If I Had To Raise My Child All Over Again

Christmas is drawing near. As each day passes, so is my longing for everything I have left in Manila. Symptoms of homesickness is so apparent that I had to write to get it over and done.

I am missing my son terribly. Most especially at this time of year.

The repetitive speech "Mom, can you buy this one?"

His tantrums, "I won't eat until you buy me this one!"

His pleas, "Mom, I promise to be good if you buy me this one."

And most especially his bargaining skills, "Mommy, this is very cheap. Buy this one for me!"

For 8 years, Christmas shopping is always one of our highlights as a  mother and son and I could not help but to stare into a distance, wishing I was home.

Nostalgia was put on hold when I suddenly realized the things I did and didn't do as a mother. And now, if I could've been a cooler mom rather than being authoritative, I could've spared Aaron from all the childhood heartaches I have caused him.

This poem perfectly construed of who I was as a mom back home.

If I had my child to raise all over again,
I'd build self-esteem first, and the house later.
I'd finger-paint more, and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I'd take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.
I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.
I'd stop playing serious, and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.

by Diane Loomans

I'm sure if someone reads this would ask me if I have regretted the things I did. I'd say, ABSOLUTELY YES. But it's not too late to change. Pretty soon, he will be with me and I will get to spend my next Christmas with him. I'd be a nifty parent, guaranteed.

But for now, I need to do what I need to do.