1 week old Rajah

I'm told he has my eyes. To me, he looks like a Salamander.

Aquarian sun, pisces moon, sag ascendant. Rajah whines, and shrieks, and shouts. LOUD.

His hair on top stands in a natural mohawk, although this one is no metalhead. I know it's normal for most babies to get bothered by noises easily, but I guess it's strange for me because my point of reference is a water baby.

We burned his cord on the 2nd day, because the placenta stank and he'd cry in pain when I'd rub salt onto it. My bad for not salting it right after birth. The stump (and tail) he yanked off on the 5th day. Lola D buried the placenta in her garden.

He prefers pooping and peeing when the diaper is off but I suspect all babies are like that. I mean who wants to have cold gooey stuff stuck to your ass?

Bonus Level : The Mad Wheelchair Dash

Alternative title: Happy Birthday Rajah Linaban

I guess it's a given, that everything 2nd borns do are compared to their eldest siblings experiences in their parents eyes, so siblings do crazy things often to differentiate from the elder.

We did not get the repeat waterbirth/homebirth. Instead we get a funny story.

I've already blogged about the frustrating hospital visit we took 3 weeks ago when labor stalled.

What followed was just waiting, and walking, and trying everything to naturally induce the baby, and watching underwear for leaks or mucus plugs or water breaking.

Everytime it seemed like I was going into labor (consistent but painless contractions, spaced evenly apart), they'd stop after an hour or two.

I lost morale by the day. There was conflicting information about my actual due date, so I didn't even know if I was past due yet. The doctor was worried about baby's increasing size, and I was worried about all the backlog I'd left in Cebu (hi Binisaya).

She said that if he wasnt out by week 41 day 4 (last saturday), she was going to get me started on oxy (pitocin).

Chris and I discussed. We weighed out options, pro's and cons. We decided to get a second opinion.

On week 41,day 3, we visited another OB who was chunkier but stopped birthing, reasons unknown. Ultrasound revealed baby was great, not that big yet, and was doing fine. Baby's AOG was 38 weeks. When I told her tho that I'd been 5cm for 3 weeks, she said she'd induce me. She performed reflexology on my foot and found a particularly nasty knot on my right foot.

I started having intense but painless contractions in the car on the way back home, but when we got there, contractions stopped.

A week later (last night), I was at the hospital and my doctor was writing the request for the drugs for induction.

We were supposed to come in the previous day, but the hospital was fully booked. We spent the day on pedicures, thrifting for breastfeeding friendly tops, and barbecue. Creature comforts before the slaughter.

Throughout these activities tho, contractions were coming in at 6-8 minutes apart. I didnt take them seriously tho since they didn't hurt.

So at 9:10, I was given an IV with pitocin and something to soften my cervix. Doctor didnt bother with an I.E.

Again, I was given a room upstairs, and told to inform the nurse if anything hurt.

I think I took a nap, and woke up at 11 to HELL.

I thought it was the drugs. I had no idea this was already transition.

My thinking brain was like "Oh no, 4 - 6 hours of this is impossible!", and it promptly shut down.

I read somewhere before that you had to keep your jaw slack, so I was trying to contradict the impulse to grit my teeth through the pain and just wait for it to subside, willing my body to open.

I made Chris time the contractions and push against my hips whenever a wave hit. I felt like a crocodile, ready to bite him whenever he'd ask me if I was going through a contraction. I could not speak, so I'd squeeze his arm at the onset of one. Contractions were minutes long and spaced at 3-4 minutes apart. And they would not stop for anything.

Even for nurses in cat masks coming in to check on my bp and baby's heart rate.

Even bathroom breaks. Because I felt like pooping but immediately collapsed on all fours on the bathroom floor asking for hot water to be poured down my back. In retrospect I realize Chris had no idea what was going on either. I cursed under my breath at how slow the blessed water was to come.

I did not want to leave that bathroom.

I was beyond all thought.

I had completely surrendered to my body.

For example, when a wave hit, my body felt like jiggling. And then my brain was like "heeey, this is helping! Good idea, we'll do that"

My mouth opened and I started vocalizing and brain still didn't get the memo.

My hand went under my crotch involuntarily and I still didn't realize that I was crowning.

Then another nurse arrived and told me I needed to move to the delivery room.

On a wheelchair.

I wanted to yell "BUT I CANT EVEN SIT WOMAN!"

My mom and the nurse (the same midwife who assisted during Malaya's delivery) coached me to breathe, as we made a mad dash to the labor room.

I feel sorry for her, I must've been a difficult patient, struggling against the wheelchair while she was just trying to get me from point A to B as soon as possible. It was not a short ride. On the wheelchair, I'd blocked them out. I jiggled and the nurse was concerned I was having a seizure. I stretched my legs and she had to provide counter weight.

By the time we got to the labor room, I could hear nurses panicking around me. "Sa Delivery na na!" "Wa pa si doc" "mam ayaw sa'g utong!" I popped, water gushed out (in a moving wheelchair so we're all clear here) and while that relieved the pain by a bucket (hehehe) my body had decided to push without asking my brain.

