Day 337: Minimalist Posters by Christian Jackson

I credit my mom for my lifelong love affair with books. She didn’t baby me when it came to reading materials. Some of my earliest memories involve my mom reading me stories by O Henry and Guy de Maupassant after she got home from work. Even though The Last Leaf and The Necklace were personal favorites, what childhood isn’t complete if a fairy tale or two wasn’t thrown into the mix?

When I saw these posters by Christian Jackson, my heart melted. They’re so sleek. Imagine the story times the little one and I would have in the future if the book covers in our collection looked like these. We would be the coolest readers in town.



The Wizard of Oz poster is particularly funny.



Day 317: A Note for the Little One





Day 374: Love Dogs

Adorable randomness. I dare you not to smile.


Day 373: It’s a girl! (more or less)

After months of being utterly and absolutely convinced we were having a boy, the doctor told us last Saturday that it looks like we’re having a girl!

(Although when we pressed the doctor if she’s sure, she backtracked and said, “more or less”. We have to wait another month to find out for sure.)

In the meantime though, we are over the moon at the prospect of having a little lady around the house.

One thing I realized is that it is infinitely harder to think of a name for a girl than it is for a boy. There are a ton of options, but they all fall into these categories: names that we are ambivalent over, names that we don’t like, and names that we absolutely detest. We haven’t really fallen in love with that one special name that will be worthy of our one special little girl.

The online lists have been useless. They keep on coming up with suggestions like


Are you my banamama?


Am I your cinnababy?

No, no, no. We’re having a baby, not a breakfast buffet.


Day 370: I protest.

Is it just me or did the world suddenly take ownership of my belly when I became pregnant?

I think that everyone loves a pregnant lady. For the most part, pregnancy is an enjoyable experience, especially since it offsets my moody disposition.  But, there is a chunk in the population that feels that my blossoming belly is an invitation to:

a. Touch/rub/and in one disturbing moment kiss my stomach

b. Offer unsolicited advice about motherhood and its woes. Extra frown points  if the person giving the advice isn’t even a parent.

c. Tell graphic stories of their childbirth and pregnancy experience, if already a mother*

d. Tell graphic stories of their friends’ or family member’s childbirth and pregnancy experience, if not a mother

e. Give really ominous advice.**

d. Comment on the size of my boobs.

It is this part that is not as pleasant. In my heart of hearts, I know that these people mean well and I try to appreciate the sentiment behind it all. At the very least, I haven’t snapped at anyone yet. It’s just that I’m starting to feel like the norms of society no longer apply to me. I mean, last time I checked it is still rude to say to stare at someone’s chest and loudly exclaim that they are enormous.

So universe, please hear my plea. Try to be a bit more sensitive. If you touch us, do we not crave for personal space? If you describe the color of your private parts during labor, do we not shudder and think, “I didn’t need to know that.”?

Pregnant ladies are people too. Say it with me — pregnant ladies are people too.

I had the experience of meeting a lady for the first time and she launched into a full blown account of the urinary tract infection she went through during her pregnancy. She actually described the condition and appearance of her pee. Whatever happened to “So, where do you work?”

**In the early stages of my pregnancy, I had one person come up to me and say that I will probably miscarry because of my work. Gee, thanks. A first time mom really needed to hear that.


Day 366: The future, as I envision it.

Meet the Obliteration Room.

Artist Yayoi Kusama gave a thousand stickers to a thousand kids.  I may just use this as a parenting reference.

Read more about it here.


Day 357: Gender Guesses

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.


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 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.