Raine's Here, My Feet Are Back and Other Tales of Birthing Joys and Pains

Into our lives a little Raine has come.

Erynne Isobel Hermoso-Prudente arrived with a lusty cry of protest on Wednesday, 28 March, 10:27PM.

WARNING: may contain graphic details and words such as "vagina" and "blood". And this is going to be a long post. Possibly in several parts.

Raine, Please Come Out Already

I guess it's a real sign of a Daddy's Girl. On Monday night, The Hubby told Raine that she could finally come out, and Tuesday 1:30AM my bag of water started to leak, complete with bloody show.

I woke up The Hubby to tell him, and my mom woke up as well. Calmly, The Hubby asked if I was having contractions. At that point I didn't know what contractions felt like, so I reluctantly said no. Both my mom and The Hubby advised me to go back to sleep and call the doctor at a more decent time in the morning. I admit I was a little upset that they didn't seem to take me seriously (The Hubby even asked if I was sure I just didn't pee in my pants!). The Hubby and Da Mom went back to sleep, but I was too excited and sort of worried to sleep well.

Got to talk to my OB at about 8AM and she told me to go to the hospital for assessment. So we took our time--bath, light breakfast, The Hubby backed up files on his desktop, and Da Mom and the giant of a baby seester prepared for a go-see. Finally got to the hospital around lunch time, to find out that our OB's team had been waiting for us. Oops.

To cut a long, long, long tedious story short, we had to check in Cardinal already because I was leaking and about a centimeter dilated. At 1:30AM Wednesday, I lost the mucous plug and there was more blood--and I finally learned what a real contraction felt like. I was contracting every 10, 15 minutes throughout the night, so that didn't make for a good night's sleep. Plus they put me on a fast, so no water at all. Almost died of thirst. Finally, at a more decent time in the morning, they allowed me a light breakfast. Then at about 10AM they wheelchaired me to the delivery room, where I was given an enema. Now that is an experience that is beyond words--going through the after effects of an enema while getting contractions. It's enough to make you sweat blood!

When they finally let The Hubby into the labor room, I had already been given an epidural, so I lay there, comfortably contracting, sometimes drifting in and out of sleep. The Hubby and I also enjoyed the tiny cable TV in the labor room. We were thinking that by 10PM, Raine would be out and I'd be back on our room, and we could still catch the new episode of CSI on AXN. But alas. It wasn't meant to be. After two-and-a-half hours of pushing, Raine just wouldn't come down, so the OB called for a Cesarean. I was strapped onto the operating table, crucifixion style. The anesthesia they gave me made me chill terribly, as in there I was, like something out of exorcist, tied down and shaking and rattling the bed while they did their rituals. And so after everything, Raine finally arrived--huge, screaming and very, very beautiful.

Raine weighed in at 8lbs, 5oz and was nearly 21 inches long. Big baby just like her mommy (I was 7lbs, 15oz and 22 inches long). She was the biggest (and prettiest of course) baby in the nursery. I could only start breastfeeding her Friday, when they took off all my attachments--the IV, the epidural tube and the catheter. I got to walk to the nursery and she latched on and sucked enthusiastically. It was so surreal.

Oh, side story after they took off everything. I tried to stand and walk around the room, and suddenly, there was a strong gush of blood running down my legs. It was like one of those classic Pinoy flicks. The Hubby, who just woke up, was telling me to stay calm and not panic as he zipped around the room, essentially panicking in a calm way while I stood in a puddle of blood. Finally, a nurse came in, saw what had happened, called a couple of very pleasant (female) orderlies who cleaned me up. End of adventure.

We took Raine home Saturday afternoon.

I also want to say we had such a great birth experience in Cardinal Santos. The whole staff, from the interns to the residents to the nurses to the orderlies to the people who clean the rooms, were all so nice. Very pleasant, very professional. The facilities were clean, even the bathroom (I dread hospital bathrooms--they look like the very place you catch disease). My core doctors--the OB, the anesthesiologist and the pediatrician--were extremely competent, and they made me feel I was in very good hands. I'd choose them again if I were to go through this again (maybe in three years--have to really think about it).

Pregnant Pause

This happened yesterday.

My Mom (on the phone with my sister in Dubai): No, we haven't given birth yet ... We're in Glorietta, walking Ate.

Hmph. Like walking the dog.

***

These last few days are a killer. Waiting is driving me nuts. Everyone keeps texting and calling--have you given birth yet? No. I haven't. Raine loves it too much in there, she hasn't even given notice of any plans to come out. No labor pains, no bags bursting, no mucous plugs, no bloody show. No bloody anything.

All the baby things are set up, even the crib with its carinderia-ulam-keep-the-flies-away-looking mosquito net. The tons of baby clothes are washed, linens out--all that's missing is the baby. Oh, just wanted to share: we are so, so blessed. The baby things are complete, and we haven't had to buy a single thing. Everything was lent, given or handed down. Isn't that amazing?

Anyway, I've been trying to walk around more, except it's been so hot! So we've been trying to go to the malls. Serendra/Bonifacio High Street is a great place to walk in the late afternoon. Not too many shops open yet, but the view is lovely and the breeze is nice. I love the Serendra area. If I had money, I wouldn't mind owning a unit there.

I'm really praying to give birth this week, before Friday. The Hubby says Thursday would be good--he'd be done with his projects by then. I think Raine is such a daddy's girl, listening to The Hubby instead of me. If I had my way, she would've been out Thursday last week!

It really is getting hard to sleep at night. Though I suppose I shouldn't complain, since when Raine gets here, I will hardly get any sleep! I'm always sleepy. Not like that's anything new. But I guess I should try to stock up on sleep, if possible.

