An Ode to my Childless Pals

Being the first one to get knocked up among a solid group of 4 single, female friends (in a very cliche, Miranda Hobbes SATC type scenario), I prayed every single day that one of them would follow suit.  Of course, this wasn't exactly the case prior to my pregnancy when we all feared accidents, missed periods and defective condoms.  As soon as I got pregnant, I silently hoped that at least one of them would be on the same boat as I am and I know I wished for this because I was afraid.

I was scared that they just won't get it.  It scared me to graduate to motherhood, say goodbye to the lifestyle I'm used to and be seen as boring and unavailable, so right before giving birth, I assured them again and again that nothing will change.

And you know what?  Nothing changed. It's either that or these bitches are just really good pretenders. 

I'm grateful to have friends who happen to be baby people.  I've never been a fan of babies until I had my own.  I'm not the type who'd stop and crouch down to greet a stranger's kid and say they're cute. I am, however, the type to tell said stranger he's hot without even looking down to see if he has a kid in tow.  

I guess there's something to be said about how much they love being with me.  Okay let's be real here, there's something to be said about how much they love being with my daughter.  How else can I explain the sorry look of disappointment on their faces whenever I announce that Yuna's not coming on a night that's supposed to be for adults only?

Regardless of whether or not they wanna blow me off, I still love being around them.  They are the source of my sanity and the patient outlets of my sporadic annoyances.

In case you're wondering, this was taken in a mall. With 2 security guards hovering in front, making us stop.

You can count on these ladies to join in my shameless displays of narcissism

There's usually four of us but the missing one left California to marry her Mr. Big.  The missing person remains childless to this date (cliche Carrie Bradshaw moment)

You can bet your money that she's next in having a baby.

And at the end of the day when the loud chatter comes to a halt and all I have left is a to-go box to show for it, it makes me smile to know that I'm coming home to THIS!

Why Didn't I Know This When I Was Pregnant?!

Sometimes, I feel like banging my head on the wall.

Sure, this may sound appealing and somewhat cathartic, if you're into that kinda thing, but for me it's just out of sheer stupidity.  And too much confidence.  How hard could it be??  If those tweens from I'm 16 and Pregnant could handle motherhood like a pro, I was pretty sure I could wing it.

1.  The Pregnancy Glow

There's no such thing.  Neither is it true when they say you glow more when having a girl. Believe me when I say it's a marketing scheme- to make you buy more of those expensive maternity creams, clothes and elastic belts with the promise that you will be the glowing prego you ought to be.  Bull.  I was ugly as fuck when I was pregnant.  I was bloated, pimply and dry.  A glowing woman I was not, and I have yet to meet a lady who basks in her pregnant beauty.  Trust me, I look slightly cuter now that the pregnancy hormones are out of my system.

2.  The Registry

If you're reading this, I bet you're one of those new moms who registered for the Soothing Spa Tub at Babies R Us, only to find out later on that it makes no sense to bathe your slippery newborn in aromatic bubbles.  You want them outta there, pronto-- unless you're a sadist who gains pleasure from seeing your baby freeze.

Anyway, I wish we gave much more thought in what to register for instead of going straight to Babies R Us clueless of what we really needed.  Once a rep hands you that scanner gun, you will be entranced by the scanning sound it makes and before you know it, you are click, click, clicking your way into buying more newborn clothes than you'll need, the cute bassinet with a canopy and a stupid vibrating tub that makes bubbles.

Having said this, be one step ahead and do your baby registry at Amazon.com just like what my friend and fellow new mom Kitten did.  Read and trust the reviews and take note of your future lifesavers like Sophie the Giraffe, Bumbo, Soothie, Moby Wrap, Jumperoo and Gymini.

3.  Breastfeeding

Before I go any further, I'd like to say that breast is best and I give props to all the breastfeeding mothers of the world. There are mommies out there who just shove their boob in their baby's mouth like it's nobody's business. How hard is it to just whip the damn thing out anyway?

