A salute to our KUMANDER...

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.