The Design Features of Our Condo

View of the Living/Dining Areas and Kitchen, from the Balcony Door.

Last year, Oliver and I acquired a one-bedroom condo unit and transformed it from a bare space, into an efficient and inviting refuge. We designed it with a particular type of tenant in mind: the hardworking transient expat who doesn't want to come home to a box after tiring business trips and long hours of work. We were clear with our goals in designing the 58 sqm space: provide storage solutions; maximize space; and use robust materials to give the place a solid feel.  In collaboration with Oliver's sister Riza, who runs her own design-and-build business called Niche Interiors, we spent the last months of 2011, and first months of 2012 completing the project and scheduling viewings for prospective tenants.  We had several offers to consider, and finally decided on a corporate account which will commence this May.  As we prepare the condo unit for the official turn-over, I find myself reflecting on this condo's design.

A stair-style display shelf, and floor-to-ceiling shoe cabinet.

Between the two of us, Oliver and I have lived in a dozen condos locally and abroad in the past two decades.  I lived in 6:  a studio in Makati, and later a Penthouse near DLSU, 2 flats in Spain, and 2 in Singapore.  Oliver lived in a hi-tech condo in Japan; 2 in Hong Kong; and 1 in Ortigas.  From our collective experience, we have a wish-list of things we want in a living space.  First on the list: it must not look and feel like a box.  Living in a condo can feel very confining indeed.  I remember working in Makati, in a really nice building, and falling in line at the elevators at the end of the day, on my way home to another building, where I had to wait in line at the elevators again, and while walking from building to building I found myself thinking: I live in a box, and work in a box!  So, to fight the natural tendency of the condo unit to feel like a box, we cut a hole through one of the walls, and created a highlight made of glass, with a ledge of hardwood Narra as trim.  The glass is meant to allow a peek at the space beyond, providing a sense of depth, while the hardwood trim breaks the imposing mass of the  partition wall.  We dressed the wall with textured wall paper in a deep earth tone, and placed a light grey L-shaped sofa against it, for contrast.   By the entrance, we installed a built-in shoe cabinet, a tall one, from floor-to-ceiling. Next to it, is a sturdy wooden display cabinet, stair-like not only in appearance but also in usage. It is load-bearing, and can be used to access the top shelf of the tall shoe cabinet beside it.  

Living and Dining Areas, with Balcony.

We decided to use "heavy" materials like granite, hardwood, and leather, to anchor the place. We stayed away from light and flimsy materials.  It seems counter-intuitive to use hard and heavy things on a small space, but we think we pulled it off, using big pieces of wood without overpowering the space. The entertainment center makes use of a lot of hardwood accents: a solid bench which houses the mini-component and home entertainment system; a display ledge above the tv; and shelves built into the wall and lit with LED...all these done in beautiful Narra (yes, we love Narra wood so much, that we named our daughter after it).  Beside the TV area, is a buffet ledge, made of black granite, with a storage cabinet underneath.  The sliding panels of the cabinet are finished in dark brown leather upholstery - and the dining chairs as well, are done in leather.  Above the buffet ledge, is a mirror wall to create the illusion of depth and space. We also used Narra on door jambs, allowing us to frame the kitchen nicely with our signature wood. We used appliances with a stainless steel finish in the kitchen, echoed by a ceramic backsplash with a similar stainless-like sheen. 

The efficient little kitchen.

The bedroom, we kept clutter free and spacious. This room is a storage junkie's dream. We built a wall with concealed cabinets, 16 doors in all, padded panels upholstered with a durable stain-resistant fiber-blend. For a streamlined look, even the side-tables are built into the wall.  Narra is again used in abundance, for consistency: on the side tables, as a frame for the headboard; and as a "bay window" bench.  The Narra bench has an ultra-spacious drawer underneath - big enough for 2 suitcases; or for a rollaway mattress.  

The concealed cabinets can store anything, from extra pillows to designer bags - all within reach, and easy to keep out of sight for a clutter-free environment.  We wanted to provide storage but do so in a subtle and artful way.  Our palette for the room is still earthy, centered around a calming shade of olive. 

The concealed storage cabinets.

For more storage, we've added shelves and cubby holes with Narra pull-out boxes on one end of the bay-window-bench. It serves as a display shelf for nice-to-see things; and also a hiding place for those things better left out of view.  On the other end of the bay-window-bench is a firm leather pillow.  The bench may be made of hard wood, but it is pretty comfy to lie on, really. I can imagine many hours spent on this spot, just staring at city lights below - or enjoying fireworks (in smoke free comfort) as they burst all over the metro for New Year's eve.

The view from the bedroom bay-window-bench

Designing this condo was a very enjoyable project indeed. In many ways, it seemed to me like Oliver was designing it for himself, or that version of himself BEFORE he became a father.  This condo is like a tribute to his life as an expat abroad.  I am so glad we found a suitable lessor for it.  We hope for our tenant, that the space is as comfortable and efficient as we envisioned it.

