One day last week we had a slight warm up and was sunny. There is something about sunny mornings that make me feel guilty about staying indoors. So after gym, I took Evan for a trainride and a picnic in the park.

I love being a room parent. It was fun watching Evan's antics in the classroom (like standing up during storytime, or raising his hand when a question is asked with no plans of answering it). Taken during Evan's class halloween party.

With the jogging stroller being bigger and more cumbersome, I thought it would be better to just leave it at home. But before finalizing my plans I had a talk with Evan, I told him about taking a trainride and picnic but I made him promise me that he was going to walk and not ask me to carry him. I know he can do it since we have been walking to school a couple of times already, also to the gym. For some reason he has showed preference to walking since we got the the jogging stroller. Which is good but can be a pain when he suddenly decides he's too tired (more like bored) to walk and the stroller is nowhere in hand.

So promised he did.

It turned out to be one of the loveliest mornings this year. Three is an age when he soaks everything you say like a sponge and IS interested in everything you show him - the viaducts, the train ticket machines, the pigeons etc. Three is an age when he can now wait patiently in line at a Dunkin Donuts while you get your picnic lunch of Egg McMuffins and bottled water. Three is an age when he understands that you will just share the bottle since buying another will cost more money. Three is an age when getting on the train seat he loudly observes, "that man's hair is black!" about the passenger in front of you both and you pretend not to be embarrassed by saying, "just like your hair" when your son's hair is partly brown. Three is an age when he thinks all of the children in the playground are his "friends" (and they love me, he says) and has no compunction in introducing himself, "my name is Evan" and asking them "can I play with you?" Three is an age where he runs off at a distance outside your comfort zone and you call out, "too far!" and he comes back. Three is an age where he suggests that the best place to eat the picnic lunch is inside the big toy train and he's right that you end up inside there for the most part since it shields you from the occasional chilly wind. Three is an age when you can play "what word begins with letter" game as you go home. Three is an age when he keeps his promise of walking all the way.

I just know that this will be one of the best times of my life. I am grateful to have had this.

You get a babysitter for a rare date night and your husband eagerly takes you to one of the happening places in Chicago. But all you can think about is how the crazy traffic, filled up parking spots and long lines were stressing you out. You tell your husband to get you out of there pronto, end up in one of your pre-Evan favorite date venue, much quieter, less happening and happily sip your margarita. Content.

Doesn't my mom look great? Another reason for me not to fear aging. My nephew Miguel looks so handsome (Tom says he could be an actor) and grown-up too. My youngest nephew Job, what can i say, he's the cutest ever!

A strange thing happen when you hit 39, your friends start to freak out about turning 40 next year. I don't really get what the fuss is all about. Turning 50? Hell yeah! 40? Nuh-uh. For me it's really just a number, a state of mind. I certainly don't feel a day older than 30. Physically I am at my healthiest, strongest even. I have biceps to prove it (power lifts with your child as weights for 3 1/2 years). I can now run 17 miles (27 kilometers) too. How many 18 year olds can say that? I believe I still look around 30. Just ask Tanya (that's why we are friends haha).

But nothing made me more aware with the passing of time than when I registered for Facebook. People I haven't seen for 15-20 plus years have aged. "She looks 50!" I'd silently exclaim only to realize after doing a bit of mental calculation that indeed she is around that number. It feels strange.

It is just not everyday people but in Hollywood too, the sexy, young actresses that you grew up with. I started noticing this after watching "Sex And The City" in the widescreen and got preoccupied by SJP's crow's feet. It got worse this year with Nicole Kidman's sagging neck (made more wrinkly in contrast with her tightly botoxed face) in "Australia". Or the obvious age gap between Sandra Bullock (make no mistake, she was HOT during Jay Leno's recent interview) and Ryan Reynolds. The only fortysomething actress who doesn't look like she aged at all is Jennifer Aniston. For now.

