Growing Upright

Soon, my children will not look up to me. The kids are growing up, and for the vertically challenged members of the Borra family, it's a welcome development.

They're also growing up right, at least in the sense that they feel a keen sense of responsibility for one another and the people around them. Before, whenever we entered a toy store, Tina and I would always remind the kids that "We can play with the toys, but we have to leave them behind so other little boys and girls can play with them," thinking that it would save us from having to buy them toys in the first place. I was delighted with that approach because it was, at least for me, a harmless scam that ought to buy us some time until the kids are old enough to support their recreational activities by taking on part-time jobs.

But the last time that we went to a toy store, Juan and his brother Manuel showed just how much they have grown. To my surprise, it was Juan who reminded his younger brother Manuel that "we can only play and not buy, because other boys and girls will play with them after we're done". Manuel, in turn, proceeded to tell the same thing to his younger sister, Lucia.

I'm not sure just how much they understood what it was they were doing, but it was gratifying nonetheless. Sometimes, we get so caught up in buying things that we forget to enjoy them. And seeing the kids play with, and more importantly, take care of the toys they played with was a reminder of that. It is good to have things, but it is more important to enjoy what we have.

The kids are growing up right. They throw themselves into everything they do with a reckless joy normally reserved for the welcoming of prodigal sons. And when they grow old enough, if they continue to exude the infectious love and laughter that I saw that day in the toy store, their father will happily look up to them.

Wook! A Weopard!

Early this morning, my son Manuel came up to me with a question.

"Papa, what animal is this?"
"Manuel, it's a leopard."
"Wook papa! It's a weopard!"
"Yes, Manuel. It's a leopard."
"Okay papa. I wove you."

The "l" is a liquid, voiced lingua-alveolar consonant. This means that the "l" sound is produced when one is capable of touching the tip of the tongue to the upper alveolar ridge. Most children have difficulty with consonants like "l" because they simply don't know where to put their tongue.

Manuel's inability to properly enunciate his "l"s is part of growing up. Right now, he "wikes" things, and "woves" people. Eventually, he'll become proficient enough with the use of his tongue to pronounce his "l"s and even roll his "r"s. But even though Manuel has difficulty making use of his tongue, he certainly has no difficulty using his heart.

I love you too.

Many thanks to Phonetics for the information regarding the sounds of spoken language.

A New Look!

One of my favorite verses from the Bible comes from Proverbs 4:23, which reminds me "Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life."

And so, as I digest the wonderful events of the past two weeks, allow me to welcome you to the new look of my blog with pictures of those whom I guard with all vigilance.

Juan

Manuel

Lucia

Carmen

I would have loved to post a picture of my wife, Tina, but I am so "damned in a fair wife" the inevitable comparison to the Moor of Shakespearean lore would merely draw unseemly attention to my honored state.

Peace!

Papot 1, Manuel 0.

My son, Manuel, is deeply into the "No!" stage. Ordinarily, when loving, nurturing parents are confronted by the developmental stage wherein their child seeks the safety of boundaries by saying "No!" to everything that is the least bit contrary to their desires as opposed to their needs, they patiently go through the entire, laborious process of firmly establishing these much-needed boundaries by explaining matters thoroughly and setting examples judiciously.

My wife and I, on the other hand, just let my sister Papot loose on Manuel. The following is an exchange that Papot had with Manuel when we went to Zambales to celebrate my dad's birthday.

"Hi dear!"

"I'm not a dear!"

"Hi love!"

"I'm not a love!"

"Hi Manuel!"

"I'm not...Manuel."

Papot 1, Manuel 0. Tina and I are enjoying this thoroughly.

No Gifts!

No gifts.

This holiday season, I've decided to release people from the burden of giving me gifts. Gifts should not be an obstacle to celebrating the season of giving. Rather, gifts should represent freedom from the cheerless sense of duty that our trying circumstances have compelled us to endure. With all that we as a people have suffered this year, we deserve to celebrate more than just our resilience, or our capacity for self-sacrifice.

We deserve to celebrate what this season, to some extent, is all about: how the entirety of Christendom came about when a child was born.

This holiday season, if you can, try to avoid giving me gifts. Instead, celebrate with the joyful abandon of one to whom the economic cost of Christmas is no longer a burden, but a distant memory. And perhaps recall how by celebrating in joy, we allow ourselves, much like Mary and Joseph and a significant representation of the domesticated animals commonly associated with humble beginnings, to be surprised by sanctity.

Many thanks!

Storytelling Fun!

In the Borra household, finding common activities that are fun and involve the entire family is akin to finding the Holy Grail, and not in the fun, Monty Python sense. But the Lord is kind and merciful. Every once in a while, despite the hectic schedules that my wife and I keep, and the general level of sustained playfulness that our kids are capable of maintaining, we find ourselves in that special place where all we have to do is be thankful for the opportunity and enjoy our blessings.

Last night, prior to evening prayers, the family enjoyed the adventures of Thomas the Tank Engine before going to bed. I haven't the foggiest what the adventures of Thomas were, but I remember everyone, at one point or the other, rolling around in laughter. My second son Manuel, in particular, is sometimes difficult to please. But when he is happy, the purity of his joy is wonderful to behold. Have a blessed day!

5:17 am: When Miracles Happen

A long, long time ago, miracles would happen at around 5:17 am. Despite the heavy carousing of the night before, miraculously, I would be crawling into my bed, dreaming of next weekend's gimmick.

