A Life Less Ordinary

On Mother’s Day, my boyfriend gave me 3 potted blooming Bromeliads. Then, he asked my youngest daughter to make a card for me that only had one word…Forever.

One simple word but I know he means it and that it comes from the heart. Now, I’ve got these Bromeliads to remind me that I have found my soul mate…I am loved.

*****

As a mother’s day treat to myself, I went to a nail salon the day before Mother’s Day to get a foot reflexology massage and pedicure. (Ooh, my feet are so relaxed and soft and pretty now!) It was my alone time away from the house, the kids and the computer. My quiet time devoted to pampering myself and getting immersed in my Sudoku puzzle.

I emerged from that salon like a new woman! I know, it’s just my feet. But our feet are our most neglected part of our body and yet they get the most stress and they carry our whole weight.

Happy Mother’s Day to my mom, my sister and to all the mothers who enjoy motherhood as much as I do!

Single-ness has its rewards, but sometimes…I really wish I had a man in the house.

When I woke up this morning, my shoulders and arms were so sore. I did yoga yesterday, but it was getting to their soreness state well before that. Why? I was screwing curtain rods into the wall all morning. I was spent!.

As I was screwing, applying full force while standing on a step ladder (I had several scares of actually landing on my face), I kept thinking I should have a man in the house to do these things. I was getting so tired and blisters were developing on my palm. And as I thought about it, I realized that if I (still) had a man in the house, I would still end up doing the screwing. Because, frankly, the last man in my house can’t do anything. He can’t even drive.

Nevertheless, here are things I think a man in anyone’s house is good for:

1. hanging up curtains (of course comes with drilling and screwing)
2. killing roaches
3. catching rats (and getting rid of them)
4. changing light bulbs
5. throwing out the trash
6. driving
7. doing a little bit of carpentry work, as needed
8. fixing the toilet and other water pipe-related problems
9. lifting and moving things around the house
10. and that other thing men are useful for

But hey, didn’t I do a good job hanging up my curtains?

Being a single mom isn’t easy at all. The balance between self and career, self and motherhood, career and motherhood, boyfriends/lovers/partners (a.k.a. SELF) and children, career and children is a constant battle. One is lucky to survive at all.

While there are a number of disadvantages of being a single mom–single earner supporting 2 kids, no other person to help out with raising them, no other person to blame for mishaps or neglectful child-rearing–there are also advantages.

One thing that I’m grateful for, being a single mom, is that I don’t have to battle it out with someone on how to raise my kids. I’ve seen many couples argue over how to discipline a child, I’ve seen the results of these battles, and I can say that I am lucky I am alone in this. My children seem to be growing up just fine–not as brats, no tantrums (as in never), conscientious of others, cares for the environment, all the sugar and spice girls are made of but with spunk.

Single motherhood has its rewards, but what I treasure most is the 100% love I get back from my kids.

I have to commend Dove for initiating the Campaign for Real Beauty. It has started a revolution that puts an end to the myth that there is only one kind, one standard of beauty—that which is usually dictated by Hollywood or fashion magazines. We are all beautiful, no matter what age, gender, color or race.

Our perception of beauty has been distorted by so-called authorities on beauty (and fashion) that we now measure our worth against their formula or standards or judgement. We’re surrounded by billboards, TV ads and programs, movies and magazines that tell us we’re not beautiful if we’re not perfect.

Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty wants us to reevaluate what it is that makes a person beautiful. It tells us that we have to start with our children and that we have to start feeling good about ourselves again. Life is hard enough, let’s not allow ourselves to be judged by others with distorted perception of what beauty is. Let our and our children’s true colors shine through.

I thought the campaign against skin was exclusive to Asia and any other “third world”. But I was mistaken. The US is not spared of this demand for lighter or whiter skin. Whatever happened to our pride for our own heritage?

Search YouTube for ads and clips with the keywords skin_whitening, white_skin, glutathione (the newest phenom for whiter skin) and you get a multitude of products, theories, promotional gigs from lotions to pills. But they all have one thing in common. The desire to be something else one is not.

Looking through several YouTube clips, I came across an ad for a skin whitening salon selling the magic of glutathione. I was shocked to see several African-American celebrities claimed to be reaping from the benefits of glutathione. Janet Jackson, Beyonce, Tyra Banks, just to name the really famous ones. What was especially shocking to me was Tyra Banks being part of it. I am not aware if she endorses the product or the pills or that she even knows this ad exists with her face on it, but I was shocked.

