8 Month old a week before Christmas

Within the past month, Malaya has started exploring beyond the bedroom door, eating finger foods (its a mess, but its a step towards autonomy!!!), added "Baby" "Babab" (byebye) and "Mamam/Mommy/Ammu" to his vocabulary. More importantly, he knows I'm mamam!

He only says Mamam when he's crying tho. Which he does a lot more often these days. The boy is frustrated he can't go everywhere. We keep him away from the wires, from the kittens, from our footwear. And on most days, we're successful.

... most days...

We can't help it if the kittens run to him.

With Christmas being around the corner, we're almost tempted to just leave a couple of christmas lights lying around so we can get the baby+christmas lights greeting card photo everyone's doing.

Maybe not.

But yes my dear readers. Heathens that we are, we too are celebrating Christmas. Why? Because Mamita got Malaya a tree. 

Damn right it's purple.

I'm no Grinch. I'm the kid who stayed out on our lawn every night every Christmas season to listen to carolers and watch the christmas lights turn laser when I swung by on my swing. I'm the kid who insisted my muslim father should give gifts to all my friends and cousins because they all believed in the Santa Claus story and Abbu had the right belly size.

I love Christmas/Saturnalia/the Yuletide season. Humanity has for centuries. Way way before Capitalists did. It's a celebration of life, and Malaya's first year-ender thing. I'll take any excuse to celebrate this boy. Haha.

I'm also trying to infect the Daddy Creature with the Christmas Spirit. Correction: He says its there, just really really deep inside and I haven't made an effort to pull it out of him yet.

Check out the boy's new chompers:

To all the secret Santas in Malaya's life, he's been a good boy this year and mommy wants a bunch of beautifully illustrated children's books, because he's starting to pay attention to the book's illustrations when we read "The House in The Night" to him, and frankly, I'm getting tired of reading the same two books.

But if you want to know what this boy really wants for Christmas, this cute post is a closer approximation:

http://theuglyvolvo.com/2013/12/10/a-ten-month-olds-letter-to-santa/

Happy Saturnalia!

Month 7 and the beast that was Yolanda

You picked a strange year to be born Malaya.

We survived Yolanda. After all, we were in Cebu City. Had we been in Tacloban, I don't know. I really don't know.

We were informed days before. We panic bought, and then we comfort ate. We evacuated to Tito Mark's house in the mountains yet again. We had the means to be on higher ground. We did not know what a storm surge meant, but we lived beside a river that frequently overflows after a few hours of rain.

I was a bag of nerves. I've never experienced a superstorm in my life. And I spent elementary and highschool in Region 8 which is frequently ravaged by storms. The Cebuanos around me were passive and cheerful. The day before the storm, we watched Napoles make a fool out of everyone who thought she'd finally dish the dirt on the Pork Barrel scam. No luck there baby-o. 

And then the day came. Tito Mark moved furniture and stuff around while I spoke of gloom and doom. Our housemates listened to me like I was some sort of loony. The shelves were stocked with a week's worth of food. We made sure we had gas, candles and batteries. And then the storm arrived at around 10:30. Electricity was out way before that. We watched inside the comfort of Tito Mark's house. Daddy Chris and Uncle Kit woke up to see the worst of it. Meanwhile, my little man's tooth broke out.

The winds howled and bamboos bent and finally broke. It didn't get worse than that. In metro Cebu, we heard trees had toppled over, a couple of roofs had flown off. In my mind I thought: that couldn't have been more than signal number 2.

Near midnight, electricity was back. I was feeling foolish for being so grim. Cebuano's urbanites were exhaling all over facebook. "Mao ra to?"

And then information started trickling in.

We're so lucky. We're lucky the feeble cement structures we imagine are fortresses did not even have to be tested. Because while we sat here watching her skirt flip and flourish, Yolanda's parade was up north.

Horror stories started flooding into my facebook feed. Stories about death and famine, about how towns and cities were washed away like brittle shells, bodies of the dead littering the street like they were nothing. The horror was not in the zombie apocalypse scenarios people were describing. The horror was that it was happening to our friends and family. Duterte saw Tacloban and said it was as if God forgot about the earth.

My son, there's one thing I want you to understand. The earth is a piece of space rock that just happens to have all the conditions required to sustain life. We are dust. And yet we treat the space rock that we're lucky enough to be on like we could live without it. We are the only inhabitants that bite the hand that feed it. We litter the seas with plastic, we feed the atmosphere with all sorts of chemicals, and we think nothing of it. It's still just a theory that global warming caused this superstorm and I'm speaking liberally here, but it is we who have forgotten the earth. As I type, thousands of relief goods are being packed in plastic bags.

Lola Dinah Palacio died. You probably won't even remember nor will it matter to you, but she met and held you, and for a while you shared laughter and she found joy in your existence. And while we mourn her loss, everyone else in the family survived. We can build houses again but we can't bring back the dead. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you and your Daddy. I think I'd go mad. So many people lost so much. We are so lucky my love. I hope you don't mind that I gave some of your old clothes up for charity.

Lola Nanay arrived from Ormoc this morning and told me about how it is in Biliran. We aren't as hard hit as the rest of the region, but the effect is enormous. Fuel is getting scarce down there. People are desperate for transportation because communication lines have been cut. Since food and supplies are dependent on this transportation, store owners are forced to raise their prices. Because banks and remittance centers are offline, people can't get money out.

I hope that by the time you even comprehend anything I said in the previous paragraph, you'll think it's ridiculous because the Philippines of your time is no longer as dependent on finite resources like fuel as we currently are. I hope by your time, we're better prepared for power outages, food shortage, typhoons earthquakes and other natural calamities. I hope by your day, we've become truly self sufficient and our pride is well placed. I hope by your day, less lives are lost to a lack of foresight.

