Celebrating Narra's 5th Birthday: Winx Party at McDonald's SM Aura

From top left: Winx party banner; Me and Narra; Family pic with mascots.

                         

Sometime in the mid-80s I had my own McDonald's birthday party. I remember being so excited!  Watching my own daughter's excitement felt like traveling back in time.  It seemed as big a deal to her today as it was to me back then. Sure, McDonald's represents accessible everyday fare these days, with their convenient locations and affordable food, it's hardly "special" anymore - but on the day of her birthday party, McDonald's wasn't just the common fast food she visits normally, it was HER party place - infused with the magical energy of HER party time!  

Prim and proper Narra while everyone stood and sang "Happy Birthday"

                         

Narra sat on her pink stool, hands on her lap, feet crossed, eyes scanning the crowd as everyone clapped and sang "Happy Birthday to you!" - she swayed gently from side to side - she was neither shy nor self-absorbed, just simply immersed in the moment. And when the song was done, she had this super sweet smile.  It's the first time her two worlds came together: school and family lives combining in celebration. She had just completed her first year of schooling, so having classmates at her party  is a whole new experience for her.  We knew she'd need enough time to play with her friends and cousins so we decided to book 2 time slots so we won't be rushed.

The Party Program.

                  

We booked our venue from 11 am to 3 pm. We chose the earliest time slot because parking at SM Aura could get full easily on weekends. We decided to serve food twice. For round one: We served spaghetti, chicken and rice, cheeseburger, drink and apple pie for adults and kids alike. Then, when everyone was full, we started with the program and games. This was followed by the second round of food service: piping hot French fries, ice cream sundae, and drink. As the food was served we were distributing loot bags and giveaways and doggie bags - everyone had food to take home!  

Art activities for the early birds.

                            

We also prepared a simple (and very well received) art station for the kids. I took pages from a nice coloring book and provided crayons, blendy pens, and colored markers.  We also had a "nail art" station courtesy of my mom. She owns a beauty salon and she brought one of her staff to do kiddie manicures. They brought cute nail stickers which was such a hit with the young ladies!

Nail art corner.

                                        

The program consisted of the usual party classics: "bring me" and who can sustain the last syllable of the phrase "happy birthdaaaaaaaaaaaaaay" the longest (the winner clocked in 12 seconds).  One game that was new to me was the "cup tower" game. Mothers and daughters teamed up to create towers out of flimsy plastic cups. All of Narra's classmates and their mothers joined the game. I felt the pressure because Narra really wanted us to win. We assembled a really high tower, but alas!, the ceiling-type split aircon was producing a blast of cold air that made our tower shake, and fall :-(  it was intense! Haha. I felt like a kid holding my breath, full of hope that we just might win! I had fun even if we didn't emerge victorious. 

"Cup Tower" game. I felt pressured with my kids watching in earnest.

                         

A high point of the program happened quite by accident. The mascots Birdie and Hamburglar were supposed to make their entrance, but were taking too long to arrive so the host played some upbeat music and the kids started to dance! It was so much fun to watch :-)  then, I requested the party host to play "Let It Go" from Frozen, and the little girls sang forcefully in unison, complete with synchronized action. Many of us watching from the sidelines were touched by the pure emotion, full commitment, and unrestrained quality of the impromptu group performance - one guest even asked if they rehearsed this or were taught the song and choreography in school.  

Narra and her classmates singing "Let It Go" from Frozen.

                        

It felt like a "Greatest Love of All" moment from the 1980s. I do believe "Let It Go" has reached the status of  "anthem" for Narra's generation.  Even if the song wasn't particular upbeat, it brought a different kind of energy to the party - the kind that makes adults thankful they attended a children's party. It was a moment of pure joy, uplifting innocence, camaraderie and harmony. That moment made me miss so many people, friends from long ago with whom I shared a special bond: choir mates in church; friends in high school; team mates, skate mates - anyone I performed with (formally or spontaneously).  I just knew my daughter was getting the full range of emotional benefits a birthday party offers.  

The only thing I had to prepare: Cakes, Loot Bags, some Game Prizes, Giveaways.

               

I booked McDonald's because I was busy working full-time this summer and needed the stress-free convenience of a fast-food party. I ended up enjoying the experience much more than I expected. And my daughter - my lovely, lovable daughter - she acted in ways that made me want to repeat the whole experience all over again :-)  When asked by the party host for a closing message, for what she wished for her birthday, she said: "I wish everyone would be happy".  Well said, Narra. You made me happy by letting me see how much fun you had :-D

Narra blowing her candle after making a wish for everyone's happiness!

Related Post:

Cakes For My Daughter's Winx Party: Red Ribbon and Iko's Compared

http://nikki-mama.blogspot.com/2014/05/cakes-for-my-daughter-winx-party-red.html

Gonzo's Carnival-Themed Party and What Makes A Grand Party Great Fun!

The jolly jester balancing on a ball - an awe-inspiring centerpiece for this carnival party.

