Medical intervention

We just came from the doctor to schedule Matthew for surgery. It’s just a minor one, but it still is surgery, with the use of anesthesia, IV and the OR. The boy has tongue tie, a condition that could have easily been identified had his first pedia done her job well. It would’ve have been addressed with a simple procedure too: They could’ve simply snipped the tongue free. We found out about it many months later when we switched pedias, and it was too late to do that. Since he’s older now, we need to put him to sleep. It will take a mere 15 minutes or so, we’re told. Simple, fast and easy. He can eat, drink, play as soon as we wakes up. But, man! The inconvenience and the pain and the expense…

A child (person) with tongue-tie can grow up to have a normal life, except that the chance for speech disabilities is high. For some babies, though, it could be a cause of poor eating/feeding habits. Fortunately, Matthew’s a good eater, so we postponed the surgery (since it was detected late, anyway) til now because of the entire surgical procedure.

It looks like this is what our holiday plans will consist of. But we’ll be glad to finally get this over with.

Is this week already over?

It’s amazing. It is Saturday, the day practically over, and I have nothing to show for the week. Well, that’s not entirely true, but I did want to do a lot of things, and I’m only midway through my intended activities.

* * * * *

Taking on the job of child-rearing while keeping your dayjob entails one to expect the stress and exhaustion that comes with holding two full-time jobs. Because that is exactly what the situation is. Granted that both are “flexible,” so to speak, it also means that I have agreed to be on call for both. And believe me, it is not easy.

These days, especially, I cannot be away for Matthew for more than a minute because he has recently discovered his ability to roll onto his stomach. I’ve been looking forward to the advent of tummy time and the baby seems to be delighted too, that is until he realizes that he’s syck on all fours, cannot move forwards or backwards, and that the he can barely support his weight with his arms for long. So he either plops on his side, wails for attention, or gets caught in the slats of his crib. It can be funny, but sometimes it’s a scary thing. Especially when it’s just the two of us.

Everything that I’ve taken for granted in daily life is a luxury. Like taking a bath, going to the toilet, eating lunch, watching television, or even going to the neighborhood sari-sari store. Even chores are something beyond my reach at times, and I’ve been needing to attend to those too. My days go beyond the need to be a good multi-tasker. I need to learn to manage my time and change schedules on a whim, and making everything work out at the end, too.

* * * * *

Since one of my goals this year is to learn to properly keep house, I got for myself Home Comforts (The Art and Science of Keeping House) to help me make sense of the job. I’ve yet to apply any practical learnings, in fact I can’t even aspire to be a Bree Van de Kamp at this point. (Yes, I’ve switch television empathy to Desperate Housewives from Sex and the City. In fact, to stress a point to my boss one time, I even had to use Lynette as an example: that I do not want to be giving up a career in exchange for raising terror children.)

I read at one bulletin board the words of wisdom from someone who has found her peace. That for those of us who choose to be stay-at-home moms, the choice came from the desire and intent to be with our children, and not to be perfect housekeepers. And so while it disturbs me, I will have to accept that there are nights we go to sleep that the floor will be dirty, the dishes in sink and the laundry a mess.

It amazes some that we do not have any house help. It’s partly choice and circumstance, really. I would prefer a cleaning lady to come in every week but I seem to be unlucky in finding a suitable one. And a stay-in helper is just out of the question at the moment. No yayas though. I am very thankful to have the chance to be with Matthew through the day (even if at times I do yet tired and frustrated), because how else do I (or Armand) will have a chance to witness his firsts? His first smile, the first guffaws, the first time he rolls over, the first time he enjoys his bath. With a baby every thing is a milestone.

Keeping house will just have to be less prioritized. But the book remains on my night stand.

* * * * *

I have, however, been quite conscientious with my CSS tutorials, and I hope to finish the entire thing by tomorrow. I have dedicated a notebook to it for future reference and am already mapping out how I will test my learnings.

Certainly, when I’ve learned enough, another revamp will be in order.

* * * * *

But it’s not a tiresome life, not at all. Exhausting maybe, but such is what entails full days.

The past Tuesday was Armand’s birthday. He brought me and Matthew to his office for lunch. For dinner, while my mom babysat, we went out to dinner. I apparently do not learn the lessons that come with over-eating. To make up for our last Japanese dinner, we decided to go to Saikono, for all-you-can-eat teppan and sushi. It may not be high-end Japanese fare, and sometimes they do go heavy with the soy, but we were delighted at the chance to be gluttons. Suffice to say, we did ourselves proud in stuffing our bellies. I had barely recovered from my last eating expedition, and there I was at it again!

A quick visit to Fully Booked had us salivating in a different way. I didn’t even have the chance to scour through the art and design books this time as I found myself enthralled in the history section. So many things to acquire and read! And then I spotted Isabel Allende books in Spanish! I promised myself to finally master the language so I can one day collect them all.

