Letter To A Future Daughter-In-Law

Got this from Huffington post (where else?). Here's the link. Letter's author is Kristin Shaw, a blogger:

I'm one of the lucky ones; I adore my husband's mother. She is loving, and kind, and thoughtful. She doesn't pry. She doesn't judge. She doesn't tell me what to do and how to do it. She spoils me, in fact. Before you write me off and think I'm just bragging, dear daughter-in-law-to-be (or son-in-law, should that be the case) let me tell you this: as the mother of a boy, I am observing and learning much about the way I want to be as a mother-in-law. Your mother-in-law.

In conversations with many a girlfriend, I've listened to the laments of daughters-in-law who struggle with mothers-in-law who have hurt their feelings with passive-aggressive (or flat-out rude) words, or purposely give their grandchildren something to eat that they weren't supposed to, or constantly tell them how to run their household. I've seen the eye rolls, the long sighs and the "she's coming to visit, God help me" refrains.

My mother and my father both called each others' mothers "Mom." It sounded natural from both sides, even though both loved their own mothers dearly. I don't have any expectations; you can call me Kristin. You can call me Nonna, if you have children. Just please don't call me anything that you would call your worst enemy.

Speaking of children, I promise that I won't ask you when you're going to start having them. If you have one, I won't ask you when you'll have the second one or tell you that you CAN'T POSSIBLY HAVE JUST ONE CHILD GOOD GOD WOMAN HOW CAN YOU DO THAT TO HIM? Because someone actually said that to me and it really pissed me off.

I may spoil your kids a little bit, if you'll let me, but I won't feed them chocolate if you tell me not to. I promise to take their allergies very seriously, and I won't let them watch TV all day. I'll happily babysit! If you choose to cry-it-out or not cry-it-out, breastfeed or bottle feed, pacifier or no pacifier, cloth or disposable diaper, I support your decision. Lord knows that plenty of other people will give you their opinion when you're a parent.

See, I know how this works. In order to stay close to my son, I need to stay close to the one to whom he gives his heart.

And it's not just that. I will love you as my own daughter, if you will let me. If you're close to your mom, I am not going to try to replace her; you don't need two moms. You might, however, be interested in having a mother-in-law who might be a friend. A friend with whom you enjoy spending time and maybe even learning something, if you ask. All you have to do is ask.

So I'm going to ask you right now, wherever you are, to give me a chance. Don't believe that all mothers-in-law are like the evil stepmothers of old Disney. Don't think that I don't want you in our lives or that I'll be in the way. Don't believe that we are in a competition. If my son has fallen in love with you, then you must be very special. We are on the same team.

The truth is, dear daughter-in-law, that I'm scared of losing my son forever. Unfortunately, I know a few men who have shut their mothers out at the urging of a new spouse, leaving their mothers heartbroken. I can barely speak the words as I try not to imagine what that might be like for a mother.

At one time, I thought that maybe having a boy was the easier route through life, avoiding the drama we girls seem to generate as teenagers. However, I'm realizing how much more difficult it may be to let them go as they grow older, because they jump out of the nest with both feet, willing themselves to fly even before their feathers are fully formed. They feel the pressure to be MEN and they propel themselves forward, and away from their families... as far as they need to go to find themselves.

I want to tell you about my son's childhood, and what it was like to hold him and rock him to sleep at night. I want to laugh with you about the funny things he said as a preschooler and show you his baby pictures. I hope to share with you his triumphs and dreams from when he was a child, and fill in the blanks on any of the stories he has told you from his mama's perspective.

I'm not here to stand in your way. I'm here to spoil you, and listen to you and help you.

Just like my mother-in-law does for me.

Resignation

This is the email I sent to my boss last March 12, confirming my intention to resign:

Good day Ma'am,

This is to confirm my intention to resign.

As discussed last Thursday, the view of management can be summarized as follows:

If the client insists, we can accept cash as tokens of their gratitude provided that such cash gifts shall be for everyone's benefit (ex: using the cash to buy the department's merienda etc.)

My personal view is that accepting cash is never acceptable and, if received, shall be returned to the client immediately (ex: depositing it back to their account or applying the same as loan payment etc.)

As advised, I had given this much thought over the weekend but I cannot reconcile my view with that of management's. Hence, my intention remains.

Moving forward, I hope that management will take a second look at the assumptions that ground its opinion.

