Alot Like Me

Kiddo looks just like her father. She is the spitting image, exact replica, carbon copy (or digital copy as it’s called nowadays) of him.

This was most evident in the early years, when she first graced this world with her presence. She hardly had any hair -- much like her father -- and was often mistaken for a boy. She was a Junior, her father’s Mini-Me.

In the beginning, this fact almost made me feel left out. My role was marginalized to carrying her around for 9 months. Like my services were no longer required and considered fully rendered when I had given birth to her.

When we split up, I took with me a daily reminder of him. Kiddo even took on some of his mannerisms, like his sleeping positions. Even in deep unconscious slumber, they mirrored each other.

As more hair sprouted on her head, the resemblance was downplayed, but only because she was now unmistakably a girl. As she started growing up, Kiddo begn adapting certain behaviors and displaying a distinct personality.

She took on a slight American twang, but could switch to crisp Tagalog in a snap. She showed a liking for indulgences that are instinctive to women like going to the salon and getting a hair cut or a kiddie foot spa. (I’m trying to delay the introduction to retail therapy for as long as I can.) She was a chatterbox, a social butterfly who liked being around people, whether it be my family to entertain or her friends to play with.

Alongside this, Kiddo’s other “qualities” also started to emerge – a willful, stubborn side which quietly (and sometimes, not so quietly) challenged rules. She defied warnings, pushing the envelope just far enough to incite a reprimand, but always ready to argue her defense with a smart-alecky response. She was irreverent, sometimes subversive to authority, deliberately doing what she’s specifically told not to do “just to see what happens”. She was theatrical, making mountains out of molehills – brandishing her own kind of drama. Just today, at her Moving Up Ceremony, she was given the "Big Imagination" award. According to her Teacher, it's because of the different characters she pretends to be and the mostly out-of-this-world endings that she makes up for the stories read in class. (The only 2 other girls in her class were awarded "Big Sister" and "Little Mommy" respectively). She was both easily pensive and withdrawn.

My life was proverbially flashing before my eyes. I saw myself as a curious child who couldn’t wait to grow up (my Mother tells me that I started getting my nails done at age 4); an outspoken adolescent who questioned the nuns about the importance given to “socialite” subjects if I was not going to marry rich and spend the rest of my life going to charity balls and throwing dinner parties; a rebellious, angst-ridden teenager who detested being told that she was too young to know anything about life; an opinionated reader who wrote letters to editors, columnists, almost anyone who would listen (my first letter was to President Reagan when I was 7).

God help me. Raising Kiddo will be an exercise in dealing with myself.

Yup, Kiddo is a lot like me…though she may not look it at all.