Achieving a perfect party isn't always about how much money was spent. It's about how much fun hosts and guests have together.  There are grand parties that are spectacular in scale, with no expense spared - that don't necessarily mean great fun for guests... I've attended quite a few of these frenzied mega parties where buffet lines are of theme-park proportions, or seats are scarce, and hosts are too busy - that all you have is a short hello and good-bye, and the guests leave feeling tired.  On the opposite end of the spectrum, there are simple parties that are intimate, and comfortable, with familiar food and nothing too fancy, which end up giving guests a very relaxed and enjoyable time nonetheless, despite the lack of a wow factor, everyone leaves feeling good, but the party itself is nothing new, nor great.  On rare occasions, there are perfect parties that strike a delicate balance between being grand in scale, but still intimate in execution - a party that amazes and excites, as it relaxes and enables quality bonding time. A party that exposes one to new things, and awakens their little inner child, and turns a party space into one giant playground where parents and children alike, friends and family, in a magical moment, are all equally induced into a precious playful state. 

Yesterday, we attended one such party. It was one resounding success! I am going to enjoy recounting in several blog posts what made Oliver and Jennie Diaz's first birthday party for their son Gonzo one big, happy, afternoon at the carnival!  For now, I am going to talk about the fantastic decorations that really set the mood!

The whimsical carousel horse centerpiece.

From the moment we walked into Pavillion B at Wack-Wack Country Club, we knew we were in for a treat.  The towering centerpieces were whimsical carnival figures - a jester balancing on a ball, a carousel horse on its pinstripe pole, they were fun to look at, without being obstructive. Some voluminous centerpieces tend to inhibit conversation as they block the line of sight from one side of the table to the opposite end, I do recall several occasions at formal parties where guests literally moved tall vases of flowers out of the way - but not these centerpieces! They were fabulously guest-friendly in form and function, their placement was perfect: in full-view without being in-your-face.  The colorful balloons as well, hanging from the ceilings, and on the tables:  they were artfully positioned, to set the festive tone, without being too much.  They were within reach, but out of the way, suspended above our heads on invisible strings.  Hovering alongside the balloons, is a curious creature, a jester milling about precariously on stilts.  He strategically positioned himself in a corner of the room where he wouldn't trip on chairs and tables, and he functioned as a visual marker to announce to the guests the presence of two awesome features not to be missed in this quiet corner of the room: a baby carousel for little children, and a candy cart from Candy Corner.  For a moment, Narra looked like Alice in Wonderland, just right after she took a sip of magic potion and shrunk into a tiny thing next to the jester-on-stilts.  She was enthralled as she looked up at the man smiling down at her from the ceiling! She was thrilled with the ride-all-you-can carousel-for-kids, and of course, the candy! 

Narra and yaya Vanna next to the jester-on-stilts.

It was Guijo's first time to ride on a carousel on his own.  The little carousel is designed for babies, so his tiny feet could reach the foothold. We saw that his grip on the handle bars was tight, so after a few confidence-building practice rounds, we finally let him go. That was a milestone right there, for me. I thought this carousel was a nice touch, a thoughtful gesture to offer a fun activity for baby guests, and I am one appreciative mama. Finding ways to entertain various age groups is no small feat, and I am amazed that not one kid fussed at all during the party! There were no tantrums and tears, no fits and fights, and no sleeping kids either, even if the party was during nap time! That's a miracle in itself!  

Guijo's ride on his baby carousel horse.

Now, the jester-on-stilts wasn't just hovering around for display - he had an all important role to play for the climactic balloon burst towards the end of the party. His was the unenviable task of popping the giant balloon hanging from the chandelier in the center of the pavilion.  Various colored smaller balloons are inside, and kids (and their indefatigable parents and yayas) are invited to catch balloons which entitles them to claim a prize.  It was an exciting moment, as the jester gingerly approached his spot in the middle, carefully avoiding stepping on little children.  He had a pick in his hand, which didn't seem sharp enough coz it took several stabs before the giant balloon finally burst.  The suspense was palpable as we all watched his attempts, stab after stab, and when at last, he succeeded with his task, all hell broke loose - it was a melee of arms and legs, I saw my baby's head popping up and down, as his yaya Jen bent down to catch a red balloon, then a green one. 

The jester on stilts moments before the balloon burst.

I loved how the decorations were integral to the afternoon's activities. They weren't merely inert backgrounds that just "stood" there, but were functional elements that invited participation and interaction from guests.   This is likewise the case for the party's piece de resistance - the most outstanding decoration of all: the grandest birthday cake ever! (I plan to write a separate blog post just on that cake and how it made me feel!).  Gonzo's cake was a tower of fun, fun, fun!  And it begged to be admired, beckoning spectators to come close to better appreciate its details. And it wasn't the usual "off limits" cake that you can't touch. At this perfect party, one can have the cake and eat it too!  There were many elements available for easy access. One could harvest mini cupcakes, choco-lollipops, cookies on sticks, and edible sugar treats in the shapes of stars, discs, tents, and clowns - it offered a "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" moment for all of us. 

Excellent hosts: Oliver and Jennie Diaz, and their cause for celebration, Gonzo!

