Challenge Accepted

To contextualize my anger, read this first.

Oh, where to begin?

So here's the sitch: The Senate is planning to amend an existing anti-discrimination bill to include the LGBT in its roster of individuals to protect. The Catholic church, nay, the CBCP (for it would be disingenuous to lump all the truly faithful with the CBCP) would like to exclude the LGBT for it might open the possibility to the legalization of same sex marriages. Also, by enacting this bill, they claim that the church can be penalized and fined for refusing to marry same sex couples.

To quote Jo Imbong, one of the lawyers of CBCP, "...The third sex, they choose this. How can you give protection to a choice like that?"

Oh, where to begin?

1. Just because the State wants to protect the LGBT from discrimination does not necassarily mean they would legalize same sex marriage. (By the way, this is me not launching into that topic - with much deliberateness and difficulty.)
2. The debate continues as to what "causes" homosexuality. The very hypothesis makes me cringe though as I don't believe that it is actually "caused". I know there are arguments out there about nature and nurture and all that jazz, but for me, it's as simple as this: I know that homosexuality is not a choice because I know that my heterosexuality is not a choice. How the LGBT live their lives, THAT is the choice - that they have every bloody right to make. Homosexuals do not live their lives expressly to annoy people; they live it for themselves.
3. Let's just say, for argument's sake, that it is a choice - should they then be excluded from protection just because they chose to be gay?!? I mean, SERIOUSLY??? I don't discriminate against people who choose Justin Bieber over The Decemberists, because as kadiri as that choice may be to me, by God, I shall defend their rights to have the Bieber Fever!!! 

Years ago, people who were persecuted sought sanctuary from the church. It is horrifying how today, the church is not only denying them sanctuary by turning them away, they are also stripping them of protection, even saying that they should not be protected at all! It's one thing to shun people because, well, you don't like them. It's another to say that the State should not protect them as well.

"Catholic" means universal. Some universal church you want to build there, CBCP. Last I checked, Jesus asked me to love my neighbors, not condemn them. I refuse to believe that my capacity to love and protect the LGBT is greater than God's own love and protect. That's all he ever asked of us, just to love!

I have been educated by some of the best Catholic minds in my country, and they did not educate me - they did not raise me - to feel hatred for the Other. And now you want to institutionalize this, this, this HATRED? Do not hide your bigotry behind your institution.

On some level, I know that this is moot. I'd like to believe that the State is pretty solid on maintaining its separation from the Church (you might like to review that), so this law shall most probably be amended. It has to be amended.

You know what you are, CBCP? You are a bully.

And you know we do to bullies? We kick them in the nuts. We stand up against them and fight back. Challenge accepted, CBCP. Challenge accepted.

If you don't want to stand for LGBT, then fine. Go do whatever the hell it is that you do. But let me protect them. Let. Me. Protect. Them. Let it be legal to do so.

Kailangan Matuto Ako Magalit Sa Tagalog

This being a non-working holiday, the hubster thought it would be a good idea for all of us to go to the mall to take care of some errands. The wait at one of the stops took a little longer than Lucia could bear to be inside, so we decided to go out of the store and run merrily about in the wide near-empty halls of the mall.

All of a sudden, this ugly, fat, boorish kid (all of two years old) came out of the store from whence we came and stopped in front of my daughter. Lucia looked at him curiously as the horrible child pushed – nay, HADOUKENED – my angel to the floor. It happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to cushion her fall, so she fell backwards and hit the back of her head on the floor. She knows how to fall, thank goodness, so it wasn’t a deadly thud, but it was enough to frighten and hurt her enough to cry something fierce.

Dear reader, please do not judge me, but at that moment, I really thought I could’ve killed that boy.

I screamed bloody hell and his yaya came out. She whisked the tyrant inside and didn’t even apologize to me! I went inside and kneeled towards the boy, who, by then, was being admonished by his nitwit of a mother. I wanted to show them how much Lucia was crying. When nary an apology or even an attempt at eye contact could be envisaged from the scoundrel and his inutil placenta carrier, I went to the nearest restaurant and asked for some ice to cool Lucia’s bump.

We were about to leave it at that, but halfway through our exeunt, I decided to go back to that, that, that woman and her offspring.

I was incensed – LIVID – that I had to be the one to go up to her and demand for an apology! I told her that had it been MY child that pushed her child, I would muster up the decency to come up to her and apologize PROFUSELY and not cower behind the inability to make eye contact! “The least you could’ve done was apologize!” I screamed at her.

Nothing came from her. She still wasn’t looking at me.

“Do you understand me? I said YOU should’ve come to ME and said sorry!” I said. 

“But I did sorry! I did sorry! You not hear!” she screamed back.

Anak ng ****, ano daw?!?

“You did no such thing! I have a mall full of people who could attest to your indecency!” I said-slash-spat at her.

“He is two! I did sorry!” she yelled.

“I don’t care if he’s two! I don’t care about your kid! I’m saying YOU’RE terrible!” I screamed.

“But I did sorry!”

“Good God, you can’t even defend yourself properly! You...”

P A U S E

Okay, for the record, this is what I wanted to say: “You insipid, nitwit of a woman. You unfortunate bearer of a womb. Your eggs must be frozen so that this planet should not be plagued by other mortals condemned by your malignant, sorry excuse for a gene pool.”

And I realized how futile that would be, so I ended up saying this:

P L A Y

“You...STUPID!!!”

ASDFGHJKL!!!

She did sorry.

I not hear.

She stupid.

Katz, why you no galit in Tagalog na lang kasi?!?





P.S. Lucia’s fine, by the way, and I am duly chastising myself for my murderous thoughts. But my God, nobody touches my child in that way, in my presence, and leaves unscathed by my venomous tongue.

"Manong Third Year"

One of our longtime guards passed away yesterday. He was directing traffic and then he had a heart attack. It was almost as if he was switched off—one minute he was there, the next he was gone.

News of his death spread in trickles at first through Twitter. My feed was peppered with bits and pieces of the story. When the story was finally taking shape in my head, I couldn't help but wish that it wasn't "Manong Third Year" (that's the pet name my husband and I gave him since he's usually stationed in our wing—right by my class' classroom, no less). Despite all the evidence, I was vehemently denying that it was he who had passed, until finally, the actual confirmation came.

I shed copious tears—still am—and I can't quite grasp why I'm so sad and how sad I am. Was it because I saw him every, single, blessed day? Was it because he and I would always talk about the weather, the kids, my husband (whom he has known for so long as well since Chaddy used to work here), my daughter (whom he has known since she was in my belly)? Was it because he had seen my daughter make her first furtive steps along the corridors and was equally delighted?

