My cousin Ileana is my greatest friend, and on this US Mother’s Day, I feel compelled to remind her.  We’re only a few years apart, but despite such a small gap, she’s been a surrogate mother to me from the time we were knee-high to grasshoppers and other unmentionable insects.  She was my partner in crimes related to hula hoops, ice cream trucks, and two-hand touch football in the street.  We were two young girls who would walk to school together on a bridge over a freeway.  Two young girls who spent one too many nights with intoxicated parents at Shakey’s Pizza.  Two young girls who, during those sticky summer days at our granny’s, found someone to rely on in each other.

There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Ana, and she’s already proven she’d do anything for me.  She’s given me shelter from torrential downpours of the figurative variety and strong cups of pragmatism when I’m skipping and jumping toward the deep end.

 Despite a lack of support and encouragement, as a single mom to two boys, Ana somehow managed to earn two degrees from two of the best colleges in the US and is now a teacher.  She’s opinionated, intelligent, and beautiful.  

She understands being there, really being present.  And my goodness does she make me laugh.  

We live in different countries now, and I miss her terribly.  My son and I had the fortunate opportunity to spend a lot of time with Ana over several months last year, going to Disneyland, Discovery Science Center, Natural History Museum, Huntington Library, Skirball Cultural Center, Museum of Contemporary Art, and the beach, among many other places.  She introduced my son to some of life’s most important pleasures – Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, sour candy, and beignets covered in powdered/icing sugar.  When we sat on the beach at sunset, eating chili powder on mango and cucumber slices, I never wanted to leave.  Just reminiscing about this time breaks my heart a bit.  It makes me wish I could call her and ask her to come around for a glass of wine because as she says in her infinite wisdom, “sometimes mama needs a drink.” 

When Ana’s elder son Bryon went off to college, she wrote the below words – The Mommy Manifesto – and I want to share it with you.

The past few months have been a blur for me.  I’ve watched as my first son, my big baby, got his first girlfriend, went to his prom, graduated from high school, and moved into his first dorm room what feels like a million miles away.  I would love to say I went through it all while maintaining poise but honestly that wasn’t always the case. We, or really I, had my blow-ups and breakdowns and they really haven’t completely ceased. 

When I became a mom at such a young age I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.  All I knew was I wanted to give my child, and then a couple years later my children, a decent, healthy, and as close to “normal” life as possible.  That normalcy, to me, meant going to school and furthering my education in order to open my (and in turn their) options.  Although I recently have questioned every parental choice I’ve made, I am pleased with the fact that my children were raised on college – might I even say the best college – campuses and were exposed to a lifestyle that I, at their age, had little idea existed.

Over the past few months many people have congratulated and even praised me for my son Bryon’s accomplishments.  The truth is I am honored, truly HONORED, to be his mother.  It’s hard not to become religious or at least spiritual when I think about it.  I truly believe my boys were God-sent.  I’ve heard many scary stories from parents of teenagers.  Not once has Bryon or Devyn argued with me or talked back to me.  God sent!  Bryon has never been blatantly disrespectful to me.  God sent!  And we end every major conversation with “I love you” even when we disagree on certain choices he has made.  Truly, God sent!  Okay, so maybe the last one sounds like a marriage. (Oh no, not what I meant, nothing creepy.)

Actually, when Bry was born I did truly fall in love with him.  It’s indescribable, my connection to both Bry and D.  This is something I don’t see often.  It could be that it’s a private connection between parent and child, and I have seen it recently with Lisha and Enlai.  I remember every year talking to parents who couldn’t wait for school to start to get their children out of their hair, and I remember feeling sad and worried, sad that they were growing up and worried that the other germy, dirty kids would make them sick or corrupt them.  In my eyes they were perfect.  My love for Bry continued to grow and evolve as he got older.  On the pitch, the court, the sand, and the field, I was always his biggest and sometimes loudest fan.  Not that he had a choice, but he never seemed to mind me being there.  The truth is we always hung out together, the three of us, going to movies, amusement parks, Vegas, wherever we could afford.  There’s no one I’d rather be with than my two boys.  Don’t be mistaken though.  As in love as I have been and as much time as we have spent together, we have always had a clear relationship.  I am the parent, and they are the children.  This is something which I’m happy to say I’ve only occasionally had to remind them.

Another question I’ve recently heard is, “How do you do it, raising two boys on your own?”  My only answer is you just do it.  I live day-to-day and handle each challenge as it comes.  So those times I may seem distant or even aloof, please know that I’m not being snooty.  I’m just handling my parental business, keeping it all together and doing what I have to for my boys and myself.

Over the summer I tried to give Bry a little more freedom.  I told myself, “He did graduate. Maybe he should be able to go out two days in a row…”  Of course I still had to know exactly where he was all the time, but he was and still is underage for Pete’s sake.  I thought that maybe it would help me get used to the quiet but it’s palpable and looms over our home.  As much as I bug D, it’s just not the same without Bry here.

Driving him out of state, and then home without him, was the hardest thing emotionally I’ve ever had to do.  I’ve been a fighter and survivor for so long.  I think I have a handle on anger and frustration but loneliness, sadness and a broken heart are not as easy.  For some reason, going for a run or to the gym doesn’t help those emotions.  It’s crazy how reflective I became during those few days.  I questioned every choice made.  Should I have moved them around so much? What if us being so close makes it harder for him to survive on his own?  What if he resents me for encouraging him to go to a school out of state?  They were endless, the questions.  With the questions also came regrets.  I shouldn’t have sheltered him so much.  I should have been a better advocate for his primary education.  It seems as though my culture (and I don’t just mean Latina with a little Filipina but more of my family culture) emphasized parenting as teaching my children to be respectful and obedient and putting teachers in charge of teaching.  I trusted their teachers to handle their education and made sure they were well-behaved boys.  The regrets and questions were never-ending – at least for the six-hour drive home. 

The truth is we are so close.  I would often tell him and D that we were a team, and we all had to pull our weight to make our team succeed.  These discussions came when he began slacking with his studies.  Those were some tough times.  I considered sending him out of the state or even the country to do some volunteer work so he could see how fortunate he was.  I considered sending him to live with my parents to finish his junior year.  I remember telling (or yelling at) him, “Let them see you fail because I can’t stand around and watch it.”  After talking to his advisor at a parent-conference I decided to give him another chance, and he did it.  He pulled his weight and ended up doing quite well his senior year.

All in all, I cannot express how proud I am of my son. Not just for graduating from high school (an accomplishment I never fulfilled) and not just for going to college, but for being a wonderful human being.

Bryon, I am honored, absolutely honored, that God chose me to be your mother.  I love you honey!