I hate waking up with rheumatic hands though (or what I imagine rheumatic hands would feel like). It takes some time before I can grasp anything properly, because my finger joints hurt and can't bend properly. And my thumb/wrist really hurts! Sometimes hypochondriac me thinks it's de Quervain's syndrome or something. The Hubby is singularly unsympathetic.

I haven't seen my doctor in nearly a month. I guess she's really busy. When is peak season of births? I should be really glad and just take it as a sign that I am so ridiculously healthy and no-risk that she does not feel any urge to see me. The Hubby says I must have some Igorot blood in me (Igorots are a hardy mountain tribe--their women work in the fields even while pregnant, and at the proper time, go squat behind a bush, deliver the baby, clean up, rest a little, and go right back to the fields). I AM pretty sturdy. And tough. I like to whine, but I can take a lot. So thank you, Lord. And I mean it.

Obviously this post contains no real substance. Just a lot of whining from an impatient mother-to-be. And while we're on the topic of whining, might as well talk about my feet. Or these things that sort of resemble my feet. I seem to have solid but really fluffy-looking blocks of something; they don't even feel like flesh anymore. Putting them up doesn't help bring down the swelling. On bad days, even my legs and thighs seem swollen. Or it just be all that accumulated fat (oh the joy of eating!).

Oh well.

Frankenstein

Sometimes I don't recognize myself.

I look down and I don't even see my feet. I can't even see my bellybutton, or the area below it, unless I look in the mirror. The jokes about me swallowing a basketball, or a watermelon don't feel like jokes to me. Add the sometimes creepy, mostly fascinating undulations of my belly, the way its shape transforms from perfectly round to pointed to some other asymmetrical form, and it's like some alien attachment.

I guess it's a good thing this huge belly hides my feet. Because I don't think those fluffy, puffy, red-mottled, took-a-beating painful things down there are really my feet. If they were, they'd be slender, gracefully attached to ankles, then calves. Those swollen things down there seem to have gobbled up my ankles, leaving a roll of flesh instead. They have a mind of their own, cramping up, and egging my calves to cramp up as well. Usually in the middle of the night.

Joining them in that midnight rebellion are these things that used to be my hands. I wake up in the middle of the night with arms and hands that don't respond to my mental urgings. Instead, they freeze, claw-like, then retract, shooting pins and needles up and down my arms. In the daytime, I can't fully command them either. I can't open small bottle caps and those pesky aluminum packs because my finger joints hurt.

My nose, which I have to admit, has always been on the round side, is bigger, rounder and bright red. Like I stood under the noon sun with SPF75 on every part of me except my nose. My thighs and butt have accepted boarders, and are now happily living in crowded quarters under the shade of my belly.

The only new body parts that I do like are the boobs. Now these, I can live with. But when I give birth and start to breastfeed, I feel like I'll be giving up ownership too.

I miss the old me. Where am I?

Our First Family Portrait...and Then Some

This is one of those indulge-the-pregnant-wife moments with The Hubby (actually, more than a moment--half the day!). So thank you, Hubby.

I have a confession--I've always wanted to be a model. Really. But my attributes are not exactly what the modeling industry is looking for, so tough luck. But now I figured, why not make the most of the big belly? After all, this is the ONLY time that having a big belly will look good. I'm so glad maternity portraits are getting popular.

So thanks to my good friends Mich Lim, who made my bulbous red nose decent and transformed my dead straight hair into something pleasing to look at; and to Harvey Tapan whose lighting and composition actually made me look good on cam. These were shot at Harvey's Fuji Film studio at Mall of Asia.

Oh, and this is the debut of two pieces from our new Hot Momma Couture alpha collection--a maternity clothes line that my friends and I are working on: the white sleeveless V-neck top I was wearing and (don't laugh!) the white tee that The Hubby wore (you have to admit, it did look good on him, if you don't see the side stitching). These are still prototypes, but we hope to have them out soon. Hot Momma Couture's mission is to make maternity clothes that are comfy and will make you look and feel good. Wear your tummy proud!

Finally, I just want to say another thank you to Mich--she really made me look good. The Hubby hasn't seen me pretty in a long time. And another thank you to Harvey, who patiently coaxed us as we stood there under the klieg lights, like deer frozen before headlights. I learned that it ain't easy being a model!

More photos here.

Ang Aking Masigasig na Pagsusulat sa Wikang Pilipino

My written Tagalog sucks. It's atrocious; it's terrible. I'm the first to admit it. I've always thought that my spoken Tagalog was adequate, but The Hubby informs me that my spoken Tagalog is "pang komiks". Whatever that means. He won't let me forget that I sometimes mix up words, like saying that I got my uber cool retro dress from my lola's ataul, instead of baul (for those who experience word confusion like me, ataul is a coffin; baul is a chest--they sound alike, don't they? And they both are sort of boxes where you keep things. Easy to get confused, I say). Or saying that I don't really go for balon-balon, instead of balun-balunan. I don't even know how to spell correctly most of the time! And those repeating syllables and letters! Like off the top of your head--how many "A"s are there in the word maalaala?

Which brings me to my newest career challenge. I am currently editor of a small business magazine for small and micro entrepreneurs. The magazine name is--tah-dan!--Masigasig (that didn't come from me; it's the client's choice). For those not in the know, masigasig describes someone who is persistent, with a set goal in mind. That's why you hear of guys who are masigasig na manliligaw. This magazine is actually a Globe in-house publication, and they are doing it together with Entrepreneur Magazine. The Entrepreneur/Summit people were the ones who got me on board. It's a good project; it's meant to be both inspirational and instructional. It's a monthly (it will be given out for free with Entrepreneur. I think). I think small biz people will find it useful.

