So what’s so bad about being a mama’s boy?
Little boys. There are times when I feel like they really are a completely different species.
Little boys. There are times when I feel like they really are a completely different species.
I love shoes—shoes for me, shoes for my husband and now I’m extending my love for shoes to my children.
It was just a few days before daddy passed on to the next life that cold wintry day in January, 2004 when he softly whispered to me, “All that will be left are the memories…”
Who’d have thought that I would be able to outbid the prettily photogenic and affluent Ongpin sisters (Lisa O. Periquet and Joanna O. Duarte) in a silent auction organized by cause-oriented, mainly Spanish-speaking peninsulare and criollo women? Not my indio mother, that’s for certain!
When my daughter Sadako started watching TV regularly when she turned two, I gave up my reality shows and teleserye. I thought I would end up giving up television; in fact, I ended up watching even more.
There was no trace of sorrow, only innocence and enjoyment when the cancer-stricken children sang for visitors at the opening of the new Child Haus at 90 Mapangakit Street, Barangay Pinyahan, Quezon City.
Don’t laugh, but many years ago when I was still in high school, when I first heard the term “postpartum depression” or PPD, I thought it was a form of depression that some women experienced after giving birth because they missed being pregnant!
It’s hard not to think about death and the afterlife having gone to three wakes in a little over a week, and with the annual visit to the cemetery still fresh on my mind.
It was 2008. I was due to give birth, as I was already in my 40th week. I walked, or rather waddled, into my OB’s office, curious to find out if my daughter had any plans of moving out of my uterus.
Does your child’s schedule make him feel like he’s always chasing after his own tail?
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