I am so active on Facebook nowadays. You see, I have been replying to every inquiry on every listing I made. It's tedious, honestly. Especially when the answers to those inquiries have already been posted. But I'm not complaining. If anything, I would like to keep those "hm?" and "available pa?" coming, and hope that Facebook will not flag me for replying with the same line over and over again. Please check your inbox. Thank you. :)
Exactly one week ago, we launched our new online shop. We gained almost 500 followers and made sales. We have also restocked some items as most of the crowd favorites were easily sold out. All in less than a week. Not bad. Not bad at all.
| The Little Red Lion comes from the names of our sons, Red and Lionel. |
Jan, on the other hand, must be overwhelmed. He is currently the runner and has been all over the city since we haven't found a reliable delivery partner yet. Not to mention, he is also the financer. But I'm sure he'll get the hang of it in no time.
I know this is not the best time to open a business but I guess the desire to earn money on my own stems from the fact that I DON'T LIKE ASKING FROM THE HUSBAND. Sure, he can provide well. He can pay for the useless things I purchase with no questions asked. But damn. I'm not used to it. I don't want to get used to it.
If we want to go back to Japan or visit the USA with our kids once this pandemic is over, then I have to help him with the finances. He already has too much on his plate. House, car, bills, baby essentials, tuition, weekly groceries, and loads of cat food. Since I still can't commit to a full-time job and making money through blogging is not as lucrative as I have hoped it would be, I'll give this higher level of adulting a try. Who knows? One day I might not need a nine-to-five job anymore.
I have been reading someone lately. And it's not because he is famous nor do I find his life interesting. I know this blog can be described exactly the same way, but nope, this is not about me. He was also a competitor from the last blogging contest I joined. And even though I wanted to win against a pool of professional writers, seasoned bloggers, and journalists, I rooted for him—whom I had never heard of before. He won, unsurprisingly.
I would say I am a fan. I don’t remember the last time I engulfed myself into reading as much as I did his blog. He can write topics that can set off cricket noises without boring the reader at all. And the more I read, the more it becomes clear how my writing is a million light years away from his.
I got my new driver's license today. After one year and eight months of marriage, I finally have a valid ID bearing my husband's name.
Honestly, I could have just waited one more year to have my license revised and renewed at once (would have saved me time and money). But I think I've done enough waiting. I am excited to get slightly annoyed at people misspelling or misreading my new name—which, to no surprise, happened earlier at the licensing office. It's A-T-E-R-R-A-D-O. Not Atterado. Not Alterado. And definitely, not Alternado. It is, however, a hassle I can live with for the rest of my life.
On a serious note, we have acquired properties and signed legal documents with OUR family name because I don't want to go through all the hassle of presenting our marriage certificate every time just to prove that we are already married.
 |
| Pre-Covid days. At Samal Island, surveying our hacienda to be. Hehe ☺ |
I think I have already done all kinds of haircuts and styles. Pixie, bob, short, medium, long, wavy, curly, side-swept bangs, curtain bangs, blunt bangs, corncrows, name it. But the most liberating of all is this:
I think I now know what hell is like. It's where you have all the delicious food you can eat right before you but can't because your stomach is on a rather violent protest.
Food poisoning. That's what you get for committing one of the seven deadly sins. In my defense, I was just making sure that no food will go to waste. So I ate the leftover that has been in the fridge since God knows when even though I already had two full meals five minutes earlier.
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.
Sometimes, I amaze myself with my adulting, considering that my hormones are still on overdrive. You see, I have written a complaint—after making countless of calls and follow-ups on not having an internet connection for almost two months—in the most diplomatic way. For someone whose life depends heavily on memes and cat videos, I would have gone batshit. (Who wouldn't?)
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.
