A Bag Hag

Hi my name is Tanya, I am a bag hag.

I am admittedly addicted to bags (and shoes, but that's for another post altogether). 

I love all kinds of bags. Cheap ones, expensive ones, leather, fabric, canvas, nylon, local, imported, etc. etc.

I am emotionally incapable of saving

 money for rainy days, but I will save money for a bag.

I'm not as brand conscious as some people think I am. So long as the bag "speaks" to me (esthetically, functionally, monetarily) I will buy it. My latest purchase is a blue tote from Graphic Design Lifestyle:

Cute, cool and all for P450

But to be honest I have been eyeing some juicy eye-candy at Prada:

I love how Kelly from Bag Snob describes her initial reaction to this as "ewww...and then it grows on you....like a sharpie". Hahaha. My sentiments exactly.

But at 90k++ it will remain eye-candy forever.

I read this article recently 

http://www.bagsnob.com/2008/09/every_year_the_start_of.html#more

and it made me laugh out loud. Damn, she sounds like me. And there are women in my daughter's preschool that look just like the women she describes (especially this one woman who is super pretty, super put-together, super nice, and has every conceivable Marc Jacobs bag released --- and not the Marc by Marc Jacobs ones but the nice "fancy" ones that go for 70k and up --- I'd hate her if she wasn't such a sweetheart). 

I'll never be one of those "glam" mommies with their neatly pressed clothes and fabulous handbags. I usually come to school with no make-up, in jeans and a shirt, and whatever handbag was spilling out of my closet at the time.

At least its something to aspire to eh?

Oh how my life has changed. From wanting to be the Marketing Director of a major bank to trying to be a Stepford wife/mom. What a difference a year makes.

P.S. To all the mommies out there may I recommend the Neverfull as the ULTIMATE mommy bag. It is functional and sturdy as hell. And at any given point can hold your wallet, cellphone, makeup case, keys, 13" laptop, ipod, 2 diapers, 1 juice bottle, change of clothes for your child and 2 small towels. Seriously. You might dislocate your shoulder carrying it but it will hold all this stuff. And don't ever EVER buy the Faux Real Tote by Marc Jacobs. The freaking thing peeled on me after 2 months. True I used it every day without fail and it went through sun, rain and a field trip with 15 3-year olds. But I pre-treated it with turtle wax and it still crumbled like a badly baked cookie. Grrr.....

Farewell Aquarius

As we bask in the 40 inch glow of our new 1080p HDTV, I feel a little nostalgic for the old JVC we're giving up. 

It was the first expensive thing I bought John. A full 8 years ago. It seemed so wondrous and huge then. Before that he was using my old I-won-it-in-our-Citytrust-Xmas-party TV in the faux wood (yes wood) frame that I lent him when we were just starting to date. That thing wasn't even cable ready! We had to hook up to an old VCR with a tuner.
We've come a long way from those days. Simpler, but also good, times.

Now I can't even figure out how to compress the image on this new TV since it's stretched out on widescreen format. Dammit. 

To our old JVC, let me quote the astronauts of Apollo 13 as they jettisoned their lunar module off into space: "Farewell Aquarius, and we thank you."

Housekeeping

John and I have spent the entire weekend cleaning our room to make way for his new TV. 

Would it be strange to say that this made me very happy?

Well, for one thing, I am happy that we finally got to give our room the "scrubbing" that it badly needs. It hasn't really been thoroughly cleaned since that time John went to the US and I "imported" my mom's maids to give it the scrub down of a lifetime. That was 4 years ago.

The accumulated dust activated my allergic rhinitis which has completely devolved into a mild asthma attack. But the room is clean and this makes me smile (behind the pieces of tissue that are stuffed up my nose to stop the copious amounts of snot that is dripping from it).

And while we were cleaning the room, John and I spent most of the time talking. We had previously tried cleaning while there was a movie playing the background but this tends to distract us and you'll find us 2 hours later lying on the bed, surrounded by dirt, engrossed in whatever was playing on the telly. We can't agree what music is good to listen to while cleaning (I say happy R&B, he says 80's new wave --- which is the only kind of music he knows) so we can't do that either. 

This is nothing new. We talk all the time. We talk in the car. We talk while walking around the mall. We talk in the shower. We talk while having dinner. We like talking to each other.

We talk about everything: Pilar, movies, books,  gossip, friends, family, current affairs, work, religion, the past, the future, our hopes and dreams. We love to argue. We like to talk about how we're so different. We love it when we realize how alike we really are.

So while we cleaned, we talked. We talked. We laughed. We argued. We agreed. We laughed again.

And while I was sitting on the bed, obsessively rubbing silver polish on an old jewelry case his mom had given, he came over and sat beside me. He watched me for a few minutes and then he said: "You're the best friend I've ever had".

I told him: "I'm the ONLY friend you've ever had."