To those who truly want to help, I'm a part of an initiative of Biliranon volunteers who're allergic to political stickers and labels. We're shipping relief goods to the recently homeless in our island but figured this is not enough. They need housing, therapy, etc etc. If you can help with community rehabilitation and know anything about green energy, permaculture, sustainable but affordable construction, etc etc; pop me an email at mutangpusa@gmail.com and we'll talk.


~~~

MILESTONES:

Malaya is now a fireball. He's crawling and eating everything, with requests for second and third helpings. He eats everything, but isn't too hot about oatmeal yet. He is now actively grabbing things he's not supposed to, like wires. Makes me realize how hard babyproofing is against a curious child.

He is more interested in our cellphones than in his own toys. He hasn't grown tired of peekaboo yet, but you have to hide or he won't give you the time of day. He gives high fives and "Close-opens" his fist on command when he feels like it. With his tooth coming out, he is only a little cranky, but isn't bawling like an orphan boy yet. Will keep you guys posted.

Malaya has a yaya now too. Yes, yes. We finally caved in. Since I actually have time to sit and write now, I'll put a post up about it soon.

6 months old a day after an earthquake

The day Malaya turned another month old was a day after an earthquake shook Central Visayas. 
The quake hit at around 8 am.

And while our old wooden apartment shook, equipment glass and whatever falling everywhere, the boy laughed as if this was all a game.

Meanwhile, I was downtown wondering what sort of end of the world movie set I'd stepped onto.

It's just been one thing after another. Lolo Rudy's train arrived earlier this month, which is why his daughter (Mamita) and one of his sons (Lolo Drigo) came home from the US.

And while it has been a trying time for Christian's family, the little boy was busy turning frowns upside down for his Villa relatives.

Malaya with Aunties Shani, Danielle and Robyn

The quest for the ultimate stroller (part 2)!

This post is a follow up to this one> http://lordoftherinse.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-quest-for-ultimate-stroller-part-1.html

Why it took this long is because we did end up getting one shipped from Mamita, along with other goodies. Shipping was 45 days + a week of getting held up at customs. Based on price and customer reviews, what we decided on was...

DRUMROLL PLEASE

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The Britax B-Agile!

Our 5 month-old hedonist

My boy is 5 months old! It's been an interesting past month in the life of the litol M. Linaban.

We've officially started him on solids. Most of the literature says to wait til the 6th month, and we really did. But one day the boy took a nosedive towards a spoon of yogurt and I realized we were actually resisting his I Wanna Eat Nao cues.

We've given him little tastes of stuff we ate - yogurt, hummus, curry, fruit, oatmeal etc before finally mashing up a piece of squash and feeding him a couple of tablespoons' worth. He made a face but gobbled it up all the same. I don't blame him. The stuff was blander than most of the stuff he'd had a taste of. A couple of days later, we gave him Cerelac (mainly because daddy said he'd eat it up if baby didn't like) which he at first ate sparingly. By the last few bites, he was literally shoving the whole spoon into his mouth. Lola Nanay, on the other hand is afraid we intend to make a habit out of feeding him artificial nommage. She says it'll spoil his appetite for other stuff.

We stopped giving him the cereal after two days since rashes appeared on his neck. He's still nosediving towards everything we eat tho. I guess his appetite is as curious as ever, cerelac or no.

One Sunday, we visited his great grandma up in the mountains. Tito Mark says they're a family of sweet tooths (sweet teeth?), so we brought ingredients for this tres leches cake recipe.

While mommy and Tito Mark baked (he did most of the work really), Manoy took a dip in the pool.

Big bathtub - M.

A Day at the Beach

We're back in the probinsya for the week. First order of business was beach time.

I wanted to be the one to bring him to the water. His lola beat me to it, so I just took photos. On a side note, have you guys seen this yet:

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/energy/2013/08/130829-fukushima-level-3-serious-incident-rating/

Tita Alphecca, former Bio student posted this on fb with the question, "Maabo kaha ang panahon nga wa na tay dagat maligo-an?"

The ring of fire beach days are numbered. So are sushi. And the lives of ocean life and ocean dependent life in this area. Goodbye Samar fishies, goodbye California beaches. How one cannot go mad with despair, I don't know. My consuelo de bobo is that this particular beach does not face the open sea. So before jellyfish in these parts grow limbs, pahimuslan sa nato. 

"Oi, unsamani?!?"

"It's not as warm as my bath water..."

"...tastes weird too!"

The boy didn't stay in the water long. After about 10 minutes in, he was brought out and washed in fresh water. He fell asleep and woke up like this:

4 Months and travelling

The boy turned another month old onboard the Supercat fastcraft from Cebu to Ormoc.

How we got on a plane and did not die: Malaya's first flight

Our little family flew to Manila over the weekend on business. Chris was talking to investors for his next film. Malaya was there for moral support. I was there to feed Malaya.

Mommy and Daddy were probably more excited about him flying than the boy was. We seriously hope this is the first of many many flights. We both agree that travel is a great tool for education. If the different sights and sounds don't expand your world view a little, at least the vacation from routine helps you think fast on your feet. Check out this article for reasons travel is educational if that doesn't convince you.

But maybe the boy's still too young to fully appreciate travel. We booked a 3AM Cebu Pac flight, so that the boy would sleep through it. We were worried about his ears popping too, but left the sterilizer behind because he won't put it in his mouth for more than a few seconds.

Snorlax

I know Cebu Pacific's had it bad recently, but we figured lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place anyway. Also, there are more roadside accidents than airplane accidents. That didn't keep me from playing Final Destination scenarios in my head as we headed to the airport. Chris and I started talking about dying on a plane and the what-ifs of survival. Because if only one of us survived, either Malaya would end up becoming Harry Potter with a handful of would-be-guardians calling dibs on the Sirius Black role, or... no. Any other alternative would be too painful to imagine.

His name in the ticket was Master Malaya Chawdhury Linaban. "Master" was an option, and it seemed more appropriate than "Mr." anyway. I nursed him throughout the flight. I think he eventually learned that nursing comforts the ear ringing sensation at high altitudes, because he kept to the breast and sucked vigorously during take-off and descent.

Postpartum Past 3 Months (ranty, but not really)

I'm exhausted. They weren't kidding about the sleepless nights. I'm less exhausted than I was during his first month, when I would dream about REM sleep *rimshot* while I nursed him every hour or two. These days, he sleeps through the night, nudging me only thrice throughout for snacks here and there. Sleeplessness can get you on the edge, especially when you have no choice over the matter. It's a little like staying up cramming for exams the next day, except if you snooze, your kid loses. And if your kid loses, oh woe le guilty mom.