My problem is, though, half is to be written in Tagalog, and the other half in English. The English part is a breeze. The mag's only 28 pages, so I have very short articles to deal with. Now the Tagalog--oh boy. When my first writer submitted her story, and I opened the Word file, all I could see were the red squiggly lines underneath 99% of the words. My eyes glazed over. I swear. Editing Tagalog articles take me three times longer, because I have to translate it mentally into English to see if it makes sense, then I have to call on my meager reserves of Tagalog grammar and spelling, and I have to continuously snap myself out of the red-squiggly-line-induced stupor.

Now writing Tagalog articles is a different story. I submitted one to the client, quite pleased with what I'd done. They gave it back with the comment, "please make more reader friendly". To my excruciating embarrassment, I read a mangled sentence that I had written: "Ang flip flops ay hindi lang comportable, kundi mura pa at pwedeng suotan ng kung sinong-sino." Ack! I cringe at the memory. Even I know that is such a wrong sentence!

The Hubby has suggested that I get a good English-Filipino dictionary. But my writer friend Inna says that it's my sentence composition that's the problem, and I should immerse myself in the language more. Hence I bought a copy of Hi! Magazine (after all we have a Celebrity Raket section, so might as well get up to speed on the latest showbiz tidbits). I was going to buy a Tagalog pocketbook--I mean, that should be masang Tagalog, right--but The Hubby told me all I'd get out of that would be super cheesy phrases like "ang kanyang tarugo ng kaligayahan na kinipkip (kinimkim? kinupkop? kinamkam? kinutkut?) sa kanyang karsonsilyo" or something.

Fortunately, I found this little book written by Bob Ong. And to my amazement, I'm actually enjoying it. I even find myself laughing out loud sometimes. Though I'm not too sure if I laugh because Bob Ong is genuinely funny, or out of sheer joy because I actually understand what I'm reading. Still, it's progress, though I am moving through it at a much slower pace.

I haven't given up on myself completely. After all, I did get one of my short stories published in Dyaryo Filipino--and that was pure Tagalog, not the conversational kind. I have to confess, though, that the original story was written in English, then translated with the help of my trusty dictionary and my beloved roommate and friend Leah (Leah has her own memories of my Tagalog boo-boos, but let's not get into that).

I guess it's a matter of practice. And exposure. What else should I read? Any suggestions?

The (Mis)Adventures of the Blob

The Hubby and I spent New Year's eve with my dad and his family in Meycauayan. Nothing really spectacular goes on there; it's basically a dinner-and-do-your-own-thing kind of celebration, which is a nice change from the usual frenzy in Baguio or at The Hubby's. I was really looking forward to watching a movie on my dad's kick-ass home theatre system. As I was settling in on the lovely La-Z Boy (The Hubby put the delicious Boy Bawang far from my reach and would intermittently dole out a piece at a time), my dad came in. "Oh," he said, "Is The Blob getting sleepy?"

Hmph.

***

I have been getting big. I actually waddle when I walk. Really. It's so weird. But not as weird as seeing Raine move inside my tummy. I thought it was some exaggeration, when my mom and other mothers would tell how you could see a foot or a knee move around. But you actually can! It's so creepy. Like Aliens or that scene from Constantine. I'm just waiting for the day I see a face forming on the surface of my tummy, and tiny hands pushing my skin! Creepy, I tell you. But it still makes me laugh to feel her move.

I praise God that we have our birth money all saved up. I just continue to pray that we have a normal birth, with no complications. That's my faith goal this year, that and that I be able to fully breastfeed Raine (tons of savings! not to mention so much healthier). The Hubby and I actually are believing God for a lot this year, and we're excited to see how He answers prayers.

But going back to my weight, and chances for normal delivery, my doctor said (and everyone says) I have to slow down my weight gain. Imagine, I packed on 30 pounds in seven months--the average weight I should gain for the entire pregnancy! But it's such a joy to eat. Sniff. And the seester sent tons of chocolates. For some strange reason, I've suddenly developed a sweet tooth. It doesn't help she sent lots of mint chocolate. Oh, joy.

The Hubby and I have also been going to childbirth classes (with Rome Kanapi, who The Hubby calls Sally Fields). And one of the constant topics is, of course, weight gain. My anorexic classmates, who look mostly younger than me, gained an average of about 12 pounds. The most was 20. When I told them (yes, you have to share your poundage with the entire class!), I gained 3-0, at least Rome said, "Wow, you must have been skinny before you got pregnant!" I felt a little better.

I have to work in more exercise into my schedule. I have been trying to do the pre-natal moves from class, but sometimes I forget and when I remember, I'm on the verge of falling asleep. If only thinking of exercise burns calories and tones muscles! The seester said I need to get frog kicks into my swimming routine, to help with the thunder thighs syndrome. I didn't have the guts to tell her that I need to get swimming into my routine! I have about 10 weeks left, so I need to get serious exercise into my life. Argh. Inertia is the most dangerous thing.

The Hubby and I also have to discuss how we really want to fix the house, and how long we intend to stay here. We are praying for our dream house, but problem is, we haven't agreed on where we want our house to be. I don't mind settling down here in Merville for the meantime. After all, your dream house for this period in life isn't necessarily the dream house for the rest of your life. I don't know; we still have to talk about it.

We also have to finalize our career plans. Just last night, The Hubby was computing my income versus my expenses, and he declared that for what I'm earning, my PR gig isn't worth the time and effort. And he said I should ask for a raise, or leave. Then today, with a potential 10-month gig coming up, he recomputed my income with the PR gig and it seems that the PR gig is back inthe picture.

