Showing posts with label Mommy Diaries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mommy Diaries. Show all posts
It may not seem like it but, truthfully, I am terrible when it comes to parenting. A lot of moms probably feel the same way, too. It's just that people don't really talk about it.

The truth is, parenting is something most mothers struggle to enjoy. It is a hard and thankless job. 

Don't get it wrong. I love my kids—all three of them. The husband does a great job in supporting and helping me the best he can. And I do see the beauty in motherhood no matter what. But I still have my moments, too. There were those times I wish there's an OFF button for it. 

But of course, that is never happening. The most realistic thing I can do to keep me sane is to shop online or grab a favorite snack or two. 

I am glad I get to munch on Pocky and Pretz when parenting gets the better of me. A box can turn me from cranky to cheerful real quick. That wonderful surge of happiness you feel when eating a sweet treat? It is scientifically proven. 😉

And that happiness is doubled when shared. So today, on Mother's Day, I'm sharing these to my mom, too! It's one of my ways of thanking her for putting up with us all these years. 

Want to give your moms something they will surely love? Go get your mom these Glico sweet treats! You can conveniently shop for these online at Lazada and Shopee.

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"Kamukha ng tatay noh?" 

Those were the doctor's exact words when I gave birth to our daughter two days ago. 

I rolled my eyes in disbelief.

That was the most difficult pregnancy and the most painful (albeit the fastest and shortest) labor experience I ever had. Tapos magiging kamukha lang ng tatay?!

"Not again!" I thought.

But how am I supposed to contest this?
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Although there is no solid evidence that Facebook hears our private conversations, I am still convinced it does. And as much as I hate the snooping, I am still on it because I see it a necessary evil. 

Truth is, Facebook did help me emotionally, mentally, and even financially. And if not for the suggested pregnancy and birthing articles that keep on popping up on my newsfeed since it is what Jan and I mostly talk about, I would not know that Push Presents actually exist.

To those who have no clue what it is (since it is also not a known practice here in our country), a push present (also called a push gift) is a present a partner or family gives to the mother to mark the occasion of her giving birth to their child. In practice the present may be given before or after the birth, or even in the delivery room.  (Source)

Most push present ideas suggest flowers, clothes, bags, or anything the mother loves. The ones that remain most popular are jewelry. But I think those gifts that help make the first few weeks with a newborn extra cozy and easy, like a bed sheet with at least 500 thread count (as if the mother can sleep pa noh?) or automatic appliances, are better.

I already gave birth twice and I would say push presents may not be necessary because the new addition to the family is already a gift better than anything else. But now that I knew about it, I honestly like the idea. I think it's thoughtful and sweet.

So, needless to say, I made a list of MY PUSH PACKAGE

Note that I said package because one present is not enough to honor the difficulties of going through all the discomfort, weird cravings, food aversions, raging hormones, labor pain, and pushing a 6-pounder human through a smaller-than-a-fist hole (CS moms count too).

And that is just the easy part.

Nobody tells you about the horrors of pooping and sitting down after giving birth, of sleep deprivation that would last until God knows when, of probably losing the sex drive, but most especially, of motherhood.

And frankly, everything I have mentioned above does warrant a momma-you-did-an-amazing-job-you-deserve-this present. It's a bonus that can make a sore momma feel better.


I do not desire for anything extravagant, not even something that is sentimental. I just want whatever makes me feel like a human and not some milk-making machine. So here goes in the exact order:

1. Tokyo Tokyo bento meal 

Funny how this made it on my list. I don't remember what I ate after I gave birth to my eldest child, probably a hospital ration food. With the second one, I just had a 7-11 rice meal. A lot of food establishments temporarily ceased operations due to the alarming number of Covid cases back then, so choices of food deliveries from my favorite restos were also very limited. 

I hope it's different this time. Well, after denying myself those midnight runs to the kitchen whenever I think I'm hungry, the first thing I want to do after giving birth is EAT A LOT.

2. Whole body massage

Need I say more?

3. Foot spa and pedicure

I haven't been able to reach my toes for four or five months now. I know how much my feet badly need all the pampering and cleaning.

