Fallout Girl

I am in love with a sucker. And with sucker, I mean this little tiny baby who feeds off me whom I adore and will do anything for. I have been breastfeeding since November of last year. And really, all those ads in magazines with a mom sitting in a rocking chair serenely feeding her baby wearing a dainty nightgown was NOT me. Breastfeeding was painful, traumatic and sooooo time-consuming. It induced a weird sense of claustrophobia in me. I felt a tremendous amount of pressure to provide nourishment for the adorable little parasite I pushed out of my unmentionable.

And for the past few weeks it has brought me another misery to me. My hair started to fall. First, I didn’t mind, because calling my hair thick was an understatement (thank God for whoever invented rebonding). When I take showers, I would find small clumps on the bathroom floor but I just shrugged it of, thinking “There’s more where that came from”. But recently, after I grabbed all my hair to put in a ponytail, I was caught off guard. I lost about 30% of it! Yikes!  

So I consulted the great modern oracle, aka Google, and I was comforted to know that the hair fall usually stops when the baby reaches about 6 months of age. And it rarely gets to the point where bald spots can be seen.  Major sigh of relief. 

I can't rock the baldy look like you did, Sinead.

 Don’t get me wrong, I love being able to “make” sustenance for my baby. She was born premature. She was only 3 lbs. when she came out so her doctor and the NICU nurses strongly emphasized that breastmilk really is best for baby. Breastmilk is king. And giving birth too early, I wasn’t lactating yet. THANK GOD for the kind souls who so generously donated their breast milk to me. Those donations tided me over until I was producing milk on my own. I saw my tiny, skinny baby literally grow before my eyes. She was like an inflatable doll that kept getting pumped with a little air at a time and now she’s a whopping 12 pounder with leg and arm rolls to speak of. Think Stay Puft Marshmallow Man:) Her pedia assured us that she’s nowhere near being overweight, it’s just the proud momma talking. So,thick head of hair or not, I will soldier on. That’s what wigs are for, right?

P.S. Breastfeeding doesn't hurt anymore ;)

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I was recently hired by an Ortigas-based company. I was excited and a little nervous. First, because the position isn’t the type of job that really related to my university degree and secondly, my means of transportation going to and from the office. I don’t have my own car so I really had to rely on some kind of public transportation to get there.

My sister also works in Ortigas. And since we live in the same house most of the time (long story), I figured that I’ll just do whatever she does.  Her husband and her take a cab from our village to the MRT station and from there she takes the train, gets off and walks to work. Sounds simple enough. Fine, I’ll try it.

The cab part of it was a piece of cake, cabs were aplenty along Commonwealth Ave. during that time of the morning. Cab fare from our place to the station averages around P130-150. We split the fare three ways so it’s not really that painful.

I’ve ridden the train before so I know how jammed it can get. But a considerable amount of time has passed since I was last on it and I wasn’t prepared for what I saw when we got off the cab. There was a loooooooooong line of people just to get into the station! I’m talking a queue worthy of free tickets to a Judy Ann movie. The throng of people going up the stairs was crazy! The people seemed to move like one animal with thousands of feet. It totally caught me off-guard.

It takes about 20-30 minutes from the time we get down from the cab to the time where we can actually put our cards in the slot to get into the station. And once there, another huge crowd of people are waiting to do battle. And my sister, the veteran train rider that she is, doesn’t ride the all-female car of the train. She said there’s less chance to get flattened if you ride where the men are allowed, because they tend to be less aggressive with women. Make that, a little less aggressive. All of the train’s cars are packed and I get flattened, elbowed and pushed. Wheeee.

Needless to say I was miserable. For the first 3 weeks of my new career I dreaded that part of the day.

This is what it felt like on the train. Only, most of us were wearing corporate attire.

Until one fateful day one of my best friends happened to mention that there were shuttles from Philcoa going to Ortigas. It was like the heavens opened up after a heavy rain and the sun started shining on me again! All around me flowers bloomed, birds chirped and butterflies flitted. So I tried it. To my pleasant surprise, the fx’s route included the street of our office building..Just one comfortable air-conditioned ride and I was hooked!

I still have my multi-ride or stored value MRT ticket in my wallet. Writing this blog has reminded me that I should just give it to my sister because I don’t plan to use it anytime soon.

(For the curious/interested: fx fare from philicoa to Ortigas is P50. Mrt from North ave. station to Ortigas is around P20. But the price difference is so worth it for me. Going home, I take a Fairview FX from Megamall which costs P60/passenger, “malayo-malapit”)

Sardines photo taken from foodeducate.com

The Yaya Sisterhood

The first time you see each other, tentative smiles, hesitant looks and bashful hellos are exchanged. And then as you get to know each other better, as you spend more time together, little by little you relax and slowly let your guard down. Before you know it, the ice has melted and co-dependence is achieved,. And THEN it happens, she tells you she can no longer be with you, she can’t stay with you anymore, she’s leaving you…

Nope, I’m not talking about a romance. I’m talking about yayas! Yes, yayas.  In a time of severe economic frailty, it never ceases to amaze me why it’s such an effin challenge to find a yaya. My baby’s very first yaya came highly recommended with the usual “contact from the province”.  Apparently this person was a happy character, she works well in the home setting and she plans to be in it for the long haul. Sounds like a catch to me, so I caught. As with any employer, one wishes for the long term.

