It’s my son’s first birthday tomorrow. My husband and I just wanted to spend the whole day playing with him, that’s it. No party, no gifts. What for? He won’t remember a thing anyway.
But his 2 yayas had other ideas. One of them confronted me: “Shouldn’t we at least put up a “Happy Birthday” sign on the wall?”
The idea of decorating the house for a one-year old came from this yaya who, when told to buy a newspaper at the nearby Mini-Stop and to also prepare my mom’s 3-in-1 coffee, looked at me, perplexed and asked, “Ate, san po nabibili yung 3-in-1 na dyaryo?” This was the same yaya who,upon seeing me clutching a book when I was about to get in the car, asked me innocently, “Ate, panu po kayo nakakabasa habang nagda-drayb?” Because of the seeming naivete or simplicity in the way she thinks (or maybe because of the stereotype I have of maids), I I did not take her seriously. I suppressed a chuckle and was about to tell them not to bother ‘cause it will just be a waste of time when both yayas did not even give me time to reply. They quickly volunteered to do the decorations. It was already 8 pm, they’ve been up since 5:30 a.m., cooking, cleaning the house and taking care of my li’l Tasmanian devil, and they still wanted to do this for my son?! By this time, I was no longer amused. I was so touched.
So while my son was sleeping, my yayas, my husband and I transformed our spartan unit into a McDonald’s-ish party place. Hours before the celebrant’s 6 am meal, the “Happy Birthday Phoenix” banner had been put up; already dangling from the ceiling were the buntings, paper boats and airplanes all made from old newspaper and phone directories. I was, surprisingly, getting excited; I could picture Phoenix’s face light up when he sees the paper buntings that he could pull and destroy. The decorations were simple, but I guess the gratitude I felt for my 2 kasambahay made everything look...magical. I still think my baby will not remember a thing about his first birthday. But I will. Every detail and much, much more.
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