4. Brazilian wax

I have been bare down there ever since I was offered free sessions in 2014 (blogger perks, yay). I love how it makes me feel clean and sexy all the time. Haha. 😁

The last time I have shown my intimate bits and let every hair around it stripped by a total stranger was pre-Covid, two years ago. 

I just miss how refreshing and freeing it is. 

5. Total wardrobe overhaul

Every time I get pregnant, my body is altered in some way forever. For sure most clothes would no longer look flattering on me after I give birth. And I know it could take a while before I get back to my pre-pregnant body. Does anyone want my crop tops and body-hugging tees?

For someone who's turning 37 with three children, I now want something that screams "mature" but at the same time "stylish, comfy, and still hot". It will be a huge boost to my self-esteem and a good practice for dressing well in PTA meetings when the time comes.

Hence, the thrifted dresses.

Popping anytime now. No sleep. Hagardo Versoza. Laspaghetti beauty.

That's it.

I have a strong feeling that I will not have the luxury of time to do these once our daughter is out. But if there is one thing that is realistic for me to have, I would love a bowl of miso soup or authentic takoyaki or a half dozen of choco wacko right after this one last giant push. 😉

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Women my age don't get knocked up easily. Or so I thought. It takes a lot longer to get pregnant again. Or so I was told. So we made love unprotected. And surprise, surprise! It only took less than two months to miss a period. While the news was one of the best we received, it honestly got us a little bit alarmed than excited.

Oh shit, are we ready for this? 

Obviously, we're not. But anytime from 4 to 7 weeks now, we will have two handful kids with a 19-month age gap, and a twelve-year old who will probably start to disagree with me in everything sooner or later. 

I haven't really been writing regularly on this blog like I used to. But if I turn this into a parenting blog, I'm pretty sure there will be so much to write and share. A lot of things happen every day when you try NOT to get a toddler killed as he expresses his free will and goes all feral; imposes his preference to play electrical plugs and sockets over his actual toys; exhibits his speed faster than lightning to get him to places he shouldn't be like the bathroom, kitchen, or outside; or shows his determination to become the next Spiderman as he climbs on surfaces impossible for our 36-year-old bodies with 63-year-old back pains to reach. 

But then, I'm already far too busy fussing about this pregnancy and the hundreds of unidentified emotions that come with it to write about anything.

Also, Jan and I are exhausted. We barely have time to do all things we used to do pre-parenting days. We do not have a household help or a nanny (because trust issues + pandemic). While we get some help from both our moms (mostly during weekends), we do everything ourselves. 

Picture this:

• Jan works full-time. Since he works remotely with people coming from different time zones, his working hours are flexible and spread out. He can work as early as 6am and end with a 2-hour meeting at midnight. In between, he does ALL the household chores because I am not allowed to lift objects heavier than our fat cat or do anything that is physically draining (even breathing has become a workout for me).

• I do not have a job right now but I accept web development and blogging projects from time to time (because the world can stop, but not our bills). I also help our 7th-grader with his school modules the whole day all the while keeping a toddler fed, bathed, and entertained. 

• Jan and I take turns with the toddler who can turn the house upside down like a tornado in a matter of seconds and just after we tidied up. 

• We both do not get enough rest. Our little boy wakes up in the middle of the night (at least twice) so Jan puts him back to sleep. And our little girl loves throwing a fetal rage at 2 in the morning. Those tiny jabs and squirming limbs coming from all directions do not exactly feel delightful especially when she hits my kidneys, bladder, liver, or ribs. But of course, I am not complaining because I expect to have that every day. 

Before anybody thinks we've been doing a great job for staying sane despite all these, let me tell you that we have also prepared ourselves to embrace judgment from others because we have not subscribed to the super mom/dad ideals. We acknowledge our limits, and so, we gave in to screen time and fast food deliveries (and we've been doing it so often) to lighten our daily load because, well...

Exhaustion is an understatement and burnout is real.

And that's only having two. It gets trickier when there will be three (I wonder how parents with five children with one-year age gap did it). 