Apparently, quite difficult.

I wasn't aware that my boobs will feel like rocks and that during the first few days of breastfeeding, it will feel a lot like a dog gnawing mercilessly on my nipples.  More often than not, there will be redness. And soreness.  And if you're one of the lucky few, there will be blood.

But then you gotta feed that little sucker.  Unless you wanna be labeled as a maternal failure, you gotta breastfeed and breastfeed until your pupils have dilated wide enough and you can no longer feel your arms.  What about the times your baby falls asleep during a feeding?  Oh, of course you have to pump!  You gotta pump the other boob while your little one feeds on the other.  This is why they invented those hands free pumping bras: to give you an extra hand while you breastfeed, pump, and sterilize bottles all at the same time. Wooohoooo! Cheers to Supermom!

But don't give up just yet.  I once saw a picture of a mom (a La Leche League founding member)  in Disneyland breastfeeding her 5 year old son.  In line.  Wow.  That's all I can say.  Just.. Wow.

All I'm saying is that there will be hurdles.  It could be thrush, lactose intolerance or a dwindling supply, but there will be instances where you have to make a choice between breastfeeding and formula feeding.  It took me 4 months of breastfeeding to realize it's not for me and I'm not gonna kill myself over it.  The most important thing is that my daughter and I are both happy and I can finally get rid of those ugly nursing bras.  So to all you formula feeding moms out there who tried but couldn't, put your hands up in the air and lemme hear you say HO!

4.  Lamaze Classes

I never knew that Lamaze Classes were all about preparing you for natural labor.  Natural, ergo, no epidural.  No epidural, ergo, lots of pain.  Lots of pain, ergo, not for me.

Had I known that before coughing up $100 to preoccupy the last 4 Saturdays of my pregnancy, I would have demanded for a refund right away.  Sure, I enjoyed the massages and all the rainforest imagery they make you think of, but other than that, I was dead set on getting an epidural so I didn't really need to know what a birthing ball is for.  Birthing balls are not for women who think that c-sections should be a choice instead of a last resort.

So yeah, if you plan on going all natural, I highly recommend the classes.  However, if you're just like me and you intend to be drugged throughout your entire labor, save your money for more important things like Mederma.

If I had a Nanny....

Everything would be much easier..

I'd probably wake up refreshed every morning
My nails wouldn't grow into claws
I won't have a bush.
We'd have nice home cooked meals everyday
Yuna would be bathed thrice a day. Overkill, I know.  But I'll take that over having a smelly kid.
She'd have somebody to bring her hot lunch in preschool and wait until she's dismissed.
More date nights for me and Shi.
I'd probably be back in the corporate world, hustling my way up the ladder
More money in the bank account
The thought of having more kids seems less bleary and quite realistic.

Why am I saying this? 
I'm saying this because for 21 years, I had a nanny cater to my every beck and call.

She scared away all the boys that would call our house to look for me
She'd make my school costumes
She'd sleep beside me when I'm scared and stand by me when I felt helpless

When I turned 21, I left everything in the Philippines to start a new life in Los Angeles.
Leaving my nanny behind with no one left to care for but my dad and my 27 year old sister.
She died 6 months after I left

Now, as I look at my daughter who's still up and hyperactive at 2:30am:

How I wish I had a nanny to stay up with her and put her to bed.

But then:

I wouldn't know how it feels to comfort her.
I wouldn't know how she spends her mornings.
I wouldn't know what makes her laugh, what makes her cry.

I wouldn't know that she loves being sang to during bath time
And that she gets freaked out when it's too quiet.
I wouldn't know that she loves being kissed all over her face
And that the only thing that makes her feel better during a crying spell is my smile.

Sure, having a nanny around could have made me a better mom.
But this giddy feeling I get whenever Yuna does something that takes my breath away?
No nanny can ever take that away from me.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Take Her, Im Not Feeling Well.