There's a kind of magic money can't buy. What made this party grand were the preparations, but what made it great fun was something beyond the stuff professional party planners provide. Yes, they provided the amazing decor, and the rides, the games and activities, the hosts and performers, etc. etc.,  but those things on their own cannot guarantee how the guests would feel.  There was something pure about that afternoon's celebration. It didn't feel like a show-off's bonanza where the guest is envisioned to be a spectator, and only a spectator.  This was the kind of party where everything was tastefully done, in appropriate proportion and gracious execution. It may look extravagant in pictures, but it didn't feel that way - nothing was wasteful or superfluous - everything felt just right, and suitable given the hosts' specific context.  We know how this couple invested in their education and trained for years to become doctors, and how they took business risks and and worked hard to build their enterprise - and we know how they waited for their bundle of joy to come, and when at last Gonzo arrived, and had a healthy and happy first year, we celebrate with them, truly, happily, honestly.  You know this great big party is an expression of love, and joy, and thankfulness for the awesome gift that having a child is. And it reminds one not to take things for granted - it reminds one to cherish the miracle of having children.  It's the kind of party that makes one feel grateful.

Oliver's barkada from Ateneo days, with wives and kids.

And we felt that all-too-important message pervading the air. Everywhere one looked, parents and children were all smiles, bonding with each other well.  I saw my husband's barkada from childhood, now with children too, there was something about their youthful demeanor that made me imagine them as playmates at Ateneo's grade school playground.  That's what makes a great moment - one that taps into a part of the brain where happiness dwells - and time periods are conflated - from a playground in 1982 to a children's party in 2012 - a thirty year gap collapses, and I catch a glimpse of a perpetual image, of little boys and their lifetime of friendship.   

And so it was. We went to a grand party, and it was great fun. And we were all happy, for Gonzo and his parents, or should I say, even more appropriately - we were happy WITH them, because they invited us to partake of their celebration. Thank you Oliver and Jennie - your party for Gonzo was something truly special. May God shower your lovely family with even more blessings, now and always :-D 

Related Posts:

The Towering Carnival Cake and Custom Crafted Candy for Gonzo's 1st Birthday

http://nikki-mama.blogspot.com/2012/07/carnival-themed-cake-and-custom-crafted.html

On Family, Friends, and Food: And Why We Keep Feeding Our Guests Even When They're Full

Auntie Leila with Lola Fe and Tita Gina who flew in from the US.

When Filipinos who've migrated abroad return home for a visit, they get subjected to a series of food assaults, usually involving local delights. Everyone they meet, family and friends, will keep offering food, on and on. And if they so no to one thing, they'll be offered another, until they accept something at last. And they can't refuse by saying they aren't hungry, or that they've just eaten. Because being full is not an option. That's just the way it is. We say "welcome back" with the food we serve, and we say "good bye and God speed" with the pabaon to match.   This weekend, we had family and friends from the US, and I haven't recovered from the experience just yet.

Vivacious Lola Fe, our honoree for the night (in the middle, in black).

"I dare you to eat more lechon" said my grand aunt, Lola Fe to me. This was last Friday, at my Auntie Leila's house, where an intimate despedida dinner was  held for our US-based relatives who were in town for a quick visit.  One would think my Lola Fe, who's seen thousands of clogged arteries in her long career as an accomplished surgeon in the US, would dare me to eat less, not more! But she's a true De Lima. And in this family, hearty eating is rewarded with praise. According to legend, my great grandmother, Lola Piling, the family's strong-willed matriarch, frowned upon her lean grand children who ate small portions. She apparently preferred those members of her brood with a robust appetite.  Eating a lot is seen not as a weakness, or lack of discipline and self-restraint (as is the case with other families). On the contrary, eating con mucho gusto is  seen as a sign of strength! It is indicative of a forceful spirit, a lust for life, of indefatigability and drive, and bullish energy.  "You are looking slim" Lola Fe told our hostess.  "It's unintended. I still eat a lot. It must be the stress" said Auntie Leila, who's impossibly busy these days as she serves as Secretary of the Dept. of Justice.  I find it funny that in this family, when someone says you have slimmed down, it is a mere statement of fact, and not necessarily meant as a compliment.

When in the presence of this side of the family, I feel as though I need to follow a silent command:  "Eat like you mean it!" The command to eat emanates from the table itself, where a serious spread of killer dishes dares the diner to put up a valiant effort.  There were crabs and shrimps, pinangat with fish, veggies, the ever present pansit - then the pork offerings: lechon, bbq, dinuguan, bopis and inihaw na liempo.  For desert, there were local fruits, and buco pandan, leche flan and polvoron.  It's a deliberate selection of Pinoy recipes that are hard to come by abroad.  Auntie Leila sent her guests bags of polvoron in assorted flavors to take with them on the plane. When at last, it was time to go home, I felt several kilos heavier.  And that wasn't the end of it. 

Our party of 12, my sister's work barkada from the mid-1990's, with the
addition of kids. Robert, Cyd and Noel (right most) are visiting from the US.