And then I pushed, right when they wheeled me into the DR. One nurse was like "Mam, ayaw sa!" Body was like "HELL NO", and my mouth went "But he's coming!"

And his head was out, followed shortly by the rest of him.

Rajah Chawdhury-Linaban was born at 1:30am feb 1,2017 in a moving wheelchair at the Biliran Provincial Hospital. He weighed 3.45 kilograms and latched like a pro.

I managed to scream AYAWG PUTLA when I heard one nurse asking for a clamp through the haze of wuv and affection that followed after my former tenant was put in my arms.

Fortunately one of the nurses (the one with a cat mask) knew about lotus birth and explained to the others. The doctor arrived shortly and cleaned me up (no tears!) and waited for the placenta. They put it in a kidney dish and carried it with baby while they weighed him/cleaned him up.

Things may not have gone according to plan, and there was a little augmentation involved, but that was the most eventful wheelchair ride I will probably ever have in my life. The hospital staff was respectful of my kooky requests regarding the baby's aftercare and for that I am extremely grateful.

We celebrated with ice cream and cake, in what is turning into our own little family tradition. After all, what's a birthday without cake and candles?

I can't read it either. I tried. I can make out Happy and Birthday, but the rest is mysterious.

Malaya is waiting for the photo to be over with so he can get icing. (spot the cord!)

King of grand entrances, this boy.

P.S. Malaya's face when he first saw his brother lit up like it was Christmas. :3

Plus one

So.... baby numero dos is on its way.

The boy is 3 years old now, and while there is a lot to say about his development, we've started keeping a physical portfolio for that, eliminating the need to journal here. Also, he's quickly growing into his own person and I think he prefers Superman to Aquaman (despite my desperate attempts to shield him from cartoons and pop culture. T_T)

Back to baby number 2. I'm 13 weeks into the pregnancy, still no idea what kind of sea monster this one's going to be so I'll talk about what it's like to go back to square one, albeit with toddler (or official child?) in tow.

This wasn't a completely accidental baby, as the partner and I had been open to the possibility of ending up with another "accident". To be honest, I'd been making the father creature read up on ideal age gaps between siblings and he'd chide me with "look for another sperm donor".

Mao ra'y gidangat.

I swear I didn't count on getting knocked up again though, my period's been irregular since Mr Kracken came along, so I had no way to measure ovulation and stuff.

Okay, too much info already. That's not what you're here for. You wanna know what it's going to be.

DRUMROLL PLEASE....

....

....

....

We don't know yet. SORRY GUYS.

If it's another boy, I expect hurricanes. If it's another girl, I expect a pouty boy. We asked future kuya if he wants a boy or a girl (as if expressing your wishes ever changes the X or Y component of the fertilizing sperm. Lol) and he insists he wants a minion. Hay nako.

I read up on the ramzi method, but we'd been out of the country for a month and weren't able to get that ultrasound until much too late to see whether the fetus was lying on the right or left side.

But it's healthy. Last ultrasound indicated it still had a tail, that was 3 weeks ago. The next check up isn't until after next week. 

I was warned that all pregnancies are different. One notable difference is that I'm not constantly panicking over whether I'm doing the right thing or not. I'm not being as anal about what I'm eating (altho I think I really should be). Another is the near constant morning sickness. I don't remember nausea being this bad the first go. The whole time we were in said other country (murica, the land of milk and munies), I couldn't stomach anything but berries and soup. When we got back, there were no more berries and puking nearly every night. I can't wait to be done with the first trimester.

Last pregnancy, I was in constant awe of ever single milestone. Now I just want to get this over with. The first trimester at least. I am not enjoying the fact that I'd just started getting in gym shape, and now I have no energy to reach my toes (while I still can). The puking is keeping me from turning into a blimp this early, but I haven't been able to get any exercise. I hope things change in the next few weeks though.

I am a little bit worried about how life could change with another kid. We were only starting to have lives again! I was beginning to have a career! Stuff like that. On the other hand, I really did want another, and one not too far away from the first so that we wouldn't have to go back to absolute zero. Certainly not when I'm too old to have worry free pregnancies. I don't know if I want to give birth after 30.

As far as similarities go, I still get crazy pregnancy dreams (but I don't need to be pregnant to have those), still intend to waterbirth, still intend to lotus birth, still intend to attachment parent. Trouble is, I doubt my previous OB will still attend to me. I still haven't found an OB in Cebu who would be open to my preferred birthing method. I checked out options in Murica but am confused about what it means to give birth there without insurance or citizenship.

So I'm gritting my teeth, trying to recall how painful the first time was. I think 3 years really is enough time to forget the ring of fire and start missing baby coo's and sly baby winks.

Which isn't to say I am not enjoying the first one's boyhood. Maybe I feel ready because he's starting to become more independent. He has more favorite people now, and he doesn't need to breastfeed anymore (partially because I've been turning him away because sore breasts during pregnancy are the worst), altho he still does sometimes for comfort. 

So we'll see. In the meantime, any suggestions for baby names?

Celebrating One Year of Baby Love Part2: The Babylove

There was so much to look forward to for April. Aside from the boy turning a year old, Game of Thrones season 4 was rolling in. If HBO does keep it going for 8 seasons (and if they can finish the story by then) that means we're halfway through!

