If the baby turns out to be a boy, then
If the baby is a girl, then
Of course, he (or she) can be whatever he (or she) wants. We’re already convinced that the baby is a prodigy anyway.
Author: hitormissus
Hi, I'm Carla. I'm a writer and a homeschooling mom to Hannah, 5, and Rafael, 2.
Day 342: Maternal Instincts?
“Why hello there, children.”
The other day, some kid approached me and asked for my name. Without thinking, I answered, “Carla. Bakit?” (Carla. Why?) in an extremely stern tone.
I need to work on a perkier, more maternal greeting for next time. My kid is going to need playmates.
Day 339: Cool Parent
The probability of me turning out to be the cool parent is non-existent. That realization became pretty clear to me once found myself literally tearing up at the thought of my child going off to his or her first party. Unless my husband intervenes, I foresee that my kid will have a hard time asking for permission to go out.
My parents never had a problem with partying. In fact, they were a teenager’s dream. They let me attend concerts, overnights, and parties during school nights. My dad ordered a rum and coke for me when I was in second year high school. He even got me a VIP card at some club at the same time. They epitomized cool parenting.
In hindsight, they operated under the logic of supervised rebellion. I have to say that it worked. Drugs, alcohol, and the wild lifestyle never appealed to me. I never really got in trouble. Honestly, you would be hard-pressed to find a person who loves rules more than I do.
That being said, I’m not sure if I can muster the same courage my parents exhibited. I can totally see myself as the parent who will be told by my kid that I can head home since the party will end late, but I will insist that it is fine — then I will wait in a parked car, in a dark alley, waiting for my kid to be ready to go home.
My husband is amused whenever I tell him this because he says I have no right to be strict in this aspect since I myself liked to go out. I always retort, “Exactly. I have the right because I went out. I know what goes on.”
What about you, will you let your kids party? How lenient/strict should a parent be?
Day 316: Sayonara, Morning Sickness
I admit that writing down that title makes me want to knock on wood. I don’t want to jinx it or dare the nausea into coming back. It was not a pretty time.
First thing I learned about pregnancy is this: the movies lie to you. Morning sickness does not involve the lead character emerging from the bathroom primly wiping her mouth after making a few gagging noises behind a closed door. The nausea can hit you anytime, anywhere — in the restroom of Makati Shangri-La Hotel (in the middle of the meeting), the streets of Salcedo Village, Makati (while stuck in traffic), the corner parking lot at Emerald Avenue (in full view of co-parkers) — You get the picture.
For the past two months or so, I have neglected almost all activities except the absolutely necessary ones such as bathing and work deadlines. I didn’t even get reprieves at night. Apparently, morning sickness chooses no time. It lasts literally, the whole day. The entire time, I felt like I was staring at this:
Of course, the picturesque scene is a symbolism for images I want to spare you.
I should say that the entire time I was feeling sick and being roused from my sleep by dreams of rocking boats or moving cars, it was very hard to complain. I may have uttered a whimper or so, but I didn’t mean it. Really. It’s hard to see the bad side of it when the little one is saying hello.*
*My husband knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. Every time I would get dizzy or get sick, he would say that it was the baby’s way of communicating with us. He would even imitate the baby, curl up his arms, and say “I love you, Mommy”.
Day 248: Fearless Forecast
All I want to do is eat cheeseburgers and watch sci-fi movies. Plus, I’ve been making dinosaur sounds whenever the nausea hits. Yep, I’m pretty sure we’re having a boy.
Day 234: Pregnancy Test FAQ
After several tests, the home pregnancy test and I are now friends. I find that we would have gotten to know each other better a lot more quickly if the package contained more useful information.
How about a more useful, non-scientific FAQ, for starters?*
The package says I can use a cup for my urine when I take the test. I don’t have paper cups and using an actual cup would be gross. Any alternatives?
Use the the foil packaging that the pregnancy test stick comes in. It’s convenient, disposable, and has the added benefit of being sterile.
What’s the first thing I should do when taking a test?
Check the expiration date of the test. You won’t get accurate results if it’s expired.
What’s the second?
Read the instructions carefully. You would be surprised how different brands have different methods of use.
I don’t feel like peeing. What should I do?