Yes and so much more. He had been part of my life, no matter how fleeting, no matter how minutely. No, I can't even make that argument since he wasn't a minute part of my life. A day in school would pass when I wouldn't see some of my colleagues, but I would always see him. The other older guard and I were speaking this morning and he said something that really hit home. "Ma'am, bago pa nga kayo naging mag-boyfriend ni Sir Chad, kilala na po namin kayo." Indeed, and that's why he was such a big part of our lives.

Today would be the first time since having started with the third year program (close to three years now) that I wouldn't be seeing him. Selfishly, I will mourn for that loss. Oh, how the kids and I will miss you. How Chad and I will miss you. Thank you letting me hug you at least once, Manong Nelson. Haha! :)

Get some rest and till we meet again—as I'm half expecting you to stand guard at the gates of Heaven as well.

Thankful

Thanksgiving isn't a big holiday here in the Philippines, but it is still my favorite holiday. I remember how nippy the weather turns, how pretty the leaves become, how the woolly sweaters make a comeback. Sure, it has origins that are distinctly...violent (if you will), but I like that it has evolved into something much more benevolent. You don't have to belong to a particular religion or race to celebrate it because gratitude is universal.

Plus, turkey is awesome and I make a mean stuffing.

So, in keeping with this weekend's theme, I would like to publicly state what I am thankful for:

I am thankful for wobbly steps that flirt with the possibility of running.

I am thankful for a husband who knows how to make me feel better after a huge dose of douchebaggery from a "friend."*

I am thankful for my kids who are the darlings of my heart -- difficult as they may be to handle at times. :p (You guys are so gulo!)

I am thankful for coffee. And wine.

I am thankful for my co-teachers who are hard working and easy-to-laugh.

I am thankful for my gift of wit (for how shall I survive otherwise?).

I am thankful for a God who gives me the Desire to desire, even if I am often remiss with the Thank Yous.

Happy thanksgiving, everyone! :)

*Yes, there is a back story to that, but no, I shall not write about it here. Needless to say, that "friend" is no longer one.

First of Many

My darling Lucia is one today. :)

I've been anxious and dreading this day because it's simply too bittersweet. I'm having serious separation anxiety issues with Lucia's infancy, hehe. But my happiness and gratitude is overwhelming and far outweighs any silliness that is my inadequate mother-ness.

00.O.00

My beloved, do you have any idea how loved you are? How much joy you bring to every single person around you?

Your smile dispels any threat of sadness, fatigue, and self-doubt. Your raised arms brings such self-worth to me as you deem me worthy of being the bringer of comfort to you.

Your scrunched up face in glee, matched with your squeals of laughter, strengthens and breaks your Daddy's heart as he leaves for work. When you play hide-and-seek and peekaboo with Daddy, what you're really doing is tugging on his heartstrings and making joyous music.

When you sleep at night, may you dream dreams that are bigger than your wee toes. May you be surrounded by hope that is wider than your outstretched arms.

But what is bigger than your toes? For I feast on them constantly and still they are there. What is wider than your outstretched arms? For when you engulf me with your baby smells, you banish even the most ancient of hurts.

You are God's constant reminder that your Daddy and I are loved, blessed, and beautifully (humbly, happily, and proudly) unworthy of you and the promise of who you will be. We do not deserve his grace, but we shall live out the rest of our lives basking in the honor that we were chosen for you. Thank you for everything that you are and will be to us.

Thank you even for those years when Mommy cried when she thought she couldn't have you. Even those years have become more precious as they have become fodder for a gratitude that grows bigger as each day passes.

Daddy and I love you very much, Luciapet. Luciakins. Munchkinitoo. Happy birthday! 

Best Birthday Gift Ever

Every night, Lucia and I watch several Sesame Street videos to help her fall asleep. One of the things that she loves to watch is Sesame's Word on the Street clips with the monster Murray. He basically introduces a new word to the kids and asks kids and adults alike to describe/explain the word on the street. One of our all-time favorites is the episode on celebration:

Well, today being my birthday, I had quite a few little celebrations. Started by going to the chapel with Lucia, Chad, and yaya. Then my A boys gave me a card and a HUGE chocolate cake (they know their mommy all too well). We all ate the cake and reduced it to smithereens during recess and proceeded to be on a sugar high for the rest of third period.

Thanks to Facebook, I also got a barrage of well wishes from friends, students, and colleagues. I have a love-hate relationship with Facebook, but it sure knows how to make a person feel loved on his/her birthday.

Some of my favorites come from Ardy, a former student of mine. He was in the class whose study period (like study hall) I handled in his first year and then I was his English teacher in his second year. He was also in my first moderating class. I love those kids to DEATH, and we have been through a LOT (to say the least), so it really warms my heart whenever I get to hear from them again.

Click on the picture to enlarge.

Another favorite is from my brother Pow. He and I grew up together. As kids, we drove each other nuts; as much as sisters and brothers are wont to do. When we got older, we became inseparable naman. I seriously consider him as one of my best friends in this world. I don't think I will ever get used to not living close to him as he is such a huge part of who I am today. There are aspects of me that only he really understands.

Click on the picture to enlarge.

This other one was from Chaddy. Now, just to contextualize: He doesn't really go on FB all that much. In fact, I was the one who made his profile. So it really is a big deal that he posted this at all -- with a sweet video to boot!

Click on the picture to enlarge.

Here's the video that he sent:





But enough about me, because something even better is coming up! In a few hours, our darling, precious, miracle baby is going to turn one!

This time last year, I was with me was my mom (thank God) and my husband. Sure, the labor was a day and a half long, but this little pumpkin made the wait so worth it.



I'm still torn between being really sad and being really happy (I still don't want her to grow up!), but I am all about being extremely grateful. God has been so good to us, and it all really culminates with her. We thought we were never going to have a baby of our own, and my how the Lord proved us wrong. I shall forever be humbled knowing that God found us worthy to be parents of this little angel.
Happy birthday, my darling. Daddy and I are so happy to have you in our lives. You are the best birthday gift ever. :)

Bubbles

Just a few more days till she turns one. Too fast, too fast.

N.B. Thank you to our birthing classmates Max Canlas and Love Chan (respectively) for the above pictures.

Absurd, Pink, with a Hint of Genteel Passive Aggression

"I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles." (Audrey Hepburn) 

And since you don't, I don't believe in you. In fact, you exist to prove that everything that is diametrically opposed to what you stand for, what you are, is what I believe in. You are the personification of almost everything I am fundamentally against.