The occasional internal outcries of "I want my life back" are muted in the collective wail of hundreds of other first time mothers, and in the collective "Told you so"s by veterans. Remember when blogging was only beginning to become a thing? And most blogs were just rant-fests by angst-ridden pre-teens (hello and goodbye tabulas)? This phenomena shortly led to the Emo subculture. The emo subculture led to just generally not taking suicide seriously.

I learned CHILD REARING is the great sacrifice women bear. NOT Child Bearing as I so naively assumed. Child Bearing, as it turns out, is only the beginning.

I won't lie. This blog isn't a rosy press release of the adventures of M. Linaban and co. I'm tired and depressed. A year ago, I wept over losing my freedom. I was right AND wrong.

3 Months (and rude topics like child rearing practices and money)!

The boy is now 13 lbs. Doesn't sleep on my chest much anymore, probably because he won't fit. He's a handful. He smiles at us in the mornings, goes "eyo" when he wants our attention, and he's been experimenting with the Oohs and Aahs. Sometimes, he leads me when he wants to be sung to sleep. Such a bag of delightful noise this creature is turning out to be.

Observe:

And he LOVES going outside. Seems like he has cabin fever all the time. He loves going out and engaging strangers in the mall; passengers on the jeep; construction workers on the truck beside the jeep; etc. One day at the mall CR, I was hunched over the baby bag to get something. When I turned, someone was already shaking his hand. I blinked, and the whole room of girls were fawning over him.

Girls: Hi!!
Malaya: Hai
Girls: *screaming*

Oh Malaya, you ham you.

To Vaccinate or Not to Vaccinate, and other misadventures the doctor probably needs to know about.

It's flu season.

*cue thunder & lightning*

The partner and I've been sneezing and sniffling and consuming rolls and rolls of tissue.

And the baby?

Nose is still congested, but he isn't as bad as his parental units. Also, we're both battling thrush. More on that later.

Have I mentioned we haven't gotten him vaccinated yet? When you need to research the hell out of every single thing your kid is going to go through (or yourself, whatever floats your boat), you really will take forever to do everything.

So, at a week before 3 months, the boy finally got his first shot. The BCG shot is for Tuberculosis, and is supposed to be the least dangerous. In any case, this was the pediatrician of the father creature who claims he never needed to go to the hospital for anything.

At the clinic, the doctor said he remembered Chris as a boy, that he was "boki kaayo", which I guess is Cutese for "he was really fat".

Pedia also said Malaya takes after Chris. I'd like to raise an argument against this point:

Proof

Except for his coloring, eyes, and facial expressions, baby takes after me! Also, check out le partner's baby-fro. Adorbz. :3

Ok, maybe coloring, eyes and facial expression make up 50%.

And then it was time for the shot. He cried a bit, and was okay the next minute. We were feeling pretty awesome.

Until 12 hours later, when Malaya was wailing like a little freshly-orphaned boy. We were dying from his misery. We almost needed to use the earplugs Lolo Lem gave us.

A quick pick me up

Mommy: Nak, photoshoot ta na. Malaya: So that Lola can steal and post the photos on facebook again? 'Kay.

The 2 Month Old's Name Giving Party

To those who weren't there for Christian's epic stand-up comedy stint/speech, the reason why we had a name giving party (last Sunday, June 23) instead of a regular baptism is because we're giving the boy the opportunity to choose which religion he wishes to subscribe to when he's older (even if he might not choose one).

The boy has both Islam (from me) and Christianity (from... err... Christian) in his heritage, so it doesn't seem fair to "bless" the boy under either exclusively.

Sorry Mike, no Godchild por juu this time.

But we recognize that Baptisms are about communities coming together to welcome the neonate, so we had to think of another water-ritual for people to munch on, so Christian proposed a toast to the boy, where we all collectively said his name.

The quest for the ultimate stroller (Part 1)!!!

While the sling's been working swell, the swing bearer has not. The boy's gotten a taste for travel too. When we're in the room, he kicks to signal that he wants up and looks to the door. It's hard NOT to succumb to the boy's wishes when he does this to you:

Compelling, isn't it?

And because of the decision to stay yaya-less, we bring him wherever we go. Needless to say, it's time we started looking for a stroller.

To be honest, baby wearing is great. You can commute via jeepney easily when you're carrying a sling around rather than a baby PLUS a stroller.

But for those times when terrain is going to be mostly pavement, and you have to lug other baggage around, a stroller sounds wonderful.

And while it IS tempting to be cheap, this is The Stroller. This item will see about 2-3 years of abuse, and probably another 2 to 3 years after.

Not that we're planning a follow up soon.

*cough*

...so began our quest for The Stroller.

Considerations:

• Must be good for all sorts of terrain (specially since the road outside the house is under repairs, and since elections are over, Malaya might be walking before the project is done).
• Must fold easily.
• Must be lightweight enough to carry around during travel.
• Must be able to hold an infant from 3 months to 3 years old.
• Must look metal. \m/ (The daddy insists)

Pretty... impractical.

So online window shopping we went.

Hodor's Day

The boy said daddy this morning! Chris and I looked at each other when it happened. It was the strangest thing. (Although he probably was really just saying "dagee" which is a combination of the two syllables he enunciates the most when he complains about being flat on his back)

Had my father been alive today, le partner might not have been celebrating. Not that my daddy wouldn't have approved of you, it's just that your effect on my life significantly prevents me from fulfilling any marriage arrangements he might have made before I was born you aren't Indian.

Careful, the whites of your eyes are showing. (Warning: Rant)

With the toilet clogged up, our little family went to the nearby mall to take advantage of the comfort lounge. As I waited for the partner to do his thing, I found myself seated between a very pregnant lady and her partner. The following conversation occurred:

Pregnant lady: I like! Where'd you buy? That's "in" naman these days (referring to the ring sling)
Me: It's a gift from the states
Pregnant lady: Oh? How much?
Me: $$, but you can get ring slings from Rustan's
Pregnant lady: But you can make that man noh? Just buy fabric and rings?
Me: Yeah, you can probably get fabric better suited for tropical weather...
Pregnant lady: Yeah, look at him, he's so comfortable. Nakagawas lang iyang tiil, luoy kaayo. ("His feet are just dangling, how pitiful")
Me: He's too big to fit naman.
Pregnant lady: Let's get ring and fabric nalang na? (referring to her partner, then turns to me, who tried to sit down but couldn't because Laya started protesting) Mas sayon pa jud makabreastfeed noh? ("Easier for breastfeeding yes?")
Me: Oo, pero malingaw na gani siya sa sling, di na pabutang. ("Yeah, but once he starts liking the sling, he won't ever want to be put down")
Pregnant lady: Kay nakagawas man iyang tiil, mapilo man. Luoy kaayo. Nabaptize na na siya? ("Because you let his feet dangle like that, it's folded in. How pitiful. Is he baptized yet?")
