'Sunday Morning,' starring Butones

First sight to greet us just outside the pedestrian gate was Ms. Lovely Purple Photos by Booboo

"...[T]here are two big problems associated with taking pictures. Firstly, we’re likely to be so busy taking the pictures, we forget to look at the world whose beauty and interest prompted us to take a photograph in the first place. And secondly, because we feel the pictures are safely stored on our phones, we never get around to looking at them, so sure are we that we’ll get around to it one day." - "Why you should stop taking pictures on your phone - and learn to draw," from the blog www.theschooloflife.com, posted by The Philosophers' Mail on 12 May 2014.

It's one of those miraculous mornings after two consecutive gray days in Baguio. Our little bossing wasn't gonna let it pass without a walk around the village. She was still in her jammies with monkey prints with one monkey saying "I'm not tired." I was in my house dress with snowflake prints (thank you, Lara Halili!) so I a pulled a long pullover over it for decency's sake. I put on my dark glasses, and Butones returned to her room to fetch hers. I put on a made-in-Batanes hat, she put on her yellow polka-dot cap but decided at the last minute to toss it back in the living room as we prepared to leave.

The pictures that follow are the ones that Butones said I should take. She always prefaced her command with "Look!" And look I did: at flowers, spider webs, clumps of fallen pine needles, banks of clouds, etc. What is a mere pretender to the title of "photojournalist" to do but to follow the keener and more curious eyes of Da Bossing?

I'm posting and sharing our pics from a few hours ago. Taking pictures is faster than drawing. And like I wrote before, pictures help me remember, especially one child's precious observations.

The finger points to the direction we're about to take.

Whenever she encounters her shadow, she's always gleeful. Reminds me of a Robert Louis Stevenson poem that we had to learn in kindergarten in my St. Paul Quezon City days. It begins with these lines: "I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,/ And what can be the use of him is more than I can see."

"Look, I'm stepping on your shadow, Booboo!"

Self-portrait with grandchild

"That's the lala of Boots!" Butones cried out when she saw this dachshund. She was referring to the mixed breed dog that she and her Mamay Kimi adopted. And, in her excitement, she said "lala" instead of "lola."

She puts on her pair of sunglasses when the morning sun rises higher.

"It's not yet open, Booboo."

"That one's open na!"

"Spider web! Over there!"

Trying to spot the roof of her house with Mt. Santo Tomas in the background

Beyond those fluffy cotton candy clouds is the China Sea.

Outside the neighbor's gate, I asked Butones, "Can you read out the number for me?" Answer: "It's three-three!"

"It looks like a walis." Indeed, it does look like a broom.

Home again to rock on her Horse With No Name before she steps into the house for her Sunday pancake

Jump shots

"Even if you fall on your face, you're still moving forward." -Victor Kiam

Big shadow and little person warming up for their morning walk, each keeping their distance from each other.

And she's off while her papparazza gives chase.

Upon Booboo's suggestion, Butones does a quick study of some low rocks set in an irregular circle before practicing her jumps.

The second or third of the jumps captured and preserved

Here's another!

She finishes the first go and prepares for her once-around

At about this time, she's shouting, "Booboo, follow!"

Pretty confident, huh?

Energy's still up. Following the jumps was a walk on a flat road, then a climb up stone steps, then down in another part of the neighborhood. Then home again! Photos by Booboo

Begin again

“We can always begin again. No matter what happens, no matter how long it's been, no matter how far from our aspirations we may have strayed, we can always always begin again.”—Sharon Salzberg, meditation teacher

The kid with the cute-as-a-button nose and eyes larger than buttons was worried that I was lagging behind during the climb out of a forest. I had paused to pull out the trusty digicam to record her solo, unassisted climb up with Merci Javier Dulawan leading the way. I caught her clutching her little bag of spare clothes at that moment when she was calculating how far forward her Tita Merci was, how far behind I was.

The Salzberg quote is more a reminder to myself not to lose heart in heartfelt undertakings when there are setbacks, delays or signs of uncooperative inner weather. The reminder says: pause, catch your breath, then carry on.

They say the soul's trajectory is ever upward. Photo by Babeth Lolarga

Small and mighty

"Remember the weak, you who are strong, you whose home lies beyond the region of thunder, in a land that is always peaceful, always serene and bright with the resplendent glory of God." - excerpt from a prayer composed by Flannery O'Connor to the angel Raphael

We can't and always be there 24-7 for those who need our presence in their lives. Or do my shadow and I delude ourselves into thinking we are needed by anyone for that matter? Meanwhile, we stay connected to the near, to the far through this small but mighty thing called faith.