It isn't generosity if it's really manipulation. Or bribing. Or a commentary on (select pet quality that makes me SO unlike you this time). I keep silent because apparently, that's how you want to play it. But my God. My. God. Do not push me over the edge because I will fight back when I need to. Especially if you use her as a bargaining chip. You do so without my consent, but do not think for a second that you are doing so without my knowledge for I am much smarter than you are. I am wise to your underhanded tactics.

 Thou clouted crook-pate fustilarian. Scheming flax-wench. Get thee away. I've had enough.

Beautiful Eyes

Getting Lucia to sleep at night is a long and tiring process, but it's pretty predictable. I give her a bath at around 6 and then we play, read, watch videos, blow raspberries on each other, until I eventually nurse her to sleep. All this takes about two hours. Yup. Two hours. By the time she falls asleep, I'm usually pretty exhausted (mostly from the nursing, but now that she's getting bigger, from the playing, too).

This usually gets her pretty sleepy. If you have a young one, try this with him/her. I think the combination of classical music and Elmo brings her to her calm, happy place. All the classical music she listened to while in utero might have something to do with it.

She has all sorts of tricks now. She can clap her hands, dance, wave, and walk about two to three steps on her own. Of all her neat little tricks, my favorite, hands down, is the "beautiful eyes" trick. 

You all know how it goes. Someone says, "Beautiful eyes!" and then the baby kinda flutters her eyelids. With Lucia, she makes you work for it:

Me: Beautiful eyes!

Lucia: < default face >

Me: Beautiful eyes!

Lucia: <Oh, you mean like, more than usual. Tsss.>

Lucia furrows her brows and gives me an are-you-frikkin'-kidding-me look.

Me: Beautiful eyes!

Lucia rolls her eyes, squints, laughs (at my glee), squints again, then deadpans. I swear to God, she deadpans in the end...and I don't know where she got that.

I swear, this baby is awesome. Hahaha!

My bonny little lassie is something else. Most people would agree that she looks like Chad, but my goodness, I'm afraid her impish personality belies a more definitive resemblance to me.

Watch out, World.

1...2...3...4...5

Feeble attempt to calm myself down.

My friends on Facebook know about this boy because I've talked about him often enough. He is the unfortunate loin-fruit of our oh-so-awful neighbors. He is rude, loud, manipulative, and morally ambiguous.

He is four.

From what I've gathered, he has an older brother and an older sister, both of school age, but not that much older. They don't live with this four year old hooligan, since I don't get to deal with them on a regular basis. Today though, being some sort of holiday, both siblings were here. Turns out, four year old hooligan is but a satellite to the planet-ian whatever-year old cretin of an older brother. Both were raising hell this afternoon, but what really pissed me off was how they were peering into our home only to spit and air-shoot us with their dime-a-dozen, super panget toy guns. Peeking and spitting. Seriously?!?

I am >>>THIS.CLOSE<<< to storming their place and giving their momma a talking-to, but the confines of propriety keep me at bay. Damn. (I wanted to say something more inflammatory, but again, propriety!) God knows I ain't a perfect mother, but seriously. Peeking and spitting. SERIOUSLY?!?

There is precocious and then there's who-raised-you-wildebeests? (My apologies to wildebeests everywhere.

God, I am so angry. SO ANGRY.

Seriously. Peeking and spitting.

How to MOMOL with Saturday

A bag full of candies.

Reliving the previous night's conversation about existentialism, objectivism, and entanglement physics.

Peek-a-boos and kissing of scraped knees.

Being fed tuna spread and crackers.

Thinking of what to wear to tonight's trick or treat festivities in our village.

Not having to check anything. Knowing that I'll be having an actual break.

Beer in the fridge.

Watching a stupid movie.

Have I mentioned the candy?

***

Saturday! Long have I mistreated you. How rapturous to be in your loving arms again. Come, let us make out, frolic, and do all sorts of unspeakable things.

Verbal Irony, Not A Lie:

Okay, I'm Already Defeated.

But that's only because I want to shake my bloody stump at the (insert virtue) bankruptcy of the (insert behemoth enemy). And apparently because I have a rump worth shaking. Bloody (insert expletive of higher degree). 

They can take our bones

and bury them deep under the river

but we'll still be together

and we cannot be defeated

They can take our trombones

and pack them down there with us

but no matter how longs it takes us

we will not be defeated

When we dance, we dance together

under the moon and under the weather

we will lock our eyes forever in the night

Well, they can take our bones

and bury them deep under the river

but we'll still be together

and we cannot be defeated

They can take our fists

and chop them off at the wrist

and we will shake our rumps with bloody stumps

and we cannot be defeated

When we dance, we dance together

under the moon and under the weather

we will shake our rumps forever and a night

Context

Had a rough morning. Well, I've had a rough couple of days, but this morning was just something else. Of course, the day has hardly begun (I haven't even taught my first class yet), so this could still turn out to be a good day. Still, I find myself having to spread myself too thin - emotionally, mentally...and this morning, morally.

I wanted to lash out in anger in the most inappropriate way kanina...as in cut to Quentin Tarantino action sequence. I'd like to list down the things that I wish I could've done, but I might be institutionalized for rage issues. So, I'm going to list down the comedic things that I wish I could've done to vent my anger.

Okay, so here:

1. Sing Rage Against the Machine's Wake Up in full effect.
2. Transform into the Jabberwocky and show them how I am going to have a frabjous day. Callooh, callay my ass.
3. Turn into Rebecca Black and sing Friday for 45 minutes. Nonstop.
4. Show them pictures of me giving birth via C-section, and then force them to eat at the same time.
5. Compute for frikkin' pi.

And that's it. As it turns out, that's the extent of my comedic venting because, truly, I am very angry. Extremely angry. And fed up.

It's getting harder and harder to find the funny side of things now. It isn't funny-haha anymore as much as it is funny-I-just-want-this-to-stop. I am existentially Arms Akimbo itself. 

I said I'd leave all this behind before it gets toxic, before I become bitter. Yeah. Well. Too late for that. Methinks I should've left five minutes ago.

Now, hold your horses. I'm not leaving now. For the meantime, I'm still here. For some of the people I work with, because they are like family to me now. For my kids for they are awesome. (Thank God at least my kids are wonderful.) 

But if I'm going to stay longer than necessary, I want to stay for me, and I find that I can no longer do that. 

Bah.