Let me make it clear I am NOT saying I look younger than these gorgeous women. It's just that the movie cameras magnify the slightest imperfections. Not even all the ethereal special effects lighting can make Diane Sawyer, 63 look less older when contrasted Rihanna's 21 year old, youthful face. Why even bother to go through that trouble? It just made it all the more weird.

You're getting old when you see non-celebrity people get interviewed (like in Oprah or TODAY or CNN) with their names and age are shown as captions and you do a double-take. "She's only 35? You mean she's 4 years younger than me? No way! You mean I should look older than her? But she looks old. Am I really that old?"

Yes, you are getting old when you have that inner dialogue going on more constantly these days.

You are getting old when you watch the "This Is It" Michael Jackson movie and realize that the icon that was part of your growing up years, whether you are a fan or not, is now dead so thereby a thing of the past. You are getting old when you actually feel nostalgic and sad at the thought.

You are getting old when you feel lethargic the whole day of Sunday because the night before you had a date with your husband and had two (yes only two) many margaritas. And for the whole of Sunday you feel (and possibly look) every second of your 39 years.

Does it scare me? Not as long as I keep a healthy lifestyle. Really. But ask me again when I turn 50.

A couple of things happened to me the past two days that made me thought, "this is what I am going to miss about the U.S. when I retire in the Philippines."

I may like the simplified "adult" transactions here in the US but I believe childhood Philippine style is much better for children with their simple games and toys. Here's a toy my sister sent for Evan which I only gave to my son recently and as you can see it was a hit.

The other day I was at the library, after much hemming and hawing and much searching, I finally reported a lost book. Except for the Harry Potter book that was in our Honda when it got stolen, out of the more than a hundred books I've probably borrowed from the public library since I arrived here 6 years ago I have never lost one. That I can log online and check my library account plus the the "courtesy notices" emailed to me 2 days before the deadline helped a lot. A lot of overdue fines, yes, but misplaced books? No.

The library then informed me that I will have to pay a $16 fine (Harry Potter was $18) for the "Thidwick The Big Hearted Moose" however if I found it within 3 months I can take it back and get a refund. What do you know, as soon as I returned home Thidwick was waiting for me on the coffee table. Tom found it while vacuuming. Yay!

Then this morning I had to return Tom's pills which we found out last night was the wrong ones. Something he has not been using for more than a month. I was also dreading doing this because I remember a few months after I have given birth to Evan for the life of me I couldn't remember what the contraceptive I was taking before the breastfeeding pill. My Ob-Gyne prescribed Yasmin which was very expensive at $75 for 3 months while the ones given by my GP was only $10 per month. But in my foggy state of mind I initially got the Yasmin then paid for it. The $45 difference just nagged me, so before I even left the store I returned the medicine and the pharmacy didn't almost take it back.

So I wasn't looking forward to an argument. I just told myself, just try calmly and if unsuccessful have Tom handle it. For thier sake I hope they won't give me a hard time since this is the second incident when they have given Tom the wrong medicine and my husband is already talking about suing (Tom is especially sensitive about getting his health jeopardized). 

And what do you know, no drama at the pharmacy counter. Just a question if this was a medicine my husband used to take before and that's that. We got our money back.

When will something like this happen in the Philippines? Certainly not in Gaisano Department Store when it takes 3-4 salespersons (one to write your order number, one to ring you up in the cashier, one to check and one to bag) to complete a single puchase.

This is one of Evan's favorite toys and it costs nothing. It just needs his daddy's 2 fingers and a highpitched voice, meet Toyman:

Toyman sort of acts like a puppet, he can ask Evan anything about the universe and Evan would give him a lengthier answer than if Dad and Mom ask him the same question. I don't know why but Evan loves Toyman. Tom would be typing in his computer, and Evan would go near his daddys and call out: "Toyman are you there?"

I don't know what other magic Toyman has that keeps my son fascinated because this is my husband's and son's world, I mostly leave them alone. Although Evan also has a favorite $0 toy that mommy made too. A pirate sword for daddy and Evan made out of, what else, a cardboard box. On the night I gave it to Evan, my 3 year old even took it to bed with him.