While we have been letting him watch some episodes with us, he's started protesting against the blood and gore. It's made us realize several things:

1. He's going to vote eventually.

2. GoT isn't for small summer children. Must change child's bedtime to Before-We-Start-Watching O'Clock.

3. We have a small child who will someday learn the ways of the world.

4. We will have a teenager who will snicker at his "Throner" parents the way I did my late Trekkie dad.

While this boy is still a decade and some away from being that teenager, we've compiled blackmail material clips of his year so far. Warning: has maternal nudity. NSFW

The year certainly felt longer than these 15 minutes, and every moment of it was magical. We're starting to get the hang of this parenting business too.

His developing personality is fun to discover. If he can go somewhere, or get into something by himself, he will try first (and probably fall and recover many times) before ever asking for help. This could be a bad thing and a good thing.

He's learned how to mock cry, to threaten us (with his fingers dangling precariously close to the electric sockets), to put his fingers in my mouth when we're crying/singing/waking up.

He's learned that cats are mimings, and that pictures in books and screens of cats are also mimings, but he hasn't learned that dogs are not mimings.

He waves goodbye enthusiastically when it's time to go. He waves goodbye even more enthusiastically when he WANTS to go (regardless of whether it is time to go or no).

And he absolutely loves water.

And we love you little man.

Celebrating One Year of Baby Love Part1: The Party

We had a full month. I'm not even kidding. We moved houses, sold food at two different fairs, planned the birthday party, had the birthday party (and several surprise parties after from different people).

As for the birthday party...

Paperless and free! Yay for evite.com

We made edible nontoxic paints.

I swear it was only food coloring and flour.

the older kids went along, but I have to admit this was too kindergarten for some.

the smaller ones were totally down.

absolutely down.

 Parents played along too.

Squishy!

And then Malaya woke up. By this point, the paints had already been set aside and everyone was done washing up. So all there was left was to sing birthday songs for the celebrants.

Superman cake c/o Tita Arlene Villa

Another little lady was turning 9 in 3 days, so there was no way she was not getting to blow her own candle.

We sang for Malaya and April, and then they blew out their candles.

Malaya got a little help blowing his candle out from Lola Nanay. His "One" shirt was sent over by the Mamita.

We strung paper circles together for curtains. The paper was c/o magazines my friends offered for sacrifice.

We had a chocolate fountain (c/o T&C Rental) , fruits (c/o Kit and Lolo Jumbo!), lots of cake, pancit, Lola Nanay's chicken lollipops and Tito Mark's mango float for the tykes... 

... and had food catered for the adults c/o RTCM Catering. They were nice enough to make some servings vegetarian-friendly. 

Piñata time!

no palayok? no problem.

party wasn't even halfway through but the celebrants were pooped.

After the small kids went home with goody bags full of the fingerpaint, artwork and candy (sorry parents), the big big kids started playing board games and breaking the booze out.

I blew out 25 candles in a party dress that woulda made my 5-year old self proud.

We also screened a compilation we made of Malaya's first year, which will be up in another post.

Thank you Mamita, Lola Nanay, Lolo Ely, Lola Mama, Lolo Bill, and a handful of benefactors for your contributions to this bash. Yay for grandparents! Thank you also to the friends and family who came and brought gifts for the little boy. Yay for ninongs and ninangs!

Photos were by Eva Marie Gamboa of Picture Trail Studios.

For the rest of this post (CHEESiness! NSFWness!), click me.

Boom! We have a toddler (9 10 and 11 months).

If I haven't updated in a while, I have a whole bag of excuses:

1. We're moving. The lot our apartment's on is being sold, and our friends are moving out of their awesome split level rental, so we're taking advantage. I was a little sad when we found out about the lot. All my hopes and dreams of prettifying this place have been dashed to the ground forever. The other house has lots of potential. It's stuck in the 70's, with the dark brown moulding and kitchen cabinets, the varnished wood panelling, the beige everything else... with a little paint and some DIY furniture projects, we could totally go Scandinavian on the interiors.

Speaking of which...

We'll be selling old clothes, baby stuff, Xbox games (and Xbox), furniture, baked goods, etc etc.

If you want to check out the garage sale, email me at mutangpusa@gmail.com and I'll send you a map.

We move there in time for the boy's first birthday too (and my 25th, hurrah!). The partner and I've decided a beach party with grilling might be too much trouble for very very small children to enjoy. Transportation and safety are issues. So we'll have one at the house, which could also double as a house warming party. There's lots of roaming space, and it's in a safe neighborhood in case he runs out of the house and into moving vehicle space.

Apparently, there are two schools of thought in this part of the world regarding first birthday parties. One is that it's pointless because baby won't even remember. The other is that the party is for the adults, and it should be as grand as grand can get, kinda to celebrate that the baby survived the fragile first year.

Lam-ang tells it like it is.

2. Malaya's nanny went on maternity leave (she gave birth to a baby girl! woot!) right when he started roaming the "vast" apartment, deliberately getting into things he's not supposed to.

So much for productivity.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.