The next day, my mom and sister hosted a brunch for our beloved friends, Cyd and Robert, who are visiting from the US.  Cyd was my sister's best friend from the mid-1990's to early-2000's and we used to see her everyday. She'd often sleep over at our house, and join us for meals. She and Robert got married and settled in the US and  I last saw them a decade ago, when my sis and I visited them in LA, and we took a road trip to San Diego, to cross the border to Mexico. We sure had a lot of good times.  Brunch stretched on to lunch, and even to merienda cena, from 10:30 am to past 5 pm - it was as though ten years worth of missed meals together was compressed in one sitting. Over tocino, tapa, corned beef, and kesong puti with pan de sal, the process of re-befriending began. Lunch crept in stealthily, in the guise of Russian potato salad, lasagna, and that humungous cake from Conti's. 

Puto, kutsinta, and Magnolia's "Best of the Philippines" collection.

Soon, it was time to bring out ice cream brought by another friend, Kay, the Magnolia "Best of the Philippines" series with local fave flavors: Ube Keso and Mangoes and Cream. It came in patriotic (tourist-friendly) packaging, which I found absolutely fascinating!  The Filipiniana ice cream  went well with my purchases from Katipunan: palabok from Lola Idang's, and puto calasiao and kutsinta, bought off the road near Temple Drive.  My mom also prepared Filipino sweets for the kids: polvoron, macapuno, and pastillas de leche rolled in paper, which they just loved to unwrap.  

The 3-year-olds: Narra and her guest Patricia, and a big bowl of sweets.

And as "brunch" was declared over at last, and our good-byes were being said, Cyd presented my mom with a thank you gift for hosting the party in their honor. She gave my mom a Nifty picnic carrier, made of fabric with insulated inner lining, and aluminum frame with rubber-padded handle. The carrier was full of "stateside" goodies - crackers and cookies, chocolates and candy, and a fun pair of tumblers.  An appropriate gift, really. Fun foodstuff for my mom who hosted a fun afternoon stuffing her guests with food.  

My mom, and the "thank you" gift from Cyd.

"Let's have a picture, Narra. The next time I see you, you'll be all grown up na" said Cyd to my daughter. Wow. I remember meeting many of my parents' old friends and relatives on trips abroad, and they'd say "the last time I saw you was when you were this small" and they'd gesture with their hand, to give an indication of my height when they last visited Manila.  I never fully understood the sense of loss behind such innocent statements.  To me, those people were just strangers. Not close family, or best friends of my parents. To me, they were just random individuals who took us out because we happened to be in town. I realize now, that these "not so random" people spent precious time and money to tour and feed us, not just out of a sense of obligation to be hospitable to guests, but out of love and longing for company much missed through years of separation. My dad's former co-pilot from earlier days in the military saw us every day of our stay in Vancouver when we first visited Canada - oh how he took us to so many places. While my aunties and uncles drove us from Ontario to Montreal and back - treating us to theater shows, museums and theme parks, along the way.  It was the same in LA, with my dad's siblings showing us around from San Francisco to Las Vegas, through the Arizona dessert - all the while treating us to restaurants, and bringing us to theme parks - Disneyland and Universal Studios. I never bothered to reflect on what could have motivated them to go out of their way, to make the most out of our visits. Back then, I had no idea about what kind of estrangement was involved in transplanting one's entire life to another country.  It was only when I lived abroad for graduate studies that I had an inkling. There were days when I couldn't sleep, and there's a pain in my chest, a longing so strong I felt it physically - and it's a longing not for someone in particular, or something specific - but for everything, all of it - the entire Philippines, its food, its places, its people, its music and noise, and scents and stench, its splendor and squalor - everything. And visits from home were precious!

Cyd and Noelle, and me, Narra, and my sister Marion.

When family and friends migrate elsewhere, our brains make the necessary adjustments, to accommodate the new configuration - time apart and distance from one another is factored into the equation, and the amount of food we feed our guests is commensurate to the degree of closeness we wish to recover. Migration has its perks - but also its permanent pains. And food is a panacea for all ills of the heart. A means to cure homesickness. So we heap on the servings of comfort food to exorcise any lingering longing for home. A balikbayan visiting Manila is showered with a deluge of offers for food, to make up for all those moments when they've craved something from home so badly, and nothing from hundreds of rows of products on sale at their neighborhood superstore could give them that taste from home they're looking for.  They will complain about this seemingly senseless practice, of being asked "have you eaten", all the time, by everyone. But it's an affectionate pesky gesture. Pesky, for sure. But affectionately so. And I am sure, on a cold and lonely day, in minus twenty weather, it would be these kinds of memories of Pinoy peskiness, that will bring them warmth from across the sea. 

On Getting A Benji Reyes Chair For Oliver's Birthday

Our "Rajah" with Narra seat, Guijo backrest, Balayong armrest, Molave crown.

It isn't just any chair. It is our family's beginnings beautifully rendered in wood by the artist Benji Reyes, who kindly obliged my request for customized wood for his classic Rajah design.  Its seat is made of Narra, its back rest, of Guijo.  

