There is this busy street between our house and downtown. During my early days here in the U.S. I have witnessed a couple of car accidents in its intersection. There is something about this street that makes people drive carelessly. In fact, I wasn't alone in my observation, within 2 years instead of "cross traffic does not stop" signs on the North-South streets it became a "Stop" on all 4 corners.

That was 4 years ago. I don't know what it is in this street that makes the West-East drivers still feel they have the right of way. Are most of them not from the area and just ticked off that having 2 successive traffic lights before and after this intersection makes them want to bear down on a crossing pedestrian or even another vehicle? I swear, just a nanosecond pause from me behind the wheel is already a long enough cue for the West-East drivers to cut me off.

Just this afternoon, I crossed southwards and was in the middle of the road when this SUV barrelled down past me. This twentysomething woman driver had her big sunglasses trained in front of her pretending to be unaware of this person in the middle of the street. I felt like slapping my hands on the door (yes, that was how close I was) and jolting her awake. HELLO!!! Driver's Ed, anyone?

Still, nothing is worse than trying to cross that street with your small child. One time, we were at the curb but had to pull back when, from my left peripheral vision, I saw a car trying to beat us to the crosswalk. I was so mad, I yelled out, "ASSHOLE!" to the passing car loud enough for my voice to bounce across building walls. I mean, seriously.

Don't underestimate moms with small kids. Moms will kill to protect their child. One time I swore I was going to make a big sign with the word "IDIOT!" emblazoned across it that I can take along and flash to offending drivers when Evan and I am at that road. After a few incidences with drivers on their celphones stopping just 2 feet from me when they should be at least 5 yards away, behind the line of another block has made me swear of looking into of what I can do as a citizen to make using celphone while driving illegal in my city.

And you know what, one day I just might do that. Thanks to Dempster Street.

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.