I want to live in the West Wing

Throughout my period of "house arrest," I stayed sane by sleeping, reading, and yes, watching episode after episode of some American TV series. So far, I have already finished seasons 1-3 of Alias, season 1 of Frasier, and seasons 1-2 of Scrubs. I am also halfway through the current season 5 of Alias, season 2 of Desperate Housewives, and season 1 of Supernatural.

I know I still have a lot to catch up on (Lost, Charmed, Smallville, 24) but all that is taking a backseat to my current new fave, The West Wing.

I'm currently 3/4 of the way through season 1 and since I have all episodes until the first half of season 7 (the current and last one in the US), I know I have a lot of catching up (not to mention late nights) to do. But it should be a breeze, because the show is downright riveting. It's smart without being boring, funny without losing its meaning, and dramatic without being over the top. I still can't decide which among the male characters I have a crush on (it's a toss between Rob Lowe's and Richard Schiff's) and whose job I would love to have (I think the Chief of Staff has more power than the president, but being the presidential aide also seems to have its own perks).

I have a feeling that after I finish watching all these, ehem, pirated episodes, I'm going to go out and buy the original DVDs!

Or maybe it's just me

What is it about parents that they have this uncanny ability to turn the most self-assured person into a neurotic mess with just a simple comment?

Sometimes I think my relatiobnship with mine borders on the sado-masochistic——I know that I can be (emotionally) better off by not telling them certain things or just basically living my own life... but when I do act on this brief streak of independence, I end up feeling guilty because I think I'm not being a good daughter. So I end up caving in.

See, this is why one of my biggest regrets in life is not experiencing what it's like to study or live abroad for a long period of time, because the consequence: The apron strings are still very much attached (with Super Glue), and I fear it's going to take more than a hacksaw for them (yes, not me) to cut (or at least ease) the ties that bind.

Or maybe that's just me.

***

Last night, out of the blue, I recalled that Eric and I had our First Major Fight around last month, and by "Major" I mean it was the kind of fight wherein for the first time in our 5+ years together, we both went to sleep without resolving that particular difference. Now while I remember the where (we were in Baguio), the when (it was our on first night there) and the how (pretty quiet, with both of us waiting for the other to apologize first), I couldn't for the life of me remember the "why." And when I asked Eric this morning, he couldn't remember what was the cause of the tiff either.

Which, I guess, is a good thing: it means that whatever it was, we've resolved it and have moved on. Meaning we both aren't the type to harbpor resentment. See, I've always believed that couples who can stand going for long periods on end without speaking to each other over a fight are weird. Sure, a little time out is good once in awhile, but to not talk to each other for three weeks and still say na sila pa? Yup, weird.

Or maybe that's just me.

***

And because I just watched X-Men III awhile ago:

I'm now going to focus all my energies to getting Eric to even at least consider the name "Logan" if we have a boy.

Because "Wolverine" would be pushing it.

And "Hugh" doesn't sound nice when paired with a Chinese surname.

Yes, now this is definitely just me.

Pros and cons

The nice thing about being preggy is even though you get a big tummy after eating a heavy meal, there's no need to keep pulling your shirt down to hide it because everyone just assumes that's your pregnancy showing! (Never mind if you're only a little under 2 months and, technically, should be sporting just a bump and not a watermelon)...

The bad thing is once everyone sees that "preggy" tummy, all they want to do touch it! It's a bit disconcerting; I can't describe it, it just feels like it's something so personal. Inwardly, I react as if that person wanted to touch my boobs, but of course I can't shirk away, so I have no choice but to let them rub it and just say, "No, it's still too small to feel it moving...."

Sucker

Eric recently brought one of his dogs home from Manila to provide me some additional company, and if how I treat Toffee (that's her name) is an indication of how I'll treat my future child, then I'm in big trouble.

For one thing, everytime we eat, Toffee only has to look at me with those "puppy eyes" of hers and I end up all but giving her all the food on my plate. Eric says I should stop passing her food becuase it'll just make her fat and unhealthy, but I can't help it...Sometimes I try to be firm and ignore her, but everytime I sneak a peek, I can swear that she's looking at me reproachfully. So I cave in and toss her a piece of meat... or ten.

I also have a very strict rule of not allowing Toffee to go the second floor of the house (where the bedrooms are), but again, when I check on her in the kitchen, she just looks so sad and lonely that I've finally acquiesced and allowed her to romp upstairs. But so far, I've stuck to my guns and forbidden her from entering our bedroom. So far, I don't think I'll cave in on that.

Eric says that from the looks of things, I'll probably end up spoiling our child rotten, feeding him/her whatever he/she wants and breaking all my self-imposed rules just to keep him/her happy. Eeep.

Happy what day?

Some well-meaning friends greeted me a Happy Mother's Day yesterday, and while a part of me was touched by their thoughtfulness, another part of me just found the whole idea...wierd.

For one thing, I really feel it's too early to make any definite pronouncements (call me a cautious optimist, but until the baby comes out, I refuse to allow myself to feel super celebratory *knock on wood*). For another, I feel that motherhood is a distinction you earn, and not something you become just because sperm met egg.

Eric says I should lighten up and just enjoy all the extra attention. Maybe he's right.

Itchy feet

Am on Week 3 of my bed rest and I have two more weeks to go before I find out if I can finally leave the house.