On her show, Tyra Banks claims that she ventured into the talk show business and book writing (yes, book writing) because she wanted to be a positive influence on young Americans, who seem to be suffering from low self-esteem. That the show came about when, at one of her book-signing events, a fan with a black eye approached her and asked for advice on how to hide bruises and black eyes. She was struck by this and she vowed to raise young girls’ self-appreciation, self-esteem, and self-love.

I emailed the Tyra Banks Show to bring this ad to their/her attention. All I got in return was an email thanking me for my letter and a promise of an autographed picture of Tyra Banks to be sent to me in 4-6 weeks.

If this glutathione ad is any indication of her true self, I wouldn’t buy whatever Tyra Banks sells on her show about self-esteem.

When my daughter was 3 (Yes, same one. I know. She was too mature for her age.), she slumped on the floor beside me one day while I was in front of the computer. I asked her what was the matter. Her face in her hands and sulking, she said, “I don’t want to have dark skin anymore.”

My heart sank. She looked up to me, tears in her eyes, and asked again, “Why do I have to have dark skin?”

Damn skin whitening commercials on TV, newspapers, magazines, movie houses…everywhere! Damn them!

At first I thought these skin-whitening ads were only targeted at Asian markets, Asian skins. But I was shocked to find out that it’s happening all over the world. (I saw an ad that said “best for ethnic skin.”) Women, young and old alike, are being made to feel insecure about themselves in many ways, especially about the color of their skin.

I found a TV ad in India where a father steps in and makes his own formula for a lotion for his daughter so she could have whiter skin. She was supposed to be trying out to be a model.

A Philippine TV ad:

Excuse me?!

All over Asia, women (although men are not exempt anymore) are trying so hard to look different. To shed their natural skin and natural beauty. Creams, lotions, pills, hair dyes, surgeries. How did we ever end up like this? What happened to the beauty from within. Well, now with glutathione [pills] out in the market, I guess you’re going to start to become artificially beautiful from within!

My little girl was 3 years old and yet she already felt like she’s not going to amount to anything with her natural beauty. At 3, she already felt the pressure of fitting in and looking like the models and TV personalities. The pressure to fit in for the wrong reasons. She’s not even a teenager yet. I wasn’t quite ready to deal with that for another 10 years. But I have to act fast.

I sat her down and explained to her that her skin, her face, her personality are what makes her beautiful. I told her that Caucasians will do anything to have her skin—smooth, golden brown. I told her that being who she is and having what she has is beautiful.

Only time will tell if she sees herself the beautiful girl that she is.

I read a blog entry just now by a single mom who’s had to face the question of “where’s my dad?” I don’t know recall if my daughters ever asked me the question. I wonder why they never did. But they’ve known all along that they have different fathers. That their dads didn’t want to stay with their mom. And that we are still a family by any standards.

When my daughter was 3 and in pre-school (I had to send them to pre-school 3 hours a day so that I may be able to do housework… and bake cookies), she asked me if we were a happy family. Of course I said “yes, we are a happy family.”

She emphatically said, “No, we’re not.” I asked her why she thinks that. She said it’s because we don’t have a dad (I guess she meant a dad presence in the house). I quickly sat her down and told her that love is what makes our family. The important thing is she is loved by me, her sister, her grandma and grandpa, her aunts and uncle. I told her we all make a happy family. She shook her head and walked away with a sad face, and said again, “We’re not a happy family.”

I was concerned that she picked up the concept of a “happy family” from school. I was upset, naturally, but I understood, too, that not everyone is sensitive to the realities of different family situations and relationships. I just had to be patient with my daughter. But most importantly, I have to be patient with everyone else.

My daughter is very perceptive of the world around her. She asks a lot of questions particularly about life. I learned from early on that what would be best for us and our relationship is honesty and straightforwardness.

As the years passed, she understood more why her dad, nor her sister’s dad, is not with us. At some point I knew that she was convinced that we are a happy family and love made us complete.

One Christmas, when she was 9, she wrote me a love note. It said:

Dear Mama,

Thank you for the gifts. I love you

I know you work so hard for us because you’re the only one who supports our family. It’s just you, me and my sister. I love you very much!

[If you have a message, talk to me.]