I am now beginning to wonder what our next design project would be...

My Earth Day, Our Green Home, and Narra's Treehouse

Narra's treehouse, smothered by greens.

In celebration of Earth Day, I took photos of my parents' garden and thanked them for having such a green home. Whenever I come over for a visit, I feel like breathing in, deep nourishing life-giving breaths.  My parents' garden is overwhelmed by plants... perhaps a little too much to suit most people, but just right for earth-loving people like myself. One is FORCED to touch, or be touched by plants in this home. Upon entering the gates, hanging vines descend onto the foot path, so one has to swipe away at the roots of the air plants. Not everyone likes the feel of cool tendrils on their skin, but we are unapologetic about the "discomfort" we put guests through. In a world of manufactured things, it's good to be tickled by something natural and alive.

The vine-covered handrails on the steps leading to the house's main door.

Even the handrail on the steps leading up to the main door is smothered with leaves. We tried to trim them bare, many times over. But nature will not be held back for too long, it keeps finding a way, and we decided to relinquish control.  My parents garden feels as though plants have taken over, and overstepped their limits (to our delight!) Potted plants outgrew their small containers, and once transfered to the ground, flourished in gigantic proportions. Shrubs and trees dominate the skyline, so much so that anyone seated from the living room looking out, can only see a green expanse.  

From the front door: a view of the garden above the garage.

I am having a hard time deciding if it is by design or by accident, that the garden came to be like this.  It is by design that space was saved for plants; by design that vines and shrubs, and trees were planted; but it is by nature's hand that the vines planted in the front, found their way to the back of the house - enveloping the building in its green embrace; that shrubs on the ground, found their way to the roof; providing privacy, shade, and security (I feel sorry for burglars who will have to deal with the thorny bush). Perhaps it is also with my parents' coaxing, that vines that come to the windows seeking invitation to enter the house, are gently re-directed to an outdoor foothold.  I swear, while typing away on the computer, which sits next to a second-floor window, vines knocked on the glass, as if asking me to let them in, to take shelter from the wind. Another time, I was breast-feeding my son in privacy in what was my old room in the house, and I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was peeking through the window. True enough, a vine magically made its way through a tiny opening on the sliding glass window; and peeked through the gap between the drawn curtains, as though waving at me (if I imagined the leaf as a hand) or even staring at me! (if I imagined it to be a head). I was spooked for a moment, then I stood up, said hello by giving the leaf a gentle pat, and set the vine free - bringing it back into the wide open.  Grow, dearie! 

Narra's child-height handrail, for climbing up her treehouse.

Out on the garden, my parents gave Narra a precious gift. A treehouse! The type I dreamt about as a little kid. Made of yakal, a Philippine hard wood species that fares well outdoors, the tree house is sturdy and strong. We call it Narra's treehouse, but really, it is for all of us...a place where we can all be children again.  Here, my senior citizen of a father is Peter Pan, light on his feet and flipping in the air (at least that's how I see him in my mind's eye); My mother is her own kind of Tinkerbell, with her special pixie dust, which makes everything work, as though by magic.  It's a tall treehouse, and takes some effort to climb. But once up there, aaaaah. It feels like being in a private other world, far from Metro Manila. We could be anywhere, really. If C.S. Lewis' wardrobe led to Narnia; who knows where this tree house leads?! What could be beyond the leaves? We could be anywhere!

Nature's own way of welcoming guests to the tree house.

The most important gift of all, even more than the tree house itself, is the gift of story-telling and conversation.  I am happy that Narra never gets bored, up in the treehouse. No Ipad, no toys and games, no coloring book and crayons, no candies, or stickers, or any other thing designed to entertain children these days.  Just a tree, with everything it has to offer: Fruits to pick! Limbs to swing on! Birds to watch! And a lot of shade, conducive for telling tales and exchanging thoughts.  These summer months, the tree is heavy with fruit, all made within reach, even for my three year old.  So she grabbed her stash of green mangoes, and jumped up and down in excitement as she saw it being cut into bite-sized chips - which she savored eating, and passing around to anyone who'd listen to her tale of conquering the tree to secure the prized fruit.  I rejoice at the thought that junk food loses to fresh fruit in vying for my daughter's attention, at least when it is fruit-bearing season.  

A clump of plump mangoes well within reach.

