When Your Kid Asks “Who is Michael Jackson?”

When Francis Magalona died, we had a week or two of FM’s music constantly in the background while we were at home. So it was inevitable that in a matter of just five days, our little boy Kean was already singing “Kaleidoscope World” and “Cold Summer Nights” with feelings.
Now when MJ died, he was just everywhere! My husband and I mourned his passing too so we had our own memorial by filling our house with his songs. And we thought that it was “our responsibility” to educate Kean about Michael Jackson’s music, before uncreative copycats would come out with their own renditions, and mislead this new generation on the originality of the masterpieces.

So now, I believe Kean knows all the lyrics to Michael Jackson’s songs better than every poseur out there who suddenly branded themselves as an MJ fan only after his death. I’m irked that some of these people who claim they are “fans” don’t even know that he sang Dirty Diana. Geez, MJ’s catalog goes far, far, far beyond Beat it, Billie Jean and Bad, okay? Kean even likes MJ’s lesser hits such as “One More Chance” and “Break of Dawn”. Betcha you’re just stuck with the Number Ones, huh? Well, this kid has good ears for music.

Anyway, so while we were immersing ourselves in MJ tributes on TV, Kean of course being the curious 6-year-old that he is, asked us a lot of questions – questions that only kids are brave enough to ask, such as:

• Mom, how did he turn white?
• Mom, why is he wearing lipstick?
• Mom, why is he wearing a girl’s shirt (referring to the lacy black “blousy” top he wore in the “You Are Not Alone” video)
• Mom, what happened to his nose?

Being a parent, I realized that we can’t really protect our children from everything in this world. There are things that we just can’t deny. Other parents would have probably just dismissed such questions, or maybe ignore them altogether; pretend they didn’t hear it at all. I wanted to answer my child as “truthfully” as I can because I don’t want him to grow old, smeared with prejudices.

So I had to tell him what I know and these are based on general “un-malicious” facts: He had a disease called Vitiligo (which I also explained)… Performers wear lipstick and make-up on stage because they have to look good under very bright klieg lights… Lace isn’t just for girls. So I showed him turn of the century images of flamboyant men’s clothing using lace and other frilly materials. And besides, it was only a “costume” – costumes are always exaggerated! As for his nose, I told my son pointblank that he had cosmetic surgery. The reason? I don’t know. I just told him that people make decisions in their lives which only they can understand; and that they have every right to choose not to explain it. And we should respect that. Anyway, it’s not about how he looked or lived his life – we just had to remember his MUSIC. After all, that’s just what he wants to give to the world. But people wanted MORE.

Michael Jackson’s life will always remain a mystery – his childhood, his court cases, his cosmetic surgeries, his children, and even his death. Michael was human. He had flaws but I think his music was perfect… it was the soundtrack of our childhood... it inspired us… it moved the world. So why should we destroy all that by bothering ourselves with all the scandals? There’s more to being an MJ fan than copying his outfits and dance steps, and hounding his private life. I don’t think we will ever know so it doesn’t really matter. The TRUTH is the only thing that has been and forever will be UNREAL in Michael Jackson.

Hormonal Than Thou

Maybe you’ve already noticed that I’ve been gone from my blog for almost a month now! Come to think of it, I only have one entry for June and that was just to remind my readers that the missus is still online. I haven’t died (not yet). Being gone from the blogosphere this long is definitely a record for someone who lives with her laptop every day. The Tagalog slang words “windang” and “ngarag” would not even suffice to describe what happened to me the moment we entered the month of June. I just didn’t fly off the handle… I really snapped!

During the 1st week of this month (when classes began), I was in a manic rage. The smallest things irked me. It was as if an evil version of me took over my body and cried my eyes dry, screamed my throat hoarse, and just choked my heart and soul. My mind went totally blank one specific day and with my eyes blurred in tears, I hailed the cab, sent a text message to Joseph saying I want to be away from everything, and just took off! The sky was in its grayest gray and my spirit felt as ashen and burned out. The cab driver asked where to and I just said, “I don’t know manong… far away…”

At that time I didn’t know exactly what was going on. I was extremely sad, quasi-suicidal, and ultra-sensitive that I ridiculously cried at every HBO movie that was on… even “You’ve Got Mail!” Looking back, I can now qualify that the reasons for my breakdown were a lethal combination of so many things happening at the same time in that dreary gloomy depression-perfect weather.

