First Summer

The beach was only 3++ hours away from Manila. Quiet and uncrowded, it was near enough to be far away from it all. I imagined what D. was like when she first came here many years back, her tan still fresh from Surat Thani in Thailand. Nowadays I can barely imagine her smoking or even partying the way we used to. Nowadays, she takes her entire family (husband, son, sisters, brothers nieces and nephews) with her to the beach.

Some things remain the same, she says. The resort is still playing chillout music, and the relaxing effect has not been diluted. I didn't know how our little one would behave around this environment and this is going to be the farthest he is from home, so I wasn't really expecting to chillout all day. But we did. If he were at the so-called terrible two I can imagine there would have been a lot of chasing. Instead, D. had a massage, I had a drink and a little while to read, the little one's toes met the sand, we walked the shoreline during sunset and he napped in my shoulder in one of those beachfront villas.



After a few bottles, I even took a dip. I lied on my back and let the tides sway me. In all the resolutely floating aimlessly, Universe, you've made me so happy in all that's changed and all that remained. Let me be a good father and husband. Sway me some more and let me snatch the joy in all that is and all that will be.

A Pair of Haikus From Our First Summer

Before he turned One,
Little I.'s toes met the sand.
Friends, naturally.

***

The waves washed their hands.
He laughed. Waves kept gently crashing.
And again he laughed

Plenty

Nowadays, our home is plenty of joys.

I. is already mumbling syllables and manages to stand straight with a hand or two on the crib rails. He wobbles and falls, and there’s the occasional bump or two but that’s really the world he is in now. A little portion of pearly tooth is starting to surface in his gums. He likes the sound of crumbling paper. He likes looking at the pages of Dr. Seuss books we read with him. And he can already figure out some of the sorting toys.

Science will probably have accurate measurements of how babies grow in a month-over-month period and it will prove its predictions on how babies behave. Biology would bluntly say that this is how it goes: they would develop motor skills, start eating solids, increase in length, size, so on.

So we speak of the unquantifiable and the intangible: the untold fickleness of what babies do, the complete abandon of shitting in diapers, wailing if they want something, the purity of instincts playing at the top of their game. Science and biology give you all the precision and explanation, but what you’ll see, flatly, are these cute sets of miniscule miracles. You know what is you see, you know what to expect, yet you gasp and remain amazed. Everyday is a renewed fascination as though everything was unintelligible. Everyday is a dream that is happening.

I also got D. an oven for our second anniversary and it’s as though baking is as natural to her as breathing. Our home smelled like a little bakery that used unsalted French butter. It is as though the summer afternoon’s humid air is making love with the gases of baking chocolate-chip cookies or mozzarella-filled muffins and we are driven crazy with a smell-version of voyeurism. And then finally you taste it: all freshly, lovingly baked, solely and soulfully for you.





It must be a sign of getting happier that I gained ten pounds since I got married.

Our house is plenty of joys but we have to be honest about not getting enough sleep that of course make us snap sometimes. So far, we have been fortunate with how easy it has been to vanquish the anger that rises out of exhaustion. It is true that parenthood is a city of sleeplessness. But why sleep on it, now that we already know that it is?

There’s an Eggstone song that goes, “I’ll do my sleeping when I’m dead.” I'm humming now: ta ta ta ta ta ta.

I'm Feeling Clever Over the Office Blues

We're as perky as cheerleaders in our (sometimes feigned) excitement as we welcome employees in the New Hire Orientation! A few days before hitting the production floor, managers and supervisors describe the work measurement and targets. The leadership team also inspires the newbies about the story of how they grew and worked their way up the ladder, where they've been assigned, their shining moments, and how much they love the people in the company.

My spill is something like:

"I started in the industry as an agent back in 2001. I remember the first call I took and I probably felt just like you: butterflies in my stomach, jittery and urging myself to come out of my nutshell. To be honest, I was scared out of my wits when I took that first call. In the ten years between my first call and where we are now the landscape of this industry has changed. There's better training, a lot more industry-experience, stronger leadership, knowledge and process orientation, and as we are doing now - everyone is here to support you when you take that first call. You are better equipped and should not at all be afraid."

I go on about being deployed to several sites including Bacoor, Cebu & Kuala Lumpur and flaunting (quite truthfully) the merits and achievements of the Quality Staff. And yes, how this is a great company that values hard work and nurtures a culture of meritocracy with solid social responsibility, global diversity and publicly-traded stocks on its way up.

Once in a while, the repressed pseudo-intellectual-smarty-pants side of me shakes me up and urges me to tweak the spill a little bit and go with something clever-sounding:

"Have you ever read George Orwell's Animal Farm? You're in the Animal Farm. Welcome! And nah, given the genius qualification of our hires you probably haven't read that yet and if you did, you'll jump out of here as soon as you start realizing you're treated like one of the sheep. By the way, my story is - I used to be something like Boxer the horse, and a few years later I became something of Squealer the pig. And look, I'm standing on two feet."

On the Rewards of Daddying & Being a Husband