These poems were published on May 27, 2000 at the “For or By Kids” section of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. How time flies! I was only 28 years old then.

Tin-Tin is my niece, now a college graduate who just recently completed her 6-month on-the-job-training at Shangri-la Hotel, Singapore. She was only 13 years old when I wrote this poem.

Tin-Tin
By Tetcha G. Figuerres

Tin-Tin is my niece
She loves to eat fish
She likes to dress up
And apply make-up

Tin-Tin loves to dance
To frolic and prance
She hops and wiggles
As she lets out a giggle

When Tin-Tin goes to school
She acts pretty cool
For she studies ahead
Before she goes to bed

She wants to be a teacher
Or perhaps a newscaster
But one thing is sure
She wants to finish school

Tin-Tin loves her lolo
And she tells him so
She sure beams with pride
When Lolo's on her side

She is a doting sibling
To two younger darlings
And she takes care of them
Whenever she can

When she was a baby
And not yet a lady
She sure was a beauty
And a delight to see

Now that she's grown
And learning things on her own
I hope she remembers
All the good things I taught her.

Pogi is my husband’s dog. I say “my husband’s” because I’m not really fond of dogs. I’m actually scared of them. But Pogi is special in his own way. He is a cuddlesome dog who likes to be cuddled in return. He is naturally loving and his sweetness endeared him to the whole family. We lost him to UTI many years ago, but he is well-remembered to this day.

Pogi
By Tetcha G. Figuerres

Pogi is my dog
Who loves cheese and hotdog
He likes cakes and pastries
And chocolates a-plenty

When he is left alone
He sits on the lawn
And mopes all day long
'Til his master gets home

He is cute and bubbly
And warm and cuddly
But one thing is funny
He sure is lazy.

Since we now live in a condo unit with limited space available for storing things and prior to this, we rented a studio-type apartment where we encountered the same problem, I make it a point to dispose of things in the house that I don’t think we have any use for anymore. I usually start with my things, then my husband’s, then my son’s, and then the household stuff.

My Things – I first sort my closet for any piece of clothing that’s been lying there untouched, for, say, three months or so. I do the same for my shoes and bags, which are not that many, I should say. I don’t believe in buying too many because (1) they cause a strain on my budget, and (2) having too many choices complicates things. When you only have one or two to choose from, you really don’t have to spend too much time deciding what bags or shoes to wear for the day. This way, you can devote more time to more important things.

Then I ask myself the following questions: Do I still like this thing or not? Am I saving it for a special occasion? Will I be using this anytime soon? Will it prove handy in the future? If the answer to these questions is no, then it’s about time I get rid of these items.

My Husband’s Things – I usually follow the same steps I adhere to when disposing my personal stuff. The only difference here is that the questions I ask myself are now directed towards my husband. He is now the one who decides which of his things should go and which should remain.

My Son’s Things – There’s only one thing I consider when deciding when to discard some of my son’s things: Does my son still have a need for them? If my son has already outgrown his clothes, shoes, toys, etc. then, by all means, they can be handed down to whomever has a need for them.

Household Items – Final step would be to look for other things in the house that we have no use for like old cooking implements, old newspapers, old kitchen towels/refrigerator covers/curtains, etc.

After all’s been properly disposed of, the entire house looks immaculate and roomy. I then carry out my duties for the day with a light heart. That’s about all the energizing I need.

I was scared to death today. I was cutting my son’s hair, and I was doing the finishing touches on the hair at the back of his head, when I made a wrong move. I accidentally cut the lower part of his right ear. He actually squinted when he felt it, but I don’t think he was hurt. But then blood starting oozing out of the cut, and this sent me into panic mode. I was continuously wiping the blood from his ear and was getting frantic because the bleeding wouldn’t let up. I didn’t really know what to do. I was telling my son non-stop, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby!” He just gave me the stare. He didn’t have the slightest idea what mommy was talking about.

When my husband saw the cut and my reaction to it, he actually laughed. “It’s nothing, really, just a small cut,” he said. “Think nothing of it.” How could he feel so calm when I was scared out of my wits! He told me to put ice on the cut and pressed on it really tight. But I couldn’t keep my son in one place. He was constantly on the move. I couldn’t really press hard on his cut for longer than two minutes because he would be up and about in no time, which made mommy all the more edgy.

“We need to take him to the hospital or the clinic downstairs,” I told my husband. I’ll call his doctor now.” But my husband wouldn’t take any of it. He took over seeing to my son’s cut from then on. Feeling helpless and useless to control the situation, I left my son to my husband’s care and I started writing this piece. I couldn’t bear to see any more blood on my son’s ear. And to think it was all my fault. I made a promise to myself. Never again will I cut my son’s hair.

(Note: After writing this piece, I checked on my son’s condition and everything’s okay. I was finally able to heave a sigh of relief.)

Today, Justin sings a new song all by himself. I was in the bedroom the whole day working and Justin was playing in the living room. I overheard him sing at the top of his voice (I think he did this on purpose to impress his nanny) the lines of the song “Are You Sleeping?”

Are you sleeping, are you sleeping?
Brother John, Brother John
Morning bells are ringing, morning bells are ringing
Ding-dong-ding, ding-dong-ding.

He missed two words in the third line, though, "morning" and “bells.”

Of course, his nanny clapped. And, of course, Mommy was proud.