I got hit by the flu today and it's here with a vengeance.  

No surprise there, it usually happens around this time of the year because I refuse to take the flu shot.  I don't care what experts say, the worst flu cases I've experienced were within a couple of days after getting the shot.  So I'm not getting it.  No way.

It just sucks balls that I can't pull off the Take-Her-Im-Not-Feeling-Well card with Shi anymore.  I was reserving this for days when I just need a Mommy Strike.  Days when I feel like getting a time out.  Days when I'm really feeling well, but my acting skills (or lack thereof) will automatically prompt him to go on Daddy Mode and take over everything for the rest of the day while I lay in peaceful slumber.  Doesn't it make you salivate just thinking about it?

Damn you flu!!

Today should have been a dream. After bringing me my flu meds in the morning, Shi went home to cook me lunch and play with Yuna for a little while.  When he left to go back to work, Yuna and I took a long nap and woke up to the sound of her Daddy opening the door, ready to prepare dinner and keep her company.  This all sounds too lovely. The thing is, I would have appreciated it ten times more had I been sober enough to hold a Jersey Shore marathon while camping out in the living room, savoring these moments of isolation from my family.  

But no, I'm too lethargic and groggy to even take a shower.  I can't even play Angry Birds on my phone without getting a headache.  Maybe it's karma, no?  For even thinking about using the sick card? 

Flu, I hope you get exorcised out of my body soon.  I really miss playing with my daughter.  And Yuna, when you google me someday and stumble upon this blog, please keep in mind that this doesn't mean I love you any less.  In fact, I miss you so much now that even if you choose to be carried around and stay awake all day tomorrow, you will not be passed on to Daddy like a poopy diaper.  That's a promise. 

Happy 5 Months, All Hail the Queen

Yuna turned 5 months today.

Before I got her ready for her 5th month photo right next to her gigantic birthday cake made of Chocolate Ganache, Chantilly Cream and Fresh Strawberries, her father woke me up at 10 am (today being Labor Day, I gotta remember to reward him for letting me sleep in) to tell me that she has reached another milestone:  She learned how to stand up on her own unassisted!  Bring out the confetti!!

I was just kidding about the birthday cake.  As much as we'd like to get her a small cupcake to remind us that she's growing up faster than my ingrown nail, we end up forgetting, then later on justifying the ignorance by saying that she wouldn't know how to blow the darn candle anyway so why bother?  

I do know someone who gets a kick out of throwing her baby a huge party every month.  I'm not just talking about the customary birthday-cake-wear-nice-clothes kinda deal.  I'm talking about THE PARTY OF THE YEAR which happens EVERY. SINGLE. MONTH.  You know.. kinda like this:

The Celebrant

The Gifts

The Balloon

The Food

Some of the Guests

I'm still waiting for her to post her daughter's 7th month party.  Word on the street is that they got Justin Bieber to do a small opening number, that should be good.

Katherine,  I think your baby's really adorable, and I love that you like to do them big... but really,  you make moms like me look so bad.  It makes me so anxious to find out what you've planned for her 1st real birthday, I'm almost on Xanax just thinking about it.

Anyway, we just got back from a weekend trip in Vegas last night.  It was our 2nd road trip to Vegas with Yuna and I must say that the kid's a dream to travel with.  She laughed all the time (score!), slept all the time (double score!!) and didn't seem to mind the 110 degree weather.  Of course, it didn't hurt to bring your  sister who happens to be a pediatric nurse and seems to think that your baby is all hers.  We came back to California relaxed and happy- it was the perfect start to the week.

Or so we thought.

It's as if this whole learning how to stand up thing bestowed a sense of entitlement upon my daughter which in turn made her think she is owed the right to be carried around all day.

Yuna has been quite the manipulator with her phony cries lately, and it frustrates me that she already knows she can totally pull this off with her dad.  I told you guys about how she learned that raising her arms means that she will get picked up, right? That grew old with me really quickly and she found out that I wouldn't have any of it, which in a way made me feel slightly like the adult between the two of us.  