The Button about to raise her arms like angel wings as she studies her shadow one morning. Photo by her Booboo

Love 'em, love her

"Be thankful for those individuals that help you keep your head on straight and your smile in place. Love them like there's no tomorrow." - a tweet from Terry Alex who believes that "positivity is contagious. Compliments are priceless. Encouragement and praise should be endless.Faith brings them all together."

During her last visit to the thunders of Pasig (code for tanda), The Button plucked the santan flowers off the hedge planted by her great grandfather in the 1970s in a kind of counting game. There are new flowers to greet the Year of the Blue Wooden Horse. My smile is in place again. Photo by Babeth Lolarga

Saturday morning and thinking of another's journey

"Don't judge my path if you haven't walked my journey." - found quote in Twitter today

I need to apply this more when I read or listen to other people's stories, even if I'm exasperated at their choices, at their re-telling of their lives or their versions of events, their recounting of what had gone before. My partner likes to say these reflect how certain persons were raised. Or perhaps the set of values they were raised by--probably parents or elders who were always in awe of those who had more money, even if the means by which these people enriched themselves are questionable. (I hate those types, by the way.) I always like to ask, "What is the true measure of the person? Is it after taxes are deducted?"

It's beginning to dawn on me, while reviewing my Psychology 101 and swimming through self-help, self-knowledge books, that my own observations and experiences, such as they all are, will eventually lead to the time when I can gaze at an Other through uncolored, unfiltered eyes. Look, accept, even love. Do I have to become blind to do that? Hope not!

Depending on her mood for the day, The Button either faces or turns away from the camera. She has a long way to go on her life's path. Meanwhile, enjoy the weekend, Kai! Photo by Babeth the Booboo

My girls (or the sisterhood of the travelling sandals)

Being a believer in "inclusivity", I consider them all are my girls: daughters Kimi and Ida, their friends and the toddler who's been described by her mother as a swift temple runner. 

The older ones know how to work the Instagram. Fuddy duddy that I am, I think I have more than enough Net accounts to bother signing up for another so I just grab the photos as soon as I find time to sneak into their Instagrams for a quick peek. My latest viewing confirms my suspicion. They're way too busy relaxing to send a virtual "wish you were here" postcard. But I love how they're loving this summer and wearing its colors on their bodies and faces. 

By this time they should be considering taking the slow, slow boat home instead of the plane. While I'm in Baguio on a "staycation", let me remind them: Carpe diem!

 See you in a few, girls!

Butones wears her deceptively shy smile as she pauses from her temple run.

Half swathed in a towel, my Bit of Mango enjoys a mango macaroon.

The candy corn gang of Coco del Rosario, Marye Panganiban, Kimi, Butones and Ida

Mamay Kimi takes a cooling plunge.

Ida framed, the rice fields and coconut trees in the color of neon green

Ninang Coco (left) with Kimi, god-daughter Butones and Ida the Fair

Little Button in a white hat tries to figure out how boys turn play into real fishing.

For little people and their moms

It is again one of those days when little people, about the age of Butones Fernandez, stay indoors because of the unexpected, all-night rainfall. I'm hoping that sometime today when she has tired of sitting on her great grandmother's rocking chair and watching "Wonder Pets", she returns to the bedroom and asks for her books. 

Welcome back to Pasig, Butones! This is for you and other persons of your size and with your curiosity.

Poster found in Pinterest

Life and love at Cafe Serendipitous

Isn't there a famous coffee shop in NYC called Serendipity? Immortalized, too,  in a John Cusack movie--Cusack I always remember for his performances; can't quite recall his leading ladies though. Maybe somewhere in my subconscious I pretend I'm she. Har har de har there. 

The cafe was also where Andy Warhol ate his meals and he paid for them with doodles, maybe on the paper napkins. I tried that at one 10A Alabama art fair in Cubao a few years ago when I was the weight I still am but famished--swapping a gouache painting for a cold chocolate drink (it was summer) and cookies. Jethro Rafael of Van Gogh Is Bipolar fame, who then had the run of the chow corner in the Alabama house, told me I was shortchanged, but I didn't mind. That a small work could feed me for an afternoon and that I didn't have to wait long for my hunger pangs to be quieted down--I found that, well, instant gratification.

