Lazy mama taking too long to crop and upload Una’s pics.

And below is one of them…

Prometheus — Goethe

Cover your heaven, Zeus,
With cloudy vapors
And like a boy
beheading thistles
Practice on oaks and mountain peaks–
Still you must leave
My earth intact
And my small hovel, which you did not build,
And this my hearth
Whose glowing heat
You envy me.

I know of nothing more wretched
Under the sun than you gods!
Meagerly you nourish
Your majesty
On dues of sacrifice
And breath of prayer
And would suffer want
But for children and beggars,
Poor hopeful fools.

Once too, a child,
Not knowing where to turn,
I raised bewildered eyes
Up to the sun, as if above there were
An ear to hear my complaint,
A heart like mine
To take pity on the oppressed.

Who helped me
Against the Titans’ arrogance?
Who rescued me from death,
From slavery?
Did not my holy and glowing heart,
Unaided, accomplish all?
And did it not, young and good,
Cheated, glow thankfulness
For its safety to him, to the sleeper above?

I pay homage to you? For what?
Have you ever relieved
The burdened man’s anguish?
Have you ever assuaged
The frightened man’s tears?
Was it not omnipotent Time
That forged me into manhood,
And eternal Fate,
My masters and yours?

Or did you think perhaps
That I should hate this life,
Flee into deserts
Because not all
The blossoms of dream grew ripe?

Here I sit, forming men
In my image,
A race to resemble me:
To suffer, to weep,
To enjoy, to be glad–
And never to heed you,
Like me!

In the words of Irvine Welsh (author of Trainspotting), “You think, Well, I’ll have a pull, I’ll have a line of coke, I’ll have a couple of beers. Then you think, I don’t really want to, I’m going to feel crap.”

I feel that way towards love. I have come to the point where I see the imminent hangover. I can’t let myself indulge, reach the high notes and die dry. It’s the dying part that scares me.

It has its ebb and flow, I know… but still, don’t you want to hold on to that one bliss-filled moment? Perhaps, the one inside his car while the rain drowned the city and its madness, and you sat there in silence, his hands clasping your left thigh in this achingly possessive way and you – your senses were all tuned to his smell and the rather erratic staccato of his heartbeat? And you remember that the radio was on and that he was saying something to your hair or maybe he only smelled your hair and mumbled something. And then there was the texture of his newly-shaven face against yours, his other arm wrapped around your waist.

I try to recall that night and I have to be honest with myself that I didn’t really feel anything because my brain, that box of fear was telling me to mind the floodgate. I only allow myself to feel the emotions (elation and happiness and a sense of loss mingled with relief that is borne from denial) when I think about it, a thousand days after… and when that night was forever lost.

And today, in the sun’s absence I am acutely reminded of that night… and the relief is gone, filled in by longing. It is impossible to freeze time but it could have been replicated. I know.

This ‘commercialism shit’ rings true for me.

Need I explain myself?

We took Una and Birdy to the mall to buy shoes. Birdy’s feet are fat – the length is normal but the thickness is not, making it nearly impossible to find the right fit for him. We opted to get sandals with Velcro. That way, it will accommodate the lump that is Birdy’s cute feet. I find them cute, those poor little footsies even if everyone says they look like waddled paddles.

Una on the other hand, refused the sandals that Jude picked for her. She doesn’t like them so I told her to pick the one she likes best… which I think is a mature thing for me to do (have we not read it from all the parenting books to let our kids exercise their right to choose and express their individuality?) and at the same time, a not-so-good-thing (screw those books) because we ended up empty handed after looking at every shelf in SM. She preferred the ones that are very girly – all ribbons and curls… but they don’t have her size. To prevent her from an imminent meltdown, I asked her to pick anything she likes – toy or bag or anything except for dress (she’s got loads of clothes from kind-hearted donors; I feel it is selfish to get her more of those). She picked a hair clamp – a green forlorn looking comb. I pointed her to the pink butterflies and sunny yellow daisies and whatnots but my stubborn baby refused. She announced that the comb is her favorite color and it’s pink.

Jude at this point was starting to act agitated. He now sees his existence in full spectrum: “I have spent a good part of my life kowtowing to my wife and now, my daughter? And the two femmes are impossible shoppers.”

So after everyone’s needs were satisfied, we repaired to a coffee shop to rest our sorry legs and wait for the pictures to print. I sent three rolls of films to the developers and it took them forever to print.

I was telling Jude how proud I was that we prevented Una from throwing a fit on our way home. He was more concerned of Una’s stubborn-headedness. I coaxed him that it is just a phase, it is normal; she’s in the terrible three’s, blah-blah-blah. When we got off the cab, I was holding Una’s hand on my right and holding a rolled-up rug on the other. She pulled away from me and I thought she wanted to hold to her father. I ducked to check if we left anything on the car seat and then looked up to see Una running, about to cross the street while vehicles of all kind are careening. All I was able to do was scream this silent scream. I think nothing came out of my mouth… and I see Una being thrown into the air. Luckily, for us, the tricycle pulled to a screech and Una was left intact, standing in the middle of the very busy street… while the traffic halted.

The whole day, I was exhibiting signs of being a BAD parent. To say this line: ‘I don’t think I would be able to forgive myself if something happened to her,’ would stress how lame I can be so I won’t tho’ I feel it is so apt at the moment. That night, I was mulling on all the instances when I was too close to losing them – and I thank all the higher powers out there for giving me another chance. I’ll try hard to be more attentive.