Pero ginusto namin 'to eh.

Moments like this though. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
This is going to be my third time as a parent and I'm still trying to figure things out. If only parenting comes with an instruction manual, this would have been a lot easier. But we all know it doesn't. And even if it did, it still wouldn't work that way because every child is different. 

But heck, we're already here. There is no getting out of this and the best we can do is just wing it.

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It was twelve years ago when I pushed a giant papaya out of my lady parts. And fifteen months ago, I did the same thing. I wish I could say that having a baby at 24 isn't all that different from doing it at 35. But nope. I sneezed my first born out. The second one, however, felt like those exaggerated, nowhere near accurate depictions of labor and childbirth in movies. Except, it was real albeit there was no moaning, screaming, or howling on my part. My doctor had to break my water because my labor was not progressing and a few hours later, I was still stuck at 6cm.

It was excruciating. 

And that's coming from someone whose pain tolerance is considered at a dangerous level. You know how many times I brushed off pain only to find out later that it was a more serious injury? Like how a whole durian fell approximately 4ft. from the truck to my arm, ignored it like it was nothing because I was worried about the durian that I already paid for when it rolled from my arm to the canal. I didn't know I was bleeding until a friend pointed it out. Instead of crying "ouch", my initial reaction was, "uy, akong durian!" Yes, I had my priorities sorted out.

This probably stemmed from being born a walking disaster that I got exposed to physical pain at an early age. I have ran full speed into walls, dislocated (probably broken) a few bones here and there, and had deep cuts without flinching or tearing up. If anything, it was the earful, what-have-you-gotten-yourself-into-this-time scolding of my mom that scared me more.

But back to where we were...

I got over that horrifying 17-hour labor without epidural. Of course, it goes without saying that the child is going to hear this story for the rest of his life and I declared I am never having another baby ever again.

But here we are. 24 weeks in and still willing to go through all that labor pain after all. Plus, pregnancy when you are nearing 40 comes with a lot of risks. I do pray that everything will go smoothly and safely though—for I am excited. Really. Because after two boys, we are finally having a girl! Yes, quota na ako.


I am running on autopilot. I refused to believe that mom brain is real until recently when I squeezed lotion on my toothbrush... twice (it was on the second time when I learned what a lotion tastes like). I always find myself pouring water into a glass, leave it on the kitchen table, and never drink it. I oftentimes ask the husband the same question at least three times in less than five minutes. I have an extensive vocabulary but I was reduced to someone who fails to retrieve simple terms on the tip of the tongue. If my recent posts came out incomprehensible, now you know why.

I already gave birth twice. And even though I had few lutang and sabaw episodes, it was only in this pregnancy when I noticed that my brain went AWOL big time. Legend has it that I will have it back one day. Someday. When all three children are old enough to pay their taxes, I guess.

18 weeks (2009, 2020, 2021)


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I have been solo-parenting for almost a week now. 

And that's because our cat, Appa, bit Jan on his left leg. While Jan thinks the biting was an accident, I think otherwise. That cat has been plotting to kill me since day one but was miserably unsuccessful so it decided to take it on the husband who has a softer spot for animals than I do.

We have been bitten by the same cat a thousand times. So why is it suddenly a big deal? Jan's leg got infected that it rendered him useless—at a time when I needed him most. SMH. He had high fever, his entire leg got red and swollen, and he couldn't walk. Yes, it was that bad. Judging from the grimace on his face every time he moves a muscle, I could say it's another near-death experience, probably worse than his man flus. But you know what's worst? I had to get my lazy ass up and do everything. 

Okay, I lie. He still did the laundry.

Tip#328 for a lazy wife on how to let the husband do the chores without the reluctance and side comments: Try not to be good in what you do and you'll see him insisting on doing things himself. In this case, the clothes he washes look and smell cleaner than the ones I did. I am a genius, I know. You're welcome.

But still. 