It was a good way to spend Earth Day. By partaking of the feast mother nature provides in abundance. By enjoying an afternoon without relying on electricity, or packaged food, or manufactured goods. It was a very hot day, but instead of holing up indoors in air-conditioned comfort, we sat in the breeze, and stayed in the shade. My sis tells me: it's a good thing you raise your kids to survive well in a tropical country. Haha. She was referring to how sweaty my kids were, and how I didn't run to the nearest electric fan, or aircon vent, to get them cool. I just let them be. Be the sweaty, active kids in summer who climb trees.  At sundown, I ask them to come inside, and leave the garden in peace. I bathe them, and change them, and we have a good conversation over dinner. My parents are eloquent speakers, and I become a kid again, listening in awe, when my father tells a story, even those I've heard before. But alas, we are just visiting, and it is time to leave. Walking out of the house, I stop in my tracks, I see light flickering - and no - it's not the lights leftover from Christmas.  It's fireflies. Magical, hypnotic, inspiring fireflies that fill me with hope. It is said that they survive only in clean environments, where the air is pure. They are here. Dead smack in the middle of the city, a stone's throw away from carbon-belching SLEX.  My parents have done it!  They've reclaimed a piece of the city, and given it back to Mother Earth, and she repays them with a visit from her sparkling little envoys - her ambassadors of hope: the fireflies.  They are found all over the garden, even in Narra's treehouse where the leaves are thick.  What a precious, awesome gift from my parents. My dad Walter, my mom Sonia, and the one parent I share with everyone else, my Pacha Mama, our Mother Earth.

A Sneak Peek At Our New Kitchen

Smiley people: Oliver and Narra happily hanging out near the storage area.

I wanted to wait until the official opening or "house" blessing before blogging about the family's new kitchen, but I felt the strong urge to write about what's really getting us all excited these days. So here's a sneak peak at the new commissary built by Oliver's family.  It's still a work in progress, with a lot more purchases to be done, and construction to be completed. But the kitchen's been operational for a week now, and the staff are doing rounds of cooking to gain familiarity with the equipment and recipes.

  

One side of the cooking area.

I never thought I'd get excited about being in a kitchen - I'm neither a foodie nor a cook, but I find myself spending many hours in our commissary, never bored, and completely absorbed, figuring out how things work. I'm sure years of watching cooking shows on t.v. has something to do with my excitement.  From Wok with Yan in the 80s to all the various cooking shows on the Lifestyle Network in the 2000s, to today's Top Chef, Iron Chef, and Chef Rosebud's Quickfire (she's a good old friend from my high school days), I clocked in countless hours of contented spectatorship. Now, I get to observe all the action at close range, and for prolonged periods.  My being a researcher has something to do with it too, for I enjoy observing - and data gathering - these are the kinds of activities I engaged in while doing field work. I need to be familiar with what's going on, so I can be of use - ok, haha, definitely NOT with cooking, but with many other things. 

The cooking area from another angle.

I love bringing my children to the kitchen, so they can gain precious exposure in their formative years. I suspect this will be second nature to them, the art and science of food preparation - it runs in their blood. Oliver's mother is an accomplished cook, just like her mother before her, and what amazing kitchen stories there are, of their legendary cooking feats.  Our kitchen now is shiny and new, with recent technology - but the spirit that guides the enterprise is old, and deeply rooted in the family psyche. This is the kind of family that smokes their own meats; dries their own tapa; cooks their own chicharon fresh; cures their own hams; and bakes their own mamon.  I will teach my kids music, and literature, art and history, politics and performing arts - these things, are the endowments they will get from my side of the family. But cooking? Running a kitchen? Secret heritage recipes?... this is their heritage from their father's side. 

Oliver and Narra, with her Ninang Rina (at the back), and Tito Tonton.

In many ways, building the kitchen is a return of sorts, to family roots. The structure is built on family property, right across their ancestral home. I often catch snippets of conversation, with anecdotes of grandparents, and aunties and uncles and their quirks. And their childhood memories - of  the lovely rose garden of old, the pool that has long been covered up, and the dramatic driveway that led to it. I can only imagine what used to be there.  What I see now, is a modern structure, especially striking at night.  It's not even completed, but already, the building is a thing of beauty, with its crisp, clean lines.  We get to see the kitchen a lot at night, because the kitchen runs 24/7, and Oliver gets to visit it after he comes back from work.  Narra's always excited to come along, which I like! I'd rather have her observing real life situations, than being left at home watching t.v.  Here in the kitchen, she's learning that the world does not revolve around her.

A work in progress: the kitchen's exterior, partially completed.

Here, the world revolves around food. A lot of it.  We haven't even really started with our operations, and already, I find the volume of activity dizzying.  As I saw the supplies come in, and the pantry and freezers being filled up, I felt an adrenaline rush. It was exciting to see the once empty stock room come to life.  Even seeing the stock cards in the pantry was enjoyable for me.  My sis-in-law Winnie, however, has that headache on her plate, of figuring out inventory.

First batch of stock cards hanging in the pantry.

The storage racks aren't silent either. They've been making music, with the banging of pots and pans, and woks and  cauldrons as they come into use after weeks of waiting in the wings.  At last! There's fire on the stoves, and the kitchen is very hot.  Summer's upon us and the weather's unbearable at times, but for some reason, I find myself willing to stay in this very hot kitchen. I guess our personal thresholds for comfort are proportionate to the degree of our emotional investment in an activity. An olympic athlete can subject his/her body to all sorts of torturous pain in pursuit of a gold medal. Just as my aircon-loving sister-in-law Rina, suffers countless hours of heat in a high-fire kitchen in pursuit of quality food that meets her standards. She checks every lumpia, and every meatball, making sure they are the right shape and size, before they are even cooked, after which they are subjected to taste tests.  