I've long been wanting to give up that PR gig, but I can't seem to let go. It's a love-hate thing. I feel so burnt out (been at it more than six years!), it doesn't pay enough, yet I don't want to abandon my client just like that. I'm praying that we get really good writers to take my place (in preparation for my maternity leave) and that after Raine comes, I can eventually segue out of there. But I'll miss it for sure. Then again, maybe not. I'm confused.

And I'm getting sleepy. So yes dad, The Blob is getting sleepy.

Enough for today.

Babymooning in Cebu!

We're off to Cebu tomorrow early morning and I'm so excited! A friend of ours is getting married on Saturday, and The Hubby and I decided might as well make a vacation out of it. So we're leaving first thing tomorrow, and we'll be back on the last flight Sunday.

We're booked at the Tambuli Beach Resort on Mactan Island. A friend of ours said it's been sunny Cebu, and to bring sunblock and shades. Yes! There's a chance for me to be a sun-kissed hot momma beach goddess! The Hubby and I haven't gone anywhere at all this year, much less the beach, so I have faded to some washed-out non-color. And I figure this will be the last beach trip in a long time (what age can babies go to the beach?), so might as well make the most of it.

I haven't packed at all (and I haven't got a thing to wear to the wedding!) and there are tons of stuff to finish so we minimize backlog while we're gone. Argh! This is the part I hate--getting ready for the trip.

I hope it's sunny skies and balmy breezes all the way!

OK. Break over. Back to work.

My Christmas Wish List

The Hubby has been asking what I want for Christmas. I actually don't know. But here's a list of things that have, at one time or another, crossed my mind as must-haves:

1. Digital voice recorder - for when I do interviews, or when I want to make notes to myself, or dictate a thought or an idea when I have no time to scrounge around for a pen and notebook. What's a good brand? And what features are desirable? Pardon my ignorance. But I still want one. Preferably before my big interview next Wednesday.

2. Starbucks planner - I do not really need this one. But I love planners like this. Such pretty paper! But I won't be able to coffee up for another year or so...oh well.

3. A glass pen - saw one in Landes at Podium a year ago. Been hinting to The Hubby about it, but he's far too practical to get me something like this. But it's so lovely. And it comes with a quaint little bottle of ink. A wax seal would be nice too.

4. Cell phone - mine has seen better days. And it's hell to charge. Been charging it in the car! It would be nice to have a PDA phone, but they're kinda clunky. Just something with a huge phonebook would do. Maybe a camera, though I haven't really been using mine. And something that properly displays the caller's name! Though The Hubby says I should clean up my phonebook--probably some double entries there.

5. Laptop - like my phone, this laptop has seen better days. But it's been so useful and handy, it's had a good life. It's just so slow and beat up. But I'll still be able to hobble along I guess.

6. Bikini - saw one in Speedo, the kind I like--the one that isn't just a display suit, but something you can actually swim in (yes, I still wear bikinis--I'm a hot momma!).

7. Shopping spree in National Bookstore - Powerbooks or Fully Booked would be good too, but I want to rack up more points on my Laking National card. What books shall I buy? Breastfeeding, baby care/parenting, more cookbooks, of course, my writing books, the latest Kellerman and Binchy novels, historical fiction (particularly about royalty--not romantic fiction, though I'd probably take a look at the latest bobo books), books on Christianity and faith (though they'd have a wider selection at the VCF bookstore or OMF or PCBS), children's books like Guess How Much I Love You, The Giving Tree, I Love You Forever and Dr. Seuss, more fiction, and magazines galore. Whew! No wonder I can stay the entire day in National!

8. Fountain pen - I suppose a fountain pen would be a tad more practical than a glass pen. I'd like one with a fine nib. The Parker I use at the moment still writes a bit too thick for me. Or it could be my ink...

9. New rubber shoes or sneakers - I haven't bought a new pair in years! And my sneakers are getting tight because my feet are growing :(

10. House makeover - I want someone to come over the house and just fix it up. Put up my paintings, rearrange furniture--whatever. I want my house to look good without compromising function. And if the makeover comes with free furniture and stuff, who am I to refuse?

11. Complete sessions with a professional organizer - if I get a house makeover, why not get someone to help us get and stay organized and efficient? I read about one in Real Living, a professional organizer I mean. I wonder how much she charges.

12. Childbirth classes - I really am determined to give birth naturally, using Lamaze. Didn't think these childbirth would be a bit expensive! Oh well.

13. A full day at a spa - with the works. From hair all the way down to my toes (especially my toes--been having a hard time cutting my toenails already!). A body massage, a scrub, a facial, a hand massage, a foot scrub and massage, oh oh and waxing!

Hmm. That's about all I can think of for now.

Must go make my gift list for others.

It's Official!

Any time from March 25 to March 30, 2007, we can expect the arrival of Erynne Isobel Hermoso Prudente. I just knew this baby was a girl!

Raine is about a foot long now, and a little more than a pound. A different OB-Sonologist did the ultrasound, and she still had the same comment: ang likot! And she is, really. She has a variety of kicks and movements, I just have to shake my head and smile. I ask her all the time, "Just what are you doing in there?"

My family is excited, especially my seesters, who have been dying to go shopping. I haven't bought a single thing for the baby yet. I'm blessed to have friends and relatives who will hand me down stuff like a playpen, a stroller, baby carrier and stuff like that. We also have that heirloom crib from my dad's side. I know I have to make a list of baby stuff we need to get. Will work on that by New Year. Still have a lot of time anyway.

Gotta go back to work!

