Sexy is subjective.

Just recently, I’ve been bashed for not being a “clubbing” person. Apparently, this has become the new trend. To be labeled as in, hot and sexy, one needs to be always present in the clubs.

While it would be nice to be considered as hot and sexy, I don’t get why I should force myself to go to dark places where young people smoke like chimneys and drink themselves incoherent, and where the music is dangerously ear-shattering. No offense. I do enjoy being in the clubs once in a while. But truth be told, I have never been a “clubbing” person. It’s not something I’d prefer to be doing on a Friday night. I like peace and quiet, and smoke-free places, and coffee shops where jazz music plays softly in the background so you can easily share a conversation with friends without yelling on top of your lungs. I prefer going to the movies, checking out new dining places, having road trips and singing in the car. I prefer sweating it out in the gym rather than sweating in a sea of scantily-clad bodies. And now that I’m a mom, I prefer spending time with my little girl, taking her to Gymboree, or walking her to the park.

This is me. Simply me. While I enjoy the occasional drinking fest, getting drunk and feeling carefree, I’m really made of sunshine and nature and butterflies and candy. Not cigarettes and wine and heavy makeup and stilettos.

Should I be judged because I’m made this way? Does this make me a boring person? Does this make me any less of a woman? I’d like to think that the way I am, this lifestyle I lead, plus the fact that I’m already a mom, makes me all-woman. 100% woman. Now THAT is sexy. Don’t you think?

Just saying. 

13 and loving it!

We met on this day, thirteen years ago. Seems like only yesterday. Maybe because, like I've said before, loving him never gets old.

When we met thirteen years ago, we had no idea that our destinies were written on the same page, with the same ink, the same story. We didn't know that we were meant to travel life's road together as one.

And now, here we are. I bless that day when we shook hands and smiled, the day I found my one true love.

Happy thirteen years, Sweetheart! Here's to sharing a lifetime of loving with you!

Keep the faith.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always had this fear of losing my parents. It probably stemmed from watching too many crime shows on TV, where the parents would get killed and the children are orphaned. I sometimes would picture frightening scenarios in my head. Burglars in the house, my mom getting shot. Or my dad getting into an accident. Stuff like that. Weird, I know.

This fear has grown with me, and has become a permanent part of my system. It’s probably what clinical studies would call Adult Separation Anxiety Disorder, where one has this uncontrollable, inexplicable fear of losing a significant person in his life.

I am scared to death of losing my family.

When I found out that my Dad was diagnosed with acute leukemia, I think my heart stopped beating and a voice in my head was whispering, “He’s going to die.” Mom emailed me the news. I was devastated. I took an emergency leave the next day, cancelling all guestings on my show last minute. I asked my husband to skip work and stay home with me. I cried all night, and my head was swimming with fear, questions, sadness. I kept asking my husband, “Is my Dad going to die?” His constant answer was, “No. He’s not. Stay in the light.”

I guess it’s easy for other people, other members of the family, to “stay in the light” and keep positive. I’m probably over-reacting or thinking too far ahead, but I can’t help it. It’s this childhood fear of mine that has stayed with me until now, refusing to let go.

When I received the news, I couldn’t talk. I was afraid of telling my husband, of saying it out loud, because I thought if I did then it would become real. But now I’m slowly realizing that talking about it is actually a way of becoming stronger than my fear, accepting this trial and believing that God is in full control. That’s why I decided to write about it, to release all the negative thoughts and unnecessary worries, and to ask help from each person who reads this to pray for my Dad’s healing and recovery. They say there are many similar cases here in the Philippines, and many of these cancer patients have recovered and continue to live normal, healthy lives. I need to teach myself to believe that just like them, my Dad will also get better. I need to slowly overcome this fear. I have to have faith.

My Dad is starting chemotherapy tomorrow. He’ll be confined in an isolated, sterilized room for a month there in MD Anderson in Houston, Texas. I pray with all my might that God will give him the strength and endurance to see him through each day of his treatment. And I pray that after all this, my Daddy will be okay, and will come back home to us in great condition, with his usual smile, saying “whattaheck” and giving work instructions to my Mom and siblings. God is good.

Thank you for praying for my Dad, for my family, and for me as well. That I may stay in the light, and keep the faith.  

9 months!