I have been solo-parenting a heavily caffeinated mini dictator who turns into an adorable toddler a second before I lose my sh*t while my hormones are on crazy overdrive because another one is on the way. You see the ordeal I had to go through? Anyway, I am now thinking of fabricating a sob story so I can guilt the husband into giving me a daily massage because once he gets well, I need all the pampering and takoyaki I can get. 

If not, I'll just find ways to screw him up by asking for unreasonable pregnant wife demands. You know, just to spice things up a bit. A sineguelas during this season should do.

Had to drive Jan to to hospital in my pambahays, unkempt, and with a toddler in tow because we don't have a yaya. We had to patiently wait for a few hours outside the hospital. Good thing I was able to transform the back of the car into a makeshift playroom. I can't imagine how hard it for those who are in the same situation-when you don't have a choice but to bring a baby with you-but are taking the public transport. Damn this corona. I really hope this pandemic is over.
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Every day I wake up feeling like those Instagram moms who seem to have figured out motherhood only to become borderline psychotic when faced with Rhett's homework.

Of all the evil that's happening in the world, Math is probably the worst. I have been stumped multiple times by elementary Math since Rhett started his online classes six weeks ago. Apparently, I am a moron when it comes to basic Math (read: I pull out a calculator to equations like 5+3). 

My face every time I deal with Math problems.

I never thought I would come face to face with the devil again. I hate that I even have to stop any loathsome chore just to solve a problem you can't even apply in the real world. There is a reason why they are called problems. They are meant to cause a civil war between a parent and a child. We should have just left Math uninvented.

Anyway, I usually spend about an hour relearning and teaching Rhett how to answer his worksheets. Imagine my delight at going through this on a regular basis without the carnage. 

Damn. I should congratulate my awesomeness with sushi bake and milktea.

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All this time I thought I am prepared for this. But I must have pushed that button resetting all the things I already learned about newborn care. 

I find myself Googling about things I was certain I knew before. Cord stump care, what a normal poop should look like, how much can a newborn consume, and so much more. Those seemingly ridiculous questions such as why babies pout their lips or why they make funny noises or how much milk tea can a breastfeeding momma consume also fill my search history. Thankfully, Google wouldn't mind the hundred and one weird questions I throw and doesn't judge my parenting skills based on what I search for.

The last three weeks have not been easy but it wasn't horrible either, except for the time when I was convinced that projectile pooping is real. Although honestly, getting pooped on doesn't scare me much, the amount of diaper we use and throw daily does. 😵

Anyway, I am currently doing the laundry. And while the washing machine is doing its wonders, I am able to buy myself some time to blog (the only me-time I can think of that's not physically exhausting). After this, I have to nurse a baby, tend to my eldest who's starting his online classes a few hours from now, and repeat. Hopefully, I can also take a quick shower somewhere in between. I am really exhausted and I don't feel well. But one look at my boys and I know everything is worth it. Well, it better be. Haha. 😁

The daddy can't get enough of him.

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Tiny beautiful human. We nicknamed him Paopao because he looks like a siopao.

That's all the update I can give for now because having to wake up every two hours at night and go on with the rest of the day as if you had a full night's sleep is no easy feat. But one of these days, I might tell you about my very painful labor, no-epidural delivery story because you might learn a thing of two from it, especially if you are an expecting mom. 

Have a nice day, everyone! 😄
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I know you've been reading (especially from me) a lot of these off-putting things about pregnancy. Well, every horrible thing you hear every mother is going through is all true and would even be an understatement. What you don't hear more often are the beautiful things that happen during pregnancy. Believe me, there are!

So before our world will go topsy-turvy when our little boss comes out, here are the moments I definitely enjoy while pregnant:

I can be lazy without judgment
Ever since we found out I am prego, I got to take a lot of naps and no one questions me about it. Plus, I have the perfect excuse for chores left undone.

Pregnancy glow is real
Believe it or not, my skincare routine is down to only one step. I only wash and do nothing else, yet my skin is clearer and smoother than ever.

Everyone is so kind and helpful
A bulging belly is guaranteed to stop traffic and roll out the VIP red carpet. Family, friends, and even acquaintances have been checking up on me regularly and are so protective of me and the baby. I also get random messages from friends I don't get to talk to often telling me that they have included me in their prayers. And lastly, the generosity of everyone has definitely gotten us by surprise (from baby things to fruits and veggies to well-wishes) and we are so grateful about it.