Me: Dili...pa ("Not... yet")
Pregnant lady: Ha? Unya gilaag laag na ninyo? Asa man ang daddy? ("What? And you take him out like that? Where's the dad?")
Pregnant lady's hubby: (to wife) Ok ra na, uso naman na ron. ("It's okay, that's common these days")
Me: Naa diha sa sulod. ("He's inside")
Pregnant lady: Didto na na natawo or diri na? ("Did you have him there or here?")
Me: Uh, naghomebirth ko... ("I had a homebirth...")
Pregnant lady: Ha?! Wa ka nahadlok ug infection?! ("What?! Weren't you afraid of infection?!" turns to husband rolling eyes)

Home Sweet Home (Updates and a Feature!)

If I haven't posted anything, it's because things are kinda chaotic right now.

Before anything else though, Offbeat Families published Malaya's birth story the other day!

Overexcited Nanay shared the post, despite having been told off by her peers at the interlocal health zone, after people from our town assumed the waterbirth was a service the local hospital was giving now.

We're back home now. The paint fumes are gone, and the house isn't covered in cat dander anymore. The fire tree outside is in full bloom, with fallen flowers on our pathway like a red carpet for the boy.

Instead of tentacles, this is what Chris did to the vents for the AC:

The Boy turned a month old!

Technically on the 16th. But I've been too busy.

One month of baby love. There's been nothing but joy.

And sleepless nights.

And leaky boobs.

And the occasional disappointed baby from unmet concern.

And the staring strangers at the sudden public boob exposition.

And the frustrated mommy who couldn't figure out that he just needed a change.

The "Poop" face

This month really has been about change. No wonder people declare their children royalty. "My little princess", one facebook friend calls her totling. She forgets to sign out with her own new title: the groveling slave. Chris and I, former anarchists, are now the willing servants to this little dictator.

Happy Martyr's Day

My first mother's, and the one who's supposed to greet me is oblivious and completely unconcerned. As long as he's fed, he doesn't have a care in the world.

And I, food receptacle, looked to the partner to honor my day by helping me tidy up. He took advantage of the AC and comforters of the swanky condo and turned his back on me. T_T

And then his own mother arrived and he started doing the dishes.

This, this is probably the essence of motherhood - we bleed ourselves for their every comfort, and then when they come of age, we use this to blackmail them into accomplishing things for themselves.

With this thought in mind, I took a video of Daddy Creature changing Lay's nappies. I didn't expect he'd take such a long time with it, but he took 7 minutes changing that particular nappy. OC daddy is oc. I was going to upload it for mother's day, shooting two birds with one stone (daddy porn + future blackmail for Malaya), but the cinematographer wasn't happy with my shot and wouldn't sign the talent release form. Hahay showbiz.

The Boy is 3 Weeks Old!

The Kraken is finally in Cebu.

By some act of sorcery, we're staying at this swanky condo for a couple of days. This place has a loft and an incredible view of fuente circle and the capitol. I want to copypaste this unit, build it as a house in the mountains, and fill it with books.

Malaya: This view is perfect for megalomanic musings.

The first day we arrived, he was uncharacteristically cranky around the fawning paternal side of his family. Considering how wide-eyed he was at the beginning of the day, Chris and I figured he was just overstimulated.

And then for the next batch of visitors, he opened his eyes every now and then to satiate them with gurgling and all-around cuteness, and then would fall asleep. So I think he's starting to get the hang of crowds.

Ninang Gani, updating the presumed reincarnate on the world's latest technological advances

Then again, this crowd has been nothing but adoring, so I don't think he's ready for the tomato-throwing kind yet.

Born to be wild

That cursed heplock was finally removed this afternoon. That means, Laya gets to go back to the motherland of Cebu tomorrow evening!

That also means Lola's house menagerie becomes one animal less tomorrow.

Let's say goodbye to the other animals.

This week, the house's mouser gave birth to her first litter. Goodbye three little kittens!

2 Week Old Malaya (warning: slightly ranty)

He was supposed to be due this week. Instead he's on antibiotics for pneumonia he doesn't even have anymore.

We came home last night, after 3 days of hospital stay. There's still a needle in Laya's foot, where the antibiotics are to be fed until Saturday, and then he's home free.

The kid was pierced 2 more times after my last post. The second IV came out because he kept squirming. We didn't know it was dislodged for a time because he kept silent. A nurse came to take it out and left to get someone else to reinsert the IV. Meanwhile, Malaya was cheerful, with a naughty glint in his eye. As if he'd removed the IV on purpose.

When the people came to insert the needle into his leg, I was without escape. He wanted to feed. I asked the people if I could feed him through it. One of the nurses said he might choke on his milk. I asked to feed him before they insert the needle then. They said their shift had just ended and they needed to leave.

Pisti Ka Pain

I noticed Laya had taken to snorting like a pig through feedings, without the expected porcine appetite the other day. We were set to go to the beach the next day for sunlight and saltwater to help heal my lady-parts. I thought we should pay the pedia a visit just to get the snorting and wheezing checked. He was diagnosed with mild pneumonia and sent to the hospital for antibiotics.

I, the big neurotic, broke down in mommy's office as we discussed what could have led to the pneumonia. He'd only had it for a day, so the waterbirth was ruled out. Maybe it was how he was always naked. Maybe it was how we lived in a nipa house in the mountains, where the summer sun baked us hot in the mornings, while the breeze blew us cold in the evenings. Maybe it was how mommy and daddy kept sneezing. Maybe it was how we were always generous with kisses. Maybe it was my laziness in burping him after feeding. Maybe it was the angle at which I was feeding him.

Argh. I feel like a bad mom. For all my naningness, it seemed I missed the obvious rules on newborn parenting. My own mom told me to pull myself together, that this was just the beginning.

After the IV was inserted, and the doctor administered a nasal spray, his appetite returned and the wheezing all but stopped. He still has mucous in his nostrils, and we're supposed to finish the antibiotics, so we're still here.

One of my aunts came to visit and noticed the IV stopped dripping, and there was a spot of blood on the bandages where the needle's supposed to be connected to a vein - all indications that the dextrose was no longer connected and needed to be reattached. I asked Chris to go with the nurse while reattachment was done.

Meanwhile, I sit here, cursing the world of pain Malaya is entering. Nevermind that he's only smiling through it and healing faster than expected.

I am honestly embarrassed by my wussiness in the face of my baby's pain. He's a strapping young fellow with an infectious laughter, never mind that we have no idea what he's laughing at (probably his neurotic mommy), why should I worry?

Man, how is this kid going to be able to ever do cool things like cliff diving; coconut tree climbing; bungee jumping; wolf wrestling; etc. etc. if mommy's afraid of a few bugs and needles?