Baby Watch & House Dilemma

As always, I have an article due tomorrow, and I am blogging to warm up my writing brain.

So what's been going on aside from my non-stop growing?

Well the baby's been moving--really kicking up a storm in there, making the rounds of my belly. Baby usually starts out mid-tummy, making me aware of its presence with a well-aimed kick (and to think these are just tiny, 5-month-old baby kicks! what more when baby's almost due?). Then baby starts trawling the bottom of my belly, moving side to side, nudging my bladder. I like that the least.

Funny thing is, at my last OB visit last month, I couldn't feel baby move at all. "You mean you can't feel anything, even a flicker?" asked my OB in disbelief. And instantly I felt like, what kind of mother am I, can't even feel my baby move! "Well, maybe she's shy," said the OB, with what I felt was doubt in her voice (but that's paranoid me talking). "Try playing faster music."

I'd been playing a lot of classical music lately (good thing I enjoy classical and the opera). But one day after my OB visit, I decided to play Everything But the Girl's Home Movies album. And all of a sudden, I felt a sort of weird gurgling, bubbly feeling in my belly. Baby finally moved! And hasn't stopped moving since. Apparently classical puts baby to sleep; she prefers EBTG (particularly Apron Strings), U2, a little Bob Marley, some Jars of Clay, Brazilian-percussion-heavy music. This is my kind of baby! The Hubby was excited to feel baby move. You can really feel the kicks when you put your hand over my belly!

We're going for an ultrasound this weekend, hopefully we'll know if baby is Trist or Raine. Would be great to finally refer to baby by name and correct pronoun. I'm excited!

We have to decide how to set up the house soon. Right now, our second bedroom is our office-cum-guestroom. It has its own bathroom, but it's weirdly cut up, so it seems to have less floorspace than the other room, which we currently use as our bedroom. We were thinking of converting the office into our bedroom, and our bedroom into the nursery-guestroom (it's usually my mom and sister who stays over anyway). But where to put the office? With the bed in here, there won't be space for much, let alone two desks with two desktops, two laptops and a plethora of peripherals.

It would look terrible to put the office in the living area, which is tiny as it is. Unless we totally cut down on hardware. Can we survive with a laptop each and a desktop as Hubby's server? Probably. But what about the printer, scanner, humongous fax? I am so terrible at space planning and interior decorating. Which is why more than five months after we've moved in, I still have several boxes of unpacked things!

I was thinking I'd probably have baby in our room till the sixth month, then move him into his own room after. So we could still stay in our current bedroom, which has more space for the crib (our crib is a huge heirloom one, which used to belong to my dad!). But wouldn't it be harder to move rooms and rearrange and all that when the baby is here already? I was hoping to have the nursery set up by February. Right now our walls are plain white. I want a colorful mural on the walls of baby's room. And we'd need some cabinets installed in there. I am also planning to put my ever-so-comfy-ever-so reliable sofa bed (desperately in need of a paint over and new upholstery though!) in the nursery. I suppose I can nap there once in awhile, and guests still can have some privacy. Hmm. What else does a nursery need? And how do we solve the displaced office dilemma?

Argh! Can anyone help me out here?

Hubby the Chef

The Hubby's been able to cook more lately. Which is great because I don't really feel like cooking much these days, and my palate has been off--I can't get the taste right. Either too salty or too bland.

Of course, since The Hubby has been in charge, we've been having a lot of his type of food, the very Pinoy/Laguna dishes, which I've never really eaten too much of in my life. First off, we've been having a lot of seafood. I never got used to eating seafood; in Baguio seafood is rare and expensive. In Laguna, it's in abundance. While we're on his-province/my-province food, one thing I cannot get is how he does not consider plain vegetables a main dish. It's always a side kick to something else. In our Baguio house, veggies ruled. We can actually eat salad and consider that a full meal. I love stir-fried veggies, sometimes with the token pieces of meat, sometimes plain veggies. Often with chicken fillet or ground meat.

At any rate, I've enjoyed what The Hubby has been cooking. He has this amazing shrimp in coconut milk thing that makes me eat like there was no tomorrow (and I'm allergic to shrimp! or at least I was...haven't been getting my crustacean allergy lately). I was able to duplicate his recipe yesterday though, and The Hubby even said that I cooked it better than he did *ear-to-ear-grin*.

Then he had this galunggong dish--not your ordinary GG! It was his own version of this Italian fish dish with salomiglio sauce. Yum! I don't really like galunggong (or any bony fish for that matter, since I am lousy with getting the bones out and being the low EQ person that I am, I find the debone-as-you-eat process too tedious to be really worth the effort, which is why I love canned tuna, boneless bangus and big tilapia), but this one was really worth the effort:


The sauce is sort of sweet-salty-sour. It has capers, red wine vinegar, sugar and (in this case), lime. And the fish was grilled, not fried. Yummy!

Then again, as The Hubby says, "Good thing you're so easy to please." Hmm. I think I really am. Sometimes I wish The Hubby were as easy to please as I am.

Sometimes, I think, the reason why I don't feel like cooking too much is that The Hubby is such a food critic. Unlike me, he cannot just sit down and enjoy the food sometimes. He has to analyze everything. And he always has points for improvement. And when you're tired and not really in the mood to cook in the first place, or conversely, put your heart and soul into preparing that dish, it's disheartening. And now, with the yummy, yummy dishes he's been putting out, I feel like I cannot compete.

In fairness (a phrase that is so overused), The Hubby does appreciate my efforts, if not the results. His palate is just so different from mine, as is his idea of what 'good food' is. I'm trying to adjust--and actually like--his lowlander type of food; sometimes I wish he were more open to the upland foods. But I appreciate the fact that he appreciates what I do.

