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.