The other man

You were born on this day many summers ago.

Since the beginning, ours was a complicated relationship. Although we both know that our connection was never simple. But I loved you. Yes, in my own special way, I loved you.

I still do.

Yours is the kind of love my husband can never give me.

I've longed for your loving embrace for as long as I can remember. Without meaning to sound ungrateful for all the blessings I have, I look at others exchanging loving looks and feel a tinge of regret for that which we never had. For what we allowed to slip through our hands.

I know I've always said I want to live life without regrets. But sometimes I still think of all those missed chances. All those what-ifs.

What if I had more time with you?
What if you spent more time with me?
What if I knew you better?
What if you knew me better?
What if I fought harder for you?
What if you fought harder for me?

I'll never know.

All those firsts and lasts we've missed out on, we'll never have them back.

My first steps.
My first words.
My first day in school.
My first date.
My first heartbreak.
My first-born.

Your last day at work.
Your last vacation.
Your last cup of coffee.
Your last farm harvest.
Your last words.
Your last breath.

But in spite of all those things, I still thank you.

I thank you for teaching me acceptance. How all things that come to pass happen for a reason.

I thank you for teaching me strength. How the loudest voices can be found in the silence of one's heart.

I thank you for teaching me faith. How you can always find something to believe in even when all else fails.

I thank you for teaching me the meaning of unconditional love. How it is measured not by how much it receives, but how much it gives.

Papa, so many things were left unsaid between us. And while I may never know what's on your mind, you can now see inside my heart.

But if there's any "firsts" that I will never forget, it's that you taught me the very first song I know:

I wanna give
I wanna give my love to you completely
I beg of you
I beg of you to listen to my heart.

I've never prayed like this before
But I'm asking you not to close the door
For I can tame the wind and smooth the waters
If you just let me.

I wanna give
I wanna give you all the strength within me
To make a world
To make a world that cannot fall apart.

And you can sit upon a throne
And I'll give it all just for you alone
For I can tame the wind and smooth the waters
If you just let me.

The first song I've ever learnt is perhaps the last solid earthly link I have to you. And it will be the only song that will be in my heart for eternity.

I love you, Papa. Happy birthday.

The anniversary gift

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

~A Midsummer Night's Dream 

In my previous entry, we were a few days away from our 6th anniversary and I did not have a gift for my husband yet. Like I mentioned, he had just been away on a business trip and was able to squeeze in some time for shopping, and so at the moment, he had everything he wanted and needed.

So I surprised him with these:

Okay, so it wasn't really a surprise. He already knew I bought these in advance. We're both fans, and their first album was our constant companion during our long drives home, back when we were still working for a television network. It's also the same CD that put our then-infant son to sleep the moment he sits in the car. Initially, I wanted to get the gold tickets, but after discussing with a good friend, I realised it would be more practical to settle with the silver ones. So I went ahead to purchase a couple of them. Sure, the concert will be almost a month after our anniversary, but the timing shouldn't really matter when you're in the company of your other half.

Apparently, this concert is not meant for us.

About a week after I made the purchase, hubby broke the news that he needs to go overseas for an important training. It's not something he can miss nor pass on to somebody else. And it will be on May 24. I was a bit crestfallen, but he said he can still figure out a way to watch the concert, then take the first flight out. Sounded like a good plan.

But the airlines weren't on our side. The earliest flights available were all fully booked, and the next available ones are already too late for him to make it to the training.

Eff it. Eff it. EFF IT!

To his credit, my husband generally tried to be inconspicuous for the remainder of yesterday (he broke the news to me late afternoon). I guess it wasn't hard to stay out of the way of a scowling wife. And even when I was snapping at him at the rate of about once every millisecond, he never lost his patience and remained calm, giving me small, apologetic smiles. I think that one infuriated me even more. And so while the rest of the world oohed and aahed over Kate Middleton's gown, I was simmering in my own temper and busily pondering my botched concert plans (although I did spare some time to gawk at the lovely, lovely hats).

Seeing how upset I was, hubby told me that I can just go ahead and watch it. He knew how badly I wanted to see it. But, for the life of me, how can I go on and enjoy it when my heart was set on having him as my concert date? And, for crying out loud, it was my anniversary gift to him! So I told him I lost all my desire to watch the concert, and that I was selling the tickets. If nobody wants to buy it, I guess I'll just throw them away or give it away, whichever comes first. The bottomline was, I felt pissed to the high heavens, and could he just give me a few days to calm down because I wasn't really feeling him at the moment.