Storage rack in the cooking area.

Aaaah. The perks (and pitfalls) of hanging out in the kitchen. I have had my fair share of temptation.  A kitchen in the early days of operation sure has a lot of taste tests.  It's a blessing in disguise that the tasks assigned to me are mostly outside the kitchen. Imagine if I stayed there longer and sampled more food! That would be a disastrous turn of events, from a dieter's point of view.

We bought a batch of these, to take home.

Soon, it will be show time! And not just a dress rehearsal. Curtain's up in a week's time. And I am counting the days. I'm so excited. And so is everyone else. The family/board meeting last night ended past midnight, and everyone's fired up to their share of the work as opening night approaches. We got a sneak peek this week, and we liked what we saw.

At Maynilad's Office on World Water Day

How appropriate. We spent World Water Day at Maynilad,
settling our water bill issues.

Yesterday, I wept in exasperation. Today, I feel mature. Between then and now, I did what I do best: I researched and reflected. In figuring out how to proceed with a huge bill slapped on me by Maynilad, I decided to conduct due dilligence. I read up on Maynilad's history and current situation, on the water crisis and the relevant legislation involved; I looked up the different NGOs and interest groups fighting for consumers' rights. I interviewed people, and found out that tampering is a common practice in our area, and "professional tamperers" peddle their services to everyone. I analyzed the situation and had reason to believe that Maynilad may have a point when they claim that water was stolen from them by the previous occupants of our house. What do I do now? Knowing what I know?  I prayed and discerned the dictates of my conscience.

I decided what kind of person I wanted to be, and what example I want to give my children. Today, I brought Narra with me on my errands, and made an adventure out of the task of settling our water dsipute.  Having her around as audience to my deeds helped me clarify my objectives. My goal was to do what was right, to be a model citizen, and to behave with dignity and grace in dealing with others.  We cannot control the situations we find ourselves in, but we can control our response to our situation. So I chose to approach my day with a positive attitude, and let my daughter put a smile on my face as often as possible. Isn't that supposed to be one of the benefits of being a parent? That we have our kids to bring sunshine into our lives when grey clouds hover over us?

Self-taken: Narra and I goofing off at the Maynilad office.
 Waiting while spending quality time with my daughter.

Today, I decided NOT to be a victim. I also decided NOT to be that person who says: THIS IS NOT MY FAULT, therefore THIS IS NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY.  I realize that Maynilad has such a big problem in their hands. A lot of the water services they provide is non-revenue, that is, pilfered or wasted through tampered meters, illegal lines, and underground leaks. They decided to do something about it by changing to new meters, and collecting old meters, testing each of them for tampering. This process is tedious, and takes a long time. It just so happens that by the time our old meter was tested, and findings of tampering from 2006-2009 were released in 2010, we had moved into the house.  We became liable for the illegal acts of the previous occupants.  While I initially found this to be unfair, I can understand why Maynilad can't simply strike out our under-collected bills just because I said "I didn't do it! I didn't live there when it happened".  Water was stolen, someone has to pay. A chorus of voices demand that I do not pay! That "it's a matter of principle", that I "should not let them get away with it".  Drowning those voices out, I have to act the way I see fit.

Republic Act 8041, or the Water Crisis Bill of 1995, was created to address a real crisis (as the title suggests). Section 8 on Anti-Pilfering describes the various circumstances in which theft and pilferage can be established.  When a meter has been tampered with, for instance - the actual meter itself is already admissible as evidence for pilferage, and having a tampered meter in your possession has its corresponding penalties.  There is logic behind empowering water service providers like Maynilad with more teeth to run after subscribers with tampered meters. If the subscriber is guilty of tampering - the penalty is only too well deserved. Now, if the subscriber found with a tampered meter is like me, innocent (who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time), the penalty may not be as deserved, but MUST be applied equally nonetheless. It's a simple and just formula: let the ones in possession of a water line be wholly responsible for it.  

I believe in the logic behind this kind of thinking.  I believe, when it comes to the environment for instance, that those who find themselves dealing with the problems of pollution, garbage disposal, and deforestation, can't say "we didn't do this to nature, this isn't our problem" - nope - we can't say the damage was caused by the previous generation, and we can't pass the mess for the next generation to clean-up. Whoever  is here right now, is responsible. Fair enough, I think. 

Narra, playing while our final bill was being computed.