My little girl turns 9 months today. 9 months. That's how long I carried her in my tummy. Wow. I have to say it again and again in my head just to convince myself that it’s real. The months just flew by so fast. The baby that used to fit so comfortably in her daddy’s palms is now a chubby little girl who weighs about 23 pounds and wears toddler clothes. She can now sit up, crawl, and walk with support. She can say the words “mama,” “car,” “daddy” and just the other day she learned how to high-five. It’s really amazing to witness all the changes and developments, all the things she experiences and accomplishes. 

New Year's Eve. Her very first.

Her most recent photo. Rockin' her big girl dress.

Time won't slow down for anyone. Pretty soon she'll be running around, meeting new friends, going to school. And she'll want to do things on her own. But now, while I still can, I intend to enjoy every single bit of her baby-hood. Mum's not ready to close that chapter just yet, and I don't think I'll ever be ready.

Happy 9 months, my darling! You make mum and dad so very happy. We love you!

Thoughts on the Sandy Hook tragedy.

I woke up yesterday morning to news about the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. Twitter was flooded with updates, and I was sobbing my heart out as I read each report. 26 dead, and majority of the victims were children. The list of victims was released today, and my heart broke once again when I saw that all the twenty kids who were killed were aged six and seven. The gun that took the life of these tiny, defenseless children was same as the weapons used by troops in Afghanistan. And according to reports from the coroner, the victims were shot more than once. Just trying to picture a small, fragile body of a six-year-old with multiple bullet wounds makes me cry in horror. Why? What could have triggered the gunman to do such a terrible, unfathomable act of evil?

My heart is broken and bleeding and the tears won't stop. I am grieving, even if these people are all strangers to me. I'm a mother, too. And once you have children of your own, when you hear about very young kids being killed, you feel a kind of pain that only parents can understand. They say when a parent loses a child, there is no greater pain. I can only imagine the devastation that the mothers and fathers of the young victims are feeling right now.

God help them.

Right now, prayers are being whispered for them all over the globe. The world is united in prayer, and sadness. The only thing to do, the best thing to do, is pray. For the souls of the victims, for the families they left behind. I am one of those in constant prayer. Lord, please have mercy and give them strength.

**********

According to reports I've read online, the three weapons used by the gunman belonged to his mother, who was his first victim. All legally purchased by the mother. The question that boggles me is this: Why does the mother own so many guns? I don't get it. They were living in a supposedly lovely and peaceful part of the state, so why the need to have deadly weapons?

I've been terrified of guns all my life. When I was a kid, I witnessed a shooting right in front of our house. Our neighbors were fighting, and two men took out their guns and started shooting at each other. I was so scared and until now I still carry that fear.

Gun manufacturers say these weapons are for self-defense. But that is no longer the case. The Sandy Hook gunman was said to have a personality disorder. This unstable person had easy access to deadly weapons legally owned by his mother. Yesterday, these "weapons for self-defense" took the lives of twenty very young children.

It's insane. And really frightening, this world we live in. A world that gives crazy mad men easy access to deadly weapons.

**********

I have an 8month-old daughter, and when I read about yesterday's tragedy, I couldn't help but think of this: Paano kung nangyari kay Aria yun?

It made me realize that life is indeed so short. And death really does come like a thief in the night.

So every day, every waking moment, love your children. Love your family. Hug them. Hold them. Tell them you love them. Don't waste an opportunity to say, "I love you."

And pray. For protection. There just isn't a safe place in this world anymore.

**********

Twenty children.
Six adults.

Rest in peace.

Ngalay ng Nanay

We have been lying in bed like this for two and a half hours already. She would stir every now and then to move her head a little, or move her arm. But she refuses to budge from where she's sleeping so soundly. Twice I tried to put her down on the bed beside me. She cried. She wants to sleep like this. This close to me.

So imagine not moving from this position for two and a half hours. This is what I'd like to call "mother's ngalay." I really don't mind if my butt and my back are killing me. I could stay in this position forever, holding my baby girl so very close to my heart, literally. If you could see her right now. Aria looks so happy and content, snoring a bit, too. I can't describe this wonderful feeling every time we're this close, whenever she's asleep in my arms, whenever she wants to be pressed close to me, letting my heartbeat lull her to sleep. Wonderful is an understatement.

Hindi pa rin talaga siya nagalaw. It's okay, love. You can spend the night in mommy's arms. I'm all yours.

Slow down, Father Time!

Seriously. Time seems to be running extra fast lately. Here comes September, the first of the "ber" months, and next thing you know, it's time to light 'em Christmas trees. Ang bilis ng panahon!

