Questa è Enida

Edrick: Is it Monday yet?

Mommy: Oh it’s already Tuesday, Monchie.

Edrick: Yeah, but is it Monday yet?

Mommy: Yes, for this week. Yesterday was Monday. Today is already Tuesday.

Edrick: So do I go to school on Tuesday?

Mommy: No. Not on Tuesday.

Edrick: Do I go on Monday?

Mommy: Yes you do. You went to school yesterday.

Edrick: But you said it’s already Monday for this week.

Mommy: Yes. And that was yesterday.

Edrick: So it’s already Monday. I have to go to school, Mom.

Mommy: Not today. Your Monday school is all done. You go again next Monday okay?

Edrick: Oh, never mind!

Mommy: Huh? Well… okay. Never mind then.

Edrick: Mom, what does never mind mean?

Mommy: It means ‘fine’. Or ‘it’s okay’.

Edrick: No. That’s not correct. Never mind means you don’t want to answer anymore.

Mommy: Okay. Never mind!

Edrick: See?

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Mommy gave Edrick her sheepish smile, walked away trying very hard not to laugh at her own bluff.

She failed.

Big time!

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Fresh at the breakfast table this morning.

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Kaka: I’m going to have peanut butter, jam and Nutella sandwich.

Dedek: But why are you going to have peanut butter, jam and Nutella sandwich?

Kaka: Because that’s what I’m gonna have.

Dedek: Yeah, but I’m eating toast, cheese, sausage, cheese and toast sandwich.

Kaka: That’s what you’re eating. I’m gonna have peanut butter, jam and Nutella sandwich.

Dedek: But why?

Kaka: Because that’s what I like. And that’s what Mommy’s making for me.

Dedek: Yeah! But you have to renember, this is not a restaurant!

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Mommy was just behind the kitchen counter, her mouth wide open, her eyes not blinking, listening to her very own words being repeated. Verbatim!

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Back in 2006 when the only conversation they had was
“Peek-a-boo!” and laughter.

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And then they color my world with words.

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Me Monchies’ rule for pyjamas or jammies is:
They wear them two nights in a row. Three nights max if they’re still clean and smell nothing like pickled herrings. And in the morning, before jumping into the shower, the jammies have to be folded and put under their pillow if they’re still clean and smell nothing like pickled herrings. If they are ready for washing, they are to jump straight into the laundry basket. The jammies, of course, not me Monchies.

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This morning Edrick left his jammies on top of his chest of drawers while he was running bugil back and forth in the hallway. Happily!

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Mommy: Edrickkk! What are these? *points at the jammies even though she knows what they are*

Edrick: They’re my jammies, Mom. *answers Mommy honestly even though he knows that Mommy knows what they are*

Mommy: Where do they belong? *asks this question on average 57 times a day at the measurement of 15, 000 decibels in the morning*

Edrick: Under my pillow.

Mommy: So? *bulges her eyes the biggest possible*

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Edrick combined his folding with some rolling and crumpling techniques on his jammies and handed them out to me.

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Mommy: Well! Put them under your pillow. I’m not a pillow!

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Edrick looked at me smiling and started to chuckle as he got the joke and went on laughing even more when he heard Kitreena guffawing in the background as she too found it funny. Somewhat!

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Edrick: Ha ha ha that’s so funny, Mommy! Ha ha ha you’re not a pillow! Ha ha ha.

Mommy: *lightens up and smiles and smirks and shakes her head the way the  Indian moms always do*

Edrick: You’re not a cushion either, Mom.

Mommy: *bulges her eyes beyond control and the next thing she knows, she is rolling on the floor in her jammies and almost falls into the laundry basket*

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What a way to start a Saturday… two bugil Monchies in their room watching their Mommy laughing her jammies off, turning herself into a floor cushion!

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Glossary for Neil:

bugil or bogel = naked

Boy! It must be getting warmer here in Moscow, Neil! Me Monchies can now run bugil everywhere! (In the house, of course.)

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To see how my voice would sound on a proper stereo, I copied my Angel on to Kitreena’s pink mp3 player and plugged it in to the stereo. Upon hearing Mommy’s konon acoustic voice, Edrick went all ears and very quiet for a good 20 seconds and…

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Edrick: Is that your Mommy singing to you, Mom?

Mommy: *goes blank and blink* Huh? *goes blank again and blink again and* Huaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! 😦

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Edrick: Mom, why do you have this thingy on your bed thingy?

Mommy: What thingy? *not looking because she is in the walk-in closet*

Edrick: This red thingy on your bed.

Mommy: *pokes her head out to see what red thingy she has on her bed* Oh, that’s a bedspread, Monch.

Edrick: Yeah! The bedspread thingy. Why do you have the bedspread thingy on your bed thingy?

Mommy: *knows where this ‘thingy’ business comes from, thinks it’s very Spies Girls, and knows she has one Spy Girl in her house* Well, that’s what Daddy got me for Christmas. It makes the bed look nice, don’t you think?