Choice

It was another difficult day. Another in a string of difficult days. But I get to go home in a few minutes and I'm choosing to be grateful instead.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes (i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened) - e.e. cummings

Clouds Part and a Ray of Sunshine Pushes Through to Make Rainbows that Make Candy Sprinkles Grey in Shame

When I smell you just behind the ears, where your neck and wee shoulders meet.
When I blow raspberries on your solar plexus.
When you realize I've come home (finally!) and you wrinkle your nose in fake-cry so that you could come to me and (finally!!!) have your milkoes.
When you lift your arms and ask to be carried.
When you cry when Daddy leaves for work.
When you give your slow smile when you know Daddy and I are being goofy.
When you eat your food!
When you look at us before you make a mess, not to ask for permission, but to make sure that we know you'll make a mess and show us that you don't care and so neither should we. (Working on that.)
When your leg looks for something to rest upon so you sleep with a daintily obnoxious foot (or feet) raised ever-so-slightly.
When you clap and wave your hands on cue.
Whenever you go to the bookshelves and reach for a book.
When you calm down when I hold you.
Whenever I have you and your Daddy in bed with me and I deliberately tell myself not to get up and check papers to be with you, my loves, first.

Too Fast!

Lucia is 10.5 months old!

Why?

Because to be a mother was the only thing I wanted more than to be a teacher.
There are many permutations to the why, but this is the.only.why that matters.

Definitions (Noun)

Ennui
(noun) A feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest.
Perturb
(verb) To disturb or disquiet greatly in mind; agitate.
Unctuous
(adjective) Characterized by excessive piousness or moralistic fervor, especially in an affected manner.
Skullduggery
(noun) Dishonorable proceedings.
Solipsism
(noun) Extreme preoccupation with and indulgence of one’s feelings, desires, etc,; egoistic self-absorption.
Delitescent
(adjective) Concealed; hidden; latent.
Braggadocio
(noun) Empty boasting.
Choice
(noun) An alternative.
Consequence
(noun) The conclusion reached by a line of reasoning. Importance or significance.
Resignation
(noun) An accepting, unresisting attitude, state, etc.; submission; acquiescence: to meet one’s fate with resignation. A formal statement, document, etc., stating that one gives up an office, position, etc.
All definitions from Dictionary.com.

Long Weekend, Shlong Weekend

Okay, for starters, let me acknowledge that "shlong" sounds whack. There. Duly acknowledged.

The long weekend is upon us and instead of relaxing, I'm fretting over all the stuff I need to check. And I have a lot. Chaddy and Yaya are helping though. Chaddy's checking the multiple choice parts and Yaya's helping with Lucia, but there's only so much they can do.

Ah, but I shall try to relax as well. I must. And I have to let a little silliness creep in. I mean, how could I not?

Haha! Silly duckie. Silly mommy. ;)

Happy long weekend, everyone.

PS Hurricane Irene is hovering over the US' East Coast and Typhoon Mina is dillydallying right beside the Philippines right now. Hope everyone enjoys their weekends nonetheless. Stay safe and dry, everyone.

That's All

I am poor. Aside from my family, my idealism is all I have on most days. If I stay, the system will slowly eat at that and I will be destroyed. It's not even up to me to choose not to be destroyed. Because for as long as I am here, I will choose to be angry.

Because being angry reminds me that I still stand for something. Something that It does not. Something that It is not.

But it is the same anger that will consume me.

I am verbalizing this not to justify my decision (which, in reality, will not really take effect for quite some time still) because aside from my family, nobody really deserves to know why I'm leaving. I am merely verbalizing this because I need to. For myself. So that I can be reminded that the die has been cast and that everything else that will happen hereon end - as awful or joyous as it may be - will only make this experience richer. Will make the end more meaningful.

For the chapter is about to end.

And I am at peace. And afraid.

Funny. When I started this chapter, those were the exact same things I felt. But I am different now. My priorities are different. Essentially, still the same, but different. It's just time. That's all.

Enough.

Image from: http://sonsoflibertyacademy.com/

Bullish Bullies, Full of Bull

Allow me this moment of despair.

I am at the point where I would much rather be a stay-at-home mom. It's not the work (although there are tons of it), it's not the long hours, it's not even the hardly-enough pay...

You know the trouble with having heroes? It's realizing that not only are they also human, but sometimes, they're the sort of humans you vowed never to be. It's that disappointment that's getting to me. So amazingly disheartening. I think more than what had happened, it's that fatigue from trying to understand context upon context upon context, only to realize that it really is a lot simpler than what I keep convincing myself. It's douchebaggery, plain and simple.

Ah, the disappointment.

Oh, I know. I shall rise to the occasion. I must transcend the politics. I must become better than That Bully. I'll get to that positive rah-rah stuff when I'm in a better frame of mind. Right now, I'm just so disappointed. So meta-disappointed, I'm existentially planking.

Please, just let me be at home. Let me take care of my child and my husband. Let me explore the gastronomical wonders that our limited pantry can offer.

If you woke up to this face every day, wouldn't you agree?

In her car seat, on our way to the grocery, 8 months old.

Soon, it won't be the anger that will make me leave. Nor that I stopped loving it. It will be because I love something else so much more. Ever so much more. It's just a matter of when.

Rituals

Every morning, I wake up at 4 to nurse Lucia one last time before I leave for work. The actual nursing lasts longer than the time it takes for me to get ready for work, and I'm out the door by 5:15. As I walk towards the gate of our compound, I often see the usual people milling about at that ungodly hour.

As soon as I step out of our building, I look to the left and the same jogger would be passing through. I turn right to go towards the gate, and already the school service is there, waiting patiently for our neighbor from the other building to sleepily board. Just a few more paces till the gate, I see the same old lady in mid brisk walk, always with a hearty "Magandang umaga!" since we always - so always, it's bordering on Twilight Zone proportions - seem to cross paths in such a way that we almost trip into each other.

Such is the automation of my early mornings. I can actually tell when I'm running late when I miss seeing any one of those people on my way out.

The past few days though, I have been ridiculously busy. So busy, in fact, that I've had to ask my husband to bring me to school later than usual. Lucia had been sick with a mild form of measles and I have been beside myself. I haven't been able to sleep well, eat well, do anything well.

Thankfully, this morning I was able to wake up just in time and do all that again. Lucia's on the mend now, so things are picking up. All of those morning elements were at play at again, and I knew I was back in the groove, my daily two-step with Early Morning back in motion. It might seem bizarre, but I did miss them and their unacknowleding acknowledgment that I am still on track, albeit barely.

Ah, but oh my, how the Fates do chuckle at my expense. I feel myself getting more ill as the day progresses. My head feels like it's full of sawdust, my nose is red from sniffling, I sneezed right before saying "good morning" to my kids, and I tripped ever so ungraciously in front of all of them. And it's only 8:27 am.

But no matter. At least I had my ritual this morning. I'm still alive. Albeit barely.

Achoo.

This Episode was Brought to You by Death, Vampires, and the Word "Wee"

Just got home from the hospital.

