Progeny

You know how sometimes nothing feels right: your hair’s a mess, you look in the mirror and see a tub of lard, you feel like you’re drowning in a sea that’s slick with inadequacy, insecurity, loneliness, and perceived non-appreciation. A shitty day to top all shitty days, in other words. Today felt just like that for me; it made me want to go jump off a high cliff.

Until…

The firstborn, about to enter his senior year in high school, called me to show a special move he discovered in the video game he’s playing. And to share other stuff I never could have shared with my parents when I was his age.

The older daughter made an intricate, graceful movement with her arm – like it was part of a dance – while she was sleeping. That made me laugh, and wonder what kind of music she was hearing and dancing to in her dreams.

The younger daughter, the mini-me, stopped me in my tracks while I, all irritable and grumpy, was about to set on an errand. Just before I could snap “What?!” at her (and to my shame, I was about to), this plump bundle of love and laughter wrapped her arms around my midriff – very tightly – and said “I love you, Mama” over and over again. Just because. She does that a lot – all three of them do – but it was especially appreciated today for some reason.

I thank the powers that be for my children. They can drive me crazy ass batshit and make me plaintively cry out "Hay naku namaaaan, mga anak ko!" (which translates roughly to "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"*) but they keep me sane too.

*Not really, no. Feels that way sometimes, though.