There was the stress, frustration, anger, guilt, disillusionment about the church’s commemorative book project that I was heading… Financial pressures and expectations from our families… Our nervous pending 1st bank loan application as husband and wife… Kean coming back from Davao and starting Grade 1 on a very early 7AM class (which meant I had to get up at 5AM to prepare his breakfast & baon; wake him at 5:30; get him all ready for a measly hour that speeds by like a flash of light before his school bus picks him at 6:30!)… And then of course on top of waking up way too early is losing a lot of sleep over my work (as a freelancer, only one principle holds out: no project – no pay)… Worrying about my husband’s growing dissatisfaction with his career… The sad bed weather… Cabin fever… Lack of “actual” human contact… Desensitized by hollow cyber communication… and most of all my HORMONES!

The epic saga of my hormonal battle lives on. After taking some time off from the stressful and expensive fertility treatments late last year, my doctor put me on my hormone treatment again a couple of months ago to stabilize my hormone levels since I’ve been missing my periods again (not due to pregnancy, sorry to disappoint you). The treatment’s supposed to impede my weight gain too. This is all too technical, really. Explaining how hormones work in lay terms is too tedious because nothing is really cut and dried in defining these conditions. A lot of women don’t have troubles with their hormones at all while some just flip out – Example: Me.

I texted my doctor a days after what happened to me that horrible week. I knew I had to consult her because right after the height of my hissy fit, my long overdue period finally came. I knew right then and there that my train wreck episode last week wasn’t JUST about the immediate crises in my life and the dark clouds up above –my hellish hormones did some major damage.
She told me that based on my latest hormone tests I am vaguely somewhere in between having some premature ovarian insufficiency (or premature ovarian failure) and polycystic ovarian syndrome. In very loose simple terms, it means that my eggs ain’t growing and my pituitary gland and hypothalamus are not in synch which in textbook terms gives me symptoms of extreme PMS which could lead to early menopause!!! Huwwaaattt! This even makes me worse than my mega-moody mom!

Anyway, that’s the scientific explanation of my recurrent bi-polar tendencies. While I was in that cab, curling myself warm in an old cardigan (the first one I could pull out of my closet as I was rushing to flee from our apartment), staring irately out the windows as we drove past Gretchen, Angel, KC, with their sucked-in cheeks matched with either stoic looks or dolphin smiles, I thought everything around me just looked grating. I was so antsy that day that I couldn’t even resist e-mailing the management of this chi-chi restaurant at Boni High Street to nitpick at their grammatically-wrong electronic flyer which my inbox received that morning. It said, “… it’s our 2nd Year Anniversary!” to which I replied, “I am concerned that a high-end restaurant like you would be careless about your marketing copy. It’s supposed to be just ‘2nd Anniversary’ and not ‘2nd Year Anniversary’!” I know it was entirely not my business. In fact who cares about some ridiculously pretentious expensive restaurant who doesn’t even know basic grammar? Well on that day I cared. I cared because I wanted some sense of order and control in my very chaotic world. Sigh…

So there I was – crying inside a cab going to nowhere. And then suddenly God spoke to me. While we were crawling on EDSA, my cab driver was actually reading the Bible! Wow, that was a first! Have you ever seen a cab driver do that? It was rare indeed. My husband was calling me. His text messages were pleading for me to come home already. I caught a glimpse of the verses that the driver was reading. He was on Colossians, and my eyes landed on the words “Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord. Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh to them.” I knew it was God telling me to go home to my husband, and it was an assurance that despite what I did that day, Joseph would understand and his love would just overflow for me because no matter what happens, no matter what I’ve become that day, he still loves me because he promised to do so right before God.

So I asked the driver to turn around, and the moment I got home, my husband greeted me in a warm bear hug and said nothing but, “I LOVE YOU!” We prayed together and I just felt truly blessed for having him as a husband. God really gave him to me ‘coz I couldn’t imagine any other guy capable of handling ME.

June is almost over. With fervent prayers, I survived. Now, my body clock has finally adjusted and in fact I even wake up a minute earlier than my set alarm. Kean and I don’t recreate WW3 during mornings anymore. The commemorative book is finally on its way to the printer. A new career prospect is presenting itself to my husband (please pray with us about it). The weather’s still crazy but my hormones aren’t anymore. The hormonal Jill is trying her best, by God’s grace, to be holier than that Jill who flipped out early this month. Pray. No more preys. Amen.