I just feel sad for this country, and how it has bred too many thieves, that water is stolen at such a grand scale. I am mad at the previous occupants of our house for stealing!  Tess, the friendly Maynilad officer who handled my complaint told me that many people pay huge penalties without a fuss.  Why? I asked. "Because they're guilty, the knew they did it so they don't put up a fight", she said. "Not like you", she continued. "You looked really shocked".  Wow. That surprised me. I didn't realize I was transacting at the desk for criminal offenses, that our account actually had pending cases, serious offenses punishable by law, including imprisonment of 6 months to 2 years.

Thank heavens the people at Maynilad did not treat me like a criminal. They only treated me with courtesy, patience, respect and understanding - especially when I was in a state of shock and started spitting out arguments in a hissy fit (though still with my dignity intact).  I requested for a reprieve, and guess what? They gave it. From 56,000 - I was able to contest a number of items, which were stricken off the bill - some 13,000 worth. So we were down to 43,000. I was negotiating a 50% discount - I told Maynilad we should share the responsibility. They failed to inform us in a timely manner, which resulted in injustice - had they been prompt in their investigations, the REAL perpetrators would have had to pay... but because of their 2-year delay, I ended up being charged. So I asked that we split the bill. They had a counter-offer: 30% off the bill, and 12 months installment for the balance, interest free.  I took it. Graciously. 

Then they told me, "okay, here's your payment slip, please go to the nearest bank to pay". Huh? Why can't I pay at the Maynilad office? Wierd isn't it? And downright inconvenient too.  I felt sad again, for this country, that the practices of theft, and doctoring of documents as a result of "lagay" or bribery is so prevalent that a service center isn't allowed to accept cash.  It's very, very sad that the Maynilad Area Service Centers are NOT payment centers. I asked if I could pay by credit card, which would be one big convenience. Nope. They don't have a credit card swipe terminal. Sad, again. 

Narra, pretending to fill up a cash deposit slip at the bank, as we paid our bill.

So Narra and I had to pay at a bank, and had to return to show proof of our payment of the 30% down payment.  It hurt to withdraw money, and to part with it for a crime we did not commit.  But I know Maynilad is on the verge of financial ruin because of rampant stealing. So I do my little part in addressing a big, big problem.  It somewhat feels unjust. But you know what? It's World Water Day, a day when we should think about the value and importance of water. Believe you me, I thought about water A LOT this last 24  hours. I feared losing it. I also understood that water is a basic right for EVERYONE, and not just those who could pay, so I can't even feel very angry at the poor people who tap lines illegally to provide for their family's needs. In my impossibly perfect world in a parallel universe, water is free for all and used responsibly by good citizens.  But alas, I live in this world, where water is a finite resource, where distribution is privatized, and the use of water is measured in cubic meters with corresponding costs, and where freeloaders enjoy the benefits without giving due payments to those who invested in the costs. 

So I'm a little poorer today. But what I lost in money, I gained in peace of mind.  I can sleep knowing I solved a situation for my family, and really resolved it this time, and not just delayed it or passed it on to someone else down the line to make it their headache. Nope. Yesterday, I was drowning in worry over this matter, today it's water under the bridge.

The personal IS political, and my personal water woes made me miss talking about Intro to PolSci topics I used to discuss in class, and thinking about the law, rights, interests, justice, and good citizenship.  I will be thinking a lot more about water and the challenges of urban water management in the months to come, I am sure. 

Happy World Water Day Everyone!

Related Post: On Disputing Maynilad's Water Bills

http://nikki-mama.blogspot.com/2012/03/today-i-just-want-to-weep-on-disputing.html

Link to R.A. 8041: Water Crisis Bill of 1995

http://www.chanrobles.com/republicactno8041.htm

World Water Day Website:

http://www.unwater.org/worldwaterday/

Today, I Just Want to Weep: On Disputing Maynilad's Water Bills

I am going to write down this day as one of the worst I have ever known in my life. Horrible. Just horrible. I wept in exasperation.  Thanks to the wonderful privatization of water services in this country, a profiteering and inefficient company like Maynilad has the power to appear at my gate with a notice of disconnection, and threats of court litigation, for an exorbitant amount of water I did not use.

I went to their area office and got this print out of UNDER-COLLECTED BILLS - that is, money they say we owe them because they were not charged to us before. Are they kidding? Here's the kicker: the dates covered:  2006 to 2009!!! I WAS NOT even married - nor even engaged to Oliver for most of that period. I was living in Singapore, he was living in Hong Kong. And we lived in Batangas in 2009.  We only moved to this house in 2010 -  and even that brings tears to my eyes (but that's another story).  So this friendly-enough guy at Maynilad tells me: If you can prove you did not live in this house then, it may help. Show us a deed-of-sale, but it cannot be from family. GREAT! This house IS family property. Darn. If you're family, you have to assume responsibility, says our friendly Maynilad official. Haha.  Just great. 

So this unpleasant business lands on my lap. Grrrrr. Now, I have to deal with this crap like any other frustrated housewife with stressful domestic issues.  If only we can really THROW money away to make irritations go away.  But even if I had millions to spend to pay for the entire neighborhood's water, still, I wouldn't want to be surprised like this - slapped with a 56,000 peso bill one day.

