COCO'S COMING

From nine months to nine days… or less. That’s the amount of time we have to wait before Coco comes. Except for anything that is out of our hand, everything is ready. Two weeks ago we have “remodeled” the other room to suit his coming. Zach and I transferred to another shack and made a room for ourselves. The crib and all its bling-bling was set, newborn diapers purchased, baby clothes and colognes readied, cleaned and installed the infant seat to Sienna. Sitting beside Coco’s backpack are our separates bags, ready to be grabbed once Jaz breaks her water bag.

But still the anxiety remains there. Who has not experienced this? Coco’s coming maybe is Jaz’s second but he is not just like popping out like hen’s egg. It entails a lot of “ one, two, three push and breath, and push and breath and pray”. Unlike giving birth in Bulacao, where one can’t see the graphic symbolism of contraction in the monitor, here, it is very different. Although the technology reveals to you what is going on, yet sometimes it adds to the horror of giving birth. Good if the monitor shows the wave-like graphics of contraction, but that is only the beginning. Once the monitor shows the sharp edged-electric-like graphics that is the sign for you to be serious. Although we have attended a child birth class last time, yet in the end, Jaz ended up asking for the most sought after pain killer “epidural”.

So, anything can happen and we would only pray for the best. (We even checked the probability of Coco’s sex after one of my co-worker told me the story of her friend’s baby whom they thought to be a boy [as what the ultrasound said] but came out as a baby girl). To be honest, all we got for now is a name for a baby boy, Xandrei. We only hope that the ultrasound is right.

Far from home, with only the two of us, here we are again venturing into the life of addition. But as the saying goes, “you have do what you gonna do.”

What can you do? Pray for a safe delivery and a healthy baby.

Mang Romy: The Barber

by Emiliano Dumalaog

There was no one who could strike fear in the hearts of minor seminarians more than the sight of Mang Romy peddling his bike to his usual spot by the garage. You would be amazed by the lengths the seminarians went through to escape the scissors of Mang Romy.

Mang Romy had the unenviable task of cutting the hair of minor seminarians. Although we had reasons to doubt his aesthetics sense, there was no questionning his efficiency in the way he performed his job. He could finish a cut in two or three minutes (except for the ocassional cuts from his razor, we survived the ordeal remarkably unscathed). As I recall those days of youthful innocence, how I wish i could enjoy once again the simple pleasures like a haircut even if it is from Mang Romy.

flickrphoto: http://www.flickr.com/people/jimenezarthur

Salamat, Fr. Monty!

ni Emiliano Dumalaog

Hindi ko na matandaan kung anu-ano ang mga pinagusapan namin noon ni Fr. Montanana. Nasa 4th year ako ng minor seminary sa Tandang Sora kung saan namalagi si Fr. Monty (palayaw ni Fr. Leandro Montanana) pagkatapos mag-retiro bilang Presidente ng Adamson University. Nakaugalian na ni Fr. Monty na maglakad-lakad pagkatapos maghapunan at kadalasan sinasamahan namin siya sa kanyang paglalakad. Nalilibang siya sa aming " un poquito" na kaalaman sa wikang kastila at namamangha siya sa aming bihasang pagsasalita ng Ingles ( siyempre, may journalistic license ako mag-embellish the truth. Kuwento ko ito,eh!)

Naging mahalaga para sa akin ang ala-ala ni Fr. Monty kasi kahit malaki ang agwat namin sa kaalaman at karanasan, ni minsan hindi niya binalewala ang aking opinyon o minaliit ang aking kaalaman.Naging bukas siya sa aming pananaw.

Fr. Monty, salamat sa magagandang ala-ala!