A mother of ten, a wife of one man.
Unlike any other mom, you are aberrant.
You don’t cook our breakfast but you wake us up.
You don’t pack our lunch but you remind us never to skip
meal,
You rarely wash our school uniform, but you always made sure
we won’t go absent.
You seldom clean the house, but you can easily fix any
damages.
You sporadically help us on our assignments because you know
we won’t learn that way.
You don’t help us cover our books, or fix our notebooks, but
you bought the materials.
You don’t say study well because you always dropped by at
school to check our performance.
You never guard our emotions, for you its fine to get hurt as
part of growing up.
You never stop us to play outside, for you, its fun.
You make friends with our suitor and the first to ask
chocolates.
You cry with us when we are heartbroken, but the first to
smile when we fell in love.
You don’t care who we love, you know it’s our personal
choice.
You are our carpenter, sewer, barber, defender, lover and punisher.
You are our own personal singer, for you always sing your
personal song for us.
You are not typical.
You are distinct, you are unique.
You are erratic, exuberant and buoyant.
You are special; a superior of your kind.
You are our nanay…our spoiled Mommah.
Our own Kumander BAWANG.