Today was the worst, by far.  She held her father hostage for HOURS as he carried her around while he was trying to get things done.  As soon as I took over parenting duties to give him time to do his own thing, the little princess refused to be placed anywhere except my hip.  Ummm... Excuse me? When did this start happening? 

Not in my books missy.  I placed her in her Bebe Pod after carrying her around and she started whining again about sitting down against her will as I calmly explained to her that this needs to stop unless she wants to rob us off the time we need to prepare her bottles.  She wouldn't really like that, would she?

Our heart-to-heart conversation seemed to have worked up until her Daddy Dearest walked in the kitchen again.  She started crying like a sorry little baby and he picked her up like clockwork.  I told him instantly that she's obviously faking it but he replied that he doesn't believe in "disciplining" a baby until she can determine right from wrong.  With those words, he walked off to the room with Yuna in tow as the Queen looked back at me, smiling.

Is there a reset button I can press somewhere to change her back to her default setting?  The long weekend with Dada clearly screwed up my parenting preferences.

Hey you! Yes, you! Get out of the way!

Have you ever been told that your kid's cute?  Of course you have.  Doesn't it feel nice? Don't you just wanna give yourself a pat on the back and breathe a sigh of relief because finally, the hundreds of dollars you just paid The Picture People to take photos of your hairy newborn sprawled naked inside a woven basket turn out to be soooo worth it after all?

I'm used to hearing that my baby's cute.  True, they're mostly from loving relatives and a few select friends, but hey, cute is cute.  I'll take anything.

So over the weekend we braved the horde of Coach hoarding Asians at the Camarillo Outlet to pick up some stuff for Yuna.  What's up with Coach anyway?  Is Coach leather traded in the black market?  Anyway, they literally caused a massive traffic build-up with the line of eager Coach extremists camping out under the heat for their turn to enter the store.  But I digress.  My only goal was to pick out new clothes for my daughter's rapidly growing body as I have realized a week ago that she has mostly been wearing her 12-month sized clothing.  I organized the massive amount of clothes I got from my baby shower from newborn all the way up to 18 months but for some strange reason, she skipped the 3-9 month bracket and jumped from newborn to 12 months.  Very strange.  

I weaved through baby store after baby store grabbing everything that fit my exquisitely original taste in baby wardrobe.  Of course, with winter coming up I can't afford to let my little Yuna wear anything less inferior than cashmere....

HA! That was a good one.  The only thing original about my taste in baby wardrobe is the fact that I'm a sucker for buying awesome 2nd hand pieces on eBay.  Other than that, I'm just about as original as Carter's onesies.  Anyway, I arrived at my very last stop which was Gymboree. If any of you are familiar with this outlet's branch, let me be the first to point out that it's quite ironic and annoying for a kids' clothing store to be so narrow and tiny, you literally have to elbow other moms with their strollers to make it to the very back- the holy grail that is the clearance rack.

Ironic too, is the fact that of all the places they can set up the TV area (the sitting place that has a small tv playing cartoons all day long where moms leave their kids in so to take maybe 10 minutes of silence while shopping), they choose to dump it by- drum roll please-- the Clearance Rack! Not only do we have to elbow other moms for good deals, we gotta watch out and be careful not to step on their children's heads.  Great.

So there I was browsing through the rack like a madman until I saw an Asian dad standing about 6 feet away, clutching a stroller that held his newborn, obviously trying to get my attention.  As it was pretty loud in the store, I couldn't quite hear what he was tring to say so I mouthed  "Excuse me?"

Asian dad mouths back, "Is your baby older?"

Weirdo, of course my baby's older.   Your infant is in a bassinet!   My child can eat your child!

Me: "4 months"

Asian dad: "She's so pretty"

Me:  "Awwww... thanks!  Yours too."