Lucia has had a fever for the past several days. Two o'clock this morning, I noticed that she was especially hot and fussy. I decided to check her temperature and found out that she had shot up to 39.7. Before we slept, she was somewhere in the lower vicinity of 38, and I was already anxious then. So off we went to the ER.

We were in the ER for about 7ish hours. We had to wait for Lucia to pee in a wee bag (that's the actual medical term - and yes, it is just for pee, and yes, it is small)and the odds were against us. She pooped, and so we had to change the bag. She pooped again. Changed the bag again. When she finally did get to pee, the bag leaked. We were so happy when the wee babe finally peed into the wee bag, you'd think she was all but cured already. Wee!

As mind-numbing as nursing and consoling a sick child in the midst of all the other sick children, I think I shall forever be scarred by the drawing of blood from Lucia's wee finger (nope, not tired of the term yet).

A few facts: I am deathly afraid of blood. Almost as afraid as I am of spiders (and believe me, that's saying a lot). But Sick Lucia equals Clingy Lucia and I thought, if she was going to be a Plucky Duckie and endure that blood letting, by God, so shall I. Plucky Mommy.

The whole blood draining thing was horrific. (I realize the actual process is getting gorier by the narrative minute - and later, shimmering vampires will appear, stay tuned.) I guess it didn't take more than a minute, but the screaming and the tears were right next to my face and I couldn't help but cry along with her. Ugh, dear God, it was horrible. I was glad that it eventually ended. That we later found out that it wasn't dengue was just gravy by then.

***

As I was overdramatizing our ordeal, I noticed that across the hall, there were three people, and they were crying silently. One could hardly stand on her own and she was leaning on her brother (or so I assumed). A few minutes later, a priest arrived and they scurried behind the thin curtain that hid their loved one who had, apparently, passed away.

As I was overdramatizing our ordeal, someone in the other room had died.

***

Because we had stayed so long in the ER, by the time we had gotten the results of the urinalysis, our pediatrician had already started his clinic hours. So off we went to see him. He told us what we needed to do and off we went, our merry band of three (mama, dada, and yaya), with our wee babe.

As we were waiting for dada to buy the antibiotics, I received SMSs from two former kids of mine. They were both asking if it was true that a former co-teacher of mine had passed away. It was fairly easy to confirm the sad truth. He had indeed passed away - a few hours ago, it seems.

As I was overdramatizing our ordeal, someone I had known and used to work with had died.

***

Lots to be thankful for and lots to pray for. What a day this has been. And look, as of this writing, it is 2:22 PM, about 12 hours since the day began for me.

But I won't overdramatize that fact anymore.

Even if the darkness of my eyes could rival the very vampirish shimmer of another fellow who was probably up at the same time as I was; whose eyes similarly-half-opened like mine are right now.

Godspeed, Stranger in the Other Room. If the crying you left behind was any indication, it seems as though you were a good person and that you had a life well-lived. Enjoy the afterlife.

And goodbye, Gelo. Our last conversation centered around my telling you that I wasn't happy that you were leaving. This time, while I am not happy that you left, I'm glad that you are at least arriving at a much better place. You will be missed.

[Insert Onomatopoeic Expression of Exhaustion and Joy]

Real life has taken over, hence the silence. I don't think I've ever been this busy before in my life. And believe me, that's saying a lot.

Aside from taking care of a wonderful team of teachers this year, I'm also taking care of a wonderful bunch of kids. This year, I'm moderating the honors class.

Original image from here. The editing, well, that was me. ;p

At the beginning of the year, the very idea made my tummy twist into knots. I was in the honors class back in high school, and I'm afraid I wasn't the nicest student to my teachers -- well, to most of my teachers, at least. I was haughty and full of myself because I knew I was smart and I could survive by merely giving the barest minimum (except in English, of course). Ugh. If I were my student today, I'd hate me. Big time. So I really thought that being assigned to the honors class would be my comeuppance. That the spirits of Scorned Teachers Past would finally find peace of mind for their long-awaited retribution (oh, my poor Math and Religion teachers).

But, as history has proven time and time again, God's always in charge. His sense of humor is sometimes bizarre bordering on what-the-toot, but at least I knew he was at the helm.

Sure enough, my kids were everything I expected them to be. They were just like me

And more. But more. So much more.

It was tough to get them to trust me, but slowly, bit by bit, they let me in.

Yesterday, we came home from a 1.5 day retreat. The kids went through a series of activities that allowed them to confront their demons, contextualize their fears, and share parts of themselves with each other. Through it all, I was just an observer and, from time to time, a facilitator. But as they were going through their retreat, I found myself going through some form of retreat myself.

In the quiet of the evening, before I drifted off to (exhausted) sleep, I had a moment when God spoke to me, not as a mom. Nor a wife. Nor anything else in between. He spoke to me as a daughter, as someone he has always taken care of.

I'm not sure what he said exactly, for he didn't speak in words. But I felt his comfort, his reassurance, his promise that somehow, I will be all right. I've been so incredibly tired, but he promised that I will be well.

He also promised that my kids will all be well despite the enormous pressure they feel. Despite the fact that so many of them have more questions than answers. Despite how inadequate they feel at the face of being deemed the most intelligent of their peers. Because he loves them. Oh, how he loves them.

And by all things holy, oh, how I love them as well. Every single last haughty, silly, cranky, geeky one of them.

I have had only one other moderating class and most of them will be done with college after this school year. Oh, how I loved them, still love them, too. At that time, I didn't have Lucia yet, and so they really were the children of my heart. When I was asked to moderate this year, I feared that I might not be able to love them as much as I did my first class since I already had Lucia, but I have been proven wrong.

It seems as though every time I try to put limits on Love, Love (lovingly) kicks my butt. No such thing. There is no limit to how many people we can love, on how much we can love. Thank God, who is Love. :)

After the mass, one of the parents approached me and said, "Thank you for loving our sons." I laughingly replied, "Oh, but your sons are lovable naman po." And she said, "No, our sons. Kasama ka na rin po dun."

Ay, grabe. :)

Parents, thank you for sharing you sons with me. Kids, thank you for letting me love you.

And, God. Father. Thank you for letting me your daughter.

What's Making Me Happy This Week

So, yes. I’m still here. Incredibly busy.

Actually, let me say that again with a little more drama for emphasis: In. Cre. Di. Bly. Busy.

But as life was busily zipping by, Lucia turned 8 months. It’s less difficult to leave her to go to work now though (thanks, in large part, to “Manny’s” competence), but whenever I do get a chance to be quiet at work (shut up, Chaddy, I mean mentally), I do find myself wishing myself home and with her instead.