Today, he was still wearing a contrite look as he left to attend some meetings. While I'm not expecting him to say sorry because it wasn't really his fault, I don't think I am going to apologise for being so pissed off, because I feel I have every right to be: I can't go to the concert date I had planned for us, and I am expected to just accept it because it's all about work. It brought back memories of when he was not around on my birthday two years ago, a first in our 10 years of being together. And, yes, work-related travel was again the culprit.

Sometimes, it's hard to be an understanding wife.Especially when you have a husband with this kind of a job. I know it's a small price to pay for the benefits we receive, in terms of financial rewards and career growth for my husband. But I guess this is part of the work that goes in a marriage. It can't be rosy all the time.

Now that I have some time alone, I realise I was probably too hard on him, considering he might be dealing with his guilt, too. So tonight, when he comes home, I'll probably be less likely to bite his face off and make up for the crabbiness by cooking him dinner. I don't think I'll be 100% back to my normal self yet (especially since I keep seeing all those concert plugs on TV), but knowing me, it won't take me more than three days to forget about this brouhaha.

How glad I am I have this book to keep me company:

 

They don't call it chicken soup for nothing. It's like balm on my frazzled wifely nerves. If you're married or in a relationship (whether you're a man or a woman), I suggest you get a copy of this book. It has the ability to remind you how trivial some of our concerns are. The book chose to give me a bitch slap with a quote from Malcolm Forbes: "Presence is more than just being there."

 

I'll be in a better mood tomorrow. I promise.

P.S. If you know anyone interested in my concert tickets, do let me know. Thanks in advance.

On sacrifices, celebrations and tributes

I've given up social networking. At least, for the time being. This is part of a Lenten "tradition" I started since I was maybe around 12 years old. I give up something I really like as a form of sacrifice. Back then, it's as simple as eschewing chips or chocolates or watching TV.

So, yeah, this year, it's all about giving up Facebook and Twitter. Which delighted my husband, because he's convinced I'm addicted to them. (Perhaps. But I'm bored, what can I do...???)

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We're celebrating two very special occasions towards the end of the month. First, it will be my son's 5th birthday on the 24th (Easter Sunday!). We won't be having a big party, but we will nevertheless celebrate the special day. I already placed an order for a Tom and Jerry cake (currently his favourite cartoon), which I'll be picking up on Sunday morning. I was actually fearing the worst when I dropped by the cake shoppe yesterday, forgetting that most establishments are closed on Thursday and Friday (meaning there would be less days for them to work on my order). Thank goodness the lady at the counter was very nice and gave in to my pleadings :)

After my baby blows his birthday candles, we'll probably be off to Fun Ranch or wherever his little heart desires. The day is all about him so, while we have no concrete plans yet, our little master-of-the-day will be the one navigating our journey. Good times.

Come the 28th, it's time for us to celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary. Every year, hubby and I feel that the wedding date is sort of anticlimactic, as what we really celebrate is our boyfriend-girlfriend anniversary, which is already going on its 11th year. Still, we do make it a point to spend quality time by ourselves, because whether or not it's the "real" anniversary, it is the day we made our formal commitment, right?

But...but...but...! I have no gift for the hubby yet...! And I am on panic mode! 

I did purchase Maroon 5 tickets for the two of us, but the concert is still on May 23, which is almost one month post-anniversary. And I don't really know what else to get him, because on his recent trip to Vegas, he shopped till he dropped and so he's got everything he needs (and wants).

I have a few days to come up with a really bright idea. Sigh.

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Speaking of Vegas, hubby brought home the cutest M&M's I've ever seen.

Pastel-coloured peanut M&M's (photo taken from malamutechaos' flickr photostream)

Plain M & M's (photo from mtnman.com)

They're so cute I don't want to eat them. I just like looking at the yummy (and oh-so-girly) colours. And since this was probably the only kiddie shoppe hubby could find at Vegas, he brought home USD50 worth of candies for our son! 

Either that, or he really just had a grand time getting the candies...and who wouldn't?!?! (photo from flickr)

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On a more serious note, I realise it's been almost a year since my big discovery. I won't go into the details since it's not really something I feel like sharing with the general blogging community. Suffice it to say, it was an earth-shattering experience for me...and almost a year later, I'm fine. I really am.