My husband's care, attention, and dedication skyrocketed
Jan always makes sure I am comfortable even when it means instantly dropping important tasks at work just to give me a back massage because I simply asked for it. He has already gone miles and miles when it comes to pampering me and giving in to my cravings. I feel super spoiled now.

Everything about the baby brings joy
From knowing the baby's gender to naming to shopping for cute and tiny clothes. But the hiccups, turns, squirms, and kicks (even when it can be painful sometimes) definitely top it all.

Pregnancy is never easy and never will be. But with all the things I have mentioned, I am willing to be pregnant again for one last time (but maybe this time, I want to be the dad na).
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In news as inconceivable as me finally eating and loving cheese, my OB has put me on a low-carb, less-sugar diet because I have gained 10 pounds within a month and it doesn't show. And for someone who has never been on a diet, IT IS SO DIFFICULT. We're scheduled for our last fetal biometry ultrasound tomorrow and we're hoping the baby has not grown too big because I want to deliver normally.
While waiting for my personal driver (also husband), Jan. I miss sitting at the front seat.
Anyway, I am officially on my 9th month but it already feels like I have been pregnant for 3 years. Everything hurts now. The toilet has been both my bestfriend and enemy. I get too exhausted even though I've only taken 7 steps the whole day. And I am always hungry.
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I bled yesterday.

It wasn't periodic nor regular. It only happened once. It wasn't heavy, not even enough to soak a pad. But it was enough to freak the hell out of us. Jan drove me to the emergency room immediately and while on our way, I was frantically all over the internet in search for immediate answers. Of course, it didn't help. If anything, it freaked me out even more.
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It has been 7 days since the last time I stepped out of our gate. I don't know what it's like to be outside anymore.

This quarantine has gotten me hungrier and lazier by the hour. Definitely not the pregnancy journey I had in mind. Two months ago, I established a regular walking routine that I planned to continue until 34 weeks. But obviously, that's not going to happen.

I also try my best to eat as healthy as possible. But when people panic buy and hoard food, choices become too limited. But I am not complaining. I am grateful that despite this global crisis, there's still food on our table. I just hope we wake up from this nightmare soon.
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Hormones during first trimester pregnancy can be an absolute bitch. Not in my case though. And Jan must have been thankful for that or else he would have to endure a full-blown incomprehensible pregnant wife demands for the whole 9 months (the hormones are going to come back with vengeance next trimester for sure). Although when I asked for a ripe jackfruit out of the blue, he immediately went out looking for one and delivered as if his life depended on it. But that was it. I didn't have morning sickness, a sensitive nose, ridiculous 12-midnight cravings, nor did I find myself crying over silly things. But I was always exhausted and I seem to have misplaced my brain most of the time. Oo, laging sabaw.

Lately, I am feeling a lot better. My hormones have not been throwing those temper tantrums and I have been getting a lot of compliments. Pregnancy glow is real! But I think I also owe that to my new skin care. I switched to 100% organic the moment I learned I was pregnant. My 5-step skin care routine was trimmed down to two (wash and moisturize with occasional exfoliation) and my skin has never looked clearer and healthier.
23 vs 34. Both at 18 weeks. It is true when they say every pregnancy is different. But the joy and excitement remain the same.
Second trimester is such a breeze. Except, I am hungry all the time and it's getting harder to reach for my toes during bath. The best thing about having an obvious bump though is taking advantage of priority lanes—which I can never really do for now because the world is turning into something I thought can only be seen in movies (although it would've been more exciting if the shithole we are in has zombies instead of a virus).