So what's the issue: Illegal tapping and tampering of the meter. Mind you, the meter is OUTSIDE the house so we had no protection. We were NEVER billed for the UNDER-COLLECTED usage (enjoyed most probably by the crooks in the neighborhood, at our expense).  They are asking us to pay for 1,800 cubic meters of pilfered water as per their findings based on a meter test (conducted by their officials, with no witness from our side). Maynilad feels empowered by RA 8041 which has a section on anti-tampering. I read up on my rights and how I can argue this out, and they said I have a right to due process, so we can take this up in court. Meanwhile, they disconnect our service. Grrrr. They have all the cards. 

I wrote a well-researched letter on their infractions (technicalities like the fact that the Meter Testing Sheet was not duly signed in the presence of a witness and regulatory officer; or that RA 8041 stipulates that I be informed within a reasonable period, which of course was not followed).  They barely read my letter. I've never been so eloquent in arguing, and so powerless in actual fact. They have the means to lock my water meter and take away my daily water supply.

I paid EVERY bill I received on time. I embraced CONSERVATION and used water conscientiously. I close the faucet when I brush my teeth, or shampoo my hair. I heat only enough for my one cup of tea. I teach my daughter to save water. And now this.  You know why I weep? Because if I was single, I would fight this out, tooth and nail, and even enjoy the challenge. But I am not single. I have a stressed and tired husband who works himself to death and needs to come home to his refuge, where he can take a break. He deserves his nice shower, God knows he's earned it. And I have 2 young children, and staff, and 3 huge dogs with heaps of smelly waste matter. I feel trapped.

Thousands of pesos down the drain. I can't get over it. I can't accept it. I am mad and still not sure how to proceed. So, I just want to weep. Maybe later, I'll pray. Tomorrow, I have to decide on a course of action, and act fast first thing in the morning, before the collectors come to take my water away. If I decide to pay tomorrow, I would have sold myself out, and bought into the system, and surrendered whatever ounce of resistance I had left.  On the one hand, it is just money. But then again, it is not just that. It feels unfair, and unjust, that the lawful get to pay for the crimes of the unlawful.  It feels unfair that water, a basic human need, can be wielded like this. Hooray for privatization! Hep, hep, Hooray! But I am wondering if protesting and resisting, and going on non-violent water strike (like a hunger strike of sorts, only this time it involves sacrificing water usage) is a luxury I can no longer afford, now that I have my husband and children to think about? I feel sick to my stomach.

Excuse me, while I weep some more.

Related Post on How This Dispute Turns Out:
http://nikki-mama.blogspot.com/2012/03/at-maynilads-office-on-world-water-day.html

We're Putting Up A Business and It's Like Having Another Baby!

Oliver, showing Narra the construction site.

There's a lot of excitement  among the Carsi Cruz siblings nowadays as they anticipate the coming to life of their brainchild. My husband Oliver, together with 5 others: 3 sisters, 1 sis-in-law, and 1 cousin (who is like a brother) are starting a family business. Without getting into details about the what's, where's, and why's - I want to write about how it feels like we're pregnant all over again - all of us who are eagerly anticipating the start of our new enterprise! 

It began with the triumphant, celebratory moment of discovery. Like when a couple first finds out they are pregnant.  When my sis-in-law Rina first announced the business opportunity, it felt much like the moment I found those two lines on my pregnancy test. When Rina confirmed that we got the contract for this business, it felt so much like my first trip to the OB and seeing my baby's heartbeat going strong after I was told the week prior that I had a sub-chorionic hemorrhage and the viability of the pregnancy remained uncertain (the clinical term used was "threatened abortion" and I was put on strict bed rest).  When we heard that the contract was awarded to us, it was just a "Thank you Lord!" moment. We're pregnant indeed, for sure, for real - we're having a baby...woohoo!!!  The bun's in the oven and we have to start baking.

Father and daughter inspecting the latest development.

                                        

Then came the part when we started to feel the heat, and the discomforts set in. When I was pregnant, I felt heightened sensitivity, mood swings, and nausea as my body adjusted to the situation.  A woman's body goes on overdrive, re-appropriating resources like blood, nutrients, and hormones, to provide the growing fetus the nourishment it requires.  So too are the family's resources allocated for the business - money, time, energy, passion, prayers, hopes, dreams - it becomes the object of affection - even obsession, as every conversation is a brainstorming session. I understand this process, when singular focus is bestowed on a project.  I know I've hyper focused on my children and family, and at times, they are my "bukang bibig", or the only topic I ever talk about.  Now, our family gatherings have this exciting new business as the usual topic of conversation.