But back to the food topic. I think I have to curb my eating. My doctor said I was overweight at my last check up. And I feel I've already passed the 150-pound mark. Argh! When the baby is about a pound or so at most, and given that my -- ahem-- bosom added on about two pounds, and you have like four pounds for placenta and amniotic fluid, that means that the extra 15 pounds I packed on is all me! And I know exactly where they settled: on my arms, my butt, my thighs and my face. *grumble grumble*. And everyone says that I will pack on more pounds in the last three months. Oh no! That's going to be hell to lose after, given my aversion to exercise and my love for eating. Especially when The Hubby cooks.

I need to exercise more! Must walk more. And get in more swimming. Yes. Must do that. But let me go get a snack first.

Christmas Plugging

I'm helping my mom sell really fantabulous Christmas decorations. These are export overruns, or imported items that you won't easily find anywhere else. And they're quite reasonably-priced too. And they are totally adorable. If I could, I'd keep all the stuffed animal decors. That's the theme I've decided on: stuffed Christmas animals. I figured when the baby comes next year, at least she (or he) can really enjoy and touch the Christmas decors. But must not get ahead of the profits! I restrained myself and only kept two Christmas stockings, a bear and a pair of moose (pair of meese?).



Will sadly give up the rest so that others can enjoy them as well.



The super vogue Santa (apparently in the north pole, cream is the new red!) above is waist high! Isn't it adorable?





I love this moose! Sniff. It's a counter-sitter.

To see more stuff, check out my Multiply album:
http://rheeya.multiply.com/photos/album/10

The prices are there, and more details. Support my mom's biz! Help me get the moose counter-sitter for free! Hehehe.

Labor of Love, Part Two

Just noticed that my recent entries have been all food this, food that; baby this, baby that. Just to show the other things I've been laboring over:

I helped put this magazine together. *bows* It should be available wherever they sell magazines, National Bookstore included. IMAG PHOTOGRAPHY (or just IMAG) is the magazine for photography enthusiasts, those who want to up their skills, or even those who just like looking at pretty pictures. This mag has some of the country's best photographers' works (and tips!). We have travel photographer George Tapan; wedding photographer Patrick Uy; James Deakin of C! Mag, the guru of fast car photography; Remy Bautista, who does amazing baby shots (check out the twins in her article! super adorable) ... and photos from a lot more.

On the editorial team are Ibarra Deri (who shot our wedding. Ahem... plugging. That reminds me, haven't gotten around doing our wedding album yet. Hmm...And baby album coming up...) who is a well known portrait photographer; Jun Miranda, who runs that Philippine Center for Creative Imaging (and has a bi-weekly Photoshop column in Manila Bulletin); and graphic artist/art director/photographer Ed Yap.

IMAG will be a monthly, in fact the October issue is due out...well in October. It's going to be a glorious issue. The theme is weddings, so the best wedding photographers' works are going to be featured (more than a year after my wedding, I still like looking at other people's weddings and thinking how I could've done better. hahaha), plus all the tips you need to start shooting great wedding photos, straight from the mouths (and keyboards) of the wedding photographers themselves.

Of course, there are the usual Photoshop and digital imaging tips; equipment review; buyers' guide; and one of my favorite sections--Clinic, where you send in sick pictures. Hehe. Not--it's more of a (free!) critique of snapshots you send in. A guest photographer will give you the good, the bad and the ugly, plus tips on how you can improve your shots (if you want to send in your photos for critique, email them to photos@imagphoto.com with the subject "Clinic." Include a short description of your photo, camera used, settings, etc and your pertinent details, like name (duh) and contact info; favorite color and time of day not really needed).

Of course, as with any first issue, IMAG still needs some tweaking, but at least you know for sure that the magazine's going to get better and better. Oh, and one more great thing about IMAG is that it is proudly Filipino. I mean, we Pinoys are simply oozing with talent, why not showcase it? And the tips in the magazine are stuff you can actually use and relate to, because it's in the Philippine setting.

I'm really proud of this magazine, and of the Filipinos featured in it.

So grab a copy. It's a steal at 175 bucks.

Trist/Raine

I know it's the middle of the day and I'm supposed to be working, but...I can't help it. I'm so happy-giddy. The Hubby was so excited too, he promptly took a nap.

This is either Tristan Gabriel or Erynne Isabel. We were praying for twins, but the doctor said it was a single baby. Doesn't it look huge? This is the baby's first close up shot, actually. It's only 6.48 cm long! Imagine that.

When the doctor was looking, Trist/Raine was squirming like crazy, waving a tiny little hand (with tiny little fingers!). It's amazing. I still can't fully absorb that there is something so wonderful growing inside me. The Hubby wasn't allowed in the ultrasound room, but there was a monitor outside, so he could see everything the doctor and I could see. He got a little teary eyed.

Oh, side story: last week, feeling totally haggard and ugly, I went fishing--probably dynamite fishing, for all my subtlety. I asked The Hubby, "Do you think I'm pretty?" All he said was "yup". Then probably seeing that I was unsatisfied with his answer, he added, "And you know your baby pictures in the [high school] yearbook? You were so pretty! So..." he did some gigil motion, "I hope our little girl looks like you." Aww...

Labor of Love

Yesterday, the 19th, was our one-year-seventh-monthsary of being married (which means we've been together almost six years! Imagine that). And since The Hubby left for work in a rather dismal mood, I wanted to prepare dinner that was really worth coming home to.

When I finally sent off an article at 7PM--2 hours later than originally planned--I had to make a run for the grocery. What normally takes me 25 to 30 minutes (the walk from the house and back, plus shopping time), I did in 15 minutes flat.