Drink warm water. Juice also works. For some reason, I find that cold water just refreshes me. It doesn’t really make me want to pee.
There’s a super faint line. What does that mean?
It could mean that the test is expired. It could also mean that the pregnancy is too early for the test to detect fully. Take another test one or two days later.
How many tests can I take before I start looking like a crazy person?
Four is a good number.
*Again, this is a non-scientific, non-medical, non-research based list. This is purely based on my personal experience. If you think you’re pregnant, congratulations! Now go see a doctor.
Day 211: Beet Cake
Our kitchen will never produce something this pretty. Whenever I bake something, it always feels like the kitchen exploded in a cloud of flour and sugar.
Day 200: Carla vs. Gabi
Sinigang was on the menu last night. But before I could enjoy the sour, salty deliciousness that was this soup, I had to contend with the unexpected fight that the gabi (taro) put up before it allowed itself to be dropped into the pot.
So there I was, happily peeling the skin off the taro roots, when I felt a minor itch on my right hand. A tiny red mark had appeared. I thought nothing of it, and continued to peel.
Approximately 10 minutes later, the itching worsened. It felt like a bazillion little monsters were scratching my skin with their mutant chicken claws.
While breathing fire.
I tried washing my hands, but it was still super itchy. The tiny red spot grew to be about an inch in diameter. With the obvious deterioration of my condition, I did the only logical thing:
From what I read, it turns out that gabi contains calcium oxalate, which is poisonous when raw*. Wait, what? If it has poison, why are we eating it?
And please, for the sake of all that should not itch, what can be done to get rid of the itchiness? Someone posted in a forum that tamarind breaks down the crystals of the calcium oxalate to render it harmless.
Since I used a sinigang mix, I did not have any tamarind around. I thought maybe the mix might work too. It should have some tamarind in it, right? I rubbed some on my hands. It didn’t work. Then I thought maybe it is the acidity in the tamarind that breaks down the toxins. I had some calamansi in the ref, so I tried those as a substitute. Didn’t work either.
Finally, I just resorted to washing my hands as thoroughly as possible. About five times. Eventually, the itchiness went away and the redness subsided. I’m not sure what helped. Maybe it was just time and time really does heal all wounds.
After my hands felt better and I cooked the sinigang, I made sure to eat the gabi that attacked me.
*Cooking breaks down the toxins so gabi eaters, do not fret. Just stay away from raw gabi and all is well.
Day 195
To my husband, who is taking me and my friends on a trip,
I think you are more awesome than a tutu-wearing puppy that is hugging a baby panda while standing on top of a rainbow.
Love,
C.
Day 194
For our 0.5 year wedding anniversary, my husband and I took a trip to Bacolod, his province.
The first day consisted of eating rice for breakfast, lunch, merienda, and dinner. With my husband as my personal tour guide, it was inevitable that we would just go on a food trip.
In Manokan (Chicken) Country, Bacolod, even the chicken knows that it is love.
heart shaped chicken
For dinner, we discovered a quaint restaurant called Felicia’s. The food was so-so, quite pricey for Bacolod rates; but, the macarons were fantastic.
not a macaron
We joined his family to go to his family’s fish pond the following day. It was a ginormous tract of land, so much so that I felt dwarfed.
“I’m dwarfed.”
The pond dog seemed unfazed though.
“woof, yo.”
I’ve never seen fish being harvested before. It’s weird how the fish seemed to have very distinct personalities. Some jumped and squirmed in protest. Others tried to surreptitiously get away. Others lay very still, their mouths agape, like they are just waiting for their inevitable demise. At first, I felt bad that they were being gathered to meet their doom, but my husband has deemed it the ultimate glory of their existence. Kind of like Sparta.
Hard at work
We went to a place called the Ruins. It was beautiful, but odd. There were no tour guides so was hard to know exactly what you are looking at. The information mainly came from tiny plaques posted on the walls as well as from framed newspaper clippings. You can buy juice and artwork inside the structure and one of the back rooms was being renovated in a modern way. It was weird. Like a tourist wasteland. I did like the place for the pictures though.
Looking pretty good for something called the Ruins.
My husband and I have been bitten by the travel bug. Next stop: Hong Kong.
Hit or Missus 