They're the fun kinds of discussions really, even if people don't seem to be smiling a lot and going "yippeee!", and even if a lot of debating takes place. It's the good kind of conflict at play, the constructive, creative kind. Thinking of a name for the company, for instance, is a fun kind of problem to deal with.  Naming a company is much like naming a child. It is of utmost importance and must not be taken lightly.  The power to name is an awesome responsibility.  It is the deciding factor between cool and corny; winner and loser; pride and embarrassment.  It's a chance for everyone to give their inner marketer a chance to speak.

Debating about design elements is another delicious battle worth savoring.  What will things look like? What equipment should we buy? It's a productive distraction, anticipating things we'll need and imagining the flow of activities. It reminds me of preparing for the arrival of a baby, and buying all sorts of baby stuff; coming up with a birth plan;  fixing the home and moving things around to create baby's special space. Oh my, organizing the kid's room was a fun project to be busy with. Just as buying stuff to fill up our new building is also enjoyable.  Especially for the Carsi Cruz siblings who are indefatigable, expert shoppers. 

Construction going on round the clock.

Then there are the labor pains, the contractions! Nobody likes being pushed. And that's how it feels sometimes as a due date draws near.  Construction now goes well into the night. Hiring for staff has started, training will follow, then operations will have to begin at some point. Paperwork needs to be accomplished, stuff need to be paid.  Right now we're doing practice contractions, Braxton Hicks contractions they are called, or false labor. They are short bursts of pain that become more frequent. They are not pleasant, but they prepare us well for the tougher phase ahead.  Soon, things will get really busy, when real labor begins. I will have to write about that in coming weeks when we get to that point.  If they go the natural way, I imagine that phase will be bloody painful, and will probably involve some screaming,  that's only to be expected with the birthing process...unless a relaxing epidural can be injected into the situation, in which case it can all be painless.

For now, it feels like we are on our third trimester and on the verge of giving birth, with all the pains and joys involved in anticipating something so close to becoming real.  We're really close, but not quite there yet!  I am hoping we can have an uncomplicated birthday, fast-smooth-easy...just like the super fast and painless birthing days I've enjoyed with both my children.  We have fears, sure. But we are overpowered by our hopes. I can feel the collective steely determination to raise this business like flesh and blood, like offspring, for whom we shall willingly give everything we've got, for as long as we can, to nurture this baby to its full potential.  

This reminds me of my own parents and how my complicated premature birth and 2 months' stay in an incubator wiped out their savings...and how they started their business soon after I was released from the hospital.  I read my father's journal, which contained the daily income - the boundary from the taxis he and my mom operated - and I saw the expenses, for my medicines - and my high chair - etc.  I read that accounting journal like a novel, page by page. It is a touching story of hard work, sacrifice, struggle, and perseverance. It is also a story of growth, as the business clearly flourished, and the couple of cars soon became a fleet of taxis. They worked hard until they met their financial goals. Then they let the business go, stopped working at breakneck speed, put the money away to grow on its own with the glorious gifts of compound interest, and they enjoyed quality time with us as we grew up.  It was that business that gave us financial freedom and a comfortable life decades later. It was the funds earned from that business that now supports my parents' comfortable retirement.  I am brought to tears each time I leaf through that journal, nearly as old as I am, a priceless family artifact kept behind a glass encased bookshelf.  I am so proud of my parents, of how smart they were with their choices. I am amazed at the risks they took, the gambles they waged, and the rewards they reaped from the games they played. They make an excellent team.

I can only dream that Oliver and I will have that too. And this business offers us the opportunity to work as a team. So I am excited. Like the rest of the family.  I can't wait to welcome this child when THE day comes. Keep tuned for our latest baby's birthday!!!

Narra's New Radio Flyer Bike & Why This One's a Keeper

Narra's new Radio Flyer Steer and Stroll Trike.

It was on sale, it's what we wanted for Narra, should we buy it? There was just one problem. Narra already had a generic pink bike that she used and liked. So why get her this Radio Flyer trike that she didn't need? Oliver was calling me to consult. I could tell he really wanted to get her this new bike. So I gave him a supportive reply: "Go get it babe, I'll sell her current bike on-line".  I just heard the words "Radio Flyer" and I was sold, I didn't need any more info. I wanted that bike too, even without seeing it, and here's why.

There are brands that evoke certain memories, that make you feel nostalgic and fuzzy inside, they tug at your heartstrings and make a purchase done in the present, an act of paying homage to the past and preparing for the future.  When I see Radio Flyer bikes, I see old photos in my head. One picture is of my sister Marion from 1980, riding her red steel trike with a step at the back - the step was for me, her little sister. She would pedal, and I would stand behind her, and round and round we went, in the cramped little "hi-way" from our living room to our kitchen back in our old house in New Manila (a house that is no more). The other photograph goes farther back in time - it is a photo of my dad, in black and white, taken in 1950, with his own little brother Elvin. He was dressed in a striped shirt, tucked in khaki shorts, he had black leather shoes with white socks - such a formal look - and he was sitting on a trike, made of steel.  Let me tell you what I see in my head - from my dad's face - to my sister's face - to Narra's .... I see one look, their shared blood evident in the common manner in which their faces break into smiles.  