Kean's Fish Story

It's crude but it's cute! Kean at 7 yrs old says that he wants to be an astronaut, an engineer, an artist, and a writer. :-) I was cleaning his room while he's away on vacation and I found one of his works. HeeHee... Check out one of my little boy's original storybooks.

Just when you think it's a normal story... crazy things begin to happen. :-)

Being the Other Mother

Is the badge of motherhood only earned through birth? I tell people that I have a son even though he’s not my own. Technically, I am only his aunt, his mother’s older sister to be exact, but I have already officially declared him to be my first-born… borne not out of my womb but from my heart.

Kean came to me when he was only 3 years old. At that time, my sister Cindy (Kean’s birth mother) had been obligated by US Immigration Law to join our mother in New York. It was an abrupt trip… a sudden detour in our lives which almost made the whole family fall off the cliff. Such is the scenario for most of the petitioned families here in the Philippines.

At that time, my sister then just a 20 year old, was already separated from the father of her child, and was already dating somebody else. My whole family was in Davao while I already made my permanent residence here in Manila. When the summon letter came, there was nothing else to do but to drop everything she was doing in Davao and proceed with the immigration process. She didn’t want to go but she had to before she turns 21 in a couple of months. Non-compliance would make her case null and void. She decided to go for her son’s future.

Leaving the Philippines for greener pastures and green bills would have been easier for my sister if she didn’t have Kean. Unfortunately, the Law says that our mother could not file for Kean’s petition because immigrants can only file for their children. Therefore, the responsibility of filing for Kean’s immigrant application should be done by Cindy. So that meant another good 5 years of waiting (if we’re lucky!)

The first question on the table was: when Cindy leaves, who’d look after the child? Surely, she wouldn’t want to send him back to his father 'coz she hates his guts. Our dad’s not financially capable either. And our other sister Marla just had a different agenda for her life. There was really no one else left in the picture but… ME!

To become an instant mom was far from my wildest dreams at that time. How could I possibly take care of a fragile toddler when I was at the worst downward spiral moment of my life? But Kean needed more than just a caregiver… he needed ANOTHER MOTHER. Cindy left for New York with tears in her eyes and a shattered heart, while I promised to take care of her baby… Sounds like a scene from a movie, huh? Well art imitates life imitates art…

I’ve been a mother for about 4 years now and you know what, Kean saved me more than I saved him from being motherless. It only feels like yesterday when I was still training him off nappies… weaning him off the bottle… teaching him how to read… losing sleep on the eve of my birthday because of his asthma… rushing him to the ER at 5AM because of a neck injury… his first day in school… the first time he called me “mommy”…

My memories of Kean growing up are all wonderful and countless. And when people take notice at how precocious, smart, funny and loving he has become, I can’t help but be proud that I had the privilege of being with him during his formative years. And then suddenly, my bubble had to burst.

Lately, Cindy and I have been fighting more regularly than usual. Mostly it’s all about Kean… Of course having been with Kean for a considerable time already; being there when he was diagnosed with asthma; when he learned how to read, to draw, to converse fluently in English, and all of these landmarks in his life, I can’t help but be naturally inclined to be affected by my sister’s “misguided” decisions when it comes to her son. I can’t help but feel that I have a right to “co-decide” what’s good and bad for him... And then my sister tells me that Kean is not my child… that she’s the mother and I’m not. Surely, nothing was more hurtful than that.

When I took Kean under my wing, I never expected to be more than just an aunt. I became a mom overnight and life turned 180. And now I feel that there’s no turning back. She’s right. I am not Kean’s mother. I don’t have any right at all. And one of these days, he will leave our home -- his Tito Joseph and me -- and leave behind nothing but memories. There’s nothing I can do but to move on and live each day with him in my thoughts.

I realized that my sister was only picking fights with me because she was jealous of the lost time and opportunity between her and Kean. I don't blame her for that. And then I also realized that the reason why I was poking my nose more than what’s required of me is because of my own envy too. My desire for motherhood is even larger and deeper than I thought.

In reality, we were both mothers competing over Kean’s love. The sad thing is Kean would see and hear us fighting. Shame swallowed me when he said to me one time, “Mom, Mommy Cindy is your sister. You two should love each other.” It’s amazing how a 7 year old can have so much more wisdom than adults.

At the end of it all, I know I just have to live with the fact that I am JUST the OTHER MOTHER. Looking at how Kean has grown up and listening to him talk with innocence and maturity in his words, my heart swells in praising God. Truly, we are both miracles! Even if he’s not mine, and soon will leave my side, I am not worried because I know that I have already planted enough good seeds of love in his heart. I thank my sister and most of all God for the privilege and the blessing of being Kean’s Other Mother.