These kinds of wood, of course, are the species of Philippine hardwood after which our children are named.  Literally and figuratively: Narra's supporting our weight, and Guijo's got our back. When I see Oliver sitting on this chair, I feel my throat tightening, as though I want to cry. I want him to rest his weary body on it, to lean on it completely, as he'd lean on his family during trying times, especially on Narra and Guijo. After all, don't parents lean on their children - for daily doses of hope and inspiration necessary for our sanity, and sometimes, even survival?  I've seen Oliver plunge to the depths of depression when he lost loved ones, and I felt helpless as I watched from the side.  I wanted to find a way to give him a lifeline, something to hold on to, something solid, and as effective - though less fleeting - than our children's life-giving laughter. This chair, no, it is not just a chair.  It is our lifeline. His and mine. Something to touch, and grab, when the world is reeling, and we need to sit for moment until the spinning stops and everything comes back into focus.  For those kinds of moments, one needs a really good chair, that supports not just one's weight, but one's spirit.

10-month old Guijo, admiring the arm rest made of Balayong.

This chair is like a trophy for me, an impossible purchase I shouldn't have been able to afford given the fact that I was out of a job when I bought it.  But the universe conspires to give us our heart's desire, and out of nowhere, I won a Prize for my thesis, the Wang Gung Wu Prize for Best Thesis, and with the cash award, I wanted an inspired purchase, one that would last my lifetime - and even beyond.  I wanted to get Oliver a birthday gift he would really like, and what art collector wouldn't be happy with a Benji Reyes piece?  But I wanted something more personal than a piece purchased from a gallery - I hoped that our family's story would be crafted into the making of our specific chair - and celestial forces were again kind to me, allowing me to catch the busy artist at a time when he could accommodate my requests for specific kinds of wood to be used. Of course, Narra and Guijo were the first types of wood I requested. Followed by Balayong, which is the "signature" wood used extensively in our current home in Pasay.  We used the reddish wood everywhere, for our stairs and shelves, ledges and benches, ladders and drawers, cupboards and frames.  Benji Reyes made the armrests of the chair with Balayong, and I was overjoyed when I saw how well the hues of the wood used on our new chair blended with the existing wood elements in our house.  It looked like it belonged to the house, like it's always been here all along. It simply fit in, beautifully.

The hues of the wood used for our Rajah chair blends well with our existing wood trims.

The chair has a crown made of Molave, another species of wood I requested for. At our wedding, Oliver and I chose Molave seedlings as souvenirs for our guests. We planted our Molave tree on the lawn of our first home, a symbol of our decision to root ourselves on Philippine soil after years spent abroad.  This brings to mind lines from the famous patriotic poem "Like the Molave", and the qualities I wish for our marriage, enumerated thus:

"Like the Molave,  firm, resilient, staunch,

rising on the hillside, unafraid,

Strong in its own fiber, yes, like the Molave!"

This chair, it is strong and robust - but not rigid, oh no, not at all! Sitting on it, one feels a contradiction!  It feels like sitting on a rock-solid surface on one hand - but at the same time like sitting on air too! It's seat and armrests offer stability, while the back - oh my! the back rest of this chair - it is where the woodworker as artist and engineer is best able to show off his genius!  Benji Reyes borrowed principles of the bow, so the backrest flexes according to the person's weight.  The back rest appears to be floating, because it is unattached to the armrests. The result, is a pleasantly empowering sensation: one gets to lean back - but not in a granny-in-a-rocking-chair-way; rather, one leans back in a "Rajah-viewing-his-kingdom-taking-stock-of-his-victories" kind-of-way.  For sure, I can relax on this chair, without wanting to sleep.  It's no recliner nor lounge chair. It's a Rajah. Proud, strong, upright, stately, active, and empowered. But it gives a little, it flexes, it bends backwards, it offers a gentle and subtle accommodation. And this dynamic I get from this chair - between firmness and flexibility - is what I hope for in our marriage, and parenting.  I wish our family life can have a solid construction, based on sound principles we can live by firmly - but at the same time, I want it to be a somewhat soft home, a nurturing one, where kindness and tenderness governs our dealings with each other, and a certain degree of flexibility allows us to make room for each other's quirks.

Oliver, receiving the Certificate of Authenticity.
He asks jokingly:  "Is there an actual chair included?"

It was a few months before Oliver's birthday that I ordered the chair, and it arrived a week early! Oh, it was a stressful week. I am not good at keeping secrets, and I was so tempted to show it to him already, after all, what is a birthday? It's an arbitrary day, like any other day! But I controlled myself, and bit my lip, resisting my urge to spill the news. I hid the chair in our guest room, with the chair''s backrest behind curtains, and the seat, arms, and legs draped with carefully positioned "mounds" of linen and clothing waiting to be ironed. I feared Oliver would look for something in the guest room and discover his gift!  When we went out to dinner a day before his birthday, I casually handed him a brown envelope and said "Happy Birthday, here's my gift" (haha, he must have thought I was giving him an insurance policy for his birthday!). And out came the Certificate of Authenticity,  with a picture of the chair, its description, and the artist's signature. "May chair bang kasama ito?" (does this come with an actual chair?) he joked. 

Narra, inspecting the chair and feeling the back rest flex.