* * * * *

Tonight, there’s the baby’s laundry to accomplish and maybe a few minutes for my tutorials. Matthew’s asleep and Armand’s tinkering with a new guitar, so I’d really like to enjoy some quiet time. Even just an hour would suffice. Yes, I’ve some magazines that will do to end my night nicely.

Wide awake, and need to sleep

Yesterday, I mopped the floor of our living area clean and felt immensely proud of myself afterwards. Since I fired my weekly cleaner, there’s been a lot of clutter and mess that gets left around with all busy and hectic days I’ve had. And it has affected me very much: I find it harder to focus, I am distracted, and I get cranky easily. I just can’t live with a polluted environment.

But more so than that, I feel that with a clean floor I have finally made a dent into my long list of things to do. It was a sign of progress. I had even proclaimed the other night that I needed to decompress, and thus I will be cleaning and should not be bothered. Strange, I know, but it’s my thing. And it seems to be working.

* * *

While I’ve been working things out on the work end with countless meetings and projects that are taking longer to complete, I’d also finally agreed to enroll Matthew in Gymboree classes for several reasons, including getting him out of a cramped house and to expose him to other children. So far, so good. He’s only had one class so far, and yes he cried at the end after being overwhelmed with the new experience, but as we’ve also been utilizing the unlimited gymplay privilege, the place has become an extended home—or at least, a playground—that the entire family is loving at the moment.

Armand was with Matthew for the first class, which is basically a play class, and I plan to be the one to take him to music class. It’s a good chance for me to have some quality time with my son, before things take off and I’ll need to compromise again.

* * *

So it’s 4am and I guess I’ve screwed up my body clock. With an active toddler around, there’s no real downtime for me to get work done at home, not until the whole house is asleep and I am all alone for some hours. There is much fluidity in my days, that it’s hard to contain anything, but I try, and things work out somehow. Luckily, everything eventually falls into place.

The only thing I regret is that I don’t seen anyone anymore outside of work-related activities. Thankfully, the people I work with people happened to be friends (or, uhm, family), but it’s nice to just be out and not have to say “So, what’s our next step? When do we meet again?” And movies? What are those? It’s not a biggie, time flies so much I don’t even know what I’m missing, but with all the good word about 300, I realize I am the world’s walking loser at the moment.

* * *

I believe I must add another thing on my to-do list: ME TIME. Even if I’m not in the danger of breaking down or stressing out, I seem to be forgetting what it means to just slow down for a while and realize that there are some things that can wait. I used to make myself a cup of hot chocolate at night and pop in a DVD at the end of the day, and I miss that. It’s an easy ritual that calms me down and works well as a simple pleasure. Yes, yes, that’s a good idea. I’ll do that tonight.

The absurd and inane events that filled up my recent days

Two Thursdays ago, I received a really strong blow. It was the middle of the night, and my 15-month old son had headbutt me right on my mouth. In the impact, I bit my lip, it bled, and then it got swollen. It was painful and downright ugly. While I winced and cried, the child continued to sleep, mindless of the accident that has happened.

The next day, I looked like an abused woman. It wasn’t too bad though—I was still able to make it to a meeting in the morning and go to the Light and Show exhibition opening that night, manage attending an out-of-town funeral on Saturday afternoon and a production meeting back in Manila on Saturday evening. Come Sunday, things started to change.

My swollen lip had become uglier, as it was now pestered with a sore. It was at that point that my week was determined to be a constant blend of work and pain, what with all the deadlines and important appointments I had already set. In fact, I had an important meeting that could spell salvation or disaster to my career life coming up that week—things couldn’t have had worse timing that they had at that point.

So on Wednesday, I go to a dentist and ask if they can treat the problem. The dentist recommended prophylaxis to sterilize the area and for my sore to be burned with an acid. I was scared but I bravely agreed. It would be anesthetized anyway, so I was fine with that; I simply told them to make sure I don’t see the needle.

Now, here’s the very interesting part when the smart dentist tells me after the treatment, “O, don’t go to any parties first ha.” What?! I thought. There’s downtime? I texted Armand to meet me and told him I had a fat lip, which was an understatement. I was so hideously deformed, I didn’t know how I was going to show up at my meeting the next day and convince the people there that I was a credible, solid partner for a business venture. Half my lower lip was so swollen I couldn’t speak well. I felt so bad because Armand had an all-nighter work that night, and I couldn’t properly read to Matthew his bedtime stories. Luckily, I had a very wide-eyed child who looked at me with so much love like nothing has changed, and forgave me for garbling his stories. But what about the next day? I began thinking of texting my business partner that I had a medical condition that would sabotage our presentation.

After a night of preparing for our presentation, I slept my anxieties away. Somehow, the swelling had died down and I was a little bit presentable, minus that blackened spot on my lip. Maybe I can be charming and engaging and confident and no one will notice. So off I went to my meeting, which went without a hitch by the way.