All Heart

February has indeed arrived. However, I’m not going to talk about my romantic life. Instead, this will be about my little boy’s BIG heart! Time flies so fast! Before I knew it I found myself sitting in excitement and fret together with the other mothers as we waited for our kids to come out of their Grade School entrance examinations. Yep, Kean is already going to Grade One this coming June. He's turning 7 this year. I can't believe it. It feels like only yesterday when he was still in diapers, drinking milk from the bottle and still learning his ABCs. His current teacher at the Learning Tree, Teacher Michelle gave me her progress report of Kean and here are some of my favorite excerpts from the essay…


… “All heart”… that certainly is Kean, as he goes through his day-to-day interactions (with his environment and with peers) with much enthusiasm and gusto. And what do you know? Such wholehearted giving that he does of himself had absolutely been contagious as he had instantly and enthrallingly captured the fondness and approval of his peers. To illustrate, he during Free Play period, would be observed moving from one group to another, just like a campaigning politician – playing puzzle with Juancho, building a tower with Santi, making an invention with Zacrye, helping Ram complete another floor puzzle, and many more others… all at the same time. Hence, there is just no contestation. The titular designation “Mr. Congeniality” as well as “Mr. Popularity” of the Senior Noon Class indeed “hands down” go to him.

To corroborate, he for one has found his niche amongst his same-sex peers and fellow Bakugan club founding members, Zacrye, Santi and Hans. He due to being an early comer to school has established close and regular play relations with some students in the Morning Class like Elijah, Paolo and YanYan (“Oh my best friend from the other class!” he instinctively replied when asked about them). He has been the crush of some of his classmates Samantha and Jill. He has been considered by most of his classmates as their best friend (i.e. “Di ba I’m your best friend? Zacrye once voiced out. Then on a separate occasion Angelo also declared “Kean and Zacrye are my best buddies!”). And last and most commendable of all, he is the sole member of the class who has earned the trust and affection of their classmate with special needs, Juancho. “I like Juancho. He’s so cute!” Kean has always declared to his classmates. And significantly so, that very simple remark generated a kind of ripple effect inside the classroom, especially since he followed this with action (i.e. being the first one to cheer for Juancho whenever he accomplishes something and many others). To reveal, most of his classmates (thanks to his great example) ended up voicing out and showing their liking for Juancho too, thus making Juancho feel more at ease and welcomed. Way to go Kean! You truly have a big heart enough to include almost everyone!

Yes, that’s right. And needless to say, topping his long list of “everyone” is undoubtedly his big and close-knit family – the very first “loves” of his life. “Dear Mom,” he always used to write to his Mommy Jill and Mommy Cindy during the beginning of the semester. “I love you. I miss you. Don’t get sick. Thank you for the toys, and do you have a toy for me?” he would often put on paper. Furthermore, he rarely fails to mention his family every now and then. Case in point, Santi, while eating, very much intrigued by Kean’s love triangle with Jill and Sam, inquired: “Who are you going to marry when you grow up? Sam or Jill?” Thinking for a while, Kean answered, “Sam” but then again seeing Jill’s sad face, Kean quickly countered “and Jill too.” “No I don’t think that’s possible,” Santi as-a-matter-of-factly stated. “Well, I have three mommies,” Kean retorted, eventually giving to the conclusion to the argument while ultimately showcasing the sharp mind that accompanies his big and affectionate heart. Come to think of it, “the heart”, as Frank Lloyd Wright testifies, “is the first feature of the working mind.”…


I couldn’t help shedding some happy tears as I read the 3-page report. There were so many wonderful things I learned about my little boy through the eyes of his teacher… his academic achievements… his athletic developments in their gym class… I always knew that Kean is very special and has an overflow of LOVE but I was delightfully surprised to know that I wasn’t just seeing that as a mother loving her own cub. Kean really has a BIG HEART! His teacher, his friends, and even people we meet in the corridors and elevators have professed this. And knowing that I had a part in his progress truly makes my heart beam with joy.

As I am without my own child now and still dreaming to conceive one of these days, if not in the future, God willing, I can’t help but be filled with thanksgiving for this gift of “motherhood”. When I took Kean under my wing when he was only 3 years old, I was at the height of my wild life. God sent me this boy to turn my life 180 degrees. I became a mother overnight. I left all my vices cold turkey. I took myself out of the dark tunnel. When people asked me what made me decide to volunteer for this job, I really could not think of an answer. Nothing in my life made sense that time. It was instinct. It was LOVE. Deep down my harried surface, there was a fresh life emerging. The truth was, Kean saved me more than I saved him.