Maritess (nope, not the Superfriends’ yaya, hihi) was shy, said very little and just kept to herself. She would just do what she was told and that was that.  Which was fine with the hubbers and I. No one can blame her. She is, after all, literally not “at home”. But as the days go by, I began to get used to her quiet nature. She cooked well, she was able to carry out instructions about 85% accurately (which wasn’t bad, right?) and we began to develop a routine.

Being a first time mom, the usual nerves and paranoia are experienced. My husband and I agreed that someone should always be awake for the baby in case something happens. She was born prematurely and had a history of breath-holding so we have an extra helping of fear because of that.

Since I was still on maternity leave, I took over the overnight shift.  At 3 or 4 a.m. I would wake Maritess up and she would take my baby as I would gratefully get into bed and get my rest. When I wake up, she would already have my food ready at the table.  All of baby’s stuff that I used during the night and needed sterilizing were already ready to be used again. Life was good.

I can't wait for my kid to do this! Kidding (maybe).

And then she breaks the bad news. She wants to go back to her family in Cagayan. Insert a visual of me covering my ears and singing doe-a -deer to block out her “Ate, magpapaalam na ako sa inyo” speech here. And so the scramble begins. We suddenly found ourselves on the yaya hunt again.

We’ve had referrals for employment agencies but what turned us off is the fact that the agencies have no liability in case anything heinous is done by their recommendee (not a real word, I know). So I resorted to 6 degrees of separation. Other friends’ and neighbors’ helpers were requested to refer anyone who’s interested.

Finally, my mom’s masseuse came up with a lead, her neighbor’s niece is interested! And her cousin too! After weighing our options, we realized they were the best bet. The only thing is they’re only 18 and 19 and never been to Manila. But beggars can’t be choosers. After only 1 day of being yaya-less, we’re desperate. Plus I’m starting work in 2 weeks and it’s a new job. We’ve really grown accustomed to the much appreciated help Tess has given. And so tomorrow we are sending the 2 girls some money for bus fare. When they get here on Sunday or Monday, we’ll talk to them both and decide who’ll work for us. The 1^strunner up goes to my friend who has 2 kids, pregnant and has no yaya as of the moment as well.  Imagine our desperation.

Rescuer or Rescuee?

Today marks another landmark in my life. I am scheduled to pick up a dog at the city shelter. It was almost instantaneous love (a.k.a. love at first sight) when I saw him look at me with one half-asleep eye in his door-less shaded “house” in his doggy run which he shares with a smallish brown mutt. To my delight and surprise he got up and walked towards me ready to put on an “adopt me now” show for my benefit. And best of all, he was a Welsh Corgi! One of my favorite dog breeds ever.

He groggily walked towards me and tried to push his snout through the bars. I obligingly proceeded to pet him and rub his nose while the other dog was busy trying to push him out of the way so he could hog all the petting and stroking to himself. The brown dog even growled at the Corgi cutie-pie at one point. I didn’t even notice that I was calling him Ernie after a few minutes of mutual introduction. I was surprised to realize that this wasn’t his name. He just looked like an Ernie to me. So after a relatively short discussion with myself, I decided to put my name on the Interested Party list. I was told to come back in 3 days, the day when he will be available for adoption.  But I was informed that there might have to be a bidding for him since there were several people on the Interested list.

I came back 3 days after,and somehow I managed to outbid my competition. Comprised of a not-so-friendly mother-daughter team. We had to bid twice since we were tied on the first round. In the second round I outbid them by a mere 2 dollars! I was so tense since it was my first time to participate in an auction. I kept talking to the lady handling the auction (who was thankfully good-natured). Our conversation also included an apology from me for being such a geek and being all super excited and hyper-nervous.

So today I get to take Ernie home. My canine shorty. My lowrider. I’m anxious/happy/thrilled. Dog parks, socialization classes and talking to strangers with dogs on the street during walks are in our future. Although I know that I rescued him initially, I am willing to bet a month’s worth of coffee-drinking that there will be many days to come where he will be returning the favor.

(written in 2007)

Here he is snoozing in my room. Needless to say, it didn't take him long to adjust! :)

what the?!

Sometimes I can totally relate to this guy *sigh*

It seems like just a few seconds ago I was just clocking out from work. But in reality it was really about 50 hours ago. It seems like the whole weekend was before me and then *Bam* it's sunday night and I have another week's work ahead. What time vortex did I inadvertently step into???