Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! To all our readers, our friends and family, from our family to yours, may God continually open your hearts to receive the showers of His love for you. To my family: The Fabilas, the Ababas, the Ngs Thank you for your unconditional love, the love that binds us together always. To my family: Perze, Emmanuelle, & Zienne I love you. You are not just a part of my heart, but you compose it and can never be separated from it. God has written you when He wrote me and I am completely blessed because of that. Zienne, this is your first Valentine’s Day. It is not much as an event, but it is a reminder. I hope you are reminded of how much you are loved. I can see through your smiles and glee that you love us too. Thank you for giving us that. It means more to us than you may know. Happy Valentine’s Day, Lord. And this is how I know love, because You first loved me.
“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, it just means that you were wrong.” Alongside toddlerhood is its close relationship to discipline. The proverbial saying goes, “spare the rod, spoil the child.” As Emma emerges from early toddlerhood, I find myself having to correct a lot of her naughtiness; most times, it spurs from a lack of etiquette experience and really sheds light on her innocence. Then there are times when she’s downright mean and she absolutely knows her unacceptable behavior, yet she does it anyway. When I correct her, she does one of two things. Either she humbly apologizes or she goes on a mad soliloquy with childish verbiage and rambling explanations, justifications, intangible logic, and pure emotion, sometimes even claiming I’m in the wrong. Then after some volleying, she’ll cry and ask me if I still love her. Despite even at the angriest moments I have with her, I can never say I hate her. I end up reminding her, “it doesn’t mean I don’t love you; it just means that you were wrong.” We don’t like being corrected. I know oftentimes I don’t like it either; but let’s face it, if it’s wise advice, it’s wise advice. […]
At 8 months, Zi’s gotten the courage to test her own leg strength and balance standing up independently. She uses props to get up then lets go, looks around for a willing crowd, then smiles because she knows she’s done something new, and probably to her, something amazing, a completely new feeling of steps to being a big girl like her Ate. When she does this, I can imagine her glee, knowing her stark difference compared to everyone else walking vertically while she is limited to mobility by crawling. Today, she decided to multitask and clap along with us, because mind you, it is somewhat of a miracle when one learns to stand up. That, like in life, deserves an applause. So, with the help of her very supportive and encouraging sister (who by the way really deserves a lot of credit for getting Zi to practice standing), our adorable subject is captured on video: She stood up much longer but I decided to clip the video because for a good few seconds, I’m in the front and you can’t see Zi standing.
Our baby is almost a year old!!! Can you believe it? Cause it feels as if it was seriously just weeks ago. I look at her and see how fast time has gone. She’s such a treasure. This time around, being the second child, I realize how much easier it was to take care of her. I don’t know why. And by God’s grace, taking care of two wasn’t a burden. It had its challenging moments, I readily admit, but I see so much more of who Emma is, as the older sister, and I realize how much more Zi’s life is enriched because of her. Emma had our full attention, but Zi gets the love, energy, and playful attention of her older sister. Sometimes I just sit back quietly so I can watch them interact with each other. You should see the down time moments when Zi is resting and Em lies down with her; Zi will brush her fingers on Em’s cheek just to know she’s there. So since she’s 9 months, here’s Zi’s 8th mo. summary: Pre-walking At eight months, Zi stood up independently for the first time. She also uses things to get to standing position […]
Just this morning, four people instant messaged me inquiring about the masquerade ball this friday. Looks like there’s going to be a lot of people. got a phone call asking me to make the logo for our church to digitally send it to the guys who are fixing our sign board. made lots of toast because apparently, it’s emma’s ‘favorite’ and because zi wanted to try it out. I made some for myself and emma wanted it so I told her, everything that was mine was hers. Then she said, “mamam, you can make some more!” got a good news email from Tony saying we can make Friday morning happen! got good news from Perze saying my SB was able to sell 5K. laugh with my daughters and really look at my daughter’s 4 year old face who will soon be leaving for school this year. ordered easter cantata material. Tuesday quote for your enjoyment to test your movie trivia: “I would gladly pay you tuesday for a hamburger today.” -?
An article I subscribe to for parents: Your 4-year-old now The average 4-year-old can count up to ten, although he may not get the numbers in the right order every time. One big hang-up in going higher? Those pesky numbers like 11 and 20. The irregularity of their names doesn’t make much sense to a preschooler. Don’t get caught up in trying to persuade your child to count much beyond ten or 20 right now. Most fours can’t fully comprehend how larger numbers correspond to actual quantity. They usually count between four and ten objects correctly. A child this age who rattles off numbers in sequence higher than 20 is generally doing so from sheer memorization. Really? After all this time I’ve been trying to get Em to master her numbers from 1-100. She gets the order right 1-20. Granted, she sometimes gets confused with reading numbers 11-20, but she knows the function of counting when she has objects requiring to know its quantity. But why not ‘get caught up’ in persuading your toddler to count beyond ten? I’ve seen toddlers learn how to add. There’s really nothing wrong with pushing their memorization skills. I believe in giving my children […]
I’m going to try to be a little more honest on this blog. Promise. Don’t bite me. I mean no harm.