I also hope that, having done this, management will be more willing to take risks in challenging the status quo and to draw a harder line against these irregular transactions.

After all, against the flow of such a perceived norm, mundane yet firm acts of defiance from the staff and officers alike will only serve to bolster the bank's goodwill in the eyes of the client.

Thank you very much.

I'll give the background later. Right now, I'm just...dismayed.

Dissecting A Frog

My sister had a problem last Sunday.

She's in second year high school and one of the tasks in their biology class is to catch a frog for an experiment.

Apparently, the one tasked in their group to catch a frog didn't catch one and my sister was hoping that the other groups have the same predicament.

I remember the time when I was in second year high school. The objective was the same and, among my group mates, I was the one tasked to catch a frog. I remember trying to look for a frog at night with a slight drizzle in the air.

Fortunately, the subdivision adjacent to ours still had vacant areas overgrown with grass and shrubs. It was a good place to hunt. Armed with a Stick-O jar and a hand wrapped in cellophane, I caught two small frogs that night.

The following day, just before our biology class, my classmates told me that there was a frog in the boy's CR. Presumably, it got there because another student brought the frog inside the CR, accidentally released it, and, scared to death of touching a live amphibian, left it there on the floor. I found it in one of the cubicles and was pleased that, this time, the frog was actually a toad, a big toad, that is.

During biology class, my group dissected the toad I caught while one of the two frogs I caught the night before was donated to my crush's group (because they were almost all girls and nobody dared catch a frog).
So we proceeded in dissecting the animal. On its place we placed a cotton swab, doused with something that would make it go limp. We crucified it using pins stuck through each feet. We cut the skin with a scalpel, sliced through the muscle, split the sternum, and opened the frog's abdomen for the world to see. Then, we stared at the organs and identified each according to the diagrams in our worksheet: the heart, the liver, the lungs, the stomach, intestines, eggs, fats etc. After that, we threw the carcass because we had no use for an opened-up frog.

That was my first glimpse of animal cruelty.

The sad part is I didn't know what I did was wrong.

Blood Donor Card

Just got my new Red Cross donor card last Saturday and I was amused by what I saw. They did change the content of the card. Let me mention the salient differences:

Instead of "Donor's Membership Card", the card is now called "Blood Donation Card". That's a bit of a letdown considering that the first title appealed to some people's sense of belonging.

Also, the old slogan "A gift of blood is a gift of life" is now replaced by "Every blood donor is a hero". The emphasis now is with the person, not the actual gift. In addition, the qualifications to be a hero just got lower.

The message in the back flap also got tweaked:

Old: This donor membership card when presented will give priority to the holder to receive blood for transfusion purposes, as long as public support for the Red Cross Blood Services permits adequate stock of blood for distribution. This does not, however, exempt the holder from paying the cost of blood processing. This card should be presented every time a blood donation is made.

New: Blood donation is totally a voluntary activity. The PRC tests and processes blood donations to ensure blood safety. We prioritize our donors in times of blood needs. Every blood unit corresponds to a blood processing fee. We recognize your valuable contribution and heroism. Thank you for savings lives. (signed) Richard J. Gordon, Chairman and CEO

The new message is less verbose yet more complete. I just wonder why Red Cross deemed it necessary to have Dick Gordon advertise himself.

Headaches

Great. Not only did I inherit my mother's IQ, I also inherited her propensity for headaches.

Last Friday, my head was throbbing so hard I felt so weak. Then on Saturday, the same thing happened: a crushing, mind-blowing, excruciating migraine to cap off a very long day.

I've tried to deduce the possible causes of these incidents. Maybe I lacked sleep, maybe I stayed out too long in the sun or perhaps I need new glasses.

Regardless, I shudder at the thought of going through another episode again.  But, come to think of it,  this is probably the price of being smart. Hehe.

Manicure II

Can I get HIV from manicure wounds?

That's the thought that kept running through my mind as the manicurist worked on my nails. Several fingers were already bleeding because the manicurist was too eager to snip off my cuticles.

I have to insist that my fear is well-founded. The tools used by the manicurist are not artifacts of good hygiene; they've been used every day without being subjected to a bath of antibacterial solution. Also, they've been used to manicure the nails of clients from all walks of life and I shudder at the thought of one of these clients harboring some dreaded STD and unaware that he or she could pass it to me.

Temporary anxiety. Such is the price of vanity, I presume.