When we got home, Oliver finally unwrapped the chair, and Narra was so excited to see it at last! She'd been curious about it, making a daily pilgrimage to the guest room to pop her usual quota of bubble wrap per visit. A week of waiting heightened her anticipation.  When the chair was unveiled at last, our entire family appreciated the piece with all our senses! We looked, and touched, tapped and smelled, even tasted the wood! Guijo, being the teething baby that he is, explores the world and tries to make sense of it by putting things in his mouth, wood, included :-D  As for "hearing" wood, and "smelling" it, my mom does that. She and my dad are both passionate about Philippine hard wood, and they designed their own tables and chairs, and doors and benches for their own home. My mom was tapping and knocking on the different wood surfaces, listening to its timbre/timber! (pun intended).  The knocking and tapping was followed by some lifting, to get a sense of the piece's density, and we couldn't decide if it was heavy or light (Benji Reyes was playing tricks on our senses). Then came the sniffing.  When I put my nostrils close to the back splat, and took a whiff - oh my, it smelled fresh off the woodworker's workshop, and brought back memories of my parents' many wood projects while they were building our home. 

Oliver, admiring the Kamagong dowels.

It felt really good to get Oliver that chair. It wasn't the usual lame gift that got a tepid response. Nope!!  It was one of those really good gifts that offer something not just to the receiver, but to the giver as well. In getting him this chair, I got something back, that I needed very badly. It rekindled a desire to acquire! To want things, and to work hard to save for the things I want.  For quite some time now, I was okay, with being "just okay".  Of staying at home with my kids and celebrating little daily triumphs. But now, I want a lot more. I want to partake of quality things - of great craftsmanship, and inspired design! I want works of art - whether in food or furniture, or clothes; I want  to speak better, think better, dress better, work harder, earn more, to live fuller!  I also want to be like Benji Reyes, who gets to create something, a person who matters and has the power to touch lives with his works. I am inspired as much by the artist, as the work he produced.  So now, I want to write, and research, and fulfill the "promise" of being a scholar, which is what that Wang Gung Wu Prize was all about. With that cash Prize I made this purchase, and with this purchase I got my drive back. Funny how things work. Whatever stubborn stupor or restraining rut I was in seems to be coming to an end.  I am sitting on the Rajah chair and feeling power course through my skin.  I am glad I did not get the "Tumba-tumba" rocking chair, or even the riveting and engineering-marvel-of-a-piece called "Juan Tamad" (an impossible purchase which was way out of my budget anyway, and which the in-demand artist did not have time to produce this year).  Those chairs are for resting after I've toiled hard for years and really deserved a reward.  For now, though, at this stage in my life, when I am on the cusp of recovery, it is the Rajah that needs to be here, in this house, right now.  It is this stately chair, tall and proud, active and upright, firm but flexible... it is powerful chair that I need to see every day for my daily serving of empowerment. 

Narra and Guijo, enjoying the Rajah chair immediately upon waking up,
(and still in their sleepwear), the morning after their father's birthday.

And I will not lose sight of the fact that this chair is made of Narra ang Guijo, Molave and Balayong. These species of wood will remind me that whatever quest for self-fulfillment I embark on now, will always be in my capacity as mother and wife, and I must always find the right balance between my desire to make something out of my career, and to be there for my family. 

For Oliver's birthday, I got him a chair. It isn't just any chair, but a Benji Reyes. And that made all the difference.

Oliver's first time to sit on his Rajah chair.

My Nephew Nacho's Baptismal Celebration at His Ninong Max's

From l-r: Tetet, Ros, Auggie and Diane, Pierre and Joy, Elaine and Sophia,
Ian and Nacho, me with Guijo, Oliver with Narra

It was some 17 years ago when my cousin Ian first spied my college kabarkada Elaine at my 18th birthday party - 10 years later, they were married and had baby Sophia - and now, 7 years since welcoming their firstborn, they have their second child, Joselito Ignacio Verano Serranilla.  Last Saturday was little Nacho's baptism, and at the reception that followed, I saw the same faces from my debut - my college barkada from DLSU days invited by Elaine - and my relatives from my mother's side of the family invited by Ian.  It's raining babies, it seems to me! On our side of the family 4 of us cousins were pregnant at the same time, and in our barkada, 3 of us... I can already see it - my son Guijo and his batch mates growing up together and attending each other's birthday parties for years to come.  And Max's Restaurant seems  to be a step ahead of us, anticipating future birthdays with their "Ninong Ko si Max" program.

The emcee/host from Max, awarding Nacho's "inaanak ni Max" certificate.

At Nacho's party, the emcee/host announced the perks of the program: when a child's baptismal reception is held at Max's, the child becomes an inaanak and would receive from "Ninong Max" birthday and Christmas gifts yearly until they turn 7! At our table, we were curious about what gift the kids would receive.  It's a fun concept, having a restaurant as a ninong, it's so delightfully Pinoy!  Eating at Max's, after all, feels like eating at a close relative's house where you know your way around, and the institution has been around for so long, and is so deeply rooted in our psyche, that holding a party there for our young, feels like a passing of the torch of sorts to the next generation... It's like saying to our kids: "here anak, have a taste of fried chicken done the way Ninong Max does it".  It's not battered like Colonel Sander's Kentucky style chicken, nor crispy in the Jollibee chicken-joy way; it's not to be dunked in toyo and calamansi like chicken inasal; it's not juicy-soft like litson manok or firewood roasted like Kenny Roger's; it's not marinated yellow like Pollo Loco, or rubbed with Chinese spices like Savory's. And it's not barbecued sweet like Aristocrat's, or sweet-spicy like Bonchon's crunchy-saucy wings. "What it is, anak, is Ninong Max's own unique take, best accompanied by Jufran banana ketchup" - and isn't this little bit of advice, this little piece of cultural trivia, something every chicken-eating Pinoy-kid should know? 