It took my breath away.

What is it about sex and single women that drives everybody crazy? Single women, or women without partners to be exact, are somewhat an enigma to men and other “partnered” women. My grandmother used to feel sorry for me, saying staying single will not make me fulfill my destiny (more of an obligation) of motherhood. Male friends always teased me that staying single will actually make my v—-a close up…permanently.

Okay, they’re all wrong. For one, grandma, I am now a mother. I’ve fulfilled my destiny. And guys, being single doesn’t mean I can’t find ways to keep it open and satisfy myself at the same time.

A friend of mine sent this news article on a “new sexuality survey [that] has confirmed what women know and some men fear - single females have far more luck achieving orgasm than those partnered off.” Very interesting. And very true! (Please click image to enlarge.)

According to the article, women tend to get more aroused and satisfied easily when there is no distraction such as satisfying the man. I don’t know about other women, but I still prefer to have the man in the picture. I have no problems connecting with myself even with a man around. But yes, there is a different thrill derived from a masturbation. A different kind of orgasm.

The article showed the varied lifestyles women now lead. More open and with more choices. Imagine if women behaved like this—in relationships with sex, in relationship without sex, single with sex—in the early 20th century, we could have been stoned!

The second part of the article (not shown here) continues the findings presented in the last paragraph:

“We like to think of people having wild sex for their whole lives but the reality isn’t quite like that,” Dr Howard said.

More than 80 percent of women in their 40s were sexually active, but this figure declined to 27 per cent for those in their 70s.

Hmm…now, would you really want to worry about orgasm when you’re in your 70s on top of other problems you would have to deal with?

Tell me what you think about the article. Do you agree or disagree?

Let me digress for a while from my what do i do? posts. There’s plenty of that coming, but I wanted to share with you this article I came across with on WebMD about germs. It must have been coincidence that I was also able to take a peek into my male friend’s wallet.

(WebMD) Women tend to have germier offices than men, according to a new study on office germs.

The study comes from University of Arizona researchers Sheri Maxwell, B.S., and Charles Gerba, Ph.D. It was funded by the Clorox Company.

The researchers swabbed the offices of 59 women and 54 men in New York City, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Oregon, and Washington, D.C. They sampled eight sites in each office: the phone, desktop, computer mouse, computer keyboard, exclamation key on the computer keyboard, pen, bottom of desk drawer, and handle of desk drawer. Those samples showed twice as much bacteria in women’s offices as in men’s.

The researchers also swabbed workers’ personal items at the office, including personal digital assistants (PDAs), women’s purses and makeup cases, and men’s wallets. Men’s wallets had more germs than any other item studied — personal or office.

Here are the top three bacteria hot spots in women’s offices, in order of germs:

• Makeup case
• Phone
• Purse

The top three bacteria spots in men’s offices were as follows. They are listed in order from most bacteria to least:

• Wallet
• Personal digital assistant
• Phone

I think I know where most of the bacteria comes from for this friend of mine. From all the receipts—mostly from restaurants, bars and gasoline stations—he stuffs into his wallet!

I will have more on germs and how we can deal with it in my next posts.

Same daughter, only four years later…

My daughters and I found ourselves battling icy winds and frostbite just so we don’t waste our visit to New York City. We were on our way to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. (trust me, my 7- and 10-year-olds are into museums!)

After we got ourselves warmed up with hot cocoa in the cafeteria, we proceeded to see as much as we can in a day. I don’t remember the order of the halls we visited (frankly, it was confusing even with a map), but after three or four, we found ourselves among sculptures.

Suddenly, my 7-year-old gasped (apparently she was startled by something), ‘Oh my god!’

I panicked a little because I wasn’t sure what had happened. ‘What’s wrong,’ I asked.

Index finger pointed at something…there stood David (the sculpture, standing in its glory and man-liness.) I giggled inside, but managed not to make it obvious to her.

‘Mom, that is huge!’ Pointing at David’s penis.

Of course, the order of the day then for the sculptors was to make the figures as realistic as possible. Every shape, every contour, every muscle looked as accurate as they can be. Again, my heart and brain were racing.

I just said, ‘it’s a recreation of the real thing.’

Her next question almost made me roll on the floor laughing…

‘Is papi’s penis as big as that?!’

All I managed to do then was smile. And we were moving….

Papi was my boyfriend at the time.