It’s supposed to get easier – and I suppose, to a certain extent, it is. But I still wish that we could go all socialist and get a heftier maternity leave. Thank goodness that I’m still able to keep Lucia exclusively on breastmilk (thanks, in large part, to very understanding co-workers who tolerate the zshuzshing sounds I keep making when I express milk). But deadlines and responsibilities are slowly eating away at my sanity.

Oh, and I have a heart thing. Nothing too serious, but it does make me incredibly tired much quicker than I want to. Bah.

*crickets* [This is me deliberately leaving the whole “heart thing” at that.]

But I digress. I honestly began this fully intending to focus on what I am thankful for, on what’s making me happy this week (an idea that I picked up and adore from Pop Culture Happy Hour). I find that if I do this, I can refocus on what is Important so that I can keep doing what is Important, Too. So here we go.

What’s Making Me Happy This Week:

1. Lucia can now sign for milk! Well, it isn’t consistent. I find that when she really, really, REALLY wants milk, she still relies on old faithful (meaning, crying), but when she’s, hmmm, peckish (if you will), she does do the sign for milk. She can also stand and cruise along by herself now. Wee.

2. Chaddy requested for a shift in work schedule, and as a result, he can now spend early evenings with me and Lucia. He gets to give her a bath, play with her before bedtime, and just be silly.

3. I am a moderator to really wonderful kids. I braced myself by telling myself that they would probably be my karma since most of them were pretty much like me when I was their age (i.e. nerdy). But, I have to go back to that statement because I have not been an awesome enough human being to be having this much fun already and...well, they may be nerdy, but they were not as oh-my-god-I’m-16-and-I-hate-the-world (now reduced to the insipid and annoying term, “emo”...ugh) as I was.

4. Coffee.

Sorry, coffee is so awesome to me right now, it deserved its own paragraph. Thank you, coffee, for keeping me up long enough to do what needs to be done. Sure, my blood to coffee ratio is spinning around like a drunk figure skater, but as far as stimulants go, I’m glad it not only gets the job done, it’s also incredibly yummy.

5. I finally have time to read. Right now, I am (finally!) reading the third book in Patrick Ness’ Chaos Walking Triology, Monsters of Men. Lucia is usually out like a light by 8 every night, so I get to read for a few hours after that before I totally conk out (i.e. my blood levels get the better of my coffee levels).

So there! :) This was good! I should keep making time to just think about what's making me happy so that I can approach the Jabberwocky that is Stress with an attitude of Gratitdue and Humility. For God is good, and always is.

Till the next break in the insanity!

Barely, But Yeah

Still here.

Still alive.

Incredibly busy.

Incredibly blessed.

Hoping for a break soon.

But having a blast.

:)

A Thousand Words (Or So)

Ridiculously busy. Taking care of Duckie, a husband, a household, a year level, and a moderating class is a little overwhelming, but I am having a blast so far. Since I do nothing but talk during the week, thought maybe these pictures would suffice for now since you know what they say about pictures and a thousand words. ;)

Loving her new walker!

Had to get the remote control from her - too germy!

She loves making a mess during meals! :)

My little tootsie roll and her arm rolls. :)

Basta

The past few days have weighed heavy in my mind and in my heart. Certain things took place and they have discouraged me to the core. I mean, I've never been this disheartened before in my life.

Without having to go into the details (and you'll know why I have to do so in a few seconds...), I was basically told to shut up. Not completely, mind you, just on, oooh, you know, stuff that matter to me a whole lot. Yun lang naman.

My initial response was shock because I had hoped that it would never have to come to that, but there it was. Sadly, my usual recourse could offer no help for it was expressly forbidden from me.

Oh, dear friends who know me well, can you imagine how utterly difficult that was for me?

But enough of wallowing. Enough of sadness. Enough of SILENCE. I will not allow you (and yes, I am pointing both the hypothetical and the dirty finger at the not-so-hypothetical "you") to tear me down.

Available as a sticker at Red Bubble. Order here.

You made me doubt myself. Shame on you. But if I will not let your narrow mindedness deter me from my personal mission.

I've come to a decision. I'm staying. And I will not be silenced. I shall...hmmm... re-package. But I shall not be silenced.

DO YOU HEAR ME? I. WILL. NOT. BE. SILENCED.

Bakit? Basta.

Enough. Basta.

Because Silence IS Saying Something

Image from here.

Because I don't know what to say?

No.

Because I don't know how to say it?

No.

Because there's nothing I want to say?

NO.

It is simply because...I am biding my time and I am looking for the best way to say it. To process the enormity of my Rage. Disappointment. Sadness. Disgust.

Because I am too busy getting therapy via my daughter's smiles and my husband's all encompassing love and understanding.

Because at the end of the day, that's all that matters. And I have it. And I am blessed by it. And I am reminding myself that I am more than what I do not say.

Because silence IS saying something.

Manny

So obviously, I’ve been back at work. As a result, I haven’t been able to update much. Thankfully, since the time I went back to work, we’ve had help at home. The sister of our nanny came in the week before he did and helped us out. She was wonderful and though she only spent a few days with us, I miss her already.

Late Friday afternoon, we picked up our actual nanny from the airport. I personally have high expectations since his sister was a dream. He was pretty shy and reserved at first. This is his first time away from home, so I can imagine how daunting the city was to him. He only had a few minutes to actually catch his breath though since we went straight to Bataan. Our best friends from Grand Rapids had flown in for a visit, and they were based there this weekend. So off we went on another adventure.

Our “manny” – since he’s a male nanny – was very friendly and very willing to help out. It was refreshing to have help and to actually be able to sit down and enjoy a meal with both hands, something I haven’t been able to do with Lucia in so long. The weekend was precious since we got to spend time with our friends and their children. Watching our kids interact with each other was really my favorite part.

The weekend could have been perfect except for one little hiccup. Well, it was more like a stenchy, truck driver-esque belch.

Early Saturday morning, “Manny” brought Lucia outside to the garden so that she could bask in the morning sun and I could eat breakfast. As I was preparing my coffee, someone approached me and chastised me for having a manny. Well, to be specific: she was angry at me not because he was male but because he was gay. It took me a good two seconds to realize that she wasn’t joking, that she was actually, rudely, letting me know I was a fool and a bad mother to have him near my child. As soon as I was able to find my breath, I calmly (as best as I could) told her that the fact that he was gay had no bearing in our decision to hire him and that it didn’t matter to me nor my husband.

