That Scary Time Of The Year

It is that time of the year again!  

I do not mean Christmas.  We still have about 90 days to procrastinate for the girls.  I mean it is the Focal Point Review again, for employees who follow the fiscal year calendar.

Taken from platowa.com

Selling myself and "bragging" about achievements isn't really one of my best traits.  I cringe and die when asked.  I was asked once, by my boss no less, why she should give me an "Achieving the Expectation" rating.  I knew I deserved something decent, given that there has been improvement of late with the department.  But see, the first thing that came to mind was, "Uhhh... You don't have to, if I do not deserve it".  This was never articulated, of course; sanity arrived just in the nick of time.

Being in a Multi-racial Lovely Chaos

This is probably the most frequently repeated conversation since I became a parent.  Mostly exchanged between a stranger who are amused about how we, as a family, look.

       Stranger:  Ohhh they are lovely little girls.  Is their Dad a foreigner?

       Me:          Uh yes, he is.

       Stranger:  (to my girls)  You are beautiful! <insert small talk here>

       Stranger:  (to me)  How about their mom, is she American too?

My reply will depend on my mood - in one instance, the conversation was with a sales lady.  I ended up saying I'm their mother and bought more than what I needed to, out of spite. When I am in a jolly mood, I tell them that I asked my friends in the hospital's nursery department to swap my kids with more beautiful "foreigner" kids - Pinalitan sa hospital.   What I wanted really to say was how good they must look if they have their foot in their mouth. Heh.

Then there's this variation:

         Stranger:  They are lovely little girls.  Are they yours?

         Me:          Yes, they are. <awkward smile>

         Stranger:   (looking at my 3-year old)  The Dad's American?

         Me:           Yes.

         Stranger:   (looking at my 6-year old) How about her?

         Me:           Last time I checked, American too.

Note to self:  Next time, be more specific.  Say American-Italian.  One of the brats look more Italian.

Joking aside, I know I do not need to answer to any of their questions.  I am not accountable to satisfy their curiosity.  It is just interesting to see their reaction.  Wayyy funny to see them scramble to redeem themselves at the end of the conversation.

One of my guilty pleasures. :)

The Scary Questions

Every time I am close to convincing myself that I am ready for parenting, there will always be something to prove me wrong.  

Mommy dearest has gone a long way from the "almost-punched-a-nurse-during-newborn-screening" mom to "calm-and-cool-even-when-you-see-blood" kind of mom.

Then there come these moments when you don't really know how to answer; when the simple questions or comments can be quite difficult to deal with.

Like when Pot asked if the middle finger (or the ring finger) is the bad finger (gasp!). Or when she has enthused comments about her classmates having boyfriends; or a doll's dress and the way she smiles as "sexy" (faint!).  She IS in first grade!!!!

How prepared are you?

Because really, did I miss the memo?  Shouldn't we be invited to a conference on how we deal with this phase.  Because, by golly, I might literally faint the next time she ask me these things.

Have you had a similar experience before?  How did you answer them?