the time traveler's wife

I finished Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife last weekend. It was amazing. I am thoroughly absorbed by the story of Henry and Clare, of his jaunts in time, of how their love carried through. Henry is called a 'chrono-displaced person,' and it is thoroughly entertaining to read about his misadventures, although I could see how it could be frightening. Henry had a very keen survival instinct, aided by his uncanny skill in picking locks, running fast, pickpocketing, and imaginative lying.

And it is, at the core, a love story. Most of the feelings ring true for lovers, and it perfectly captures the sense of insecurity in every relationship. With love, we are never sure. We don't know how it starts, where it ends, why it hurts, when the other goes (or is taken away), what comes after. What we only know is that when we love with all our heart, everything else will come to pass. Even time.

rotten apples, spoiled kids

I was making small talk with our new Japanese consultant this morning, and she asked me how my weekend was. I said me and the husband took one of the kids to the dentist. She said, "Together? What, did each of you hold her hands while the dentist was working on her teeth?" I said no, we were in the waiting room.

"You shouldn't do that. I can't believe how spoiled the kids are in the Philippines. They have drivers, they have maids, they have adults who do all sorts of things for them," she said. "In Japan, most children have working parents, and they learn very early on that they should do things on their own."

I said (a little defensively) that here, both parents also usually work, and weekends are chances to make up for lost time for the kids. "So you spoil them," she said.

I remember another Japanese lady who seemed shocked that most Filipino kindergarten students have separation anxiety. I reassured her that the anxiety is shared (and magnified) by the mothers who bring them to school for the first time. I went so far as to tell her that the separation anxiety is often carried to the first grade, so that's about a couple of years of heart-wrenching scenes in the classroom doors every schoolday morning. In a tone that carried a slight (but noticeable) layer of ridicule, she informed me that Japanese children are not upset about school. She said she remembered riding the school bus on her first day of school when she was 5 or 6 years old.

Are Filipino children spoiled? I will speak of my own children.

My older daughter is eight and doesn't know how to cook. I don't remember ever being allowed to cook in my grandmother's house either. I learned to boil an egg and cook rice when I was 14 and had to live in a boarding house.

She knows how to comb her hair (of course), but I fix it for her every morning. I like the little routine. We talk about Barbie and green hair clips and her friend's new bike while we get her ready for school.

I think she learned to bathe by herself only last year. Her nanny had always given her a bath because (i) she wasted too much water; (ii) she used up too much shampoo; and (iii) she always came out with bubbles still in her hair. One point for the Japanese.

She has packed lunch most mornings. No big deal, even my 59-year old Japanese boss carries a bento box with him, which he eats at 4pm. The packed lunch is prepared by the nanny, though, and the love with which she prepares them surpasses mine. She will cook rellenong bangus in the previous afternoon so my kid can have it for lunch the next day. Rellenong bangus is usually served during fiestas and weddings, next to the embutido, because it's so troublesome to make.

I could go on. Weekends at home are usually exhausting, because I try to do so many things with, and for, the kids. I come to work on Monday with sore arms from carrying the one-year-old. When I'm home she usually climbs all over me. I take it to mean that she misses me, so I oblige. No one carries her around five days a week. We play a lot, and the house is often messy from toys and paper cuttings and clothes. On Saturday evening we sleep all together in the living room, watching late-night TV and chatting. By Sunday evening everything will be tidy and we go to bed early.

So do I spoil them? I prefer to think that I'm making the most of their childhood. I love doing things for them. Very soon they'll grow up and will choose to spend their afternoons locked in their rooms, surfing the net or playing their kind of music, and on weekends they'll have sleepovers with friends, giggling over the likes of Jonas Brothers. I sometimes wish I could hold on to their being kids.

I prefer to think that it's my kind of love. I am not an overprotective mother, and I will not be able to teach them everything, or do everything for them. But you know, I wish I could remember my mother combing my hair, or my mother knowing I hated yellow dresses, when I was eight. I'd like to think that my daughters will remember that I was not always around when they were kids, but whatever time I had, I loved to spend it with them.

For other points of view, I'll go talk to some more Japanese.