And we laughed some more.

The Hardest Job in the World

I am pissed.

In the past 2 days I've been questioned why I put down "Mother" as my occupation. Once in the bank while opening a new account, the other in Pilar's Kumon trial class.

And why the hell can't I put "Mother" as my occupation? It is what I do for a living. It is the hardest job I've ever had.

You're on call 24x7.

You don't get paid.

No one ever gives you feedback on your performance.

And you have the most demanding boss in the world.

It's also the best job I've had in a really long time.

I love my boss.

It's fulfilling.

And the goal/target (though still far away and a constant work in progress), is the most significant thing I'll ever do in my life: create a human being that will hopefully make the world a better place.

Whether she becomes a doctor, a teacher, a rocket scientist, a ballerina, or the girl who plays Ariel in Disneyland (which is what she says she wants to be when she grows up: a Disney mermaid or princess) hopefully we'll raise her right so that she will want to be the BEST doctor/teacher/rocket scientist/ballerina/mermaid that she can possibly be. 

Do you know how hard it is (will be) to raise someone who will

- treat everyone kindly, fairly and with respect

- cherish and honor family

- be a good friend

- believe in God

- be a good person

Those are my KRAs (Key Result Areas).

And hopefully one day, preferably before I'm dead so I can hear it, Pilar will say: Good job, Mother.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

My Bookshelf

I love to read. I always have. I have a Shelfari account which has a listing of about 150+ books that I've read but that's a gross understatement. Kind of like saying alcoholics saying they like to drink "sometimes". Or Michael Phelps saying he's won a "few" medals. I'm just too lazy to populate the damn thing.

John was feeling like a handy man over the weekend and installed some new "floating" shelves in the room to give me more space for my books which have threatened to take over the place. Mind you, these are just the books that I am in the process of reading or are planning to read. The ones that I've read have already take over our 3rd floor loft.

The cleared up space on my existing bookshelf gave me a chance to exercise my dormant obsessive compulsive tendencies and gave me space to put away my "office supplies" bag, find a place for her majesty's reading materials, a place for our Wii paraphernalia, and a hiding place for books I've bought but have no intention of reading.

Here are my new shelves. Good job honey.

Friends are always asking me for book recommendations. I'm proud to say I very rarely recommend lemons. Except for Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell which I asked people to read because misery loves company. 

These are the ones I'm reading right now (yes, I read more than 1 book at the time --- it gets confusing with the plot lines sometimes but I manage):

1) The Curious Incident of the Dog in the NIght-TIme (I read Mark Haddon's A Spot of Bother and really liked it so I decided to try this one out). 

2) The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion (I've read this before but I enjoy revisiting the tragedy in light of Ines). 

3) For One More Day by Mitch Albom (feeling sappy).

4) Incubus Dreams by Laurell Hamilton (trying out the whole "sexy" vampire thingie). 

5) The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom (like I said.....sappy...). 

6) Confessions of a Sociopathic Social Climber by Adele Lang. 

7) The Tribes of Palos Verdes by Joy Nicholson (no its not what you think it is --- it's about a teenage girl growing up in California). 

8) Summerland by Michael Chabon (I really liked Kavalier and Clay). 

9) Getting Near to Baby (a children's book that deals with death in the family --- may be I'll let Pilar read it when she's older).

10) The Princess Bride (the abridged version by William Goldman.....my name is Inigo Montoya....you killed my father...prepare to die). 

11) Frost on My Moustache by Tim Moore (ever since I read Geography of Bliss and Eat, Pray, Love I've gotten hooked on these first-person adventure thingies..... they let me live through their adventures vicariously). 

12) The Reach of a Chef by Michael Ruhlman (still trying to relive the love affair I had with Anthony Bourdain's books, plus with me learning how to cook...).

Then there are the other things I'm also currently reading. Like magazines (Oprah, Martha, Macworld), graphic novels (Fables, Watchmen, Miss Finch), manuals (Office Mac, Brother MFC685w, cookbooks, and raising children stuff.

Where does she find the time to read (you might wonder)? Well, love always finds a way.

Childhood: Take Two

Growing up we didn't really have a lot of money. My dad was just starting to make his mark in the pharmaceutical industry, and he and my mom had 4 kids. So most of their money went into the basics of every day living, and whatever little was left over had to be judiciously used to buy things for 4 kids. 

So my childhood was never the kind where I got every thing I wanted. I had to wait till Christmas or my birthday to get toys (and since I was born in December it gave my folks an excuse to rip me off and give me one of those "birthday-na-christmas-pa" gifts --- a tradition my husband has decided to continue to this day). 

Looking back now, I don't mind. It taught me to value and cherish the things I own. It also taught me that you can't have everything you want, but if you're patient sometimes you do get what you like. It also taught me to appreciate my parents and how hard they worked to provide us with the things we really needed, and sometimes wanted.

