian and English when his classmates can’t even spell their names. All the others draw sun, flowers, houses and stuff while Lukie draws a race track writing "START" and "FINISH" to it’s place. He’d rather write ON, OFF, STOP and YAHOOLIGANS than Aa, Bb, Cc. He can count backwards with both known languages when his classmates don’t know what’s next to 19.

I was thinking, "Okay, I hear music. Continue!"

He is exceptionally intelligent but is too reserve. (ME:(thinking) oh, ohhh I know this, its coming…) Behaves well but can’t express himself and holds his feelings. When someone hurts him, he contains his anger and just cries. He only answers when asked but knows everything. And he doesn’t eat much.

I don’t know what to tell his teacher, I just asked her suggestion. She bluntly told me to switch off the computer and tell my son the PlayStation is broken.

I didn’t take her advice but made me and my husband to google child Psychology.

I admit, parenting makes me feel so inadequate, hypochondriac and hyper acidic.

A LETTER I SENT TO A FRIEND ABOUT DYLAN’S DELIVERY.

I just came home today from the hospital after almost a month of going in and out. It was hell out there, I too am amazed I’m still alive. They almost buried me.

I was over due and they have to induce my labor, they injected 3 dozes of gel to stir my tummy. From 11 AM to 5:50 the next day, I was in tremendous pain you could ever imagine. The obstetrician in shift told me not to push when I was really on the peak of giving birth. She was even angry and I told her the baby is bearing down on its own. They even switched off the light in the delivery room telling me to stay calm and take a nap coz I’m just 2 cm dilated(10 cm when baby’s to come out). They were lazy and waiting for the 7 AM shift to do my delivery.

I literally birthed on my own, I pushed it down with my arms on every contraction. The nurse  switched on the light as I was shouting its coming out. She called the midwife and did an internal exam(IE). Then she said, "Bruna, get the delivery table ready, its coming!"

Just one push with out any fundal help, Dylan James was born, 5:55 A.M, 3.350 kg and 50 cm in length. His sweet cry took off all the agony I had just gone thru.

I was alone coz Boogie has to go home for Lukie that night and those bastards told us, I wont be due till the next day. It was only thru prayers and my guts that beat their inhumane ignorance.

How much I cried when it was over, If I wasn’t weak and in pain, I would have kicked that obstetrician/midwife, she was of my size and it could have been no sweat. Unlike when Lukie was born, Boogie was with me in the DR and him being there, I felt safe.

Then we had to stay more because my son has to under go a treatment. It was not that serious, they only made a big deal out of it. We have to go back again tomorrow for the follow up check.

See, I told you, ‘albularyo’s there are more clever than the dr’s and other medics here. You can’t even sue, no win for sure. They cover each other’s asses specially when you’re not an Italian.

Well, I’m alive, the baby is doing great. No fuss so far at night (yet). I’m just glad its over. Now the real nurturing is up. Wish us luck!

lovelyn

I once read from a friend’s blog, "Blog…is it a journal?…" Made me think: Wow, a diary for the public to read and mostly by friends! That’s catching up with the computer age huhh? Its no longer a notebook hidden under the bed. Kept to be read by you alone not knowing your sister had already sneaked a peek to who is your crush and would later blackmail you to wash the dishes, or else, the world would know your secret…hahaha..BUT WAIT!!!! I’ve got five sisters! (They’ll e-mail me soon and tell me, "Its not fair, its not true. You never washed the dishes back then!")

Oh well, that’s just it for now. My first to ka’BLOG(!). Got to make it short. I need to convince my self to take a nap before my siren, Dylan’s Huuuaaahhh will ‘digital Dolby sound’ the house.