Predicament of Parenting A Pre-teen in the 21st Century
(In a Mother’s Perspective)


In the past, my role was only to listen to the satirical complaints of my friends regarding their growing up children. I was exposed to vibrant, humorous or poignant experiences on parenting which I considered exciting and multihued to collate. I was contented to hear their stories. On my part, I have little to share because my daughter gave me only few headaches then, not worthy to cause my blood pressure to rise.

I only have one daughter now aged twelve. When she was younger, she was identified more with the physical features of her dad. However, as she grows up, it is noticeable that her distinctive physical features are emerging not typical either from me or her father. In animal breeding, she will be recognized as “cross-breed” or product of amalgamation.

She has a beauty of her own which I believe is appreciated in accordance with how beauty is defined by a person. It is not wise for me to assert that my daughter is beautiful because to do so will invite accusation of partiality. Remember, a mother, almost in all angles oftentimes sees her son or daughter beautiful. The inclination to praise, admire and brag your children sprouts from the overflowing love and affection accompanied with pride and joy. I observed that this tendency becomes a defect when the discourse is focused to a topic diverse from parenting or motherhood but the mother infuses unexpectedly or inappropriately the topic of her parenting or motherhood in the conversation. It is not a conscious effort to provoke rather it is one unconsciously ignited by instincts. The problem is, not everybody understands the instinct. A listener may develop disinterest in the topic and eventually create irritation or resistance. Not everybody is gifted with the power of understanding. However when it comes motherhood, it is claimed that the experience is more or less common and universal. A mother tends to forget the appropriateness of the topic when there is open possibility to discuss parenting or her children. Vulnerability to this situation is likely because mothers are usually proud of their children, including their success and achievements. I have my own personal experiences on this. Many times, I heard complaints from my comrades expressing dislike to some of our common friends because the latter accordingly did nothing but to brag about their children in exaggerated manners though not warranted by the occasions or circumstances. I did not develop the same feeling maybe because I have already cultivated deep understanding to circumstances of this nature. My belief was the more talk, the more opportunity to listen and the more opportunity to listen means the better chances of learning. I supposed that since I was good in listening, my notes in parenting are adequate guidance in my own parenting. But I was disproved.

When my daughter started wearing trendy, sexy, daring and lady like clothes including ornamental accessories, though surprised, I was never alarmed. I reasoned out this child is growing under my shadow adopting exactly my obsession to stylish, daring and colorful clothes including flamboyant or glaring accessories. But when my husband began complaining about the time she consumed in dressing up, I also became observant. At one time, I went inside the room and saw several clothes scattered in her bed. When she saw me, she asked if she looks good in the said dress she was wearing. When I said, “yes”, I thought it was all over and we can now leave the house. I was dazed because she instead shifted from one dress to another until she finally settled to the last one but only after noticing her dad’s display of annoyance. It was like a fashion show viewed as audience by me and two of our house-helpers.

Then her text messages grew by volumes. When asked about this incidence, she educated me about this “GM” thing which she referred to as group messages. When I examined her messages, I found nothing to fear as the numbers belonged to the same network where texts and calls were offered for free. Since her room is annexed to our room, many times I was disturbed by the noise of her cellular phones indicating incoming messages. I wouldn’t know if she’s still awake because it is not my habit to disturb her when is studying or asleep. Then, there were phone calls from male classmates and friends. My husband did not mind at all. The phone calls, he said came from little boys. He merely gave me a shrug or a bullish smile which I interpreted as signs of “out of danger”. Then, one day, my daughter instructed me to prepare food as she invited her friends to come to the house. I was excited. I wanted to see her friends and assessed them thereafter. Why assess? Well, I was hoping to find out their characters. The saying, ‘”Birds of the same feather, flock together” seemed to interest me then. On the other hand, I also believed in the saying that “Those who flock get the same feather”. Whichever is applicable, one thing I’m sure of, I was determined to know her friends. Anything about my daughter matters to me.

Then finally her friends came to our house, two girls and three little boys. To sum up, there were six of them in the house including my daughter. They danced, sang and played games in the computer while I stayed impatiently in my room and peeped from time to time to get in touch of the things they were doing. When I went out to prepare lunch, I saw all of them converged in my daughter’s bed seriously engaged in a conversation. I heard them revealing their crushes and talking about their class or school mates who already have boyfriends or girlfriends. This time I felt awkward with what I heard. I said to myself, are these topics being normally discussed by preteens at this generation? The conversation I overheard appeared to like a conversation of matured individuals.

