The Early Months

A single parent's biggest challenge here is getting a sitter. That was something I discovered in my first few weeks here. I needed to buy grocery, my son had to go with me. I needed to show up for a job interview, he had to go with me. When I got a job, I had to approach a total stranger and ask if she could look after my son while I was at work. Everyday, my heart would be racing, fearing the worst for my son -- that he'd get kidnapped, shouted at, maltreated. Then come payday, my pay cheque would immediately go to the sitter. I'd barely have anything left to cover even my bus tickets. It was a miserable life. I was dipping into our baon money, and I was homesick all the time.
I contemplated requesting for my mom's assistance, but I couldn't be sure she'd cope during the winter months. And my old apartment had only one room. I didn't want my mom to be sleeping in the futon. So my son and I braved a few more weeks of expensive baby sitting.
Mercifully, school started. I was on the lookout everyday for Filipino parents who I could ask help from. The next few months saw us moving from house to house, sitter to sitter. It wasn't a life I wanted for my son, but I didn't have a choice. Eventually, I found someone I could really rely on and it felt like a heavy load was lifted off my shoulders.
The sitter problem solved, I decided we needed something to keep ourselves sane, to keep ourselves from getting homesick, so we went out at weekends. We tried out different eating places and sampling different cuisines. The fish and chips near the Collingwood library became a favorite hub. We took ferry rides and explored other parts of the city.
Before we knew it, it was winter. I have gotten over my homesickness and have started to enjoy this new home. My parents were right when they said I am strong, that I could start over and rebuild our lives here.
Fellow Filipinos were right too...sometimes one just has to accept help when it's offered.
But not all Filipinos here think the same, but that's an entirely new story, and would need a separate blog entry:-)

Native Tongue

When we got here one year ago, my son and I agreed that we'd speak Tagalog at home. We've been doing that. Whenever I meet Filipino parents, they'd ask me how come my son still knows his native language and I'd tell them about the agreement. They'd nod in approval and then some would lament that their own children have forgotten more than the language, but Filipino values as well.
For my part, I think not forgetting the language keeps my son grounded. If there's one thing I hate when I was back home, it's listening to balikbayans who have embraced everything western and snorts in disdain to anything local, and being very loud and vulgar about it. That just makes my skin crawl.
But while my son keeps the native tongue, I, admittedly, am sometimes powerless to stop him from adapting to a new way of life. Sometimes it's tiring to explain why things are so because a barrage of questions would definitely ensue, but I know it's worth it. And sometimes I wouldn't have the wisest, most ideal answer, but I know I couldn't, shouldn't, give up.

Our First Four Seasons

It's been a year since my son and I packed our bags and started a new life here in Canada. It's been a year since I hugged my sisters and parents in a very tearful goodbye. It's been a year since I thought that we wouldn't make it here, wouldn't survive, wouldn't bear the loneliness and separation from our family. But we did. We survived. So here then are some snapshots of the year past.