Here’s a short snippet of what had happened (although the entire conversation couldn’t have lasted more than ten seconds). The exchange happened in Filipino and I shall provide a translation, but that’ll take away from the passive aggressive venom of the short exchange:

Person: Bakit mo naman hinahayaang ganun ang mag-alaga ng anak mo? (Why are you letting someone like that take care of your child?)
Me: Hindi naman po kasi issue sa amin yun. (It’s not an issue with us.)
Person: Dito kasi hindi pwede yun. Dapat hindi rin pwede sa inyo. (Here, that sort of thing should not be so. It shouldn’t be with you either.)
Me: Iba lang siguro kami. (I guess we’re just different.)
Person: Oo, iba. At mali. (Yes, you’re different. And wrong.)

The conversation ended there not because I wanted to remain respectful. I was just too flabbergasted at the brazenness of her bigotry. I had never before met her in my life and I was a guest. I’m trying to recall what had happened, and I’m still emotionally paralyzed because there are too many emotions battling for first place. I don’t know whether I should be angry, sad, or disgusted more.

When I told people that we finally found a yaya and that he happened to be gay, I got different reactions. Some people offered congratulations at finally having found one. Some found it providential (for many reasons). My parents thought it would be good for Lucia so that she’d grow up knowing and appreciating the different kinds of people in the world. But I also had my fair share of negative reactions.

Initially, I thought the reaction I got from, er, her was bad. (She said that it would be bad for Lucia to grow up with a gay person because, among many other caveats, he might molest her. I’m not even going to discuss how ridiculous and awful that was, but then, that’s who she is). On some level though, what happened last weekend was worse. I mean, she has always been like that anyway, so I wasn’t really surprised. But this stranger was exactly that. A stranger! I mean, I knew I’d be confronted with all sorts of questions once people find out about our gay yaya, but I didn’t realize I’d be thrust into the face of bigotry that soon. And that harshly.

And you know what? “Manny” is actually really good! I had the chance to spend the whole day with him today, and he’s very hard working and Lucia likes him! So there!

I didn’t realize that my taking on a manny will have an activist undertone, but it seems as though it will. But I’m glad I have a gay yaya, if only to show the world that such an attempt at homogeneity will make us all better individuals.

Bah. At least I won’t ever have to see strangers like that anymore. The other person, I will have to deal with for the rest of my life though. But frankly, and sadly, in the list of horrible things I have to deal with in co-existing with her, this isn’t the worst. But I must stock up on emotional, intestinal, and – I don’t have them but just for good measure – testicular fortitude even more now.

S I G H

Download this poster for free here.

Tina Fey's Prayer for Her Daughter

Hahahaha! Love, love, love Tina Fey. :

Here's a poem she made for her daughter. I believe this is an excerpt from her book Bossypants. (Read more about it here.)

Well, since I have several tattoos and a nose piercing, I wouldn't really mind the tattoos (she just has to wait till she's 18). Hehe. Otherwise, I can totally relate. :)

Pause

There are easy days and there are hard days and then there are are-you-freakin-kidding-me days. Today was somewhere in the latter’s vicinity. The days are definitely getting longer and more humid and Lucia doesn’t take too kindly on these two developments. Well, neither do I, come to think of it. Her throat’s getting better, I think, but her medicine makes her hyper for about an hour or so and when she crashes, she gets really cranky. She doesn’t like her new cereal, too, so it’s been really difficult feeding her.

But there are moments in the midst of the difficult day when she gets really playful (probably riding the hyper high of Ventolin) and I am rewarded with these goofy moments.

Nurse Mom

The past few days have been pretty full. Last weekend, Lucia attended her first formal event. Chad’s friends from college got married and he was one of the secondary sponsors. Little Lucia was just adorable. :) People would actually stop and stare at her. Well, I don’t really blame them. ;)

You can't see it here, but we were actually
wearing the same colors. ;) Deliberate, of course.

The next day, Lucia had dinner with her ninangs. It was a simple, intimate, and free flowing gathering with my favorite people in the world. (A local celebrity was in the restaurant along with us and she actually approached me and had a conversation with me because of the baby wrap I was using. Haha!)

Oi, but the next day, she started showing signs of uneasiness. She started coughing a little...and then more...until she sounded like she was hoarse. After that, she refused to eat her mush. That night, as she was sleeping, she would wake up in a coughing fit, as if to catch her breath. We went to the ER the next day to get her nebulized. We went to her actual pedia this morning, and he said Lucia has a viral throat infection. To make matters worse, Chad caught the same virus, and now his throat’s down as well. (Meanwhile, my throat’s just a little scratchy, but I’m otherwise fine. For now!)

Chad was ordered to stay home for a few days, so I guess I’m going to have to be Nurse Mom for a few days. Not that I mind. I kinda like that all my chickens are in my coop, at least for a few days. :) My month-long vacation will be coming to a close soon, and I’m hoping to get the most out of it.

Thank you to Ninang Joepi for the last two pictures!

Bling-Bling

Another milestone for our plucky duck! :)

This morning, we went to the pediatrician for another well baby visit for today marks her 5th month. (Hurray! Fanfare!) She got another Hepatitis B vaccine and then we went to the pedia next door to get her ears pierced.

Bah.

I am so glad he didn't listen to those so-called advisers. Ugh. Hurray for non-mainstream music (also known as ART!). A huge part of me wishes that he won't win. The franchise doesn't deserve him. The AI goopy monster might eat him alive. :(






Byooteeful.

Kinda reminds me of this guy.

For the Love of Pink

(You know I'm on a break because I'm on my second posting for the day!)

So J. Crew President and Creative Director Jenna Lyons came out in their recent catalog with her son. In the catalog, Lyons is shown painting her toddler's toes a hot bright pink (not that it matters -- just that the coincidence is awesome -- but my toes are the exact same shade, same brand of nail polish, too) because it is the child's favorite color. Apparently there's a bit of an uproar because the toddler happens to be a boy. I stumbled upon the article here.

Grace

Dear 16 Year Old Lucia,

I am writing to you today because I am tragically loony. It is sometimes endearing (it makes your Daddy laugh almost all the time) and mostly debilitating for yours truly. (Heads up, you just might inherit that.)

Today, my loony-ness has manifested itself as preemptive fears for the future. At this very moment (the neighbor is miraculously quiet right now), everything is still and perfect. As I drink in the essence that is this perfection, I, of course, entertain the possibility of its exact opposite in the near future. Because I don't mind a little rain in my parade, thankyouverymuch. (Again, prepare yourself.)

By now, you must be in the throes of puberty (oh, how you'd hate my having said that). Hopefully, we've had The Talk already, so you know what you should or shouldn't do by now (and by George, you better not be doing what you shouldn't be doing, young lady). You're probably dating some hapless fool behind our backs (for I see no other possibility, your daddy shall have none of this tomfoolery out in the open—wait until you're 31, that is his missive). You're probably hating us for being too strict, too baduy, too "there." You're probably begging for your own hover craft (for I have great hopes that we shall have been weaned from these bloody filthy cars by then). You're probably wearing too much make up. Your skirts are probably too short.