Narra's first time to take her new bike for a spin. Mall of Asia, by the bay.

Narra's new bike is the Girl's Deluxe Steer and Stroll model. It is more streamlined and simpler than her older bike (which had lights and sounds, an attached bear head with beeping horn, and front and rear baskets, a safety bar, and padded seat - so much stuff!) I loved the simplicity of this new bike - it looks sleeker, and more like a classic bike than her more elaborate older one. Sometimes less really is more.  I push her with the sturdy steel push bar. It feels solid.  The wheels look robust, and they ride well on tiled pavements.  Then there's that tiny little bell, the old-fashioned round ones that go "ding!"...sigh. Hearing it brings back memories.

I wanted to get Narra a Radio Flyer when I was away in Singapore to finish my dissertation two years ago in 2010. Near National University of Singapore, there was a bike shop that carried the Radio Flyer line, and I badly wanted to buy  a bike which was a tad bit too heavy and costly to take on the plane with me. Oh how I regretted not buying it the moment I got home.  So when Oliver found this bike on sale, I jumped at a chance to erase an item on my Big List of Little Regrets.

I just sold Narra's older bike. I posted an ad on-line and had a buyer (or buyers!) in a snap. It was picked up today and I was happy to sell it. Just like that. Now, this Radio Flyer - haha. I have no plans of selling it even when Narra outgrows it. I am imagining a nice spot in my dad's huge attic where this bike will bide its time before I get it refurbished for my grandchildren to come. After watching marathon episodes of "American Pickers" and the joys of finding classic old toys in rustic barns and untouched attics, I have my own hopes of keeping my own treasure trove. This one's a keeper.

Toilet Training Success (and Frustration)

Inspiring potty training moment.

I am happy to report that Narra now knows what's going on. She tells us when she needs to go, and we take her to her potty.  Haha, I say it so simply. But let me paint the two scenarios involved - let me put that sentence to life. "She tells us when she needs to go, and we take her to the potty" Part 1 (the inspiring version). "Mama, weewee ako" she says. I help her out of her pants, she does her business, she smiles proudly "look mama" and points to her achievement. An appreciative audience applauds her. Neat, quick, even elegant. Happy potty training moment! Woohoo!

Now let's do that sentence again. "She tells us when she needs to go, and we take her to the potty" Part 2 (the horrifying version). "Mama, poopoo ako" she says. I rush to take her to the potty, and we make it there on time, I am halfway done pulling her pants down when she shouts "not sa potty, sa toilet, I want sa toilet", she gestures frantically to the bathroom a few steps away, I lift her and run to the toilet - it is soooo close, just a few steps!... but we don't make it to the finish line and lose the battle mid-way. Sigh. Her pants are mid-way down her legs. We were midway between her room and the bathroom. Yaya Ruby is mid-way through her day-off - she's a good helper for sure - that is, when she's around.  Narra's poop was mid-way between solid and liquid - eeeeew! It was the kind of mess to test one's mettle. I was mid-way between regret and pride;  frustration and elation.   Regret and frustration: why am I wallowing in waste? ...in my daughter's waste matter; and my wasted opportunity - I have a PhD for crying out loud - why am I Dr. Nikki Poop Cleaner PhD now? Get me out of this house now! Wah! I only want the cute parts of motherhood - the greeting card - picture perfect - fuzzy feeling moments! I want none of the crap! (literally). Hahahaha. 

But of course, there's that other part, the Pride and Elation part that understands that I've just taught my daughter something complex and she understood her body and what it needs to do. She demanded I move her from her little potty to the grown-up toilet - and that makes me proud! She wants to take the next step, to go to the next stage, to graduate from her training camp to go join the big leagues. I can get past the yucky stuff to celebrate the fact that I WAS HERE TO WITNESS HER MILESTONES.  Potty training was a long and protracted process, a journey that sometimes felt directionless and endless. But not now, not anymore. We're getting there. Like a city that appears on the horizon after hours of driving on the freeway, our goal is within reach. We're at the city limits, we've just about arrived! We're not just getting there, we're almost there - I could smell it!!!!! Something's clicked in her brain. The necessary neural connections have been established for a lifetime's worth of "comfort". And when it comes to being a mother - no job is beneath me. I embrace all the tasks involved and in the process, I am mother made real. Not this tutti fruity cutesy mom who shrinks at the sight of the less desirable baby stuff (read: poop, puke, boogers and blood), but the sturdy mom with the intestinal fortitude to match. 

So, I am happy to report that Narra now knows what's going on. She tells us when she needs to go, and we take her to the potty. Whew!

Related Post:

Diaper Free Before 3: Should Potty Training Be Started Early?

http://nikki-mama.blogspot.com/2011/09/diaper-free-before-3-should-potty.html