I convinced myself, I should not worry. I surreptitiously tracked down my daughter’s class standing and I ended up like guilty mother when she remained in the list of outstanding students in her class. I felt embarrassed with myself. My daughter spilled no malice in everything that she disclosed to me and dad. She would almost tell us everything what she did in school. She would also enumerate her class or schools mates with steady partners. She told us that she has a number of secret admirers whom she cannot identify or confirm. Sometimes she would ask me if when I was of her age, did have any suitors or boyfriend? I decided to be honest and I told her I have crushes but no boyfriend yet until I was 14. I explained to her that when I was 14, I managed to accept a suitor because of the apples which he gave me. I never understood then that saying ‘yes” meant that he would become officially my boyfriend. I told her it was mere play relationship and no emotional attachments. My daughter is intelligent and she readily understood what I meant.

Then, lately, she has been asking me regularly if she looks ugly. The frequency of this inquiry is increasing so my task is to identify and source out the root cause of this query. My daughter has the tendency to compare my experience with her. She would wonder why she has no suitors yet. I regretted having told her about my experiences. I also began looking at the possibility of peer pressure. She is too young to get involved so much on infatuation.
All of a sudden, she sought my advice. I was excited at first but when she disclosed to me that she revealed to a boy that he was her crush, my reaction was impulsive. I instantly told her that her conduct was uncalled for and that she appears to me and to the mother of the boy as a “flirt”. I told her that admiration or crush must be kept or concealed. It is customary that the boy runs after the girl and not the other way around. The poor girl was devastated with my reaction. She cried and sent messages to her friends telling them that she is flirt for declaring openly her crush. This created a complication because most of her friends also reacted saying that she meant to label all of them as flirt as well because they also revealed their crushes publicly. I actually created a mess which contributed to the pain and embarrassment which my daughter felt at that time. Wanting to remedy her mistake and to suit with my expectations, she requested me to read her draft text message which she intended to send to her crush. The message states that “there was no truth on what she said… and that she was only compelled to yield to the demands of her friends who dared her to say it and finally it was purely for fun sake.” When I read it, my heart was crushed. My daughter was trying to cure the mess that I created. I’m supposed to deal cautiously with a fragile 12 year old girl, guide her of what to do and help her cope up with adolescence. But regrettably, my reaction taught her instead malice and spite. Now, it is my turn to remedy her problem. I embraced her and told simply, you need not send that message darling. You were just playing, a thing which little boys and girls do. Crush is just an admiration and nothing more. She finally became composed when she heard it, and then she kissed me good night, went to her room and slept soundly. I guess the instincts of a mother worked on me at that very moment. I succeeded to comfort the child and to appease her pain and anxiety.

I regretted my immature way of confronting the issue. I also lamented my inability to focus and understand the dilemma of adolescence. I almost wrecked my daughter. I nearly drove her away from me. If it were not of her exceptional ability to discern my reaction, it could have created a gap which would detach us from each other. My introspection told me that it was then my daughter who taught me to find out my mistakes. It was her who guided me how to properly treat a preteen with trust and confidence. While engrossed in watching every details of my daughter’s transformation, I invited malice to work in my mind. I yielded to the belief that Infatuation in this early age provides nothing except false notions and illusions of love. Emotions that are so overpowering are oftentimes dangerous and deceptive. If not properly guided, a preteen might be directed on the wrong way. I heard so many tales of teenage pregnancy and this greatest fear occurred recently in the family when my niece who at the age of seventeen became a mother.

At this moment, I am certain that to become a good mother is not an overhauling of one’s personality which can be done overnight. It can be learned regardless of one’s station in life. Academic or professional training is not even a passport for perfect parenting. There is no such thing. Reading several books in parenting or even attending seminars on this character, in the absence of will or commitment, no significant impact would still be established. Parenting is a continuing process. It requires endurance, openness, sincerity and most of all guidance from the divine providence.

Learnings from Betrayal

My friends treated me very well during my high school and college days. They were my haven or refuge from the world which I initially thought to be very discriminatory.

I am one year older than my youngest sister but we never had the chance to bond. She was the princess of our family. Her striking beauty became the source of my agitation or perhaps covert jealously as there was then a very strong tendency for people to unconsciously compare me from her. This drove me away from my sister. Hence, I sought refuge from my friends.

In my high school days, I mastered the skills on interpersonal relations. I exerted efforts to win the approval of my so-called friends. I became an expert on how to please them on fear that I might lose one, some or all of them. My life evolved on friendship. I hated loneliness! My sister became the object of my alibi. I was puzzled many times how my younger sister managed to stay at home and only read books the entire day. My sister however assured me that she was contented. I was perplexed. I pictured her as prisoner princess with a very dull life.

I cherished the friendships I established during my high school days. When we parted ways after graduation, some of these friends remained very close to me despite of the distance. Constant communication ignited our connections.

