the mungo conspiracy

The 15 minutes a day that it takes for me to walk my daughter to school, that is the best part of my day. I thank the Lord for each and every day that I'm given that.

Wife wanted seafood for dinner-- so I killed a can of sardines. I thought that was funny. She thinks me sleeping on the couch tonight is funny.

Because we were four boys and one girl, growing up, we didn't really have much in the way of entertainment money. Imagine going to elementary school and being the only kid to have missed Star Wars -- the biggest blockbuster movie of all time. And this was back when movies were the only entertainment outside of TV, and you missed it. And not just Star Wars Episode IV, but two years or so later, the Empire Strikes Back as well. So yeah, I was that weird kid who never watched Star Wars and the Empire Strikes Back for a very long time. I had to wait for VHS tapes to catch up and find out for myself what was all the fuss about -- that would be almost 10 years after the original release. So it was a real big surprise then, I remember it being a Christmas gift to us siblings, 100 peso premiere tickets for The Return of the Jedi. Back when regular movie tickets was 7.50 or something, we had 100 peso guaranteed seating for the advanced special screening of The Return of the Jedi at the...

My wife can be a bit of a show-off. Her cellphone must be high-end not for high-end functionality sake but for brag-worthiness. She can't be left behind. She needs to have the best or nothing at all. Her dress must be perfect -- not really expensive, but perfect for the occasion. It gets me exasperated that she would shop for a dress for that one occasion that I do not even feel the need to dress up for. It gets me winded sometimes. And I should be pissed. Until I found out yesterday, meeting her family, it came to me -- I am one of the things she brags about.

My two-year-old daughter has the alphabet memorized -- and in proper order. It's almost perfect, except that she calls M as mmm, Q is coo, W is wow, and Y is yay. But the funny thing is only she gets to call them that. When she hands me the Y, and I say yay, she does not accept that and will only move on if I say "why". And rightly so, she is the baby not me. Only she gets to call it yay.

My 2 year old daughter loves balloon like nothing else. When we were at the Cyberzone, window shopping, while the wife was shop dressing at the SM department store, my daughter momentarily escaped from my clutches to rush a store. When I caught up, she was hugging the store display, a bunch of balloons strung up together. The balloons weren't for sale, naturally, that being a computer store. But the manager found my daughter so cute that she just had to give her one -- for free. So my daughter was happy. And I was happy that my daughter was happy. Happier knowing that the balloon was an unexpected gift from a complete stranger. On the ride home however, with all the shopping bags in tow, the balloon was just too unwieldy and got caught on a sharp object or something. So when we finally made it home, my daughter had nothing but the rubber remnants of what used to be a balloon she so adored. She was begging me to blow it up -- bring it back to life. But it was hopeless. There is...

My daughter was born almost 20 years after my mother died. But somehow I am sure my mom would love her -- and not just because it is automatic for a grandparent to do so, but because they are connected. My daughter slept through Frozen, was too afraid to watch How to Train Your Dragon, but rocks to Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music. Who would have guessed, my mother and daughter have the same favorite movie.

There is a little person walking around my teeny tiny apartment with an open Dora umbrella. I am afraid this is the first of many arguments that I will lose to this little girl. God help me.

Yesterday I folded your crib to officially usher in the next stage of your life. I thought you would protest, but you didn't mind that at all, not even a little bit. But then again, I thought, of course, that was your "jail" for whenever you got too much to handle -- no, you hardly ever slept in your crib, preferring instead to sleep with your mom and I. You are growing up so fast. I am excited but a little nervous. I can't wait to see you grow up but want you to stay little forever at the same time. One thing is certain, you will always be my baby.

All my baby wants for Christmas is her two front teeth. My daughter, all of ten months, has recently discovered the concept of mirrors. First word she's ever learned is "hi". And she says that to herself  in the most kikay way imaginable. God help me.

I am the first man that my daughter, now all of 9 months old, will ever love. Whatever kind of man I am, will be the standard by which all other men shall be measured. Right here, right now, it is I, who decides the kind of man my daughter shall seek in her future husband.

The following is a Facebook "conversation" between me and my pumpkins (2 of the 4 characters in my "A ninja I am" story. They are all grown now. Less gullible. One, in fact, has recently moved out of their house as he is a freshman in college and stays close to campus. The names of the characters involved have been ***** to protect the privacy of the innocent. :) Nephew : I also wonder if Tito's blog is being read... ;--; Me : Oo naman. lol! I've got followers/fans. Aside from the kamag-anak inc ha. Hindi fake yung mga comment dun. Pero  mababa pa unique IP hits ko. Highest is 65 in a day pa lang. :) Nephew : Kewl but the 1m pounds is fake Riiight?! Me : What do you think? Naniniwala ka pa rin ba na ninja ako? lol! Nabasa mo ba yung entry na yun? Remember when you  guys confronted me with that? :D Niece : GUYS? you meant me right? 8DDD  I was the one who totally fell for the ninja stuff. ; u ; Nephew : Lol yeah. It's...