This past Sunday, however, when I was supposed to be weaning off the painkillers, the pain was so great that I had to beg to be taken to the ER. There, the doctor took one look at my prescription and said that my antibiotics weren’t strong enough. Images of my mouth turning into one big infected sore scared me right through, but not enough to distract me from my pain. I proclaimed my pain to be a 10 (when asked to rate it), and I was given my new set of medication which included what is one the best discoveries in my life: a gargle that has anesthesia in it. In a few minutes, my painkiller had stopped the insane stinging and my mouth started to feel numb. Ah, heaven, finally. Let’s stock up on that gargle.

I no longer look like an abused woman, but while I’m waiting to be completely healed I seem to have fallen into the unsightly habit of letting my lower lip hang out. I also am addicted to my gargle—which, by the way, I ran out of today, and had to go to the drugstore for, only to find out I left my prescription and that I didn’t know the name and ended up adoring the pharmacist who correctly identified it for me.

So now I am able to update my blogs again while I take breaks from my long list of things to do and as I count the hours to my next dosage of the ultra-strong painkiller I’m on.

This is certainly one of the longest two weeks I’ve known. And now, it’s the beginning of another work week—but where was my weekend? I must have lost it somewhere in between my lip-busting episode and my days of wincing. But tomorrow, I promise, I will be back to being a respectable and sane person. I’ve got my meds to make sure that happens.

Work and Baby

In an episode of Sex and the City, new mom Miranda is having a frustrating time trying to stop her baby from crying. He wasn’t hungry, or sleepy, or wet. Help comes in the surprising form of a neighbor, who lends a vibrating chair that instantly lulls Brady to silence. The neighbor asks Miranda how comes she’s never heard of the device. Why haven’t any of her friends told her about it. Miranda says that she’s the only one with a baby, to which the neighbor exclaims that Miranda’s in trouble. “If they don’t have babies, they have no idea.”

It’s a line that rings loud and true. For me, anyway. I assume that’s the reason why I find myself more compassionate towards the woman with a screaming child in the elevator. Because I know what it’s like. I get the same understanding looks in the malls from other fellow parents—it’s almost like we’re in some secret club.

There must be something that bonds parents, strangers or not, together. Somehow, we all are going through the same things: the same worries about our children’s futures, the daily fatigue that comes with caring for a hyper toddler, the unexplainable joys that come with being a parent.

It breaks boundaries between people too, I’ve discovered. Recently, at a business meeting, talk turned into the kinds of concerns that arise with putting up and running a business. Somehow it turned out that I was talking to someone who understood all my apprehensions about wanting to be a hands-on parent while pursuing a career. What was most interesting was that I was facing a very successful businessman, some twenty years my senior, and he understood my dream of working in a progressive company that would not take it against me if I need to prioritize the welfare of my child. Because, apparently, he was thinking the same thing. We are both aggressive with work, yet we are also apprehensive of leaving our kids alone with nannies (mainly because we don’t have the familial/grandparent/in-law support system that most Filipinos seem to have), so one of the spouses need to take the parenting job in a more full-time manner. We conjured up a dream of having a daycare where we work, where our children are attended to by qualified care givers, a place we can go to during coffee breaks and lunch breaks easily and quickly.

So it happens that when I do see other parents, strangers or not, I wonder how they’re coping. What they’re doing to secure a solid future for their family without sacrificing being present in the here and now of their child’s days.

It makes me see my friends with kids in a new light, seeing now how much they have sacrificed and how hard they have worked to make sure that their children are happy and healthy. But how do they do it? At the end of the day, one really has to find her own parenting style, and make an objective assessment of circumstances and goals.

One of the difficulties of being a mother, for me, is the dilemma of having to decide on what to prioritize at any given time. How can I work if I know my child needs attention? How can I take care of my son well if I’m distracted about pending deadlines? Without the proper support system, the working mother model is doomed to fail.

Having an honest, open and strong relationship with your spouse is also key. I would never have survived the pressure and stress without my husband’s dedication to caring for our son when I need to be away. We had, after all, made a decision that one of us has to be completely available to our son, unless we find a good substitute to care for him while we are busy. I was lucky that he meant it and stuck to the deal.

So now I continue to take things a day at a time, except that now I keep an eye on an ideal situation. I work when I can, I rest when I can, I attend to chores and other obligations when I can, and then the remainder of my time is to take care of Matthew. It’s not something to complain about, not at all. Not now that at every moment there is a potential new discovery, a new thing to laugh about, a new thing to accomplish. I had already missed a lot of firsts in Matthew’s early months, and while sad, it was necessary.

Hence, I really need to keep my eye on that dream and see if I can find a way to approximate it. So I can finally be in a working situation that won’t prevent me to miss too many moments with Matthew. And my son will have a mother who is less-stressed, even as she works her way to a successful career.