Edrick: Yeah! It looks nice. But what does the beadspread thingy do, Mom?

Mommy: It makes the bed comfortable.

Edrick: Oh! If you don’t put it on, it’s not comfortable?

Mommy: It is. But it is more comfortable.

Edrick: What happens if you don’t put it on, Mom?

Mommy: Nothing happens.

Edrick: You won’t be comfortable?

Mommy: I will. It’s still comfortable even when the bedspread’s not on.

Edrick: Then, you don’t need it?

Mommy: Well… I don’t need it. You’re right. But I want it on my bed. It feels nice.

Edrick: That’s why Daddy gave it to you? You wanted it?

Mommy: No. I didn’t want it. It’s a gift. He wanted to give it to me. I didn’t ask for it.

Edrick: But why did Daddy want to give it to you if you didn’t want it?

Mommy: I didn’t say I didn’t want it. I said I didn’t ask for it. Daddy was being nice. He got me the bedspread to make me more comfortable than before.

Edrick: But I want my bed to be comfortable too.

Mommy: *thinks she knows where the conversation is going* But your bed is already comfortable.

Edrick: No, it’s not! I need a bedspread thingy to make it comfortable.

Mommy: No, you don’t.

Edrick: Yes, I do.

Mommy: No, you don’t. If it’s too comfortable, you don’t wanna get up and get out of bed then.

Edrick: *looks at Mommy and quickly reconsiders as he knows he is very much a morning person* Never mind!

Mommy: *goes ‘Huh?’ again as she is gearing up and getting ready for a tug-of-bedspread-war with her sunny-side-up son, potentially fighting for the red bedspread thingy*

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Edrick: Mommy, why is the calendar not November?

Mommy: Because it’s February now. Not November.

Edrick: But my birthday is November.

Mommy: Yes it is. But this month is February, November is a long way yet.

Edrick: How much longer is my birthday Mom?

Mommy: Oh… it’s nine months away.

Edrick: Nine monthssss? But how many days more?

Mommy: Wellllll… around 180 days away.

Edrick: Whattt??? O.n.e h.u.n.d.d.d.r.r.r.r.e.d and e.i.g.h.t.y.y.y??? But Mommm! I will be an old man then!

Mommy: *is not able to carry on the conversation as her coffee goes down the wrong pipe due to her bursting laughter, and she has to be resuscitated to realize that her son has no concept of weeks and months yet – he takes one day at a time – and so should his mom*

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Edrick hasn’t been eating well. I blame it on the flu and the coughing. At every meal time he would be asking, “Mom what does lunch/supper taste like?” to mean, “Mom, what’s for lunch/supper?” And almost every time he would refuse what he is offered saying, “I don’t think I like how that tastes, Mom.”

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I am not offended. A little annoyed, yes, but not offended. And all I have to do is to keep on pushing until he has that first bite. Then, he would sail through a plate of anything with a silence that is more silent than what a lamb can make.

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Today, though, he needed a little extra nudge, that little coax and that little MST = Mommy’s Sweet Talk.

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Edrick: Mommy, if I finish the macaroni, I’ll be tall like Daddy?

Mommy: Oh goodness! I can see you growing an inch already, Monch! If you finish it I think you will be taller than Daddy!

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I know in this Johnsons’ Residence I am not a picture of tall. Forget taller. So Daddy settles as the benchmark for now. Not for long. For now.

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Edrick: Mommy, when I am taller than Daddy, I’m gonna drive my own car and have my own GPS!

Mommy: Boy oh boy! Just make sure you save the ‘Home’ location on your GPS okay?

Edrick: Okay!

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Edrick actually has been talking about getting his driver’s license for the past few months. I have not blogged about it for the fear of letting go. This boy is going to go high and far, I tell you. I can see it already.

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Mommy: *sighs*

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Thursday morning. No school for Edrick. It was shower time before going out to Crocus City Mall with the ladies, Aunty Lirang and Aunty Marilyn. When shower was done, I lifted Edrick up and out of the tub (the kids’ bathroom only has the shower-in-tub type of shower).

Edrick: Mom, don’t put me in the rubbish!

Mommy: I’m not going to put you in the rubbish!

The rubbish bin was right next to the tub, but I was not even lifting my son over where the bin was. In fact, I did it over the opposite direction.

Mommy: What made you think I was going to put you in the rubbish? You’re not garbage!

Edrick: No, I’m not! Just don’t put me in the rubbish, ok?!

Mommy: I won’t! *frowns the “Huh?” frown*

Edrick: Promise!

Mommy: Okay, okay! I promise! *looks very comically confused as her jaw drops to the bathroom floor*

Edrick: And promise you won’t get angry ever again!

Mommy: *takes 2.33 seconds to gear up into full speed and with her brain still going at 23,000rps… explodes into the loudest laughter, louder than what all kememel les mim burse’s put together can ever make*

Edrick: Mommy! I.t.’s. n.o.t f.u.n.n.y!