I live in Cafe Serendipitous when I'm in Baguio. In between writing deadlines, I scroll through the images in my Google+ account. I found this yesterday:

I saved it immediately because it reminded me of the time when my girls did a lot of pretend play as children while I did my share of housework in my full-time hausfrau years. I now have a grandchild, Butones, who inherited my children's old Winnie the Pooh.A bit worn out but its beat-up look makes it more alive like The Velveteen Rabbit.

From Art.com, I found out that that this painting was a collaboration of married couple Michael and Inessa Garmash, "born in Ukraine and Russia, respectively," and who "both exhibited artistic talents from a young age. As a boy, Michael entered and won many youth art competitions, and ultimately studied fine art in college. Inessa studied art, dance, and gymnastics during her youth, and in her late teens she attended the same fine art school as Michael. The two had success as painters prior to working together, each with an interest in Romantic Impressionism.

"The Garmashes artistic collaboration began by accident. Michael Garmash was very fond of painting their two-year-old daughter, and composed a portrait of her for a competition. During his absence, the young girl found Michael’s painting and decided to make her own additions. Inessa saw her daughter’s work and did not want her husband to be upset, so she fixed the painting using her own training. She packed up the work and submitted it for the competition, where it was heavily praised as Michael’s best work. Mr. Garmash was both surprised and pleased to see the 'new' painting, and the couple has painted together ever since."

Well, yesterday evening, as we waited for Grumpa/Tats to return home from work, I turned on the TV to the Fox Family Channel and happened upon a Disney movie. And what do you know? It was The Pooh and his friends looking for the monster they called "Besoon" who they thought had kidnapped their friend Christopher Robin.  

Much later near the end, it turned out that Christopher Robin had left his forest friends a note that said he was off to school and he'd be back soon. Har de har har again there, but the humor was lost on Butones who just liked to hum The Pooh bear's song when he made an appearance. When the credits rolled up, she turned to me and said matter-of-factly, "Wala na!"

So here's to my Valentine, the old soul in a young body, Butones. I took these shots while she was busy and not too far from the computer station where I work in the morning. I asked her to also keep busy with crayons and paper, and she did, even climbing onto the bed and continuing her work. 

When her Mamay, my daughter Kimi, saw the shots, she laughed so much because Butones seemed to copy my own position on the bed when I'm handwriting something, complete with feet rubbing against each other.

Photos by Booboo

Morning becomes my darlings

Someone opted for early retirement last year to finally spend a lot of time with family, especially with that girl who knows where the grandparents' room is and wakens them, particularly Grumpa Rolly, to remind them to each search for the lost child in themselves.

Here she pauses as her Booboo dresses her up warmly for a trip to Baguio's downtown.

Someday those eyes will mesmerize someone, but she's in no hurry for such things. Right now she wants to get out in the sun and play.

Photos by Booboo Babeth

She lights up my life...

...she gives me hope to carry on, and so on and so forth. 

At the slightest chance of a long weekend (three nights and four days), I visit the button of my  life. She changes at every next encounter, her babbling now acquiring coherence to the adults around her. 

At mealtimes, she likes to check if we're all present around the dining table, then points with her forefinger at each of us: "Tats! Mamay! Booboo! Ate!" Then she sits down before her own small dining table (her Mamay and Tita Ida's study table when they were wee girls) to try to feed herself from a bowl with increasing success.

The half smile that can melt the hardest heart

Veteran huggers

Before or after breakfast, she enjoys a walk in the neighborhood children's park for her dose of Vitamin D, then comes back famished, ready for a snack and a yogurt drink. Then she hangs out in her nursery with her toys or joins her Mamay and Booboo in the home office. 

To keep her from distracting her working mom, I like to sing action songs, recite nonsense stuff or read to her. Or we look out the window to count the number of white butterflies. But such are the counting skills of Butones that she tends to speed things up, crying out, "Eight, nine, TEN!"

The weekend I was there I introduced her to my small collection of matryoska dolls. These Russian nesting dolls are a recurring image in some of my paintings. She can open them up and extract one smaller doll after another but not put them back together again. Next weekend, I will teach her their Russian names and see if she can repeat them. 

Her nighttime routine is to pass by the grandparents' room for the last-minute giggles and hugs. Her Grumpa Rolly, whom she calls Tats, taught her to bless his hand before she leaves to return to her room.

They say giving is better than receiving, and I quite agree. But with a grandchild like Butones, I just have to make the effort to go up and be there to be at the receiving end of her unconditional love.

So young yet she already knows her best angle, a trait that makes me think of my younger daughter.

Photos by Booboo Babeth and Mamay Kimi