In a couple of years, our darling Kean Andrei will be leaving me and his Tito Joseph. But we trust that God will never forsake this child. We’re just praying that when that time comes, we have already planted enough seeds of faith, hope and love in his heart… seeds that will grow into a tree bearing God’s fruits of life.

“We are the sowers; our children are those who reap. We labor so that the future generations will be better and nobler than we are.” – Maria Montessori

His Birthdays that we spent together so far...

3rd Birthday w/ mommy Cindy & me

4th Birthday in his 1st preschool Kids Center

His 5th Bday -- Rock Star & Pizza Theme.

6th Bday - Transformers Party in his new school The Learning Tree

Generation WhY?

I’m currently working on a concept presentation for a big online gaming event. And as I was doing some research on my proposed theme and the event’s target market, I was suddenly appalled by the results of the behavioral studies made on today’s kids. As we all know by now, they’re called the Generation Y, shortcut for “Why” because apparently this new breed can’t just get enough with one answer. They’re also called several other things: Generation Speed. Millenials. Net Generation.

I was alarmed because as I was reading the thwarted realities of this new generation it dawned upon me that our little boy Kean actually belongs to it. A generation that grew up at the speed of online games and broadband internet. Kids that can't imagine life without cellphones, email and MP3 players. For them everything should be fast and instantly accessible. Life is seen as a drop-down menu of choices accessed immediately with the click of a mouse. A generation that will wait just three seconds for a page to download ‘til they click away. Instant technology. Instant gratification. Definitely no 2nd marshmallow kid here. For them, these things aren’t rewards. This is their reality.


And true enough, I could see traces of that in Kean. At 6 years old, he’s more capable of clicking his way through an internet browser than my 50 year old dad. You can toss him the PSP and can learn any new game on his own. It’s like kids these days have an extra gene or chromosome for understanding technology. However, as much as they’ve got the IQ for anything digital, they don’t have the EQ for the real world. Well, at least for the real world THAT I KNOW! God knows what kind of world they would be having decades from now.

I noticed that like most kids, Kean is so impatient. Blame it on the instant world that they were born into. I am amazed and sometimes worried that Kean is so hyper. We even thought he might have ADHD but whenever I would see him in school with his classmates, I’m proven wrong. They’re all hyper! These kids don’t run on mere life batteries. They don’t seem to wear out at all. It’s like they’re nuclear powered. I also played like there was no tomorrow when I was a kid but somehow I knew when to stop. In my generation, we followed a schedule. We kids are allowed to play with our neighbors the whole day outside just as long as we get home ON TIME!

I was passively aware of these facts about Gen Y. It just never occurred to me that much until I realized that Kean is actually one of them. I read in one article that the typical Gen Y kids are coddled by their parents. They receive trophies for simply participating on a team. Parents tell them they are special and capable of doing anything. Their non-school activities are scheduled (e.g., karate, soccer, etc.), and their parents are not afraid to call a teacher, coach or Boy Scout leader if they did not think their child was being treated fairly. Yikes! I think as a parent I’m also guilty of raising a diabolical Gen Y kid.

Since Gen Y kids have been raised with instant communication, unrealistic feedback and
rapid decision making as the norm, they would grow up to believe that they have the world in the palm of their hand. And, with their knowledge of today’s technology that is not impossible at all.

As a second parent to Kean (he’s actually my nephew if you don’t know), I am sometimes overwhelmed with the many (contradicting) parenting theories and principles. I know that as a Christian parent, the Bible should be the basis of our family values. But WITH ALL HONESTY – following this strictly is sooo difficult to do. I think competing with technology with all its pros and cons intact is the biggest challenge of any 21st century parent.

Maybe I’m just not confident that I would be able to strongly lay down the foundational truths with Kean. Blame it on my own insecurities and messed-up childhood, and my dysfunctional non-Christian family who have their own ideas on raising the boy. It is really a battle. And to top it all, I realized that even his own mother is a Gen Y kid herself (she’s only in her early 20s). So when Kean finally leaves my care and joins his biological mother in the US, how do you think a Gen Y mother would care for her Gen Y child? Hmmm… or maybe they’d probably understand each other better than we would.