The Ballistic Wife

I went to my son's school this morning to hand-deliver my letter to the principal. The problem with letters is that they have no voice; readers don't read them the way the writer intones them. So I decided to hand-in the letter with a voice over. Hahaha.

So I started the meeting with "Ma'am, my letter is a little emotional because it was written in frustration, but all I want to say is..." and went on to discuss what I wanted and needed as calmly as I can. I walked out of the office a good 30 minutes later with the assurance that they would discuss my findings with CAL. (I really liked it when I read out the technical thingamajigs I lifted from the book and her mouth dropped open. Hahaha.) I also had a short chat with the computer subject teacher, who assured me that he would issue a supplementary, more specific list of pointers to review to help parents focus on important items to review. Small battle, small win. Good enough.


Then I went to the Kumon Center to pay our tuition dues and had a small chat with the center director. I told her about last night's misadventure and the morning's foray into the principal's office. I told her I'm a little bothered by the notoriety I'm getting.

"Oh, but it's good you're doing that. What you did helps not only your son but the other students whose parents are not as involved or as available as you are," she said. "The school should appreciate that."

"It's my husband," I said. "He's a little uncomfortable about my being outspoken and gung-ho. You know, I actually stayed up until 1 am writing and rewriting my letter because I wanted it not to sound reproachful but nice; then this morning when I let him he read it, he goes, 'Di kaya kayo lang ang may problemang ganyan? Tawagan mo kaya si Malou? (Don't you think yours is an isolated case? Why not check if Malou's having the same problems?)'

So while I was pretty sure about my assessment, I went and called Malou, who more than validated my sentiments. She was pretty pissed off and frustrated with the book, too. So lucky me, I had enough reason to go and bring the matter to their attention."

"Your husband must be saying, 'Ano ba itong napangasawa ko (pala-away yata),"

"Ten years of marriage and here's what I've become. Hahaha. He's probably wondering into what I'd mutate to in the coming years. Hahaha!"

Then I told her the side-story of our little trip at NBS last Saturday. I was picking out a book, but the title I wanted was plastic wrapped. I poised to cut the sides of the wrapping open with my fingernails.

"Don't open that!" my husband said.

"And why not?"

"Baka pagalitan ka nila."

"Pag pinagalitan nila ako, aawayin ko sila! How do I know what's inside? How do I know if I like it enough to buy it?"

He didn't answer, but pointed instead to the other titles in the stack. "Yung iba bukas na. Yan hindi talaga."

"Kaya nga kailangan kong buksan eh. Funny naman, it's like buying a blouse I'm not allowed to try on..."

But I sensed his discomfort and so I knew it was time to give in.

"O, sige na nga, hindi na muna." And I put the book back, unwrapped.

If I did tear the wrappings open and got into an argument for what I did my husband would have died of embarrassment.

"Saka ko na titignan ito 'pag ako na lang mag-isa. Para kahit makipag-away ako, di ka mapapahiya kasi wala ka dito!"

(Was it something that I ate? Hahahaha.)

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Why AnneThology?

Anthology means a collection of poems, short stories, plays, songs, or excerpts. My name is Anne, and this blog contains a collection of my thoughts, musings and writings (poems, short stories), some songs I like, plus a sprinkling of excerpts I find worth sharing --hence, AnneThology.

Did you know?

Anthology derives from the Greek word ἀνθολογία (anthologia; literally “flower-gathering”) for garland — or bouquet of flowers — which was the title of the earliest surviving anthology, assembled by Meleager of Gadara.

Look, what I have -- these are all for you.