I'm sorry baby. I need to work on these nerves of mine. I'm just glad you're not empathizing and crying out for me.

Here Comes The Sun

Lola D: What changes happened to you today Nanak?
Mommy: Diaper Changes.
Daddy: Lots of them

@.@

The little charmer is a poop machine. Chris says it's silly for anyone to hoist guilt on their kids for the millions of nappy changes. When you're this cute, caring is a COMPULSION.

It's also hard to resent him for sleepless nights, because he doesn't cry. He opens his mouth noiselessly moving his tongue around for food. He squirms and stretches when he feels like pooping. He gets riled up over the urge to pee, turning red all over. He goes to sleep without much ceremony. When he isn't sleepy hungry or poopy, he lies there, eyes wide open, silently glancing around the room. But he doesn't cry.

He laughs though. He smiles and opens his mouth wide, his body shaking. What do newborns find funny? Who knows. There is just too much joy from this kid. I refuse to believe it's just gas.

The Beatles' "Here comes the sun" was one of the songs in my birthing playlist. This boy is my Sun card indeed.

1 Week Old Malaya

Breastfeeding isn't as painful anymore. My angle was all wrong. It still hurts, specially when he clamps onto the nipple faster than I can get all of it in. Props to Ninong Jerome for linking me to the La Leche League Website. xD

No serene nursing photos for juu. At least not yet.

Chris and I ran out of clothes yesterday. Chris just packed light, while I didn't have too many shitproof/breastfeeding friendly clothes. Lola Diana suggested we leave the baby in her airconditioned office while we go Ukay-ukay crazy.

Spell separation anxiety. >.<

Day 6: Jaundice looks good against maroon

This kid amazes me. Remember how he kicked his own umbilical cord off? Look at that bellybutton heal! Also, both his ears are pointed. You guys know any brown elves he can cosplay as?

Postpartum Postsmartum Paranoia

There's something a lot of people leave out when they tell you about pregnancy - they don't tell you you'd feel like a Tikbalang had his way with you in the aftermath.

But if the Horse was Khal Drogo, it wouldn't be rape.

My. Whole. Body. Hurts.

They also don't say much about how difficult breastfeeding can be. Malaya doesn't have tongue tie. I just didn't know how to feed him. We're also still learning, and although the learning curve is painful, a rock hard breast is worse than a scratched nipple. VCO's been a wonderful nipple cream btw.

And much less likely were the chances of anyone warning me about how much of a hassle it is to bring around baby's still intact umbilical cord and placenta.

Gratuitious Photos of the Day

Malaya's second day out the uterus. Photos by Daddy Chris.

Malaya's a sweetheart. He's relatively well behaved, he cries for obvious reasons and stops immediately after the concern is met. 

Achievement Unlocked: Released the kracken

Alternative title: Happy Birthday Malaya Chawdhury-Linaban!

I really didn’t think it was going to be today (or yesterday by the time of this posting). Maybe he knew his paternal lola was arriving from the states early next month and that he needed to give mommy time to recuperate before we could cross the sea to Cebu. Maybe he was just your typical Arian – always rushing into things, just like mommy. Maybe it was the halo-halo we had the day before.

I woke up at 6:30 with what felt like menstrual cramps. I don't know how many times I've read that phrase at the beginning of the scores of birth stories I've read over the months but it just didn't seem real now that it was actually happening to me. On autopilot, I went to the bathroom and took a huge dump - the biggest since getting knocked up. I knew then that this was definitely labor, but couldn't imagine I'd have a baby at the end of the day.

Week 38: Summer and Sugar

2 weeks left in the waiting game.

If I haven't been posting much, it's because the father creature has been keeping me sufficiently entertained. We've developed this game where we knock on the belly and baby knocks back. When he starts communicating in morse code, I'll let you know.

Braxton hicks contractions happen frequently, and there's been a significant increase in pelvic pain, specially in bed. The uterus feels like it's reached under my bust. It certainly hurts there now. Every morning the past week, I wake up in slight irritable pain wondering if it's going to be the day I lose my plug and meet my tenant.

Another new thing is a craving for the almighty halo halo.

It's a hot summer to say the least. If I didn't have the electric fan's constant attention, I'd melt in a pool of whale blubber faster than you can say "Chill".

Week 37: Any Day Now

Friends and colleagues from Cebu came to our town for a guerrilla public screening we put together at the municipal hall. Hence there being no updates since last week.

Baby's considered full term now. Baby watch begins this week til week 42. Father creature is staying with me til we're all patched up and ready to go back to Cebu. For the night is dark and full of terrors. The only time I feel like my old mobile self again is in the sea. Gravity is no friend of mine. Baby no longer kicks as much as he used to, but he does a lot of pushing around now. Daddy does this game with him that's almost like whac-a-mole whenever a baby ass or elbow or foot pushes against my belly.

this has never happened to us though.

There's nothing like waiting for a baby. We meet new people all the time, some of which become important to us. But with babies, you have 9 months of fair warning that your life is going to be changed forever. The closest thing I can compare this anticipation to is when you're waiting for a highly anticipated movie to appear on pirate bay. This feeling, multiplied a thousand times over.

I worry about meeting the baby. I'm not afraid of the birthing process, it's the aftermath that scares me. What if, for all this excitement, the actual meeting becomes anticlimactic? What if there's something wrong with my body, and I don't get that oxytocin cocktail skin-to-skin contact within the first hour of birth's supposed to bring? What if I haven't completely purged myself of expectation and get depressed that baby looks too much like the assholes I was pissed at during the first trimester? What if in my depression, I throw the kid to the pits?

Here's hoping kid's cool enough to survive.

I guess we'll see.

Week 36: Reflections on peeing on a stick

Homestretch folks!

Uncle Karl and Auntie Deanne took me to the beach yesterday. I enjoyed momentary weightlessness while they enjoyed real live National Geographic, watching a Dugong in its natural habitat.

My latest photo

I stopped waking up thirsty in the middle of the night. My hormones might have settled down. I don’t think baby’s dropped yet. I feel like he’s quickly losing space inside and protesting with fist raised. At least I think it’s his fist on my lower abdominal area, since the knife stab-like jabs to the rib from what is presumably his feet have become frequent, especially when I play him certain beat-based tunes. This week found us playing Alt-J (Thank you Tito Russ for the intro), which he’s very responsive to. Give this a listen:

No nursery rhymes for this boy. I enjoy watching my belly make waves throughout the song. It’s like I learned a new dance move without even trying. With all this movement though, baby has been cephalic presentation from the get-go and doesn't seem to want to make any major changes to that. I hope he doesn't suddenly turn at week 37 or summink.