Truthfully, I feel a bit scared of myself. At times I think I'm becoming too desensitised. Yes, I know it's a defense mechanism, but still...sometimes it bothers me that I can't be bothered anymore, know what I mean?

To celebrate this "milestone" of sorts, I got inked again:

I got the butterfly last year, a tribute of sorts to my father, and as a symbol for my "metamorphosis". This year, I added the branch on my shoulder, which shows sakura flowers falling, which represents leaving my past and moving on. My mantra, alis volat propriis, is inked beside the butterfly. It is a Latin phrase (a language I love, by the way) which means "she flies with her own wings".

That branch on my shoulder? Fucking hurts. The fact that the most painful part of the inking process was the visual symbolising the past is, I think, poetic justice.

Perhaps I'm not desensitised, after all.

Cleaning up and keeping it clean

Has it been that long since I've last visited my blog? I can't believe my last entry was December last year. And it's now March!

So apologies to you, my dear neglected blog. I promise to be more faithful. (Or at least, I'll try...!)

Anyway, a lot has happened in between the last blog entry and this one. For one thing, the family is back at home. As in THE homeland. To make the long story short, hubby was asked to service some local clients, and so we all went back en masse and said goodbye to Lah Lah Land, if you catch my drift.

How come I wasn't this happy when I was packing?!

It was a stressful few weeks leading up to the big move. It was a happy thought that we were going back home, but then again, it's another cross-country move...and after I took a good look at all the odds and ends we've accumulated in the past couple of years staying abroad, well, suffice it to say that I got tired just trying to organise everything in my head. And it was even more stressful to try to fit in the last few years' worth of your life in about seven super-sized freight boxes. No wonder expats tend to give away really good stuff before they move back home. I totally dig that now.

So the next phase after packing everything is...unpacking. That was even more dreadful. After cramming as much stuff as we could into the boxes - about 60% of which is comprised of my sons TOYS (dear Lord, does he really have that much???) - I had to personally sift through them and put them back in our old house. Which, by the way, holds most of the stuff we left behind last 2008. Two household's worth of stuff to cram back into one home. And as if to add insult to injury, we decided that now would be a good time to renovate the house, after portions of it fell into [slight] disrepair.

Holy effing cow. I'm getting tired again just recalling the details.

I ended up packing most of our old stuff into large boxes. That included usable clothes, toys, magazines, DVDs/VCDs, books, etcetera, ad infinitum. Some I gave away to our carpenters (especially the baby stuff like cribs - one of them had a toddler who could still use it). Some of them I gave away to my nanny (so sometimes I have to do a double take when she comes in because she dresses like me at times, hahaha). The rest, I plan to donate to charity, because majority of them are really in good condition. I just don't have the patience space to keep them now. So if anyone wants to organise a garage sale or is planning to donate to some charity, do let me know. I am very interested.

Today, I see the term "spring cleaning" in a whole new light. Because after this very stressing move, I cannot STRESS enough how important it is to look through your things at least twice a year.

So now, I have a new resolution. I vow to go through the family's stuff every so often and dispose of the things that just collect dust. You really have no idea how much usable space you have until you take out the stuff that's just sitting there. (You know what I'm talking about...you know that bag that's staring at you from the back of your wardrobe, waiting for the next time you feel like using it? Yeah, that's the one.)

When was the last time you've peeked in your wardrobe? I beg you, please, declutter. It's for your own sanity.

*Photos courtesy of Getty Images.

Snips and snails and puppy dogs tails

I was watching The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy with my son last night. The episode was about a nose thief who stole Billy's nose.

                                        courtesy of www.tvguide.com

The climax showed the antagonist blowing up the nose to gigantic proportions, then using it like a hot-air balloon to escape from Billy and company...whilst holding on to the nose hairs. Grim, Billy and Mandy followed suit with their own inflated nose. When they were up in the sky, the antagonist's giant nose hit the three with a snot bomb, covering their faces. Billy simply licked off the snot so he can regain his vision.

I commented, "Ooh, that's disgusting!" My son turned to me and gave me a wickedly charming smile, and the following repartee ensued:

Son: But Mommy, I do that, too!
Mommy: (horrified look) You lick your snot off?!
Son: (grins) Yes!
Mommy: (testing to see if he's telling the truth) Really...? How does it taste like?
Son: It's salty! (belly laugh follows)

Little boys are gross. But charming. Very, very charming.