And thus began my experimental meal. I didn't want to text The Hubby to say that I was making a special dinner because 1) I wanted it to be a surprise; and 2) if it didn't turn out the way it should, then at least he didn't get his hopes up.

On the menu was cumin-and-pepper seasoned pork chops with a white wine sauce, butter-fried apples, creamy garlic mashed potatoes and lightly seasoned corn-and carrots. Theoretically, it was only supposed to take me 45 minutes to prepare, but I'm not the most efficient cook in the world. The great thing about the main dish--the chops and apples and sauce--is it's cooked in just one pan (skillet). I'm such a fan of one pot/pan meals, so much easier to wash up after. Then
again, I had another pot for the mashed potatoes, another pan for the veggies. Oh well.

The Hubby arrived at about 8:45PM and I was only about halfway done, still mashing the potatoes, the veggie side dish not even started! But when I finally called him to dinner at 9:30PM, he sat down to this (as he picked up his knife and fork, The Hubby said, "You've been reading Selina's blog again, haven't you?") :


The Hubby's reaction when he bit into a piece of porkchop was worth the two hours of slaving over the hot stove. "This is the best I've had in ages," he said. Now that I think of it though, that seems to be a backhanded compliment. Does he mean the things I've been cooking lately haven't been good? Hmm. Must grill The Hubby (when he's in a better mood).

After the meal, it took me another hour to clean up and wash the dishes (I've been such a slowpoke these days--and this isn't the healthiest meal I've cooked, as the gunky butter and oil caking the dishes and pans can attest to) before totally zonking out in bed.

Ah, the things you do for love.

More Happy Food

Oh joy! Just discovered another happy food: tomato sandwiches.

Slices of plump, juicy Baguio tomatoes on whole wheat bread, with mustard and blue cheese salad dressing, liberally sprinkled with grated parmesan cheese. Sublime!

I'm down to my last half-tomato though. Uh oh.

Happy Food

People ask me what I'm making lihi (craving) to, and I can't really say. I eat the same things I usually eat, and I don't suddenly want weird stuff like peanut butter and bagoong sandwiches or sinigang with mayonnaise. While I can't stand the smell of cooking fish, I still eat it. I think I'm easy. I would also like to think that I'm not giving The Hubby a hard time; I don't send him out at 2AM in the pouring rain to look for things like pickled balut and sinkamas na itim.

There are foods that make me extremely happy though. When my mom was here a couple of weeks ago, she treated me to a CPK salad. I was beside myself with joy. Every bite was sheer pleasure. I get goosebumps thinking about that salad. I think that's the only thing I constantly ask The Hubby for. Salad. The more exotic, the better (though I'd settle for a Caesar's from Wendy's). I love CPK salads, which have stuff like cilantro and jicama (what ever is jicama?) and Monterey Jack cheese and walnuts and avocado. And the dressings! Blue cheese, honey mustard, raspberry vinaigrette! Just the thought makes me drool. Then my friend Selina comes up with a salad like this. Ooh la la.

The thing is, I don't like homemade salads (at least the usual lettuce-tomato-onions-thousand-island-dressing kind). One time I asked The Hubby to bring me home a salad, and he said he was passing by the grocery to buy greens instead. I was sooo disappointed. My hopes went up when he said the veggies were ugly (am so bad!), but he still didn't bring me salad. I enjoyed the fruits he got for me though. Homemade salads--or at least the common ones--don't turn me on. It just isn't happy food.

Another happy food for me is pasta. I am so grateful that my seester Rix, the OFW, sent me half a kilo of sundried tomatoes and a quarter kilo of parmesan cheese. Oh happy, happy, joy, joy! When I cook my pasta, I can splurge on the ingredients. Actually, the pasta I like eating, I can easily whip up at home. It's just lots of garlic sauteed in olive oil (I make my own flavored olive oil--adds lovely taste to almost anything), lots of fresh tomatoes, lots of basil and freshly cracked pepper, and thanks to Rix, lots of sundried tomatoes and parmesan cheese. Super quick, super yummy. I still enjoy other pastas, like the Quattro Formaggio at Cafe Puccini, or the El Telefono at Cibo. A good pesto anywhere is also such a treat. What I'm not into though, is the typical spaghetti, the regular tomato meat sauce, bolognese. In fact, at Cafe Puccini, I had to move the steaming plate of bolognese away from me--the aroma made me really queasy.

I also discovered another happy food yesterday--tuna (I've been eating the Century with calamansi) on whole wheat bread, sprinkled with parmesan cheese. Now this is so much easier to get and prepare. Just open the can, pour the tuna in a bowl, pop it in the micro for a few seconds, spoon it over the bread, add the cheese and viola! Happiness in a sandwich.

The funny thing is, it's The Hubby who's been looking for all sorts of things. The Hubby, who usually eats because he has to (unlike my clan, who eat for the joy of it), has turned into a serial muncher. After dinner, he will scrounge around for dessert, usually some chocolate (I haven't been into chocolate and sweets these days, so The Hubby feels 'obliged' to finish them). Then when we get into bed, he gets up to get a glass of milk, and maybe some crackers. Then maybe a bit more chocolate. Or a peanut butter sandwich. Or some juice. Or some of my super sour jelly tape (great discovery--jelly tape helps ward off queasiness!). He's constantly hungry and looking for food.

Just the other night, at about midnight, he turned to me and said, "I want balut." I'm just so glad he didn't send me out in the pouring rain to get it.

Oh the Games We Used to Play!

