In many conversations and emails with married friends, the idea of marital bonding usually crops up. I have a friend who likes taking a long drive to the countryside with the hubby. Another couple likes to get a massage together. A friend goes fishing with her American husband.
My husband and I are different. We are supermarket junkies. Yes, we LOVE to go to the supermarket together. Sounds weird? Maybe. We are supposed to buy our groceries only once a week. Heck, we are only three people in the house. But we find the slightest excuse to drop by the supermarket more than once a week.
We used to have only one small supermarket in our neighborhood. We were thrilled when two supermarket chains opened their branches nearby . Since this is a public confession I better explain myself well. For some, buying groceries is a mindless pursuit. You go in, buy what you need and then you go out.
But for us being inside a supermarket is relaxing. We are never in a hurry. As we push our carts, the hubby and I take our time to discover new products, compare prices and talk to the people in the meat or seafood counter. Laugh if you will but somehow the stress free, air-conditioned environment of a supermarket promotes marital harmony between us. Sometimes, I sneak in a request or two to the hubby as we traverse the aisles. I have noticed he tends to be more agreeable in a supermarket setting. Hmmm I think I should take more advantage of that for what it’s worth.
It is no surprise then that I have three customer value cards plus a membership card of a warehouse supermarket located in the next town. Recently, we heard that one of the supermarkets is building a bigger branch in a community mall near us. My husband and I can’t wait to have our supermarket fix again.
Produce section of a Grupo Pão de Açúcar supermarket in São Paulo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
god (Photo credit: the|G|™)
I have been without a maid for a month. If this had happened to me a year ago, I would have been panicking. But in the middle of looking for a replacement I realized that, for now, I like having no maid at home. It has given me, the hubby and our son much-needed privacy. We had sorely missed it for the past five years.
I also realized that I miss taking care of my son. I have been working at home since 2003 so I was always around.But now I am the one who cooks for him, bathe him and fixes his things. I make sure he drinks his milk twice a day and takes his vitamins. These all used to be yaya’s responsibilities while I was out managing events or composing articles in my laptop.
The house is also much cleaner too. I do not have to repeatedly instruct someone to clean our house the way I want to. That used to give me a headache. Now I do it myself and I thank God that ours is a small house.
I was forced to cut back on accepting some projects. Instead of worrying about earning less money, I just let go. Now, I prefer to cocoon myself in our house. Is this me? I ask myself. Unambitious. Domesticated with no guilt feelings. Maybe it is age catching up on me.
Whatever it is, I continue to luxuriate in what I call my “summer of contentment”? The heartwarming thing is my son does not miss his yaya at all. That makes me smile.
I love vegetables. But it wasn’t always the case.
My parents reared me the old-fashioned way. During the early years everything they said was set in stone. No ifs nor buts. It was never more apparent than at mealtimes. I was expected to eat whatever was served on the dining table especially if it was a vegetable dish. I was not allowed to leave the table unless I chew and swallow them really well. Did complaining, whining and crying help me? Nope. A simple glaring look from my Mom was enough to stop defiance on its track.
” I don’t like vegetables!!!” declared Joshua. With a scowl on his face, he was on battle mode again. We’ve had skirmishes on the veggie issue before. I have shown him how I eat my veggies, created real veggie cut outs for him to play, and made him watch Elmo eat his veggies. Of course to no avail.
I’ve had enough. I have drawn up a foolproof battle plan. I became The Sneaky Mom out to win the Veggie War. I chop carrots in the size of an atom and toss it with his favorite noodles. I mash papaya in his tinola (chicken stew). I serve him home-made pizza with malunggay ( moringa) powder and tomato sauce.
I buy him organic carrot chips instead of potato chips. I puree a bit of squash and cream and add several scoops of his powdered milk. The strategy has been working for some time. And if by a stroke of bad luck the top-secret plan is revealed, I am ready to experiment in giving him the glare. Who knows it might work again.