LATELY I was spending time with my stationary bike. Like every physical activity, it's not something you take lightly and plunge into without enough preparation like warm up and stretching.
So last night, after dinner, when the kids are both in bed, I mopped the floor. I went out to wash the car, and realized the engine was dirty too. So I ended up spraying grease-remover on its dirty nooks and cranny, and washed its engine altogether.
It was quite complicated than usual because you have to make sure alternator and battery terminals are not soaked in water. Vangie wanted to make sure I did it right so I tried to start the engine and it did, but of course. In one click.
The neighbors were all probably asleep. But I was just getting started. After that I took out the garbage. From the kitchen to the comfort room and around our small yard, I collected trash and put them in large black bags ready for collection in the morning.
By that time I felt all revved up and ready to break a sweat. So I saddled right onto the bike and thundered on the pedal.
Nothing beats household chores for your cross training needs.
I came to think about it because Vangie got an assignment to write an essay about – what else? -- raising a family without any house help. Her editor wanted her to specially touch on the fact that both of us are working, and meeting the demands of day-to-day including Mavi and Maxi's school schedules.
Now that I gave it some thought, I realized it's no ordinary feat. You're in charge with every single detail of housekeeping, parenting and cooking – topics that I seriously felt must be taught as major courses in college. The good thing about it is we spend a great deal of time at home, and with the girls.
Yet I guess we're not the only ones rolling up our sleeves and doing the dirty jobs ourselves. At this day and age, I know there are parents like us who worry about clogged sink and how best their kids can memorize the multiplication table – and all the while keeping our day jobs.
Her story's coming out in Inquirer Lifestyle on Wednesday.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Monday, October 4, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Feel free to call me
FUNNY how our mind can store a lot of things that have no use to us anymore.
Like old telephone numbers. I grew up having to memorize the phone numbers in my father's tailoring shop. It's 97-58-38. Numbers that are repeated are easier to remember. It's like they have rhymes to them. I don't remember the last time I dialled that number but there's no way I will forget about it.
There were only six numbers in telephones back then. They were printed around the face of a black, rotary handset. And you have to put up with having partyline. Ours happened to be a nearby beauty parlor just a few meters across the brisk and blue-collar Kamuning Road.
Later my mother took over a corner sari-sari store along the same street and it had a phone also. It's 99-82-05. I won't forget that either. Because me and my brother Jonjon would dial the two numbers and talk to each other just for the heck of it.
I got to thinking about it because yesterday I gave up my old cellphone number. It has been with me the past four years and it felt like I parted with an old friend. Specially when I got the call from the service provider telling me it's the final notice for ``permanent disconnection.'' The way they put it it's like you're ending some very important chapter in your life.
Given the choice I would like to keep that number because I don't have to start all over again and text my contacts that I have a new number. But the office issued smartphones which carry with them brand new numbers.
The number I just gave up was 0917-8590489. Before that I had 0917-9408908. It was my first and we lasted seven years. I wonder what they would do with my old numbers. Would they be assigned to other people or thrown away for good? If they are given to other people, I hope they treat them well.
Now back to the service provider, I think the last thing they wanted to happen is to cut a subscriber's line. The person on the phone tried to convince me to keep it and even offered promo to downgrade my monthly fees.
But I stood with my decision, and with a firm voice, I said no.
Like old telephone numbers. I grew up having to memorize the phone numbers in my father's tailoring shop. It's 97-58-38. Numbers that are repeated are easier to remember. It's like they have rhymes to them. I don't remember the last time I dialled that number but there's no way I will forget about it.
There were only six numbers in telephones back then. They were printed around the face of a black, rotary handset. And you have to put up with having partyline. Ours happened to be a nearby beauty parlor just a few meters across the brisk and blue-collar Kamuning Road.
Later my mother took over a corner sari-sari store along the same street and it had a phone also. It's 99-82-05. I won't forget that either. Because me and my brother Jonjon would dial the two numbers and talk to each other just for the heck of it.
I got to thinking about it because yesterday I gave up my old cellphone number. It has been with me the past four years and it felt like I parted with an old friend. Specially when I got the call from the service provider telling me it's the final notice for ``permanent disconnection.'' The way they put it it's like you're ending some very important chapter in your life.
Given the choice I would like to keep that number because I don't have to start all over again and text my contacts that I have a new number. But the office issued smartphones which carry with them brand new numbers.
The number I just gave up was 0917-8590489. Before that I had 0917-9408908. It was my first and we lasted seven years. I wonder what they would do with my old numbers. Would they be assigned to other people or thrown away for good? If they are given to other people, I hope they treat them well.
Now back to the service provider, I think the last thing they wanted to happen is to cut a subscriber's line. The person on the phone tried to convince me to keep it and even offered promo to downgrade my monthly fees.
But I stood with my decision, and with a firm voice, I said no.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
It was raining when summer left
I'VE read it somewhere that parents shouldn't rush to pick up the clutter on Christmas morning. That happy mess after the kids unwrapped their presents would represent just another precious family moment.
You don't throw that away quickly as it's good for another stash of memories. To be kept for tomorrow.
It had me thinking about it because today I torn down the tent in the yard. It stood there the whole summer and sheltered the girls while frolicking on the inflated pool. The pool also had to go.
I've been putting off placing them back in their respective boxes. But I admit it was because of laziness on my part as it was for sentimental reasons.
The clouds have gathered thick and heavy as I looked at them outside.
High winds and rains already ripped the tent canvass, and the lining underneath the pool had already gathered moss. They have become a lonely sight in that corner of the yard, to tell you the truth.
Yet in about eight weeks that they stood there, they played big part in the family's Summer of 09. Squirt gunfights. Halo-halo. Crushed ice wars. Videoke. Cold beer.
One by one I untied the ropes that held the tent together. By this time, big raindrops came as if in a hurry to get to the ground. I disassembled the metal posts. Piece by piece. Lifted the canvas from its joints, and folded them to the side.
It was already pouring when I get to brushing the pool. I needed to dry it first before I could deflate it, but it had be cleaned inside out. When I got to the heavy matting that was under it all this time, the rain was torrential.
I called out the kids earlier to play in the rain. They were sailing their slippers in the rushing water by the driveway. I hosed down the slippery patches. And swept away the remnants of the summer that gone by.
On that note, another season came to an end.
You don't throw that away quickly as it's good for another stash of memories. To be kept for tomorrow.
It had me thinking about it because today I torn down the tent in the yard. It stood there the whole summer and sheltered the girls while frolicking on the inflated pool. The pool also had to go.
I've been putting off placing them back in their respective boxes. But I admit it was because of laziness on my part as it was for sentimental reasons.
The clouds have gathered thick and heavy as I looked at them outside.
High winds and rains already ripped the tent canvass, and the lining underneath the pool had already gathered moss. They have become a lonely sight in that corner of the yard, to tell you the truth.
Yet in about eight weeks that they stood there, they played big part in the family's Summer of 09. Squirt gunfights. Halo-halo. Crushed ice wars. Videoke. Cold beer.
One by one I untied the ropes that held the tent together. By this time, big raindrops came as if in a hurry to get to the ground. I disassembled the metal posts. Piece by piece. Lifted the canvas from its joints, and folded them to the side.
It was already pouring when I get to brushing the pool. I needed to dry it first before I could deflate it, but it had be cleaned inside out. When I got to the heavy matting that was under it all this time, the rain was torrential.
I called out the kids earlier to play in the rain. They were sailing their slippers in the rushing water by the driveway. I hosed down the slippery patches. And swept away the remnants of the summer that gone by.
On that note, another season came to an end.
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