In celebration of Easter and things-on-sticks, OffbeatFamilies posted the question of how women reacted to peeing on a stick andcoming up with the two lines.

I remember how mine went. While we were shooting Aberya, I was cranky, tired, constantly out-of-it, and very very emotional. Despite being hungry, my usual barbarian appetite was nonexistent. A month after shooting indefinitely wrapped, I was down with what I thought was ulcer.

Tinuohang Buktot

Today's Easter, celebration of rebirth and fertility for all sorts of denominations and my favorite goddess figure (Astarte). No matter what you believe in, everyone seems to want to get a piece of this celebration pie. The flavor is presumably egg.

Another reason to celebrate is that the boring days are over - baby's aunts and uncles are here for the holidays and are keeping me on the move. Island hopping is out of the question though, despite getting multiple invitations over the week to go T_T. Maternal lola's afraid that if I waterbirth in the middle of the sea, baby might escape and become Aquaman.

Sorry Aquaman, even my mom thinks you suck.

So far, we've trekked to the farm to get coconuts; failed at getting coconuts by getting distracted by guavas; tried not to get trampled on by horses; failed to acquire XP points by running away from every sound encountered on the hike back to the house after sundown (sorry bunch of adventurers are we); and marathoned season 2 of Game of Thrones in preparation for tomorrow's season 3 premiere. We'll probably get it on torrent a day after tomorrow, and thankfully the show runners don't mind. Yarr!

Since maternal lola's protests about the religiously offensive tone of my previous post, I decided to dedicate this post to being deliberately offensive of out dated belief, especially those regarding babies.

Week 35: Holy (Shit) Week

I apologize for the later-than-usual-post, daddy creature crossed the sea and stayed for a couple of days to check out baby's balls (via his latest ultrasound photo).

The sore throat WAS gone for a couple of days, but now I have this cold. I suspect it's maternal lola's room with all its hidden nooks and crannies that forgo a regular dusting. I also suspect the insomnia is due to inactivity for most of the day. While the partner was here, we spent the nights at the family bed and breakfast below maternal lola's hill and had to climb every mealtime to get to the nomz. Results? I've been sleeping like a person without an internal kicking baby for most of the night. I still wake up to pee tho, but it's progress. There is also much pelvic pressure and I've started waddling like a duck.

Doctor advised I do 30 minutes of waddling walking everyday to make sure baby doesn't delay. She also said I'm good as due within 2 weeks, so I should have the pool ready soon

HOLY SHIT.

Pregnant Teens and Unwed Mommies: Another rant.

 I'm coming up with so many rants I should just make a whole new page dedicated to ranting.


I did the most horrible thing one can do in the 21st century to another person: I unfriended them on facebook.

It was over a status message he posted. I can't copypasta anymore since I did remove the dolt as soon as I read his post, but paraphrased, it went something like "Why do kids get pregnant younger and younger nowadays? Is TEET really that great? Boys are having TEET!"

I know half of the post didn't make sense, but I didn't like what it was implying, so instead of hiding him from my feed, I unfriended him. It wasn't a major loss since the person was really a work-related acquaintance rather than an actual friend. And if he was ranting about the ails of immoral under-aged coupling, maybe he wasn't such a valuable work-related resource for my lucrative career as a pornographer. Kidding.

I can't call myself a teen anymore, so why the reaction?

Of Gods and Amigurumi Monsters

I AM EARTH GODDESS!

(Repeat x number of times until completely deluded)

I'm on break from crochetry because my fingers are numb. I feel like my finger muscles got a little bit brawnier from my efforts, but doing it at night isn't doing much for my eyesight.

The insomnia is getting worse. Apart from baby's kicking, it's the water breaks and the bathroom runs that keep me up til the wee (whoops) hours of the morning. I'm just sooo thirsty at night.

The good news is that I've graduated from doilies and have moved on to beanies!

*Confetti*

I followed this tutorial. Coincidentally, the maternal lola got me material in around the same color.

For those of you too lazy to click the tutorial, this is the hat it's supposed to make:

This is my hat:

Anyone want a BJD-sized head-sock?

I learned too late about different sized yarns and hooks, and sadly, the kinds most online patterns require aren't widely available in this side of the country. T_T

Maternal lola was keeping me in the doily dark. T_T

So while I'm waiting on daddy-creature to get me the appropriate yarn for baby's stuff, I ended up looking for projects that I could use all this thread for, and I found Amigurumi.

Although most of the amigurumi patterns still ask for thicker yarns than the ones I have (worsted weighted as opposed to my flimsy size 8 crochet thread), you don't have to wear amigurumi, so it's fine to make miniature versions of the proposed projects.

Imo, the tinier versions are ADORABLE AS F*CK. Like Dobermans(men?) and mini pinschers; Pajeros and baby pajeros; Humans and babies.

One flower-filled night pre-baby, I thought maybe the nature of the divine is "Cute". Cuteness is universal. Have you ever seen a baby anything and not die from cuteness? Even animals cave in to cute:

I'd like to think that our Creation Gods are not the mighty Olympians who saw us as mites, but the tiny cells working away to grow us, the same way we build cities and become blind to the overall impact of our creations. As the father unit used to sing "The big bang never ended". As Ninong Ben put it, "In a way, that's what science is on to already- our cells all contain "programming". It would take a very tiny entity to program it! All the Whos down in Whoville?"

He's not even out yet, and everything I'm doing is already for this small would-be tyrant growing inside me. <3

As a tribute to the small Gods, I got to work on this:

Week 34: Down With the Sickness

Weeee're down to 6 weeks and I'm stuck in bed.

I just woke up one morning to an itchy throat. I don't know how I got it. I have several suspects:

1.) My water bottle spending too much time in the refrigerator mingling with Godzilla-Knows-What.
2.) Maybe it's time the electric fan got dusted.
3.) Unwashed fruit that went straight into my mouth.

The last bit comes from the bad habit of acting like every fruit I pop into my mouth came straight from the tree. It's not usually a problem when the fruit comes with natural packaging (oranges, bananas, lansones); or if someone else had the gumption to wash the fruit before I grabbed it. On normal days, my immune system is epic. Unfortunately, pregnancy gives you a -3 modifier to CON.

The doctor said something months ago about going straight to her if I got sick, as a 3 day cold could turn into pneumonia for the baby.

My friend google says otherwise, that the disease won't cross the placenta since it's respiratory, but that my antibodies would.

Who to trust, google or doktora?

On the second day of the sore throat, Mommy went on a mini trek to the family farm over the weekend to pick wild guavas. Figured maybe the sun and air would fix me.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

The VCO Experiment Part 3 (Update and Conclusion)