On the other hand, this one-month community quarantine is going to delay the challenge of dressing up since there's no need to go out. My closet, however full, only has pathetic selection of comfortable pieces to choose from. I literally only have 5 decent dresses that fit. That's why I am also grateful for thoughtful friends who surprised me with cute dresses, baby clothes, and other baby essentials! Thanks Athina and Pau! It means a lot for us.
Thank you so much for these! ♥

Anyway, with our city's mandate in closing certain establishments and the strict implementation of social distancing, I'm afraid the excitement of knowing the baby's gender will be extended for a month or so. But that's okay. That gives me plenty of time to straighten out my priorities. Food, constant eye-rolling to Facebook posts, and Candy Crush currently make the top spot.

P.S. I might also be updating this blog with random nonsense now.

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Warning: Too much information. Skip if you're easily offended or grossed out.


When Jan and I married, we had everything planned out. Since we’re not getting any younger, we wanted to get pregnant immediately. Oh how naive we were despite being in our mid-30s.

We had sex. Lots of it. We did it every day, every other day, in different positions, name it. We followed a strict schedule. And would you believe that I even did all sorts of ridiculous acrobatics that would increase my chance of getting a positive like raising my legs and hips after love making? Yes, it's as if I haven't studied Nursing.

It was also then when I regularly tracked my cycle. We bought a lot of pregnancy tests (PT). The good news is, we had sex all the time. The bad news, I wasn't getting pregnant. I even tested on days when I see a pre-menstrual spotting in hopes that it was just an implantation bleeding. It was downright frustrating. The disappointment of negative test after another is something I never thought would be so crushing.

I did it ten years ago. So I thought that it is going to be easy for me to get pregnant again. My periods came regularly. Jan and I are neither malnourished nor overweight. We had no reason to think it would not work right off the bat.

We were already five months into the journey when we both started to feel something wasn't right. I was secretly jealous of people who made conceiving look easy. And even without telling me, I knew Jan was having doubts about his manhood. It did not help that people are constantly asking when are we going to have a baby. Kesyo sayang ang mga lahi namin. Di na kami bata. Malapit na kami umabot sa finish line. Stop! Just stop. We know that. We are desperately trying, but you don't know that.

Then it started to wear on us. To save our sex life from becoming a chore, we decided to simply just stop trying so hard. So eff it! We'll make love when we want to. Doesn't matter now if we get pregnant or not. Good if we do, we'll travel the world if we don't.


So things went back to normal. Sex became more enjoyable again. But we haven't totally given up on the journey yet. I continued taking folic acid. We both slept well, gave up on caffeine (yes, no coke and milk tea for me), took vitamins, ate the right food, and became physically active again.

I felt good about myself. I did not mind any question asking for any bun-in-the-oven updates.

I believe the drastic change in our lifestyle helped in this journey a lot. I know a lot of people who had been blessed with a little miracle after trying to conceive for years when they started not just a healthy diet but also an active lifestyle. I'm no expert at this, but for those who have no issues and have been and are still trying, you might want to give working out a try.


Since our goals shifted from trying to conceive to just enjoying what we currently have, I did things that would make the endorphins and adrenaline regularly kick in. I ran miles, danced my heart out, and plotted itineraries for our incoming travels.

Then I started to feel unusually tired. I'd take 2-hour naps twice in a day even when I had a full 8-hour sleep at night. And as cliche as it sounds, I was terribly craving for green mangoes. That's when I had a hunch. I wasn't too hopeful but tested anyway since I still have one remaining pregnancy test lying around. And with wide, unbelieving eyes, I ran to Jan and showed him the stick with two fat lines.

We were overjoyed. And that is an understatement.


I know every trying-to-conceive story is different. Ours still fall on the average but even so, it was already frustrating and painful that I would not wish it to my worst enemy. I could not imagine the struggle and pain of those who have been trying for years! That's why I want share our trying-to-conceive journey because it is something we avoid talking about. But I hope this post finds its way to more people and would stop being insensitive about it.

So please, stop asking when are we going to have a baby because we are sick of telling you well-rehearsed lies like we have other priorities when deep inside we badly want to.

Stop asking when are we going to have a baby because even when your concerns mean well, it makes us feel inadequate and it inevitably makes us feel less of a person.

Stop asking when are we going to have a baby because you have no idea how physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting the journey is.