Oddly enough, it was only when I got older (much older) and when my parents had more money that I learned to be more demanding. A little too demanding.....I remember throwing a fit in Vegas one time because I kept insisting that my Dad buy me a pair of loafers, and he flat out refused --- regardless of how much I begged and whined. Looking back now I don't blame him. They were Gucci loafers. I was 17. (The nerve!!!!! Hahaha!!!)

What is the point of this note?

If there's one negative thing that came out of my childhood experience of not having every thing I wanted --- its the danger of spoiling my own child.

Don't get me wrong, Pilar is a wonderful kid. She has never been the type to whine when she doesn't get what she wants. And thankfully, she's never been the kind of kid that throws fits in toy stores when they don't get what they want. She can be reasoned with, and is very cooperative when you have to tell her to put something back on the shelf.

My husband always asks --- how much of it is the fact that she's a good girl, and how much of it is because of the fact that she doesn't really have to ask for anything?

I like to, uh, buy her stuff. Stuff she doesn't even ask for. May be even stuff she doesn't even really like. 

Who likes them? I do. :-)

Case in point: The My Fairy Bridesmaid Castle.

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL POP-UP AND PAPER DOLL BOOK IN THE WORLD!!!

Pilar was so-so about it when she saw it. I was like: WOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!

And now she owns it.

Well we own it.

Ok, I own it.

I've spent the entire weekend playing with it. 

It's beautiful. It's interactive! It's fun.

I think I'm going into my second childhood.

pilar@sta elena

pilar@sta elena
Originally uploaded by tanyathinkingthin.

She is so beautiful.

I find myself staring at her sometimes when she sleeps. Or when she's playing.

I am constantly amazed and filled with wonder at how such a miracle came into our lives.

How I wish I could spend more time with her.

Do, or do not --- there is no trying

I want to be a good mom.

I don't want to persist in being the absentee mom I've been for the last 2 years of Pilar's life. I want to take a more active role. I want to be there for her.

And yet, despite this pressing need in my heart to be a better mom, my own selfishness makes me feel torn.

I also want to have more time for myself.

I want to take long naps.

Surf the net.

Waste countless hours reading books and my back issues of Oprah.

I want to have a pedicure.

On top of all this, I feel the pressure of returning to the office mounting. I know there are deadlines. There are timetables, and projects that are wasting away because I've spent the last couple of days being with Pilar.

So I have parental guilt, personal guilt and professional guilt.

How wonderful is that?

There must be some way to balance all of this out.

A way to spend more time with Pilar and be the parent she needs and deserves.

There must be a way to find time for myself. To read, to relax, to get rid of 2 week old nail polish.

At least work will always be there when I get back. Nothing a couple of overtimes can't cure.

Sigh.

As Yoda always says - there must be balance in the force.

Remote Blogging (aka Pretending to Work While Blogging at the Office)

I wonder if this really works?

Schizophrenia at its finest

I'd forgotten about this blog.

I created it when I needed to vent about a fight with John and I didn't want to put the post on my friendster blog. Especially since it's supposed to be my "shiny, happy people" blog.

Still as the year went on I found myself posting more blogs on the friendster one (including my angst-filled-is-divorce-the-only-solution-left blogs about John) than on this one. And its funny to find this lone blog out of the many that I've written over the past year. I've kept it, not only because it's so dramatic in its content, but also because it's a little more me than the "shiny, happy" posts that are on my friendster page.

I wonder if this will be my only post here for 2007?

In Motel 6

Stuck in a strange and some what sleazy hotel along Ramos Street in Cebu City where apparently they have not heard of providing guests with cable tv. So am taking the time to start a new blog which is really just an extension of my other blog...but a more private and (dare I say it) honest one.

I was going to take a nap but couldn't sleep with my fight with John still running in my mind.

"I feel my love fading,
like cesspools left by the tide,
drying inwards"

The other blog (the public one) waxes happy and philosophic. It shows the me that I think I should be --- happy, content, living the enviable married life that everyone thinks I have.

This blog, is the me I am inside. Confused, lonely, unhappy and neurotic. Constantly wondering why I am not living the life everyone thinks they see.

I often wonder what it would be like if we were no longer together. Or if we had never gotten together at all. This life, this marriage, is so different from what I thought it was going to be. I am not the wife he thought he wanted. He is not the husband I thought he was going to be.

Ifs. And buts.

I keep wanting to end the charade. This half-lived purgatory of broken promises and unfulfilled expectations. The sheer disappointment of it all. But the strength always leaves me when I get worn down by his logical arguments. And the thought of the logistical hassles of moving out. I don't relish the thought of having to explain why the perfect tandem of John and Tanya wasn't so perfect after all. And whose fault was it anyway.

I light the illegal cigarette and wish everything was as easy to blow off as the smoke that crowds the front of this screen.