In college, I found it difficult to count the number of friends I gained. Many times, I felt embarrassed when asked to name my best friend. There were too plenty of them to enumerate. I have a very simple measurement for a best friend during my college days. She/He is: 1) a type of person who heavily relies on me, 2) one who demands for my time and attention and finally, (3) one who cannot stay away from me. I was labeled as "24 hour service friend". My task was to secure my availability when so required. But then, I felt I was important. It made me happy, special and loved. When it was time to leave college, I was best remembered for my being a LOYAL FRIEND. Most of them stayed because they know I can still accommodate them at anytime. I was also a good listener. I can easily absorb emotions. I cannot anymore recall how many times I joined my good friends in the so-called "crying sessions" while under the spell of liquor. Thereafter, we ended like neurotics for the sudden change of behavior from loneliness to laughter.

I believe that many times I abandoned my pride only to save friendship. Self-sacrifice was my way to save the trust and confidence reposed on me by my friends. Slowly and unconsciously, I was already weaving a character whom I thought to be the real me. I looked at myself as a friend with very few imperfections. I reasoned out that my sacrifices are sufficient to hold all of them. Openly I told them that I require nothing in return. But at the back of my mind, I was expecting them to acknowledge me as a friend with less imperfections! My obsession to this belief prompted me to condition my friends of how they are to consider me as their friend. Most of them, accepted it without complications.


Then came the ultimate test on my so called "friend" character. In my early twenties, all the pieces which I gathered and strengthened were finally shaken. I met friends who initially fell on my prey. I called it "prey" because I enticed them to accept me. Believing that they liked me in the manner I conceived myself, I also invested my love, attention and loyalty. But everything I planned did not turn out to be good. In my perspective, I felt betrayed. I know I was pictured indifferently. Putting me out of their system is in fact sigh of relief. I did not exactly know at that time how, where, when and why I faulted them? One thing I was sure of, I was loathed, condemned and abandoned.

I was totally shattered. In my whole life, I did nothing but to sculpt friendship from nothing to something. I took care of my character.I valued my friendship so much. My frustrations made me reclusive. My life was driven by a painful memory, haunting fear and undying suspicions. I lost my trust and interest in friendship. But no matter how I avoid to get attached, destiny pulled me closer to different types of persons offering distinctive kinds of friendship so difficult to reject. I realized that I do not want to spend my life running from regrets and living with my past. I opened my eyes and this time I looked at myself. Something came out of my mind and it was so enlightening. I said, what about a friendship that is based on acceptance of who you are including the imperfections? Then I started selling myself in a package with a take it or leave it offer and with no warranties.

I was astonished of the results. I gained new friends, young and matured ones. Overcoming the despair did not come easy. But this time every details about friendship make sense to me. I learned to value everything about my friends. I learned to acknowledge everything he or she does for me and not only those I did for her or him. No more struggle for perfection. Friends are my gifts from God. Gifts are freely given and never dictated.

The Bible says, " Let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will know what God wants you to do."

My Work Insights

Yesterday, I asked myself.... Am I happy with my work? Gosh, I was totally surprised with my inquiry. I guess it was an unexpected introspection brought about by the so-called out Burn Out Syndrome commonly experienced by persons reaching the age of forty but still struggling to create distinctive accomplishments in their professional fields or endeavors.

Long before I joined the government service, my inclination to public service was already identifiable. I took many assessment or evaluative tests and the results reflected this inclination. I trusted the results so much and even equated it with my academic training in human behavior. I made a stern decision to join the government service despite of the consistent warnings of some of my friends who believed that there is no accumulation of wealth on this field.

Of course, I want to be rich, earn a lot of money and then buy the expensive or branded things which I was deprived of when I was still young. Well, I'm not a hypocrite type! My husband oftentimes accused me of being materialistic and vain. I might have shown him slight resistance but I guess my acts succumbed most of the time to his accusations. So what? It's a mere observation with evident tolerance on his part.

When I joined the government service, I was already convinced that I can still acquire the things I want to have. I reasoned out that I'll get remunerated anyway for the services I would render. Hence, I would still be blessed financially. I was aware of the struggles and difficulties which young lawyers should face in order to create a name and identity in the competitive arena of this profession. I told myself, I'll provide my employer of what I can do best. I was determined to mark success in every task that I undertake and then get acknowledge for it. It was just then a very simple perspective of work adhering to the simple formula of WORK + QUALITY= QUALITY OUTPUT. This I believed was my road to success. If I get promoted, it means an increase in my salary and benefits.