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So I'm starting to figure out that you're supposed to make tutorials AFTER you've mastered something, or else you're going to end up with constant updates. And heartbreak from false expectation. And suicide. Okay maybe not suicide.

Obviously, my subconscious was on to my noobishness, hence the title of this series having the word "experiment" in it - a caveat that f*ckingshit, this girl has no idea what she's doing.

I'm just as confused as you are. I just thought you should know. It isn't you, it's me.

I thought the experiment done with this post and me at least getting a small bottle's worth of oil for all the trouble, until I noticed the "useless" curd was STILL separating. Clear stuff was rising to the surface (clearer than the "oil" I'd gleaned from the first few steps) while white was sinking and turning into a cream color. Yuck.

I just figured that this was virgin coconut oil too, and started the tedious process of transferring the clear liquid into my oil jar by spoon. Then I put the stuff in the refrigerator and left the rest of the curd on a table.

Some 6 hours later, I went to check on the oil in the ref and found that the new clear oil had hardened into a plastic-looking disc. The old "oil" was still on the bottom of the jar, still in its liquid form. I took the plastic disc out and let it melt in another bowl.

That was about a week ago. The curd is still separating! Meanwhile, the clear oil that melted from the plastic disc is what I'm using (I got around the same amount as what I thought was the final product) while the "oil" I got from following the tutorial went bad. I doubt oil's supposed to do that.

In conclusion, the tutorial I was following seemed legit, but its all lies!!! And because I'm the kind of asshole that hates leaving you guys chained to the wall and following shadow-tutorials, I'll go refine the process and post a proper tutorial. With better pictures. When baby-daddy is in my side of the sea with his fancy 5D by then. Wa ko nagpadungog Chris. Hehe.

Being Gay: It's not a choice. (Warning! Another rant post)

First the embarrassing Anne Hathaway/Ricky Lo video, now this article. Naunsa naman ning Philstar ui.

Maybe they're trying to regain readership by deliberately trolling people.

And you, Madame Tintin Babao, I'd think you'd at least maintain a certain degree of journalistic integrity worthy of your column, AND broadsheet. The kind of integrity that requires you to set personal bias aside in favor of the truth. At the very least you cannot afford to be stupid with such delicate subjects such as this, because too many people listen to you make Unang Hirit on parenting issues and think you're a legit role model because they had breakfast everyday to you reading a tele-prompter.

Alas I forget, as many often do, you are a celebrity and not a scientist. The truth is not your priority, ratings are.

Auntie Faith pointed out that maybe Tintin was pandering to public opinion. The outrage over this article within my facebook stream alone makes me wonder if it IS public opinion. But then again my friend list is composed mostly of university-educated rebels and progressives. Come to think of it, my stream is probably really a carefully curated minority. Because if you're prone to posting images superimposed with revoltingly fallacious text like this...

(because Pikachu needs more than fb shares you gullible second handers!)

... I've probably hidden you from my feed.

Maybe I'm out of sync because I follow websites like Offbeat Families that frequently feature LGBT issues and non-cis gendered families in a favorable light. Maybe I'm out of touch with what the "norm" is regarding gender issues in this country because despite our queer opinions and lifestyles, my partner and I are both straight and therefore above persecution. We assume that the barangay has become honky dory about sexuality just because we never find opportunities to talk about it within our immediate community.

Week 33: Dragon Baby Rising

Like you all said he would, baby's finally found my ribs. With his foot.

He's only ventured this far into my pain threshold once though. I'm probably just so bored that every little new thing he does excites me to the point of gushing over it online.

If it wasn't for this blog, this whole update would have just been one facebook status message: HOMAYGAD HE KICKED MY RIBS!! SO PROUD!!!11one

When he does this more frequently (in how many more days/weeks? Gulp), I expect it'll grow old quick and I'll be back to boredom. Boredom plus occasional rib jabs. That'll be new.

Speaking of boredom, I used to alternate between playing Civ 3 and Skyrim for most of the second trimester. After a faulty install, Civ 3 stopped loading. As for Skyrim, I shamefully admit that I can’t play it without Tito Raushan finishing instances for me anymore. The graphics and sound track freaks me out now. I’ll still remember the words of power during labor Tito Jian, just so it can still be said that this kid is dragonborn.

(This kind of dragonborn works too. Wata!)

I wonder if this sudden squeamishness over every little thing (except kung fu master babies) is going to evolve into the kind of helicopter parent behavior that people roll their eyes at:

Me: Nak, that movie is too dark. Throw it out.
Kid: But ma, you and daddy shot this.
Me: Oh.

(Note to partner: Must make something kid friendly. Also, I miss you and cranapple juice. I don't know what I miss about Cebu the most >:P)

In case of inexplicable irrational feels, I can thankfully blame it on the hormones. So I'm doing that. If this doesn't pass after kid is out, I'll look to the media to blame. Yay for victim mentality.

Now, with nothing left to do while waiting, I got maternal lola to teach me how to crochet.

Pregnancy fears and pet peeves (Warning, rant post)

If your sweet kolehiyala cousin suggests you go on a movie marathon, do not fall for her pretty-pleases and her with-sugar-on-top's. Not unless you want to be subjected to a pastiche of nazi-experiment-zombie/jewish demon fetus fests. (Pregnancy brain just kicked in, and I momentarily disconnected "fetus" with its actual meaning. If you want to know the feeling, try repeating the word over and over til it stops making sense.)

Also, when your jet-lagged partner suggests you watch this franchise sci fi feature with a married female lead, do NOT agree. Not unless you want to see a 45-minute (it felt that long) self c-section conducted by said female lead while removing her Lovecraftian progeny.

Guess what those two movies were. I've spoiled you enough with clues.

All I'm saying is that it does not help the pregnant woman's imagination (and vivid dream life) to expose oneself to negative images of birthing. Unfortunately, they're everywhere.

Take for example this photo:

Please.

The VCO experiment PART 2

In my previous post, I (with some help, hehe) embarked on the most noble quest of creating my own all-in-one super baby product. You may access steps 1 - 5 here.

What I didn't mention was that I set aside a smaller container with milk from the same batch. After the 40 hours I mentioned in the last post, I put the smaller container in the refrigerator and left the bigger batch sitting in maternal lola's china cabinet in case the oil decided to settle some more.

This morning, when I went to check on the control batch - the top curd was hard as soap. I removed the stuff and set it aside, wondering if it could still be useful in some way. Meanwhile, the bottom was pure oil.

I put some on my skin, worried that maybe it looked too watery. But it was glorious. It's a light oil, lighter than what you'd get from the heat-based process (which I learned to do in high school), and it smelled like vanilla. I was expecting this part to be an exaggeration on most websites but it's true! It does not smell one bit like someone's grandmother the way refined coconut oil does. :D