How Painfully Observant

The other night, our little family was having the usual pre-bedtime conversation. I don't know how we started the topic, but somehow, we wound up discussing money.

I told my son he should stop buying so much toys. To which, he gave me an impish little grin and said (pointing at me with his index finger), "You! Stop buying so much bags!"

And he turned to my husband and said (complete with the grin and finger-pointing), "You! Stop buying so much gadgets!"

Touche, my son. Touche.

The Road to Giving Up

Smoking, that is. Sigh. I know it's a disgusting habit, but what can I do...? Habits are habits, and most of the time, they're bad and hard to break.

I actually succeeded quitting a few years back. This was January 2005, a few days after my bestie's wedding. Like the story of probably 70% of the other quitters in the world, I decided to kick the habit after I fell sick. I had a horrible episode of laryngitis...my throat felt like it was being sliced open when I swallow even just my spit. That, plus a most un-ladylike cough triggered by my allergic rhinitis, was motivation enough to keep from lighting up. And as hubby and I were planning for a wee one that year, both of us decided we should keep our paraphernalia under lock and key.

We should've hurled that key into the ocean. Two years later, a few months before my son blew his first birthday candle, I found myself in the corporate jungle. As some of you may know, this cat has prowled the creative side of the fence for more than a decade, and so finding myself crossing over to the other side was a bit of a nasty shock. The pressure was different. I felt a bit lost. I had a very exacting boss whom I wanted to poison (Good thing I didn't. He later became one of my most admired people, and a good friend, at that!). I had nothing to look at but my workstation and the four white walls surrounding it (no windows, WTH?!).

And so, mid-2007, I found solace from an old friend habit. I dug up my dusty lighter, flicked it to life, and took the most delicious drag from my first cigarette in two years. The worst thing about this is, since hubby and I share a brand, he found himself drifting towards my pack of reds and lighting up, as well. "Just one time," he said. Ahhh, I said that, too. Until now, I don't know anyone who was able to keep that promise of "just one time".

Fast forward to today, late 2010. I've tried quitting a couple of times but ended up raising the white flag ("just ONE time...") and inhaling the toxic fumes like a thirsty desert straggler would take his first gulp of ice-cold water. I realize it's toxic and that alone should keep me away. But even just writing about it is making me lust after a stick. Seriously addicted, I know.

So what's making me try quitting again?

Several reasons. For one, I read about a former classmate's struggle with lung cancer. She's my age, an excellent swimmer, a mother of one and - irony of ironies - a non-smoker. That last detail gave me a monster-sized guilt trip. Here I am, pumping stick after stick of carbon monoxide, nicotine, tar, and God knows what else into my (hopefully still) healthy lungs, and there she is, fighting a losing battle to breathe. She lives her life one day at a time, not knowing whether her respiratory functions will be okay each time she wakes up. I truly, deeply feel for her. I don't feel sorry for her because that's the last thing she needs, but I understand what it must feel when you know you'll leave your loved ones sooner than later. But I digress.

Secondly, I've really been wanting to kick the habit, evidenced by the many attempts this year. Like I said, it's just difficult when someone in your household is a smoker, and smokes the same brand as you do.

Lastly, a recent conversation with my boy led me to this. We went out to buy some ice-cream, and along with that, I purchased my usual pack of Mediums. As we were walking home and he was happily licking his popsicle, I took a drag and he asked innocently, "Mommy, why do you have to smoke?" I looked and him and said, "Well, it's a habit a have." So he asked me what a habit was, and as I explained it to him, he asked whether it was a good habit or a bad one.When I told him it's a bad habit, he asked, "So why are you still doing it?"

For the life of me, I couldn't come up with a decent answer. There really is no good reason for it. So I replied with a question, "Would you think about doing this when you grow up?" And, horrifyingly, he said, "Yeah, maybe I would. Just ONE time."

So that settled it. The last thing I want to be for my son is to be a poster child of bad habits. And, although I expected him to later on have this same habit (because he sees it from Mommy and Daddy), I have to be completely honest and say I'd rather he doesn't start. And I told him that. I told him, I'd rather you don't start because it's hard to stop.

So wish me luck this time. I hope I bury this habit soon.

P.S. It's been 24 hours since I last lit up. I'm feeling withdrawal signs, and I expect it to get worse. But I did this once before so I sincerely hope I can do it again!