16 years ago today, we had prayed for a child. Perpetual novenas, somersaults, back flips, weekend overdose of iron rich seafoods, countless doctors and doktor doktoran slash eskina expert advises, and 2 years of fertility dances after, Insoy was born. Our prayers to the Sto Nino was answered.
We named him Lorenzo after the filipino saint & martyr who stood for his faith until death. His second name is Mikel, after archangel Michael, the guardian of the Church and after Mikel Aboitiz, the Chief Information and Strategy officer of the Aboitiz group of companies. We had the name long before we met him on the 21st of August.
Insoy had always been chubby as a child. I never would imagine him skinny because he was always round and huggable growing up. Being a ‘paranoid’ and ‘over excited’ first time parent, I started him schooling by the time he was 1 year and 6 months old because I read that children absorbed more at this age and learning would be easier. He always had summer classes and activity to do. He had countless caregivers growing up. At the slightest complain or hints of his well being having problems, I would jump up and get help. He saw a dietician when he had problems with his weight, an expert in diabetis soon after that, tested for dexlixia when he had problems with penmanship, pushed him to a milo training camp to fire competitiveness, sought out tutors when he had problems with his math grades, saw an optometrist when we thought he had eye problems and endless love letters with teachers at sometimes made up comments from ‘yayas’. Most of the time imagined nothingness, thanks to his paranoid mother me and equally supportive grandmother, the only way to fix the worries was to act on it by relying on the so called experts.
Unfortunately, it spawned wrong signals, a very low self esteem that was fiddled with crying episodes. And so I learned my lesson the hard way.
I (we) spent the next few years, doctoring his ego. =) Consulted him on his preferences, made him boss of the house when we are not around, gave him responsibilities around the kitchen and celebrated milestones on his weight loss aspirations.
Being a first born myself, I understand how tough it is for parents to transition and do the best they could to sort things out. It is tough to be first born as well. So much is expected, specially for someone who is the first born Abadingo “surname carrying” grandson and the first on our side of the family too.
Insoy turned 14 years old last Friday, we had a family dinner at a Thai restaurant and watched Cirque de Soleil’s Dralion. We got him an electric guitar starter kit. He will be in year 11 in January. He has grown facial hairs. He is bent on taking up Food Technology / Culinary Arts for his credits next year. I still want him to pursue Web Designing but it is the Math subjects he always detested. I am a pursuasive mother but he is a stubborn son. Hmmm, where did he get this from? *wink*
I am slowly understanding his kind of music while he tries to understand mine. We compromise on Jason Mraz, Black Eyed Peas, Tiki Tani, Beyonce and Lady Gaga. No more professional tutors for him, I do the tutoring at night. We have tiffs but he would cry it off and I am glad he can vent it out this way (remember, me mother is Sibya Luha). I am sure the new guitar will be of help too. *hahaha* The hub thinks all the frustrations will earn me a spot at a nearby retirement home. *lawgaw*
I will always be grateful for the 21st of August. The day that our Lorenzo Mikel came into our life. He is not just our First Born but also our First Love. *sniff*