Thinking about having my own kids makes me think about my childhood. Aside from angsty nobody-loves-me episodes (which I think have morphed into the adult funks), I had a pretty great childhood. Sure we never had much money, and I didn't have the latest toys, but we sure had a lot of fun.

I sort of pity the kids these days, oversheltered, artificially stimulated kids. They spend hours in front of the computer and TV and they miss out on the sheer joy of inventing games out of nothing at all (sounds like an Air Supply song).

Most of our favorite games involved no expensive gadgets or toys and we always had a blast. These are the ones I remember:

Rum Raisin
This game was named after our moms' favorite chocolate at that time. My cousin Nikki and I assumed that anything with "rum" in the name would definitely be intoxicating, hence the mechanics of the game. All we needed was an open space (the bigger the better) and at least two people. All you had to do was spin and spin and spin around till you were really dizzy. Then you drape your arms around each other's shoulders and try to walk in a straight line, saying "Rum Raisin". We could play this game endlessly. Well, not really--it did have a limit, also known as the puking point.

Terrible Tunnel
Terrible Tunnel was a special game played only during summer, when my brother was visiting from Manila. We'd need a mattress rolled out on the floor (the regular foam mattresses, not the spring box ones--this mattress was only brought out when we had guests sleeping over) and at least four people. The object of the game was to crawl through the 'terrible tunnel' (the mattress rolled into something like a brazo de mercedes) while the other people simulated a horrific storm, shaking the mattress, sitting on it, making howling wind noises. My brother, by virtue if being the biggest player, usually won at this. Many times I'd get so pikon I'd end up not talking to him for the entire day. We'd usually make up at night, just in time for another game of Terrible Tunnel.

Shark Shark
You'd need a double deck bed for this, as well as a lot of pillows, stuffed toys and other soft things you can use to make a barrier (once we used a toy robot and someone ended up crying). I guess it's obvious we watched a lot of Jaws and Orca back in those days. The 'shark' or the it would try to eat the people in the boat, protected by flimsy barriers also known as stuffed toys. Any body part the shark could reach was fair game. Whoever got eaten first would be the next shark. Of course my sister Rix was such a saling pusa back then she'd insist on joining and we'd always make her the shark. But since she was too short to reach anything back then, even when jumping, we'd eventually get bored and look for something else to play (side story--I don't know if Rix remembers this. Once we were playing on the top deck of the bed and something fell down. Rather than climb down to get it, I had the brilliant idea of holding Rix by her ankles and lowering her over the side of the bed. Too late did I realize that she was too heavy for me, and either we both fall off the bed or I drop her. Guess which option self-preserving me chose. Am so bad!).

House House
I don't know why we name our games double words. Maybe it's a literal translation of bahay-bahayan. House House could be played anywhere. But our favorite place was the garden of my best friend Rej's house. She had this fabulous poinsettia tree with amazing branches that you could comfortably sit on, even lie down (precariously) on. So we'd have our own 'rooms' (branches) and the rest of the garden would be the rest of the house. Of course tag-along Rix wanted in on the fun, and being the mean older sister that I was, we'd make her 'room' under this ugly tree on the far side of the garden.

On time Rej got a clay cooking set for her birthday, and we decided to cook real food. One of our friends brought a can of sardines and in the spirit of House House, I deigned to take a bite. I've been eating sardines ever since (not even my mom could make me do that before!).

Hot Iron
I think this was our hands-down, all-time favorite. Hot Iron honed our role-playing and impromptu dialogue skills. The very basic things this game needed was a balloon (the regular blow-up-till-you're-breathless kind, not the helium-filled ones) and a lot of imagination.

The bare bones scenario involved a talkative maid and her snooty senora. The maid would be ironing clothes with the balloon (miraculously transformed into a burning hot iron) and would somehow forget to turn the iron off. When the senora came home, she'd discover that the iron was burning down her house. She or the maid would try to grab the iron, which of course was extremely hot--and the entire game proceeded something like Hot Potato, and the whole point was to not let the balloon touch anything. Other players were easily assimilated into the game as the husband, the house guests, the kids, the nosy neighbors, the other house help. Now the excitement and fun came in the dialogue that you had to keep up as you tossed the balloon to and fro. For some reason, Tagalog was the preferred language for this game, and crooked as our Tagalog was, we'd speak it.

***

Of course, we had our share of computer games (I think we even started with Atari!) and Barbie dolls. But the games I remember and cherish the most are these silly, silly ones that gave us tons of fun. I only wish that my kids could have as much fun as we did.

What games did you used to play?

So There, Take Two

As I've said before, people ask me, "Are you pregnant?"

Now I say, "Yup, 8 weeks and counting."

Exciting.

Scary.

We want twins.

I just wish I wasn't sleepy all the time.

Step Into My Subconscious

They say that your dreams reflect what's going on in your subconscious mind, the dilemmas you're wrestling with.

This was my dream on our first night here in our new cozy little house:

The Hubby and I just moved into a new house. It was a log cabin on top of a mountain. The cabin was small, but cozy. It had a fireplace and chimney. I was wearing a dress ala "Little House on the Prairie". Lushly green grass covered the mountain slopes, purple flowers here and there. Somehow I got a bird's eyeview of our new home, just like those cinematic panning shots that circle around before zooming in. Ours was the only house there. At the bottom of one side of the mountain was a thickly wooded forest. The other side was a cliff, a vertical drop so high, you couldn't see the bottom.

The Hubby and I stood at the top of the mountain, right beside the cliff, arms around each other. As we happily surveyed all we owned, I turned to The Hubby. "So, what do you think?" I asked, "Should we throw the doggie crap over the cliff?"

And I woke up.