Nowadays, miracles still happen at around 5:17 am. Only this time, it happened almost, ala Whitney Houston, all at once. Lucia, of course, is no stranger to the wee hours of the morning. In fact, in the Borra household, she practically invented the late-night, early-morning gimmick. Manuel and Juan, however, normally wake up a little later, a serendipitously scheduled awakening that allows their parents time to gently nudge them into the different activities that will help them get fed and ready for the day's activities.

Not today though. Miracles happen at around 5:17 am. And today, they all came crawling into our bed.

Life is good!

My Manny!

My dad and I had a great old time watching Manny Pacquiao demolish Ricky Hatton yesterday at BMW Libis. Unfortunately, despite the fact that I had my point and shoot camera ready, the fight was over so quickly that I didn't have any time to take any pictures. Upon reflection, the brevity of the fight magnified the beauty of the experience of watching it live: for five glorious minutes, every single Filipino in the world was united in a victory as complete, as invigorating, and as joyful as anything else the Filipino people has experienced in recent memory.

And because I am fond of beating figures of speech to death...


The joyful conquest of Manny Pacquiao is much like this photo of Manuel and myself. Manuel is notoriously hard to photograph. He's the strongest-willed of all my children, and his reticence is legendary in the Borra household. Manuel will do as Manuel darn well pleases. So this picture, despite the paucity of aesthetic qualities to recommend it, is as much a victory as I can expect when it comes to pictures with my second-born.

Enjoy!

Milestones

Last week, I tried on a pair of my old work pants (the ones that I used when I was still teaching in the University) and discovered, to my horror, that I could barely fit into them. My waist size, which used to be as fixed and constant as the Northern Star, went all crazy on me. I suppose life with a 28-inch waist does augur well for things to come, but I can't help but pine for the good old days when I could joyfully claim a 26-inch waistline. Oh well.

In the meantime, allow me to share some positive milestones in my life. True to form, these milestones are all centered on my family. Comic book geeks who can't wait for another article from Benjamin Loong will have to wait till the end of the week.

Please check out the pictures from Juan and Manuel's Culminating Activity at Teacher Marlene J. Villegas Preschool here and here. Enjoy!

Driving us Crazy?

Against our better judgment, we happily made that mad, mad, decision to take our boys to Ocean Park. Words cannot express the sheer heroism involved. Tina changed Manuel's diaper in a public toilet literally bursting with irate mothers and their little darlings. While Tina refuses to recount that horror, the silence that met her departure trumpeted her triumph. And no, I don't think I exaggerate.

My heroism was more prosaic: running around with Juan, lugging the strollers, creating paths where none existed. But I suppose even that might be considered heroic, especially for the boys, whose idea of heroism is as simple as a bottle of milk and as pure as a pair of new diapers.

Check out my Multiply for pics. Enjoy!

Flight of Angels

My sons, Juan and Manuel, finally took to flight...together. Sadly, the holiday season has become almost unbearably busy for us, mostly due to the many kind souls who graciously shared their time and bounty with our little family. Yet, as the Gospel according to Luke would put it, "The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few..." Despite our joy at being the recipients of so much goodwill, we simply had to beg off and whisk ourselves out of the country.

In lieu of our presence this Christmas, might I offer the prospect of pictures of us this blessed holiday season? Consider this thoughtful offer my little way of spreading some good cheer: you get to see us at our best and happiest from the comfort of your homes. We get to rest, and to borrow (most outrageously) from Shakespeare's Hamlet, "flights of angels sing thee to thy rest". Merry Christmas from the Borra Family! Pictures to come at my Multiply.

Death to Viral Pneumonitis! And, We're Back!

First of all, my family and I would like to extend our gratitude to all the people who offered prayers and sent much love our way during Juan and Manuel's medical crisis. Death to viral pneumonitis, and, to a certain extent, roseola infantum, which most Filipinos know as tigdas hangin. We still have to separate the boys as they might infect one another, but the worst (hopefully) has passed, and Tina and I are breathing a little easier. The constant state of emergency that we had gotten used to has simmered into an almost joyful acceptance of the constant state of chaos that Juan prefers to living room area to be in. Which means, of course, that Tina and I are loving every messy minute of it all. Again, many thanks to all our friends and loved ones!

Terribly Inconvenient

I'm afraid that, much like the fans of the beleaguered New York Knicks and the Minnesota Timberwolves (who seem forever fated to deal with the burden of incompetent management), the loyal readers of this blog have to wait a little bit until I post anything remotely fun or coherent within the next couple of days, as my son Manuel is currently confined in The Medical City for heretofore unknown reasons.

Despite the assurances of our doctors, who speculate that Manuel's illness could be the result of a viral infection (fever, irritability, some fluid in the chest, diminished appetite), prayers would be most welcome. It's just a little frustrating for our family right now, because my familiarity with the quickest route to the food court only reminds me that my family and I have been too loyal to this hospital.

Kawayan Cove!

It's been sometime since I updated my Multiply site, so when my family (with the happy inclusion of my dad) were invited to head on over to celebrate Analou Puyat-Lacson's birthday at Kawayan Cove, I decided to throw everyone a bone and post pictures of the momentous occasion in which Manuel finally got to breathe some sea air, and Juan got to perform and preen in front of a captive audience. Click here for pictures of Juan, Manuel, and maybe, just maybe, their papa as well. Enjoy!