One of the things coconut milk is great for is lice removal. In the provincial grade school where I spent half of elementary, it was more embarrassing to show up with your head smelling like lana (coconut oil) than if your head was covered with the tiny terrors. Disgusting, but true.

After the control batch turned out successful, I decided the bigger batch was probably done feeling left out of the action, so I put it in the refrigerator. I wondered if the extra time had caused the stuff to go bad, like maternal lola kept saying it would. My mother obviously has no faith in me. So boys and girls, this is the continuation of the cold compressed virgin coconut oil tutorial:

The VCO experiment PART 1

Does anyone remember those Surf ads that became popular a decade ago? I was in high school then, and remember how people (including myself) waited for advertisements of a local laundry soap brand instead of the prime time telenovelas of the same time slot. These commercials were about a young wife's inexpensive solutions to household problems. The advertisements petered out into actual drama though and I soon lost interest. The need to become a "wais na misis" or a clever homemaker never disappeared though.

Before we even got together, co-parent and I were part of this big dream to live on an off-grid, eco-friendly, fully sustainable paradise (with solar panel controlled radio stations and grey water fountains. kidding). The dream sort of came crashing down when the owner of the lot turned dirty old man on one of the females involved in the would-be commune. -_-;;

We decided the dream didn't have to end there though, in fact the coming of the kid could be an excuse to bring the dream to life in small manageable ways. Baby steps so to speak. The kind we burgis brats can deal with.

One of the things we realized we needed to get over was the idea of grocery stores.

At first it was hard to wrap one's head around. No more aisles and aisles of colorful products. No more people watching at the produce section. No more imported fruits.

But the more I read about the alternatives, the more I came to appreciate the granola way. No shampoo? Use vinegar. No bleach? Use vinegar. No detergent? Use vinegar. No souring agent? Use vinegar. No more decision fatigue!!!

What's even cooler is that you can make it from coconuts. We have coconuts. We have tons of coconuts. We have so much of them that there are probably more coconut concussion related deaths here than car accidents.

Serial killer

It helps that maternal lola's big on coconuts. She and a bunch of former Cocofed scholars got together and created an NGO called Kabukonet that teaches people in the country how to make export-quality products out of the nuts. Let's give them a round of applause for their efforts in reducing coconut-related deaths empowering the rural poor. :)

Instead of making vinegar though, I decided to try my hand at making Virgin Coconut Oil (VCO) because it tickled my subversive bones to not pay for expensive baby products. You can use VCO to treat cradle cap, diaper rash and croup; you can use it instead of mineral (petroleum based) baby oils and lotions; you can even use it in baby food (like breastmilk, VCO is high in lauric acid). Edumicate yourself cretin!

Week 32: Instincts Shmintincts

I got another ultrasound today and saw le baby's face for the first time.

I'm convinced that he is the most gwapo creature in the whole wide world (Even though the ultrasound was 2d, reception wasn't clear, my head was facing away from the monitor and the child might as well be humpbacked and harelipped*)!!! ^____^

His tummy is smaller than the rest of him for some reason, and his cord's settled into a loose noose around his neck. The technician told me he isn't in any danger tho, so I guess this just means I need to give in to the food porn more often.

I heard home births weren't allowed in the Philippines anymore months ago. My doctor assured me I'd be able to as long as she assisted with the birthing. But with the due date coming closer and closer (8 weeks to go today!), I decided to investigate my rights. By investigating, I mean:

1. Constantly bugging maternal lola (admin of the local hospital) for information from the DOH representative about the homebirth ban;
2. Googling the keywords "philippine homebirth ban";
3. Asking people on facebook about it.

My investigation proved fruitless, and since I was all set anyway, I didn't bother any further. It sounded too silly to be taken seriously anyway. I mean what are they going to do, sue Nora Aunor**?

Mommy friend Rei told me the homebirth issue was on TV tonight. I don't watch TV tho, so I googled again and found this philstar article about an unnamed NGO opposing the DOH policy posted just tonight (Ah, so it's a DOH policy. Thank you philstar for clearing that up!)

I agree with this group, on all counts.

Naming Baby. Difficulty: Asian

If someone told me a year ago that I'd have a hard time coming up with a name for the baby, I would have laughed.

Most of my stuff have names (the personification keeps me from losing them). I think I come up with good MAGNIFICENT names. Nay -  I've convinced myself that I have a PhD in naming shit.

Until the 5th month's ultrasound, we were absolutely sure baby was going to turn out female. And ever since my first doll, I've wanted a real live daughter. You know, a mini-me. Someone who'd repeat your life and not make that left turn, not skip that class, or actually finish piano lessons, etc etc. Projective identification anyone?

Week 31: Family trees and fiesta food

9:45pm was party time in belly city, and baby was thumping in time to this song:

"He knows he's going to be my drummer when he turns 5"- Father creature

Guess it really is hard not to attach expectations on future housemates. Except instead of future doctor, we're grooming this kid to become the next Jack White.

And then to our horror, he'll rebel and grow up to Work For The Man and Wear Suits and Picket Against Gay People.

Or he'll turn meta and be like Ninong Ben, who does wear suits but also writes music and cuddles cats. Hi Ben! We miss you.

The father liked this idea so much that he insists we should get the kid started on suits ASAP.

Kidding aside, we chatted about tracing our family trees. I mean, who else could this kid be related to right? It seemed important to know who he might end up taking after when the time comes. It's a "Looking-to-the-past-to-predict-the-future" kind of thing I guess.

The pregnancy so far

Baby likes to kick the right side of the belly. He stops when people are around and expect him to. One of my friends think it's performance anxiety. Hah. Filmmakers make shy baby. The irony.

I remember the first time we noticed him moving, we found the kicks cute, but a little hard to identify - kinda like shooting stars on a clear unpolluted-by-artificial-lights sky. Now they're like meteors on Armageddon - painful, frequent, and a sign of the end of days.

The doctor told me "Buntis na jud ka" ("You're definitely pregnant now") as if I wasn't to begin with. But I know what she means. I've had it relatively easy til now. Suddenly, my feet are ballooning, my bump is a basketball, and I feel like yoga can wait for a few more hours days. Cats gestate for less than 3 months. Maybe I am a cat, and I really HAVE only begun to be pregnant. As much as the first trimester felt like a bitch because of mood swings, why do I have a feeling these remaining months are going to be the longest in my life?