Initially, it was rewarding. In a government agency where I used to work, I was entrusted with multifarious duties. The nature of my work was executive in character which demanded confidence, decisiveness and diligence. I became a model employee for three (3) consecutive years. I got promoted thrice in the span of six (6) years. Finally, I was stuck after my last promotion. It is the last position which I can aim for a promotion in said office unless of course if I choose a defying remedy and that is to unseat the chief of the office. I was not that desperate.Besides my former boss did earn my respect and admiration. A decision on my part has to be made.... do I need to move on or not? For six (6) years, it was not all labor which I invested. I also willingly invested myself. I learned to value my established relationship with my office mates. Moreover, I was also deeply infused with the agency's working atmosphere. I can recall there was a time I almost left the office. I was appointed to a chief position of the mother department of the same agency. New kind of work, new people to supervise and the most inviting, an opportunity for prestige or popularity. But when I was already instructed to assume the post, surprisingly I found myself declining it. I came out with several reasons only to appease the hiatus which I already caused. When it was my time to convince myself that I made a good decision, I settled to a justification that the salary and benefits were at par with what I was receiving then from my agency. Funny because I also persuaded myself that my prospective working environment is life threatening. No room for advancement or self-actualization.

Then the finances of my family grew. My husband's income became erratic or variable. My teaching job, which is another legitimate source of my income was not sufficient to augment the other needs of my family. My desire to continue living comfortably was one of my greatest concerns. Many times I told myself, living comfortably is just a reward for my dedication to work. After all, labor once given or contributed cannot anymore be withdrawn These circumstances led me to reassess my priorities. At first, I felt it was too compromising. But when my good friends suggested me to take a new challenge. Something which I either fear or hate to do or both. Then I thought of joining the government pool of prosecutors. At that moment, this field perfectly described what challenge is all about for me.

Without difficulty, I succeeded in joining the prosecution service. I was expecting that learning the prosecutorial skills would be easy similarly as to how I landed to the job. Well, I was totally mistaken.

For three (3) years, I painstakingly studied all the cases which were assigned to me. I tracked down all my incoming hearing schedules. I have to take a dilapidated non airconditioned bus and travel several kilometers before I can reach my court assignments. To ensure the availability of my witnesses, I was forced to provide them transportation allowances. Due to poverty, they cannot afford to come to court during scheduled hearings. How can I forget the viral infections including the life threatening dengue fever I contracted? Hospital expenses depleted my personal savings. Thanks to my mom and siblings who helped me pay for my hospital bills. I was deprived of good and sound sleep. Why? I remembered praying every night for postponements every time I have hearing schedules the next day. I really thought I would suffer a nervous breakdown. I also despised opposing lawyers including the judges who capitalized on my lack of experience and confidence.

When I was finally adjusted to my work, appreciating the intrinsic value of my foregoing experiences came easily. I realized that they were not meant to be sordid at all. I discovered the true meaning of the word "fulfillment". For the first time in my life, I felt fulfillment in my work. My growth was gradual. I gained and exhibited confidence. Later on, I learned professionalism so I took away personal or emotional prejudices from my official duties. Before this realization, my fear was focused on incompetence. I was afraid that I might not win any of the cases I handle. But professional maturity expanded my understanding. I soon discovered that my ultimate fear is not anymore incompetence but my inability to truly promote the administration of justice. I am one of the few prosecutors who espoused the precept that prosecution service is not purely designed to prosecute an accused of a crime regardless of the prevailing conditions. Part of my realization is the need to discover the truth... to ensure that only the guilty ones should go to jail for the crime charged. Thus, when I lost my case because the crime was not actually proven or because there was no evidence that the accused committed the crime, surprising I felt no grudge or disappointment. Certainly, I consider this as unique and different kind of accomplishment for me.

In 2005, I was appointed to a chief position. I heard some of my colleagues castigating my appointment. They said I was too young for the post and I lack experience. I hold the post for three (3) years now and I believe I have contributed significant changes in the office which is evidently commendable. Preoccupied with my managerial duties, I gave up court appearances two years ago in favor of newly appointed prosecutors under my supervision. A year after I gave up court appearances, I felt no regrets. The truth then, I was relieved from daily pressures.

But lately, I'm agitated with my regular work activities. My duties including those which are categorized as acts of discretion or decision-making appear to me as ministerial and perfunctory ones. It's totally humdrum and meaningless. I love to work and I usually give my best for it. To me work is not purely mechanical. It requires the use of mental or intellectual faculties. I guess this is one that makes it so exhausting.

My greatest challenge now is how to cope up with work exhaustion. How to live with my ideals and protect it from my strong enemy... EXHAUSTION. Boredom and dissatisfaction are both products of exhaustion. I already ruled out retirement or resignation as a solution as this could be a manifestation or acceptance of my futility. I believe I am still capable to contribute more.

To some my predicament is an exaggeration. But believe me when your drive is pushed to the limits and thwarted by your physical or mental incapabilities, you will experience this unexplainable withdrawal which is quite difficult to control and overcome.

No one can help me but myself. I need to cope up with this predicament. My priority remains. I still want to mark success in my present undertaking. But Success comes from determination. Thus, I must begin accumulating my strength and then develop it to a determination. As instilled in my heart, public service is imbued with noble objectives. If I aim to possess it, I must be armed with a strong determination.