My little Aria turned 5 months today. 5 months! Can you believe that? Didn't I just give birth yesterday? So it's been 5 months? Kidding aside, I'm really amazed at how fast she grows. Last we checked, my daughter is 20.7 pounds and 73 cm. long. That was last week. Her pedia says her weight and height is for a 1-year old kid already. So that's why many of her clothes don't fit her anymore. Ang bilis ng panahon!

Newborn Aria. At The Medical City. Two days after birth.

I can still remember that particular Saturday in April. The 19 hours I spent in the labor room of The Medical City. The very painful delivery. Aria's first cries. My husband, Alvin, standing close to me, then holding our baby girl afterwards. I remember trying to smile for the camera, but I couldn't because I was so exhausted. I remember looking at Aria, touching her for the very first time, watching her nurse and squirm on my chest. Heck, I even remember waking up in the recovery room and asking the nurse for a glass of water. She filled a plastic cup with tap and I wondered if it was safe to drink. Everything is so clear and vivid in my head. It feels like it all happened five days ago and not five months.

Little Aria at 2 months. So tiny in her Daddy's hands.

Aria at 3 months.

Now my baby girl is no longer the tiny, delicate ball that my husband can carry in his palms. She's now this adorable tot who's always smiling and laughing, always moving her arms and legs. I always check the baby milestones chart to monitor her progress and Aria's quite advanced at 5 months. She looks at you when you say her name, she "talks" back, she taps her hands at objects, reaches for things and puts them in her mouth. She can't roll over yet because probably she's too heavy. But to make up for it, she sits up! She sits and plays with her feet. So cute! 

And when she's crying, she looks for me, or that's how Alvin and I interpret it. Because she cries out, "mum! mum!" And when I finally carry her in my arms, she stops crying. That is the best feeling ever. If you're a mom and you're reading this, then you know how that feels. Sarap, diba?

Aria at 4 months.

Pretty soon, she's going to learn how to walk, say more words, eat solid food, and reach other huge milestones that will both amaze and shock me. She's growing up. Too fast, if you ask me. She'll be more fun to be with once she's older, I know. But a big part of me really wants Father Time to stop so she'll stay a baby and she'll always want to be wrapped in my arms. 

Sigh.

I guess the best thing to do is to cherish every moment, savor every single day while she's still like this - a baby who's depending on me for dear life. Enjoy her company while she still enjoys mine. I intend to do just that. For the rest of my life, if possible. 

Happy 5th month, Aria! You'll always be my sweet, little baby. No matter how many candles you'll have on your birthday cake. 

Photo taken 3 days ago.

Best gift ever!

It's my husband's birthday today. We just woke up. Aria and I surprised him with our simple presents. Our darling little girl bought her daddy new socks! How thoughtful! Alvin said they were very "daughterly gifts." She doesn't have a clue, of course. But as early as now I want to teach her this birthday tradition I got from my family. Everytime someone had a birthday, we would wait until midnight or wake up early to give our birthday gifts. It always made the day even more special. And happier!

So today we woke up with sunshine, love and presents on Alvin's birthday. God gave him a present, too. The gift of family! Best gift ever.

Happy birthday, sweetheart!

To my husband...

...with all my love, heart and soul.

Dear Alvin...

Happy anniversary! Two years since we exchanged vows. Twelve years of togetherness. Sounds like forever, yet sometimes it feels like everything just happened yesterday. Maybe because loving you never gets old.

We've been through a lot of things. Good things. Bad things. The in-betweens. And I'm happy and thankful because we always make it through together. Whether we're faced with rainbows or hurdles, we face them together, my hand in yours, our steps in sync. I'm really glad that in this rat race of a life, I'm partnered with you. I can't imagine waking up next to someone else, opening my heart to someone else, growing old with someone who isn't you.

Look at us now. Proud parents of a beautiful baby girl who's always so happy. I guess she can sense that her mum and dad love each other very much, and love her to bits, too. That's why she's always full of smiles. Thank you, sweetheart. Life can't get any better than this. Not even if we win the grand lotto. (Although winning the lottery would be nice, too.) I already have so many priceless treasures to be thankful for - you, your love and our sweet little baby chum.

It's 11:46pm as I end this post. A few minutes before your birthday. Here's hoping you'll have a great one, and that all your wishes come true. Except for a big bike. I still won't allow it. :)

I love you. Always and always. God bless you, my darling husband.

Love,
Your Wife.