After the first letter I've written on March 15, 2011 which was Ian's 6th birthday and a day before Ian and Allen's moving up Day, I've decided to have a portion in my blog entitled "Ian and Allen" which will be a series of letters and stories for my kids. My second post for "Ian and Allen" is for my "bunso." Allen has always been crying since we transferred from my parents' house to the place we're renting right now in Marikina last October 2010. He sometimes bangs his head, kneels down and falls on the floor on purpose when he doesn't get what he wants. He cries before he sleeps for as long as I can't remember and wrestles his way when we don't allow him to play "dishwasher of the hour" (this is what we call Him when he started to get fond of wasting as much water as he wants in the kitchen sink). Sometimes I feel like my blood pressure is so high, sometimes I try to smile to show that I'm under control and he can't test my patience (if that was what he was trying to do) and sometimes I wanted to cry as well. There were late nights when he had finally fallen asleep that I wonder what was wrong with him or is there something wrong with me? Did I fail to realize what message was he trying to make me understand?
Last night we (Ian, Allen and I) went to my parents' house because we decided that the kids will be spending part of their vacation with them. I carried 4 bags, with a little help from Ian (2 backpacks each with their clothes, a bag of Thomas the Train and his friends and a small bag where I put my wallet, phone and camera.) My nanay expecting for our arrival opened the gate minutes after we talked on the phone. When we went out of the cab, Allen flashed the brightest smile he got and ran as fast as he could through the open gate. Ian and I walked behind him and watched him running with quick small steps. He was so happy and it seemed that it was a relief for him to be there. It was like he felt he was coming "home." He played wit his toys, wrote on the blackboard, nibbled at every food he wanted in the kitchen. Later, he held my hand and said "Mommy, sleep na Mommy and Allen" after he prayed he kissed me on the cheek and he was fast asleep. I kissed him on his forehead and watched his face as he sleep. He looked so happy and content it was a far cry from the "bunso" we know who cries his way to sleep.
Mommy's Letter for Allen
When I look at your face while you sleep I wonder what are you dreaming of? That moment I like to say sorry for not understanding everything a mother is supposed to know about her child. I like to hug you and tell you not to cry; that Mommy is here…Mommy will always be here. In times when you hurt yourself I feel pain for the hurt you give to yourself, pain for the puzzled look strangers are aiming at you, pain for myself for seeing my child unhappy and confused. I hear others say to give you time and in return I tell myself that we both need time to learn and grow. I'm sorry for not appreciating every tiny step you make and for expecting too much. Every time you cry I ask what again is your problem rather than understanding what you need. I didn't realize that you are looking for home; you are looking for a place where you are constantly reminded of your happy times as a baby until you turned 4 years old. I understand now that in many ways you are like me, finding happiness and peace in familiar grounds. Sorry for failing to shield you from people forcing you to do things you don't like and from their noise. I learned from you that mommies make mistakes too. They say that you are a smart kid…yes you are. I knew that from the moment I first set my eyes on you. Thank you anak for the joy and wisdom you brought to our family. Always remember that Mommy loves you very much and so as your Kuya Ian and Daddy.