Stop asking when are we going to have a baby because you have to understand that not everyone can do it. And popping that question is akin to stepping on an emotional landmine. You just don't know how much it hurts when we think—much more when we talk—about it.

Stop asking when are we going to have a baby because it is none of your business anyway.

So if you have the urge to pop that question, JUST DON'T ASK. Period.

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"Such a precious moment."

Those were Jan's exact words while he read the result for the nth time.
He's been reading this nonstop. At the hospital, inside the car, and countless times at home. :)

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"Have you had your dinner already?" Mama asked.

"Yes," Red replied.

"Was it delicious?"

"Yes! Where did you buy it?"

That would have been an insult. It certainly is my son's indirect way of saying that I cannot make something appetizing. I couldn't blame him though. For ten years he tolerated my awful concoctions. But! Being introduced to bad food early on is one of the reasons why he is not a picky eater, or so I would like to believe. Motherhood did not really put my mediocre cooking skills into practice. Give my son some green, leafy salad with bagoong (kangkong, squash leaves, or kamote, topped with tomato and onions) and he will eat it right away. So why bother with a complicated recipe?
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I have never really figured out parenthood, especially when I'm doing it alone. As much as it flatters me every time I get a pat on the back for doing twice the parenting work without losing my sanity, what makes my heart flutter is when someone says my son, Rhett, is a well-mannered and grateful boy. I'm not exactly sure how I did that because to tell you honestly, motherhood is not all that pretty. I have those bad mom moments too.

You see, I am guilty of making my son disappointed on many occasions.

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Sarah, we care about you and the memories you share here. We thought you'd like to look back on this post from 8 years ago.

Damn! I hope Facebook will stop "caring" because On This Day memories usually remind me of the bad decisions I made, people I'm no longer interested dealing with, and the dumb things I hope I never posted.

On the flip side, some memories are indeed worth looking back. This photo for example:

Rhett Cedrych at 1
It brought a smile on my face and a tiny pinch in my heart. Time is fleeting. I could still remember those times when a 2-hour uninterrupted sleep was too much to ask, a 2-minute shower is a luxury, and a 30-second me time is out of the question that I wished to fast-forward time because I came to a point of exhaustion that I didn't even know existed.

Frankly and honestly, motherhood is not all that pretty. Those who say otherwise are not human. So stop sugarcoating motherhood because sleepless nights, breastfeeding, soiled diapers, and the frustrations of calming a crying baby can be completely overwhelming. I thought I'll never be able to pee alone again, but then, I sure miss those days.

It's true when they say that when you become a parent, the days run long but the years are short. Whenever you hear a parent say, "enjoy while they are still babies",  believe it. Kids grow up too fast. One minute they're saying their first words, the next minute they'll be asking how babies are made. And no parent is ready for that (I have yet to come up with an answer in the most platonic way possible).

Yesterday, I took Red to the mall to buy some school supplies. I gave him the liberty to choose whatever he wants. And I was quite surprised by his choices. He steered away from the usual Marvel favorites and chose the simple ones instead, he prefers a backpack over a trolley, and he understands that not everything has to be new.

He also insists on being called Red. Red has always been his nickname. But back then when he started learning his colors, he did not want to be called Red because he says he's a person and not a color and it's not right to call a person a color (kids do say the darndest things). Now, he thinks being named after a color is cool.

Do you know what that means? Nagbibinata na sya! Gawd! And all the while I thought taking care of a tiny human while not getting any shower and enough sleep is the hardest part.

I. Am. Not. Ready. For this.

Pogi. Mana sa nanay. This little guy is turning 9 soon.
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I feel so horrible right now. I just realized that no matter how patient I can be, when it comes to my child, all hell breaks loose and I turn into a monster. I am dead serious when I say nobody messes with my kid. Nobody.

I didn't realize what I just did until somebody pointed out that I might have overreacted. Yes, I think my reaction went over the top. But it was something I could not really help. It was though I am a lioness protecting her cub from a perpetrator. And nothing could ever stop me. Fury was burning inside and I was consumed with rage. To see my child cry and cower, I completely lost it.
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