Meet the Parents

One of the best things in life that I never take for granted is going home after a long, tiring day and having my family ask me if I’ve had dinner already. I mean, I don’t care if you bathe in a tub of money or if you have a bajillion zillion fans throwing themselves at you. For me, family is still the most important thing in one’s life (along with faith and friendship, of course).

I think it’s rather sad that you see people everywhere talk about how much they love their new Macs, that lip-synching ghei boyband or a cup of ridiculously expensive coffee, yet, it’s so rare to hear them say they love their families. So let me be not one of those people because I tell you, I LOVE MY FAMILY LIKE WHOAH AND I FEEL EXTREMELY GRATEFUL TO BELONG TO A LOVING HOME.

Right, this entry is for and about them – my folks (my brother needs a separate blog post altogether). Because if you wanna know what Kring really is all about, you gotta know the people who made her who she is. Are you ready for it?

My parents are such characters. Well, my dad, at least. But my mom’s awesome, too, just not as… en-yer-fez. I was raised in a totally middle-class, non-disfunctional household. Somewhere in Novaliches-Fairview. I’ve lived in the same neighborhood since I was born and I could safely say I’ve grown up a rather well-adjusted individual, much thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Elenzano.

My father is an educator; my mother is a housewife. Both are good-natured people.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while now, you might have chanced upon those head-scratch-inducin’ entries about my dad. He’s really old school but bad-ass at the same time. Without him realizing it, he taught me the true meaning of passion.

You see, he’s been teaching since he was 19 and as we all know, teaching doesn’t pay that well. He told me before that he could’ve worked abroad or chosen a more lucrative profession, but he really loves to teach. It’s his vocation. Whenever I’d cry and complain about the pressures of work and the fact that I can’t save up (because srsly, my job’s not as glamorous as some people may think), he’d always tell me to shut it and remind yours truly that I decided on this path and if I don’t like what I do, why don’t I just quit and get a desk-job or something? My father, he is made of pure pwnage…

My mother, on the other hand, gave up her career when she got preggerz with me and honestly, I don’t think I can ever do that kind of a sacrifice. Life was never easy but they both decided it would be better for the baby, who happens to be uhm, me. And so she became a full-time mom. When I was younger, I thought it was silly to be a stay-at-home mom and waste your full potential as a person tending to your snotty and ‘why-the-creep-are-you-wailing’ children. Until I grew a brain watched a little too much Oprah episodes and realized that it may be true, afterall- being a homemaker is the hardest job on earth. And boy, did my mom do an awesome job!

As I’ve mentioned, life was never really easy although it wasn’t so bad either. Or maybe it was and my parents just did a great job concealing our real economic status. Regardless, my parents ALWAYS MADE SURE that we understand how lucky we are compared to other people. That we have a house, food to eat, good education and of course, a family.

I didn’t get it then, too, that we always didn’t have money. It’s actually funny, now that I think about it. They’re always quick to say “Anak, ‘wag na ‘yan. Wala tayong pera.” whenever I’d ask them to buy me toys or a certain something. Don’t get me wrong, they did buy me stuff but it’s been instilled in me that we didn’t have enough money to buy the non-essentials and for that, I learned to value what I have (and earn extra money by selling accessories with a 200% mark-up). Yes, even if daddy got his Christmas bonus or mommy bought a set of pearl jewelries or hell, even if we were having the house renovated, we still didn’t have effin’ money. That’s why I became Chilocano (Chinese-Ilocano aka kuripot).

And even in those times that I knew money was really hard, it didn’t stop my parents from being genuinely generous. We’ve always been an extended family because I think it’s my parents’ hobby to adopt distant relatives and send them to school. I kid you not. Even strangers, they would gladly help without expecting anything in return. I’d tell them of a classmate’s tuition fee concerns and my dad would tell me to tell the classmate to go to the faculty room so he can assist her with getting a possible working-student scholarship.

It used to bother me that they’d take in all those people when it’s not their responsibility at all to provide them a home or a better life but my mom would always say, “the reason God gave us a house this big is so we can share it with others…”

Yes, I love my parents. They never forced me to sleep in the afternoons (unlike my poor playmates), they let me climb trees and become a pseudo-batang kalye (my dad wanted me to be street-smart and exposed to people from all walks of life) and they even let me speak my mind (and I must admit, I answer back sometimes).

Although of course, we do have our issues, especially since my father is unbelievably conservative and strict. I was not allowed to sleep over in other people’s houses in high school and I didn’t get to go out and party that much in college. I kinda took it against them for a time because teenagers are supposed to have resentments against their parents for one reason or another (or none at all). I even have journal entries from when I was 15 and I was fuming mad at my dad for not letting me go there and do this and join that.

But I finally saw a different side of him and understood where he’s coming from, when in college, we’d go home together from school. The one hour we spent on the road became our nightly bonding time and I saw my father in a new light. He suddenly became cool.

My mom and I? We bond when we travel and shop and eat (if I had a lot of money, I’d bring her to different parts of the word!). And FYI, she’s a major faghag, hence, *points to self*. Her BFF’s growing up were like gays and gayly girls who are loud and funny and major lulz, hence, *points to self again with another finger*. I think I got my sense of humor from both of them, albeit they don’t crack jokes in front of us but when they’re with friends, especially my dad, he can bitch slap people with his witty one-liners!

Yes, I do feel blessed. My family isn’t perfect but they’re made of win. And I’m aware that not a lot of people have this kind of relationship with their parents. That they don’t get to hear Mass with their family or even just have breakfast with them, even if they want to. And I know that out-of-this-world as I am, I got my folks to back me up and for that, I feel like I can take on the world. Because at the end of the day, even if the world gives me a double middle-finger in return, I know I can always run back home and be told that I should hang the towel after I’ve used it… and that I’d never see the light of day again if I were to get a tattoo. Hahaha. Oh, how I love ‘em.

ps: I’m not bestfriends/barkadas with my mom and dad. I believe our relationship works because we know our roles and our boundaries. Feel free to share about your relationship with your family, my three readers! Would love to read about it.

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