Who says you need toys with bells and whistles to make small kids happy and entertained? I didn't even spend a dime for both.

The "What Begins" Game

A weekly homework for Evan is bringing objects that begins with the "Letter Of The Week". Last night I started playing the "What Begins With the Letter..." with him for the first time. And we were delighted when we would pick a random word and he mostly would name the letter correctly, like T for Tom, G for Geri H for Hannah etc.

I haven't really been working on Evan's "reading" because I have read that it's not good to force a small kids these stuff and it really hasn't been a priority for me. But lately I could see Evan seem more interested by constantly coming to me and asking, "what does this spell" (what does this say?) while pointing to a word on a book.

Since I don't have a structure for how to teach him to read (I feel lost really), I bit the bullet and plunked $30 on a reading activity/study kit (they didn't have it in the library). We'll see how it goes.

I was chatting with Evan's friend's mom the other day. Her son is also 3 years old like Evan. She was relating to me the tough time she had been having with her son's defiance and contrariness. Hmmm... that surely sounded familiar.

Cat In The Hat interviewing Batman about his utility belt.

Evan was exactly like that for two weeks. Tell him "no" and he will yell at you. Give him a scolding and he will "blow raspberries" (almost spittinglike) as defiance. Meltdown in the middle of the street for all the neighbors to hear? Yup, we had several of that. I recently browsed a book "Your Three Old: Friend Or Enemy" and that exactly what our relationship for the past month has been like. Now, since last week, we are buddies again.

I nodded sympathetically at what the other mom was saying, then something occurred to me and I shared it with her. "You know, somebody have told me that these moods are like waves. Some weeks they are contrary and other weeks they are very cooperative. But what I have noticed with Evan was that after the days of being difficult he sort of hits a milestone and what follows are really good changes."

Like he is much more calm not when we are outdoors. He actually holds my hand willingly, walks on the sidewalk and enjoy a conversation with me. The first time this happened was when he got bored on the small, deserted playground and I invited him to walk with me in the neighborhood, to wade through fallen leaves and look at decorated houses. And we did that, and we both had fun. We were doing something what grown-ups would do!

There was the other "first times" too the night when I told Evan to put all his toys in a box, left his room and when I came back, there wasn't a single toy on the floor. Or when I handed him his briefs and pants and when I came back he wasn't in his room anymore but in the living room wearing the said underwear and bottoms. Or when I did grocery with him no longer seated at the cart (at his request) but walking along with me and having fun pushing the cart, helping me put the vegetables inside the plastic bag. Or when he didn't go crazy at the toy section in Target but did look at the toys one by one and chose only one of the cheaper toys that I told him that he can have (I told him big, expensive toys are only for birthdays and christmas).

I really thought that Evan would be whining during Halloween with all the other kids in their Superhero costumes, but he didn't at all. What he would do was just follow them around, ask questions about their costumes ("Batman, is that your utility belt?" "Ironman, is that your mask?" "Buzz, are you a superhero?"), complimenting them ("Nice Flash costume!") but he never whined to my relief.

This morning we were at the library's foyer and Evan was putting around 10 books back in the return slot. An older gentleman stopped and jokingly asked me, "how much are you paying him?" I laughed. He complimented, "he is really doing a good job. I wish I taught my daugher how to do that." I do remember another friend bemoaning the fact how her now 9 year old daughter was lazy in fixing her room or even getting water from the fridge. My friend regrets of not training her when she was younger partly because it was faster when the parent's does it themselves, "we treated her like a princess for too long when actually they love to help around the younger they are."

And I can see it in Evan now. Having him underfoot while vacuuming, doing the laundry or dishes, dusting the house may make doing the chores longer but it is play for him. And learning too. Another wave might come in a few weeks or so again but knowing the positive developments that comes after it makes riding out the tough preschooler mood swings all worthwhile.