Making memories with my grandkids in Sydney
Icome to Sydney every year at Christmastime and stay for a couple of weeks. This time, however, I decided to stay longer, for almost two months, to rest, recharge my batteries, re-connect with my better self, refresh and re-boot my failing system. The past year was just so emotionally draining, I needed to leave the country — its politics, paranoia, perversion, and pollution — for a while, in favor of a quieter, simpler, kinder existence. I needed to be physically away to shake off the plaque, dirt, and toxicity in the air that had taken over my lifestyle in Manila.
My Sydney lifestyle is everything it isn’t back home. In Manila, I am immersed in politics. In Sydney, I am immersed in housework. In Manila, my trusted housekeeper manages my home. She keeps it clean and orderly, prepares meals, does laundry, takes messages on the phone, and keeps me up-todate on congressional hearings and extra-judicial killings. In Sydney, I am the help. I cook, I clean, I do laundry, I bathe and put my granddaughter to sleep, among other household duties.
In Manila, my bedroom and bathroom are my exclusive zone, my refuge. In Sydney, I share a room with an active six-year-old who works endlessly with paper, scissors, colored markers, sticky tape, and tiny Lego-like toys that get into everything. I also share a toilet and bath with two teenage boys and a grown man. Anyone who has lived with the male specie knows what that entails.
In Sydney, all of my daughter’s kids are assigned chores: set the table, clear the table after meals, wash dishes, sweep and mop the floor, do the laundry, fold the laundry, clean the toilet, feed the dog, pick up his poop from the yard, weed the garden, water the plants. The chores are endless and they get done fairly well considering they are teenage boys and a six-year-old girl. But my eye for dust and grime is sharper than theirs and I find myself still picking up and cleaning up after them.
I don’t have to do chores, but I don’t mind doing them. Nothing is required of me. I could very well just sit passively and enjoy my hiatus and the company of my Sydney family, in perfect freedom from work or worry. But being in my daughter’s house awakens my home-making instincts. I actually enjoy doing housework, even the grunge tasks of cleaning the bathroom, and wiping chocolate and tomato sauce stains off the kitchen floor. I love chopping onions, tomatoes and garlic, cooking dishes from scratch, experimenting with ingredients, using Joy of Cooking and Obi and Waco Mapua’s Inday Genius cookbooks as my references for fool-proof recipes.
The best time for me is Maya’s bedtime, when we lie down together for our precious private time. She will not go to sleep unless I tell her one or two family stories, sing a couple of lullabies, and join her in night prayers. We cuddle, we giggle, we talk about our day, and she is off to dreamland, but not before she tells me that she loves me, which never fails to make my day.
I know from experience that this sweetness will not last. The boys and I also had such moments years back. But they are now 14 and 18, and are into other, less mundane concerns. Maya is six, going on 36. In a few years, she will want her privacy with no curious Lola poking her nose into her affairs. So I am relishing this. I can’t think of a better way to spend my time in Sydney than making memories with my grandkids.
I sometimes wish I could just sit in the living room and watch movies on TV, but I don’t want to miss anything in Maya’s day. Besides, there are chores to be done.
Once in a while — what I call day-off ni Inday — I take the train to the city to meet a friend for lunch. Occasionally, the family drives to one of Sydney’s fabulous beaches nearby to ride the waves for a few hours, or to the public pool for a dip on the hottest summer days. I particularly enjoy walking around the suburban neighborhood we live in, or a nearby park where towering redwoods hold court with giant eucalyptus and other majestic trees along the Nepean River.
My long holiday is over. It’s back to reality with all its aggravations. I return rested, recharged, rebooted, with enough positive vibes to keep me on an even keel as I struggle to regain my Manila lifestyle that is fast disappearing in the face of the many challenges at home.