The promotional poster for the "Ninong Ko Si Max" program.

The novelty of the familiar is what Max's has to offer with this "Ninong ko si Max" program.  It is novel, in that the child is elevated from the lowly status of faceless-nameless customer to the exalted category of inaanak, godchild, almost family!  It reminds me of other moments in my 1980s youth, when I became a member of programs targeted at kids, and it made something special out of the mundane: the Banco Filipino Happy Saver's Club (with a cool passbook with a Sanrio "My Little Twin Star" cover) made trips to the bank exciting! While the Susy and Geno Club (attained after mailing in the lid from a can of Sustagen) made me drink the powdered formula even if I didn't really care for the taste all that much. For a kid with a single-digit age, any form of membership mattered a great deal! So this "Ninong Ko Si Max" program triggered happy memories for me. I am happy for my nephew Nacho that he has this stake on Max's.

Our college barkada (with some hubbies and kids).

When the emcee announced that Nacho, as inaanak, would get a 15% discount for his party if he celebrated his 1st and 7th birthdays at Max's, all of us at our table - the nostalgic easy-to-please bunch that we are - all looked at each other and said "see you there!"   If Ian and Elaine do choose to celebrate again at Max's, and invite us to come, I'd look forward to another afternoon spent catching up with old friends. I'd look forward to being able to relax and to feeling right at home. Because Max's is that kind of  place where being offered familiar favorites makes a guest feel like one of the family, even if one isn't officially an inaanak of Ninong Max.

Happy Christening Nacho!

On Goldilocks Birthday Cakes: Reflections of an Eighties Child

Oliver,  helping Narra reach her candle (grandparents looking from behind)

In an age when custom-crafted fondant cakes are the rage, a classic Goldilocks birthday cake may seem rather old-fashioned.  A number of features make Goldilocks cake designs dated: the two-dimensional cardboard backdrops; the conventional staging of props, figurines, and sugar flowers; the free-wheeling combination of elements; a radioactive color palette; and the unapologetic abundance of all things artificial (color, flavor, non-edible toppers). What would possess me to want this cake for my daughter? There's a simple answer to this question: Nostalgia. I am a child of the eighties after all, and my earliest memories of happy birthdays involved Goldilocks.

Narra's 2 cakes from Goldilock's "Dora the Explorer" Line

Times have changed, and standards for the quality of design and the ingredients used in making cakes have been raised to laudable heights.  We live in a health-conscious world of low-sugar, low-fat, and all-natural food offerings, and in such a setting, Goldilocks sugar flowers and ultra-thick boiled icing, may be read as a form of resistance.  Like a renegade soldier who refuses to surrender long after the war has been lost, Goldilocks can be seen as something of a rebel hero, one that enjoys independence from the dictates of fashion.  I found myself inexplicably drawn to the unhealthy attraction that was my daughter's birthday cake. In all its artificial glory, I marveled at how it retained its authenticity as the Goldilock's classic cake of my youth.

Narra, looking composed and behaving well as she waited for everyone to sing.

I remember my first Goldilocks birthday cake. The year was 1980. I was three years old then - the same age Narra is now. It was a "Hansel and Gretel" cake, shared with my cousin Ian, who was three days older than I was.  The cake was the highlight of our joint party.  It had a gingerbread house (though not really made with gingerbread), with icing for windows and doors, and a lot of candies as adornment. There were two figurines, a boy and a girl, and a lot of Goldilock's signature sugar flowers on toothpicks, inserted on the corners of the rectangular cake. There were even lollipops stuck in, and chocolate "coins" wrapped in gold foil scattered about. I was in heaven!  It has been three decades since, and Ian and I are now both parents. At Narra's party, I just had to ask him to pose for a pic behind a Goldilock's cake again, y'know, for old times' sake.

My cousin Ian and I, posing with Narra's cake. We had a joint party when we
were 3 years old 3 decades ago, and shared a Hansel & Gretel cake back then.

"For old times' sake".  An expression to denote doing something in the present in order to remember a pleasant or happy time in the past.  I relived many of my happy birthdays by walking Narra through the process of getting her first Goldilock's cake. We searched their on-line catalogue and she fell in love with a "Dora the Explorer" cake, specifically the model named "Explorer's Wanted".  It's a 9-inch round cake, made with boiled icing, with a card board tree at the back, and a lone Dora figurine at the center, surrounded by flowers, and lovely insects (ladybug, bee, butterfly) topping 13 cupcakes.  My mother, who offered to be in charge of buying Narra's cake, found it too small a cake to feed everyone. She wanted to get a bigger cake, with more servings, but Narra won't be swayed. She was in love with her chosen cake and she described in detail to her grandma: the insects, the cupcakes, the flowers, the tree - the shape of the cake - "the green one" she explained. There was no mistaking it. She was crystal clear and firm, that among all the cakes shown to her on-line - from Goldilock's, Red Ribbon, and a host of other fantastic galleries of independent home bakers who make amazingly beautiful fondant cakes - this particular Dora cake from Goldilock's was HER cake for HER 3rd birthday.  