You shall be all these and more for I was 16 and I deserve that karma. I was horrid to the point of I-don't-wanna-talk-about-it. And so, you shall be all these and I shall love you even more. Because at least then it will make sense. Because now...

Now, it doesn't make sense. You are so perfect in your little pudginess. Your different smells are intoxicating (yes, even after a spit up). Your impish smiles are to die for. The way your toes curl when you breastfeed melts my heart. The way you sleep in the exact same position all the time just blows me away. After all the horrible things I've done and will continue to do, it shall never make sense how I can deserve something like you.

I shall remember these days, the halcyon days of my prime and your infancy, when protecting you against the noisy neighbor was my highest mandate. Soon, it shall be much more complicated. It shall be much more daunting.

But even as things become more difficult, I doubt that I shall ever really deserve you. You are God's grace in the flesh; thank the Lord that his grace is given freely even though hardly deserved.

Sleep, sleep, sleep. When you wake up, I'll be feeding you some mashed bananas. You like those.

Oh, wait. I'm supposed to be writing to 16 Year Old Lucia. But then, I suppose you will always be this roly poly infant to me, no matter how old you become.

So, Lucia. My darling puffalump. My princess munchkinitu. Grow and be well and be God's servant. But if you decide to linger a while longer in this stage, that won't be so bad either.

I love you.

xoxo,
Mommy

Luci, 3 days old

Lucia, 4 months old

Lalala, It's Tuesday!

Lucia's nap is running a bit long so I've had all this free time to listen to music and aimlessly wander around the World Wide Web (archaic term alert). Been listening/watching these videos the whole afternoon.

Here's a song from The Jerk. I watched the movie a long time ago and I can hardly remember the story, but this song I've always remembered. The Bird and the Bee has a pretty cool cover of this song, too.





This one's from Joe Versus the Volcano, when the Meg Ryan-Tom Hanks love team (haha, another archaic term alert) was fresh and funny (and not old and predictable).





Now this song of Imogen Heap was part of some soundtrack, just so we'd stick to the theme. Truth be told though, I just wanted to listen to this song again because it is just pure awesomesauce with peanut butter AND caramel drizzling on the side.





Aaand, of course, she's awake now. Hope you enjoyed the songs. Happy Tuesday, everyone! Tootles!

You Get Stronger

I have precious few Me Times scattered about throughout the day, and they usually last about 5-10 minutes (bathroom and eating breaks). The longest Me Time I have is at night, just when Lucia falls asleep. I'm usually super exhausted by then, but mentally I'm usually still pretty wired. That's when I catch up on my NPR podcasts.

I developed the habit of listening to NPR and leaving it on as ambient sound when I lived in Grand Rapids (my family and I moved there in 2001 -- I moved back here, but most of them are still there). I sorely miss NPR (and sucks to you, GOP, for cutting their funding -- and now they're after PBS!) so I thank them eternally for making their free podcasts readily available for me.

Genetics (Finally, My Chin is My Chin)

So we were able to dig these up. This was Chad:

Here I was at roughly the same age:

And here's our little Duckie Princess:

As Simple as Marrying the One You Love

I'm talking about marriage as a civil union here, m'kay? I don't want to open that can of worms (and by "that" I mean the other attribute of marriage). Just so's y'all know and we're all clear. (Although, I acknowledge that most arguments to the contrary stem from that. I hear ya. Still.)

I saw this in my aunt's Facebook newsfeed this morning and I still can't get over how awesome it is, so I'm sharing it here. I have no doubt that both his mothers are proud of him. Heck, I'm proud of him.

And So We Meet Again, Proust

Because I've had nothing to do the whole day (wait, let's relish that thought once more: I've had nothing to do the whole day) but take care of Duckie, I've basically been trolling the Internet. Out of Web sites to visit and still very much un-sleepy, I decided to visit my old blog and chanced upon this meme I did a little over two years ago.

It's essentially a meme based on the last page of Vanity Fair (favorite magazine!) wherein known personalities answer a bunch of questions and hopefully (depending on whether the responder was forthcoming...or cool), the reader gains a more profound knowledge of the person.

I had fun answering that and I had more fun rereading my answers from two years ago. Not a lot has changed, but then a lot has changed. You know what I mean? So in the interest of self knowledge and self-indulgence (and absolute I-have-nothing-else-to-do-ness), here we go (again)...

Bert, Ernie, Sheep, Bocelli, Elmo, and a Duck

And so I'm done! :) Well, I'm still waiting for feedback for edits, but most of my writing work is done -- done enough so that I can have an honest to goodness weekend. Hah!

Don't get me wrong. I love my side jobs. In fact, the added work keeps me sane. The coffee-fueled writing frenzy makes me feel alive. (I've NEVER been sporty nor outdoorsy, so this is the nerdy equivalent of an adrenaline rush from...doing something that would require me to sweat...I would imagine.) It's just that the past week has been a little brutal as far as deadlines are concerned. The two writing jobs I had managed to have similar deadlines, so my brain's been on overdrive the past few weeks. Oh, and did I mention that we still don't have a yaya? Yup, so all that plus taking care of an infant, full time. It's a good thing school's been out for a while.

So anyway, the Duckster and I have the usual night time routine. Some nights, she's so wired up though, it takes a bit to make her sleepy. She's also been trying to master the rollover for a few weeks and just managed to perfect it this week. She's so good at it now, she's actually a little cocky about it -- as cocky as a four and a half month old could be, haha. She's been so gung-ho with this rolling over bit, she positively delights in it, refusing to sleep even though she's clearly sleepy.

So what to do? Go to YouTube, of course. I made her watch this video first; not so much to make her sleepy but, well, because I wanted to see it. Hehe.






And then she watched this video and I kid you not, she really did become sleepy after watching it!






I don't know what to love more, the new lyrics, Elmo's attempt at vibrato, or finding out that Elmo has purple eyeshadow pala. Hehehe. I kid. Of course I love the fact that it made Lucia sleepy.

For about five minutes.

Because as am writing this, she is tugging at my shirt, a little annoyed because I caged her with pillows and my body so she won't roll over to the side. I'm not heeding her cries, I'm pretending to ignore her because she tends to put herself to sleep when I do so. I just have to wait it out.

...This is me drumming my fingers...

But I love how she has these little quirks now. It's like I'm getting to know her as a person now and not just this huge ball of adorable fluff.

So, I know it sucks not to have a yaya...but did I also mention how awesome it is not to have a yaya? :)

Yeah. So happy weekend. I'm going to have an awesome one.