Mommy: *is not able to control her after-explosion chuckles, realizes that she is being tricked into making an extremely challenging promise*

Edrick: Mommmmy! You’re not listening to me!

Mommy: Muahahaha! Ahah, aahaahhhaah! I can’t promise you that I won’t get angry ever again. Muahahaha! Ahah, aahaahhhaah! But I can promise I will never… ever put you in the rubbish! Ever!

Edrick: Thaaatzzz promising!

Mommy: *watches her jaw drop to the floor again, neither able to comprehend where all the sudden lightning strikes from, nor able to pick up her jaw*

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It is very easy to get inspired by a good read. And good pictures. Especially pictures taken by a purring cat – with a Meow! Factor.

The pictures of beautiful clouds actually reminded me of the conversation between my 7-year-old-going-70 Kitreena and I, just a week ago. We were in the car waiting for Daddy to come down from his office, to go to a stomatologia and then on to Gandara.

Kitreena: Mom, what are clouds made of?

Mommy: Ohhh… water droplets mostly. Why?

Kitreena: Angels can fly and they live in the clouds, right?

*Here we go again! Me Monchy and her angels obsession.*

Mommy: Yes. Why?

Kitreena: Do they get wet then?

Mommy: Mana Mommy tau. Why? You think I’m an angel ka?

Kitreena: Not really.

*Huh? Not really, she says? Ouch! Never realized a ‘not really’ can cut deeper than a clear cut ‘no’. Ah well…*

Mommy: That’s what I thought. I don’t know. Sorry.

Kitreena: But Mom, how come angels don’t fall through the clouds if the clouds are just water droplets?

Mommy: They do. But they have wings. They fly back to the dryer clouds lah.

Kitreena: Oh yeah. I forgot they have wings.

*Mommy’s sense always makes sense.*

Though I play devil’s advocate a lot… I mean, really a lot lot, I always know I live among angels.

Glossary for Neil:

Mana Mommy tau.= I wouldn’t know./How would I know?

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Between Sunday and Thursday last week… I hibernated quarantined myself with Edrick. He caught cold and cough from a few unwell kids at school. So no going out in -20°C until his nose stopped running and his Mommy stopped running for Kleenex, Aquamarine Mist and cough syrup.

Edrick had been healthy ever since we came back to Moscow. He was sneezing and crowing a little before Christmas, but after just a dose of Tylanol, a rub of Vicks and a night of steam, he bounced back the very next day higher than Pokrovsky Hills’ highest peak. But this time around, he was badly affected. And my Ventolin/Nebulizer machine has gone AWOL. But that’s another novel to write. 

Ni lagi satu saya tak faham. Well, I bet you know what’s coming lah bila saya dah mulakan perenggan dengan ayat, “Ni lagi satu saya tak faham” ni kan? Dah lama tak guna ayat fully-loaded cenggini.  Dan yang peliknya kita orang biasa ni, asal tak faham je nak marah. Bila tak faham je nak marah. Inikah fitrah sifat manusia?

Yang tak tercapai di akal saya ialah… sampai hatinya some of these parents menghantar anak yang badannya panas, hidungnya berhingus hijau pergi sekolah. Don’t they sense that the child would rather be in his/her own comfy bed at home nursed by mommy with  TLC?

Dan yang saya tak faham ialah, these moms are mostly homemakers sepenuh masa. Kebanyakannya pulak are ‘maided’ with inang pengasuh barang seorang, dua orang, tiga orang, (empat, lima, enam, tujuh dan lapan lagi). Sending unwell kids to school should be declared a crime lah di zaman moden ini. Bila ada H1N1 tau pulak takut.

Saya pun sebenarnya taklah marah sangat sebab I had good 5 days with Edrick. We had a lot of meaningful mother-and-son conversations. And I got thinking today, I’d better make a little compilation of those little chats sebelum saya lupa. These kids are growing so fast. Faster than the rates of my brain cells meninggalkan diriku.

Edrick: Mom, I know kememel les mim burse!

Mommy: Kemam who?

Edrick: Kememel les mim burse.

Mommy: *frowns, squints her eyes and has the who-what-where-when-why-how kind of pelik look on her face*

It was a short but long enough to be an awkward pause.

Edrick: You’re not listening to me!

Mommy: I am! I just don’t understand what you’re saying Monch.

Edrick: It’s ke… me… mel… les… mim… burse! *losing his patience with Mommy*

Mommy: Is it a he or a she?

Edrick: It’s not a he, it’s not a she. Kememel les mim burse is the big cloud that has lotsa rain and lotsa storm, Mom!

Mommy: Ohhhhhh! I see. You mean Cumulus Nimbus, just like in the UP show?

Edrick: Yyyyeeaahhh! You know what I’m talking about now? That’s the kememel les mim burse I’m talking about! *disgruntling his ‘satisfaction’ that Mommy finally got it*

Mommy: Okay, okay! Easy boy. Don’t strike your lightning at me.

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