Archives for April, 2008
I’m thankful that I’m alive, awake -busy but enthusiastic.
I’m thankful that my son knows how to say “thank you” even to the cats.
I’m thankful that when he’s not at his best behaviour, he’ll always tell me “I’m sorry.” Sometimes, with a trailing “It’s okay, Mama” - which tell me that making a mess really is okay.
I’m thankful that God is telling me what needs to be improved with myself thru my son.
For more of Thankful Thursday participants, please visit Iris.
Girl’s eyes.
I heard my son say one morning. He was playing on the floor with our clothes while I was on the bed with my back turned to him. (By playing, I meant that he dug all our clothes out of the cabinet).
Girl’s mouth. As if in gentle exploration. My interest was sufficiently piqued. But still, I was unwilling to move a muscle to check what’s going on.
My bedside buddies: something to keep me comfortable; something to get me connected; something to get me entertained; something to protect my skin. All of these are housed in this basket made out of twisted abaca.
Today, I’m thankful for the blessing God has showered on us.
I’m thankful that I found the perfect wardrobe cabinet for us. The old one was too easy for him that he kept on doing this…
Also, I had to change cabinet because my son is growing up so fast and so are his clothes (the size at least, but not the number).
I’m thankful that despite the news of rice shortage in this country, we still have rice during mealtimes.
I’m thankful that after a long 15-hour flight, Houston arrived safely in his training base (at least for the next 3 weeks).
I’m missing him big time can you tell that I’m trying not to get so emo now especially since I couldn’t call him anytime that I want to but I’m thankful for technology that enables me to send SMS to him; and he to me.
I’m thankful that when I ask my son to pray, he can say “The Name Of The Father, The Son, the Holy Spirit, Amen.” His sign of the cross needs improvement though. :-)
For more of Thankful Thursday participants, please visit Iris.
In a recent press release, French Health Minister Roselyne Bachelot has made his concerns over the use of cellular public and urged parents to limit use, and reduce children’s telephone calls to no more than six minutes. Six minutes!
Although there’s no specific evidence to its threat, all the same, this tidbit is fodder to my paranoid self. Perfect excuse to not want to know or read anything at all.
Okay. I do share his concern on the use of cellular phones, especially with children. I’ve always been concerned. I even wrote something about it. I’ll pretend you’re interested (please, humor me), so here’s an excerpt.
… I’m really not so keen on letting Matt use my mobile phone. Any cellphone, for that matter. I don’t completely trust its safety, radiation-wise. No matter how much I try to be all-accepting, all-believing, there’s just this niggling doubt that refuses to get squashed. Maybe I’m the only one who works in the telecoms who is cagey on letting her kid use a cellphone. I’m cagey, I’m crazy, I’m wary. Maybe I am overly, overly, overly cautious. No. not maybe. I AM overly, overly, overly cautious. I’m crazy, I know. It’s okay if it’s me, but not if it’s my son. Don’t ask me why. For someone who works under radiating microwaves 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. It’s funny. I’m funny. Certainly ridiculous.
But while I share Bachelot’s principle of precaution, I’m not so immune to my toddler’s advances to speak with his father over the phone. Nor could I begin to explain the 6-minute limit. He doesn’t even know what minute means but he does know how to count up to 10. And beg. And negotiate starting with the hold-only-please plea.
Living somewhere in the tropics, I have sentenced myself to mind-time-word consuming and rigid finger-exercise otherwise known as blogging. Unknowingly from the start. Now it has become an addiction. So now, I am not only an old-fashioned mother, a trying-hard sweet wife, a silly telco engineer and patient housemaid but a trying-hard-to-sound-smart blogger as well. Call me Mama Meji. and you may email me at zamejias [-at-] makimeji [-dot-] com.