I turned my back at him glowing, it's such a nice thing to hear after a long exhausting day.  As I shifted my attention back to the clearance rack,  I felt a tap on my shoulder seconds later.  It was Asian dad, perhaps with another compliment?

Asian dad:  "I ask you  move your stroller, my baby can't see tv."

Yuna almost choked on Sophie the Giraffe upon hearing this.   Fine, I almost choked on Sophie.  News flash sir!  Of course your baby can't see tv!  Your baby's a fucking newborn!! Newborn!!

I should've known better than to believe that some Asian dude was going out of his way to butter up my daughter.  I'M ASIAN, and we don't do shit like that.  We're good in math and cars and winning in casinos, but compliments?  Nah.  Too emotional.

So to you, Mr. Chingchangchung,  my daughter would like to give you a piece of her mind:

Nobody messes with my Mommy!

So take that, Mister!

The Bundle of Joy is not Always Joyous

Don't get me wrong.  I'm crazy about my daughter.  In fact, I'm more obsessed with her than the Duggars are with expanding their brood (apparently shooting for baby #20 according to Us Weekly). It's just that there are days where there's nothing else I'd rather do but shove her back in my uterus.

Like today.  The Bundle simply refuses to take a nap, which basically means that my time stalking people on Facebook will be cut in half. Yet again. I partly blame this on allowing her to sleep through the night which has been the case since she was born.  I'm not gloating.  I know you'd love for your little one to sleep through the night too, but when you're a nocturnal insomniac like I am, you'd also pray for the day they'd confuse their days with nights. She's a GREAT night sleeper, absolutely fantastic.  I'm insanely happy that someone in this house gets their fair share of 12 hours of sleep.  However, when the clock strikes 7am, I wake up to a baby who's fully recharged and ready to train for the national decathlon. 

This is exactly why those greedy assholes jack up the prices of infant toys.  This, fellow mothers, explains why it's absurd to fork over $80 for contraptions named Jumperoo and Gymini, but we do it anyway, because for the bargain price of $80, you get a babysitter you don't need to pay an hourly rate for.  And you can sleep well knowing that your prized booze collection remains untouched.

Here's the thing though.  As much as I'd love to do cutesy baby activities with her, I'm not cut out for that.  There are just some people born to organize neighborhood zoo trips and have a ball coloring white mugs at Color Me Mine.  If you're someone I've just described, I think it's great you have THAT much time in your hands, really I do, but I think we can never be friends.  I'm just not the type, so I'm sorry that I don't share your passion for making baby clothes out of hemp (pun intended) and I have reservations about sending my daughter to baby yoga classes .  That said, I do know other uses for hemp, and I know a handful of people who'd love to get their hands on some.  So call me.

Anyway, here I am running on 3 hours of sleep and I'm holding on to the very last bit of my adrenaline as her bedtime nears. What a day. Come noontime, I've ran out of contraptions to keep her busy and I was getting desperate. One thing that kinda sucks when it comes to Yuna is that she demands to be entertained.  You can so much as pick your nose in front of her and she'll be entertained, as long as you do it in a sing-song baby voice. You will also need to sing along when you hear Party in my Tummy while she watches Yo Gabba Gabba, unless you want her tv viewing pleasure to be cut short due to your lack of participation and you're stuck thinking of what to do next. So try doing that everyday and you'll feel so lightheaded, you're one puff away from achieving nirvana. 

Need. To. Wear. Her. Out. I seriously need to be on crack to keep up with this baby.  

As a final attempt to tire her out before I give her a bath, this is all I could come up with:

I reduced my entertaining prowess to pretending I'm a fart machine.  How sad is that? Did it work?  Hell no.  If it did, I wouldn't be writing now.  I'd be racing her to her crib and calling dibs on the left side.

And as if today wasn't bad enough, this drama queen just learned that raising her arms in protest equals: she will get picked up. So raise her arms, she did. Again and again and again.