Today is the fourth of July, a regular normal day. But not back when we were still a Commonwealth of the United States. Yes kids, there was a time when the Philippines actually celebrated the Fourth of July as our Independence Day. It was a time when Filipinos also sang the Star Spangled Banner in school as our national anthem.  After we were granted independence, the fourth of July was briefly relegated to "Fil-Am Friendship Day". I am not too sure right now which president did that (kiss ass). But that is now moot as no one gives a hoot about that anymore. So today is a just any other day of the year. Except for the few idiots who also celebrate Halloween and/or Thanksgiving (Filipinos shouldn't do that! wtf?!). Too much Hollywood, I guess. But today, for me and my family, it is not just any other day. And it is not because of Hollywood. My mom (RIP) was born on the fourth of July. Happy Birthday mom!

I am a homebody. My idea of a perfect Sunday afternoon is vegging out in front of the TV with absolutely nothing to do. It is my most guilty pleasure, that maybe I should have kept to myself.  Now that my siblings know that “I am not doing anything anyway”, I’ve become the Sunday designated baby-sitter. Well ok, it’s not that big a deal. And I love my nephews and nieces to bits. Really I do. But handling four or five at a time can get to anyone. And forget TV. Forget the lazy afternoon. You are responsible! But I’ve developed a secret method to control these bundles of virtually uncontrollable id. They are all going to Catholic schools, and I know what that means, having gone myself when I was that age. So when the playing gets too rough. When screaming “stop!” at the top of my lungs makes me feel as effective as a referee in a professional wrestling match, this is what I do. With my cellphone, I secretly make our landline phone ring.  “Who’s calling? Is that my ...

(photo was taken from here:  Fan photos from Tingloy A Taste Of Paradise ) I should have savored every last retelling of the old story my mom must’ve told at least a thousand times. My grandfather was Ireneo Martinez, “lobo del mar” or sea wolf to all those who knew him by profession.  A ship captain and harbor pilot, he was the one expert everyone wanted to safely guide their ships into harbor in stormy weather. Being the best at what he did, lolo earned enough that he was able to buy three good-sized batels he used in the trade and transport of goods. This new source of income meant that lolo no longer had to spend months at a time away from home. Home was Tingloy, a small island fishing community just off the coast of mainland Batangas. The family lived in relative wealth in a house that was the first real big house made of mortar and stone that for a long time you can simply tell the pedicab driver to take you to the malaking bahay to find it. Sunday lunch...

My mother would scream at the TV, “Came to the Philippines! You go there, you come here!” She was again emphatically correcting Jeanne Young on “Spin a Win”, who was just telling the story on how she “went” to the Philippines so many years ago. The affectations of Jeanne Young’s American twang didn’t impress my mom, an English teacher of the old school kind. “Children are listening. You are teaching them the wrong things!” My mom would surely skewer me, the way I’ve mangled the English language with my colloquial and highly informal style. Imagine what she’d do if I ever texted “d2 na me.” The rules have changed. That’s for sure. But still I cannot bring myself to text “Hir na me, wer na u?” I’d rather “D2 nako, sankana?”, or the English equivalent “M here, wru?” That, somehow, doesn’t sound so awful. Maybe I am just an old dog that refuses to learn new tricks. I still adamantly refuse to drop the “O” in “Ok”. What’s another three keystrokes? “K” is just too lazy, if you ask...

The ninja deep in training at the Maculcol (lahar) river, border of San Narciso and San Felipe, Zambales, Philippines. I love messing with kids’ minds. They’ll believe anything. And I don’t just mean Santa. I would share with my nephews and nieces my most precious secret, that I am a ninja. Oh yes I am. It is a secret, of course, that no one else should know. Not even their siblings. I say that in total secrecy, one at a time, to each of my nephews and nieces. My brother was a little annoyed when he found out the reason his son refused to take karate lessons was because he would rather take ninja lessons from me. I am the absolute master of the art, you see. First lesson, get me a coke from the ref. Aha, no debates, no questions. The student should follow the master without delay or question.  By the time they’ve reached the awkward age, my nephews and nieces began talking amongst themselves, was their uncle really a ninja? So they asked me, point blank. I was a...