And truth to tell, am already starting to feel the boredom. There's only so much one can do when stuck at home, since (1) technically it's not really my home to begin with so I really can't do whatever I want; plus (2) there are a lot of limitations (nothing strenuous, no heavy lifting, no climbing stairs too much). So I still spend my time entire frickin' day. I miss walking around, talking to people, and seeing new scenery, and my only consolation is as long as I stay a good girl and rest up for these few weeks, the chances of me getting the green light from my doctor to go out are higher.

Am this close to taking up knitting, crocheting or cross-stitching.

P.S. For some reason, people keep offering to lend me dvds of Korean dramas. No offense guys, but I'm not yet that bored....

Jologs thrill

Okay, so I’m not (yet) craving for food… but I think I’m craving for something worse—and that’s Pinoy Big Brother’s latest installment, the Teen Edition.

I think the kids are maarte, malandi, and oh-so annoying, but I can’t help it, I’m hooked on their antics and dramatics. It drives Eric crazy, the way I complain about how the kids act but don’t want to switch the channel, but what can he do, right? Deny his pregnant wife her thrills?

With this ring, I thee shackle...

A married friend of mine confided in me recently that she can’t get her husband to change his ways because “he knows that no matter what he does, he will always still have me in the end.”

I couldn’t forget what she said for the rest of the day, and even days after. I think that’s such a sad situation to be in, being stuck with putting up with something (or, in this case, someone) that’s clearly giving so much problems. I’m all for “for better or worse,” but I really think everyone, even a married person, should have some non-negotiables in life, especially where his or her happiness is concerned. A marriage shouldn’t be a life sentence.

Not for dog lovers

Eric and I thought “Must Love Dogs” was about a guy who hated dogs but had to pretend he did to get close to the woman that he liked. Unfortunately, that was far from the case, and it’s a good thing the DVD was on sale, because we felt seriously gypped.

The story wasn’t your typical romantic-comedy; it was too wordy and long-winded for our taste and didn't have that many kilig scenes. Diane Lane's character was kinda annoying, because throughout the film, she was just so desperate to hook a guy; and John Cusack didn't look as mabango as he did in his other films. But I loved the family interactions (kinda reminds me of my own, with the meddling and the needling) and the few dogs that they showed were really cute. Just wished they had shown more.

Trivia: I read somewhere that petting a dog (or cat) can actually lower one's blood pressure.

Name game

These days, it’s not unusual for Eric and me to blurt out names too each other out of the blue.

“Craig?”
“Conrad?”
“Sarah?”

That’s right, as early as now, we’re already thinking of names for the baby. It’s not easy, mind you. There are a lot of things to consider:

1) Eric wants at least one of the names (we’ve decided our kid would have two first names) to come from the bible.

2) We had to scrap some nice-sounding names because they remind us of people we don’t like and certainly don’t want to be reminded of every time we call our kid.

3) Similarly, we can’t name our child after the current hottest actor/actress because Lord knows how that celebrity will be like 20 years from now, and we certainly don’t want our son or daughter cringing “Eww, you named me after him???”

4) We also want names that are simple to spell and pronounce. Take it from me, having your name constantly misspelled can be a real pain. And I know of people who ended up having really weird nicknames because their grandparents had difficulty pronouncing their given names.

5) We thought about giving him/her a name from one of the places we went to on our honeymoon. So far, “Ayer” seems to make a good middle name (whether it’s a boy or a girl), but we’re still a little ambivalent on “Wellington” because it…well…sounds a tad bit too Chinese-y when you combine it with our surname.


Which reminds me… eep, we haven’t even started thinking about CHINESE names yet!!!!!

I'm back...and secret's out

I wasn't sure if I wanted to announce this in the blog, but my doctor told me to start a journal and rather than start one from scratch...well... okay...

Yes, I'm pregnant. Eight weeks on the way by tomorrow, to be more specific.

Thanks to all those who hazzarded guesses at my post below. Unfortunately, a promotion is in no way coming for me (I have resigned from work, will give more details on that in the future), and while a trip to Europe would've been great, I don't see that (or any other form of long-distance travelling) happenning in...oh, probably 2 years at the least.

The reason for my reticience... it's sorta kinda a delicate pregnancy. I've been spotting for about two weeks now, and my doctor has out me on bed rest. The ultrasound shows everything is okay and tehcnically, there's nothing to be alarmed about, but just to be safe, she's extended my bed rest for another THREE WEEKS. Not only can I not leave the house, I can't even leave my room. *Groan* Thankfully, there's a neverending supply of DVDs and VCDs to choose from, plus books and magazines galore. I'm also starting work on a jigsaw puzzle, which Eric doesn't want me to do so much because he feels it stresses me out.

No, I haven't been throwing up yet... Sometimes I feel nauseous in the morning but it usually dissipates after I sniff some ginger (yes, believe it or not, it works).

I haven't been feeling really sleepy or cranky (swear!!), and I don't have any food cravings yet. But my boobs are super tender and I seem to be more sensitive to noise and heat than usual.

Are Eric and I excited? A bit. Are we worried? Super. Worried if the baby is okay. Worried if we'll make good parents. Worried if the name we choose will scar our baby for life. Seriously, a friend told me that one is never really prepared to be a parent (or to be pregnant), until it's already there. Somehow, I find comfort in knowing that this is now one thing I'm not expected to be good at.

It's going to be an exciting seven months ahead (hopefully).... and hope I stay sane until the very end.