My Valentine's Day, so far

I woke up this Valentine’s Day morning and quietly parted from the boyfriend. I didn’t want to wake him.

In slow motion, I tip-toed through the hallway, into the kitchen and inside the pantry, where in a hidden corner and behind cleaning supplies I had stashed the goodies.
Pausing occasionally to make sure I could hear the boyfriend still snoring, I started making my trail of Hershey’s kisses and love notes from the bedroom door to the kitchen, where his surprise awaited.
It wasn’t much, this surprise. Hanging from the refrigerator handle was a rolled up, home-made menu tied with ribbon. In it, instructions asked the boyfriend to choose an entree, two sides, a beverage and two desserts. I knew him well enough to know what he’d choose.
I then got ready for work, every so often peeking into the bedroom to smile at my boyfriend, who looked so cute and peaceful as he slept, despite the small puddle of drool dripping from his mouth onto the pillow (he might kill me for this, but I figure I could use the “It’s Valentine’s Day and you can’t get mad at me” card). He has insisted I don’t look at him while he sleeps, but I can’t help it, even with the drooling and snoring.
Anyway, I slipped into bed one last time to say my final goodbyes and then left, smiling. It was our first Valentine’s morning together and though he slept through most of it, it was kinda perfect.
Can’t wait to see what’s in store this Valentine’s Day evening. Promise to keep you posted. And lovely wishes to all this Valentine’s Day.
 
* Read more on my other blog, TakeChargeLadies.

A moment of cynicism: My "realistic" New Year's resolution

Let's be completely honest here. I'm probably not going to look, act or feel any differently today, tomorrow, or by the end of this year.

I'm not going to embark in a new world of fitness, health and nutrition. Indeed, I will continue to spread Nutella and cream cheese on all my foods, and I will do so very happily, thank you very much.
I'll also not have a six pack of abs, nor will I promise to work out everyday.
And it's doubtful any life-changing event will renew all my thoughts, my attitude, faith or character in the next 365 days.

Yesterday, the boyfriend and I were getting our weekly dosage of self-esteem boosters through Facebook statuses. My favorite is when people post hourly statuses of their drunkenness. First of all, the party you're at must suck. Get off your phone and socialize, dammit. Secondly, you sound like a moron.

But, I digress.

It's the new year, and of course status updates are all about resolutions and profoundness.

"Have a happy new years! New year, new me!" read one update. That person should resolve to improve her grammar instead of promising a total physical, mental and spiritual renewal simply because the number 2010 has changed to 2011.

Another person said they'd be happy every day in 2011.

Yeah. Okay.

So here are my realistic resolutions:
I will be a little healthier this year. I'll take the stairs, try a couple healthy recipes a week, and try to run more than three miles a couple times a month. Yesterday, my brother told me I'm fat and that I need to do something about it. I'll take his advice with baby steps.
I will write more. Because my boss needs to be reminded that I'm here, in the cubicle in front of him, and that I'd like to keep learning, improving  and continue to advance my career.
and lastly...
I will keep taking pictures, and keep getting better at it. I plan to renew my 365 project this year. Taking- or trying to- one picture a day.
I will try to stop buying shoes. I will. I'll try.

The truth about Santa

Somewhere along the lines of childhood and adulthood, Christmas changes radically.
I was 9 when I woke up during the wee hours of Christmas morning to spy on Santa. I remember tiptoeing down the hallway like a secret agent.

My brother was still sleeping, and I considered waking him up so he can join me in catching the hefty man in action. I decided, though, that it was a much better idea to take the credit all for myself.
As I neared the living room, I could hear whispers. I wondered who Santa was talking to.
In my colorful fleece pajamas, I leaned forward in hopes to see the white-bearded, red-suited, jolly man I’d always envisioned. Instead, I saw a baggy-eyed, yawning mom and dad tiredly wrapping gifts on the dining room table.
That was the day Christmas started changing for me.
I never again left treats for Santa over night, nor did I look out my window searching for a sleigh in the sky.
As I got older, I went from getting toys and games to getting socks and gift cards.
When I got a job, I started giving more and receiving less.
Every year, Christmas felt less like Christmas.
And then, last December, my brother (the one who was sleeping at the beginning of this story) and his wife had their first children, Nicholas and Giovanni De Guzman.
As I wrapped their gifts this Christmas, and then watched the boys unwrap them, I felt the holiday spirit coming back.
I wondered if they’d ever try to catch Mr. Clause dropping off gifts under the tree, or if they’d leave milk and cookies for him, all to have mom and dad eat them secretly at night.
I also imagined me getting into a big red suit, but we won’t get into that.
The truth is, I’m already looking forward to next Christmas.
Thanks, Nick and Gio, for making the holidays magical all over again.