Random Thoughts

I had a number of things I felt like blogging about this week, but couldn't seem to find them time (in between my 3 hour naps) or the compunction to write them.

One was supposed to be another mush blog about John. Another was about this agonizing decision John and I need to make on whether or not to place Pilar in another school. I've been meaning to write an introspective article on my life this past year, and perhaps the last decade. There's also this piece I've wanted to write about happiness.

But... sigh... inspiration eludes me.

So instead I while away my time watching trash tv, surfing the internet, eating my way through boxes of chocolate covered nuts and drawing glitter tattoos on my daughter's various appendages.

There aren't a lot of options open to you when you're stuck in bed.

Still this life half lived is still a life worth living.

Quotable Quotes

Sometimes I forget that Pilar is only 5. Sometimes she speaks like a teenager. Or a 30 year old. We don't know where she gets it from.

Just the other night she was asking me for another candy bar, knowing full well she had already reached her nightly quota. John handed her a small Hershey's Kiss (violating our standing rule and earning himself major pogi points yet again). As she walked away with her loot I told her: "P, that is absolutely, positively the last piece of chocolate you're getting tonight." She gave me a look, looked at her dad, raised an eyebrow and said (complete with a smirk): "If you say so...."

Lately she has also taken to prefacing certain things with the ominous statement: "Mommy, I have to tell you something. But before I do, I want you to know.... it was an accident. And I'm sorry." (That's verbatim. I didn't add any extra words). You know nothing good is going to follow after that statement.

Our new favorite is her hardline stance on her future sibling. As a girl, Pilar is looking forward to having a baby sister. She's always telling us about how she's going to love the baby, take care of it, feed it, share her toys with it. One day we totally stumped her by saying: "But P, we don't know yet what the baby will be. What if God gives you a baby brother?" Without batting an eyelash Pilar told us: "Well we'll just have to send him back to Jesus and ask for a refund."

Ah my beautiful, precious girl.

That's All

John secretly revels in the fact that I am madly in love with him whenever I'm pregnant (well, more so than usual). And since I've been pregnant pretty much for the last 2 years -- he's had a good run.

I'm guessing it's the body's own way of ensuring that I don't murder him in his sleep knowing full well that its his sperm and our growing collection of vintage porn that's gotten me in this "situation". May be it releases extra endorphins whenever he's around, or it's rewired my pheromone receptors to perceive his as I would the smell of a nice, new leather bag or a loaf of freshly baked bread (my two favorite scents) -- delicious and irresistible.

So instead of looking at him and thinking: YOU are the reason why I can only shower once a day and can't go to the Zara sale.... I look at him and think: I love you.

He doesn't make it easy to repress these mushy feelings of mine. It isn't enough that his usually annoying habits don't bug me anymore. He takes it an extra level by being unusually wonderful during these trying times of ours.

I watch him spend countless hours keeping Pilar amused because I can't help take care of her. My husband, who has the attention span of a gnat, can spend 3 hours doing sand art bottles with our 5 year old while carrying on a conversation about the varying merits of the disney princesses versus the other characters on playhouse disney. Today they are out on a date, just the two of them.

He patiently emptied my bed pans while we were at the hospital, despite the fact that its a chore he has to do 3 to 4 times an hour since I have a bladder the size of raisin. He would brush my hair and wash my face when the IVs clogged my veins and caused my hands to swell.

He spent 4 hours helping my indecisive and neurotic brother buy a new TV. And another 2 helping him set it up at his new flat.

He is easy to love.

Yes he is cranky, short-tempered, messy and hard-headed. And he snores like freight train. He has faults. But they only serve to magnify, not diminish, all the other qualities about him that make feel like I won the bloody "man" lotto when I married him. Hahaha. Lucky me, eh?

He once told me, when we were about to get married, that he worried sometimes that he might not be enough. I was leaving behind the country clubs, the drivers and expensive cars, the maids, and my dad's credit card for a life of mortgages, no maids, and a budget. We were just starting out -- and he wanted us to make it on our own. Just us two. He sometimes felt like that old standard song "That's All" whenever he thought about what exactly it was that he could give me.

And when I think about it now, as I did then, "all" I ever needed (will ever need) is him.



I can only give you love that lasts forever,
And a promise to be near each time you call.
And the only heart I own
For you and you alone
That's all,
That's all...

I can only give you country walks in springtime
And a hand to hold when leaves begin to fall;
And a love whose burning light
Will warm the winter's night
That's all,
That's all.

There are those I am sure who have told you,
They would give you the world for a toy.
All I have are these arms to enfold you,
And a love time can never destroy.

If you're wondering what I'm asking in return, dear,
You'll be glad to know that my demands are small.
Say it's me that you'll adore,
For now and evermore
That's all,
That's all.

Waiting to Exhale

I am going to take advantage of my limited "sitting time" to blog a little.

I've been meaning to write an introspective blog about the past year (2009), may be even about the past decade --- most especially on how different my life, and I, have become in such a short period of time. But with a tummy full of pancakes and reruns of TMZ on the TV I don't think I have the intellectual wherewithall to do it. Besides, as per the timer on my table I only have 20 minutes left before I have to lie down again.

I have spent the past couple of weeks buried under a shroud of anxiety over my cerclage. Now that the procedure itself is over you'd think I'd feel a little less stressed, a little less paranoid. But I still am. Every trip to the bathroom is followed by close inspection of tissue papers for spotting. Every tummy cramp, nudge, tightening is met with bated breath to see if it'll develop into a contraction. I know that the anxiety is not helping/healthy. I know that people mean well when they tell me to relax. Easier said than done my amigos. After losing 3 babies to premature labor I think I have earned this neurosis.

To help manage my stress I read, take long naps, watch nonsensical television and pray. I stay strong by reminding myself that it has only been through God's grace that we have been able to get here, to get this far. His grace will see us through whatever comes next.

Yes, I have become a Jesus freak and that's ok by me. In our long late night conversations, I feel like He's the only one who really understands me (I think the one-sidedness of our conversations goes a long way). Hahaha.

I don't think I'll be able to relax or take a deep breath until this baby is in my arms. But that's ok. Only 20 more weeks to go. I can hold my breath for that long.

The Nicest Thing

Read this in today's Inquirer, The Daily Gospel section which covered Mark 6:45-52:

Jesus did not come to spare us
the challenges of life.
Jesus cam to be with us in them
so that when, like the disciples,
we find ourselves straining
against the tide
we, too, can come to see life differently.