Narra's choice: The Dora the Explorer "Explorers Wanted" Cake and Cupcakes

But my mother had other ideas. She decided to buy 2 cakes. The bigger one she was eyeing, and the smaller one Narra requested.  My mother has her own ghosts of post-war scarcity to exorcise with her  abundant gift-giving. For my dad and my mom, who are both from typically large Filipino families of their generation, cakes were rare luxuries. My mother made sure I did not feel any deprivation growing up, and she made it a point to get me birthday cakes. Now, she does the same for her grand children. When Narra saw both boxes of cake - she was just overjoyed!  This image triggered happy memories for me too...the image of a birthday cake, packaged in a flimsy box with plastic cover walls sitting on a table before the party started. As a kid, that always made me excited.  The packaging is meant to be obvious: a means to display the contents to anyone who wants to look.  And boy, do people look.  It's more thrilling to peek at a cake before its big reveal.  Narra looked, and looked, and looked. 

Narra, excited to see her boxes of Goldilock's Cake hours before her party.

Goldilocks hasn't lost its magic.  Through the decades, it's kept its ability to capture the imagination of children with its design formula.  Those card board back grounds? Inedible figurines? Multi-colored fancy sugar flowers? And inch-thick icing in synthetic colors? All those things that make a cake old fashioned... all are part of the magic.  Take the inexpensive figurines used as cake toppers, for instance.   After her party, Narra had the Dora figurines plucked from the cake, and she took them with her to her bath, washing them with soap and water, and wiping them down. Many independent bakers make it a point to advertise their cake toppers as "completely edible", suggesting that having an all edible ensemble is far more desirable than a cake with fake elements. In some ways, I see why that is the case.  I know that the cake arts has an ephemeral quality, and we can't have our cake and eat it too.  But getting a keepsake from a very happy day is a good thing too. I know somewhere in our attic sits a little princess made of plaster - a topper from my 18th birthday party from half a lifetime ago.  I was unable to throw it then, and couldn't do so now. In some ways, I regret that our wedding cake was more updated, and done in all-edible fondant - so we don't have a topper in our chest of family treasures.

Narra, listening to everyone sing "Happy Birthday".

When it was at last, time for Narra to blow out the candles on her cake(s), I looked around and saw in the kids' faces, the familiar look I've seen around the birthday cake table, especially when a Goldilocks cake was involved: it's that scoping look, to see what delightful little treat can be picked off.  And Narra's face, full of great expectation, as she waited for the right time to bend over her cake to blow out her candles, was just priceless.  She stood there, well behaved, looking at everyone singing to her, waiting for her cue (with her enthusiastic grandpa "conducting" in the background).  How serious she was, in trying to blow out that stubborn little flame.  It was just a precious moment!

We sang Happy Birthday not once, but twice! Lucky Narra!

I'd say, there are things you wish would change for the better, and things you wish would stay the same.  When it comes to Goldilocks cakes, I wish their cakes tasted better, with improved texture for the actual chiffon cake inside: I wish their icing was less sweet too. But truth be told, for my kid, their cakes were appealing just the way they are. The icing invited a quick swipe with the finger - something a fondant cake doesn't encourage as much. The sugar flowers were just waiting to be plucked.  And the cupcakes around the cake, were popular take home treats. People went through the trouble of lugging them around, and saving them for later.  

A cake waited for Narra at her grandma's salon where staff celebrated with her.

When Narra went to the beauty salon owned by my mom, there was cake waiting for her there too. Surrounded by the parlor staff, who are like a second family to us - who've seen Narra grow from since she was still in my womb - we make it a point to have mini celebrations of birthdays with them.  There was a classic Goldilock's mocha cake for Narra, simply decorated with the colorful flowers they are known for; and a dedication written in red gel; and a candle, of course. Without the fancy adornments and multi-colored icing, the cake still made Narra swoon.  I found it so appealing as well. The buttery icing, and sugar flowers, and the fluffy chiffon cake underneath. It's a classic for good reason. 

Narra, enthralled by the classic Goldilocks Mocha Dedication Cake.

  

Goldilocks struck a chord with my generation, and would most probably continue to do so with more generations to come.  I know Goldilocks has developed a new Luxe line, with more sophisticated cakes, with subtler designs and flavors, finer crafting, more artistic rendering of cake decor, and premium ingredients. I think they launched that line just to prove that they can do other kinds of cake.  But I am glad they haven't abandoned their traditional line that makes use of their time-honored  decorating approaches.  Be it with the colorful birthday cakes or the simpler classics, Goldilocks continues to capture the hearts of Filipino children today. I saw it in my child's face. And as she enjoyed her first ever Goldilocks cake, she tapped into our collective memory, as Pinoys... children of all ages - always children when in the presence of a good old fashioned cake, like mother used to buy.