Back with a vengeance

It has been a crazy month for me at work, and an especially crazy couple of weeks of board meetings and report preparation. Plus the fact that i had been too lazy to write these past few weeks.And no, i am not pregnant. (I had to insert this statement because people at work have been joking around that i might be pregnant again due to my recent healthy food fad)

Now, move on to more important things.

Qube has already turned 11 months and I was not able to chronicle his 9-10 milestones. His social initiation officially started at 9 months and he’s been doing great in all parties that he has been into. I hope he’ll be as bubbly during his own party come December.

Here’s a list of Qube’s “big ticket” events that I was not able to write about:

• First Family Day at ALI (September 30) – This will be the first of (hopefully) many happy family days in ALI that I will celebrate with Qube and his dad. And the highlight of this day’s event? Qube winning the youngest male guest award! Nevernind that he was not really the youngest there, because as I was about to run up the stage to claim our prize, I saw several infant guests who, I am sure, are way way younger than my Qube. I therefore conclude that those kids were late for the registration.

• First birthday / costume party @ Uno (October 8 or 15) – First birthday party attendance and first time to meet Papa’s friends and their kids, Qube’s future drinking buddies, I suppose.

 

• First ever concert: LIBERA @ the Cultural Center of the Philippines (October 25) – Christmas began early as the family watched Libera’s Christmas concert. Our reason for watching? These kids’ songs serve as Qube’s lullabye even before he was born. He must have realized too that the sound seems familiar because he started shouting and singing along amid the stillness of the crowd. It was amusing, of course, but the ushers apparently weren’t as amused as I was because they later on came to tell us to hold Qube’s version of “Joy to the World” to some other time. Well, not exactly, but it was to that effect.

 

• First swimming party @ Tita Hershey’s chubhouse (October 31) – Maybe it was the prersence of other kids, maybe because Kuya Jigs was still there swimming and playing. Or maybe Qube is just a water person, because he did not want to leave the pool even when his fingers and toes had already shrunk from being submerged in water for quite a time. And this swimming proved to be just the first of other similar events. (However, no photo to show for this because we did not yet have the money to buy the high-end, high-powered camera that I want)

• First Halloween party at ALI (October 28) – My little devil donned in a little red devil costume. And he brought home a witch’s pot full of candies which he could not eat anyway.

 

• First movie in a cinema: HAPPY FEET in Glorietta 4 (November 26) – It would have been “Puss in Boots” in Greenbelt. But when we went there a few weeks ago to watch (because we did not check the schedule online), we were dismayed to know that we arrived past the last screening time on that Sunday night. So, when we decided to watch “Happy Feet 2”, we were at the malls as early as 11am to ensure that we would not miss the movie and to get the best possible seats. Everything was according to plan, except that when we were about to enter the cinema, the guards blocked us because we only have four tickets, and those tickets are for me, Papa, Tita Let and Yaya. They were asking us to purchase a ticket for Qube, who is 11months old and who was even asleep when we entered! To make the long story short, and because a queue is already forming outside, we gave in and just asked Tita Let to go to the booths to buy another ticket.

And because Qube paid for his ticket, he now had the right to shout to his heart’s content and enjoy the movie any way he wants! That he did, and neither I nor Papa made any effort to stop him. Afterall, there is an extra unoccupied seat that we were asked to pay for. Surely, Qube’s way of enjoying the movie would not inconvenience anyone.

There was no way to compromise, so now we’re living SEPARATE LIVES.

My Medela sits forlorn on top of our dinner table.

And there’s a part of me that feels guilty each morning when I leave without my not-so-little black bag that has become my closest companion since I resumed work after my two-month maternity leave.

Before this week, the longest goodbye that I could endure between me and my Medela Swing is four hours. Beyond this length of time is inconceivable. Long separations from it are literally painful and heavy to the chest.

So, you see, this relationship is really very intimate and is incomparable to anything I have had or am still having with anyone. You can even say that I have been too clingy and dependent in this case. And this has been going on for more than nine months, which is also longer than most past relationships that I’ve had.

Most importantly, this is the only relationship that did not disappoint me. All that was promised, it delivered. It gave and did not take anything in return. (Well, except for my initial investment which is, of course, necessary in every relationship.) It secured for me unrivaled benefits that not even the father of my son could provide.

But numerous demands at work leave me no time to nurture this relationship. That is why I have to give this up.

But no, this is not total non-commitment – because, as in all relationships, getting over does not happen overnight. And, in my case, I relapse much too often.

So, every night, when I arrive home from work – after kissing my Qube and asking how his day was – I lock myself up in our bedroom to have a little private time with my Medela.

And emerge right back with two 5-ounce bottles full of breast milk.To be stored for Qube’s consumption the following morning.

Footnote: Despite having given up my pump-at-work routine, I am still night nursing Qube, and hope to do so in the months to come.

You got me stranded (in your smile).

Reposted from my facebook notes. Dated May 22, 2011

Just this morning, you flashed me your beautiful toothless grin and there, I decided I want to spend another hour in bed with you – all the while knowing that by doing so, I’d have to cramp taking a bath, getting dressed, kissing you and your Papa goodbye into the 10-minute window I have left before heading to work, then returning from the door to give you another round of kisses.

And just this morning, while walking down the flight of stairs from 501, I thought of how much you’ve grown from the 4-pound little boy that we brought home from the hospital last December 24. You can now sit by yourself in your wheels (that is how your papa and I refer to your stroller) – a milestone that I proudly shared to my fellow moms at work – my Qube is becoming independent na.

I remembered how small and fragile you were when we brought you home. And you were yellow – as in jaundiced yellow.

Sunbathing to remove the yellow.

Qube at 8 days.

But being the little fighter that you are, you got over the jaundice, grown at the pace that your pedia has had a hard time believing, and turned into quite a looker. In fact, as early as now, girls already swoon over you. Of course, I am on top of the list. The English-speaking-pretty-five-or- something-little girl in BHS who came from nowhere and started kissing you the last time we were there,  the strangers who stop us in malls and at the airport to greet you and to ask if you are of foreign blood and not to be outdone are your Lolas and Titas who are understandably biased towards you.

There are many other small things about you that I should have written from day one. But I got so engrossed witnessing and marveling at your day to day growth that I couldn’t get myself to leave you, to write. Besides, we take photos of you every day… and if there’s any truth to the saying that a picture paints a thousand words, there would be several volumes of books about you by now.

But you see, I realized that it’s not enough. So while you are asleep beside me, I decided to start writing. And there will be separate stories about your first smile, your first turn, your refusal to do “close-open” until now and your papa’s insistence that it’s still too early to push you to “close-open” your hands, your first real laugh, your excitement when you want me to get/hold you, and many many others.

Happy fifth month Qube.

Eighth Highlights.

Technically, it’s still during the eighth month.

Went home last Friday with a not-so-good mood and a giant headache. I was greeted by a smiling Qube doing The “Close-Open.”

Was i happy? I was ecstatic and the giant headache suddenly vanished!

Before the eighth month ends, let me count the ways that Qube made me smile on this particular month:

1. Close – Open: When we had just about given up on him learning to do it.

Starting on his 3nd month, we had been trying to teach him this, but he always seemed oblivious to my and his dad’s efforts.

But last Friday, when I arrived and Yaya asked him to show me – he closed his fist tightly, then opened it to show his palm, then he did it two more times. There was no mistaking it; he was really doing The Close – Open!

The catch? He refuses to do it more than twice a day. Or twice to the same person. Stubborn little imp.

2. Dance, dance: Nobody taught him. Well, I am not sure if Yaya did, but since both I and his dad never learned how to dance properly, we simply did not include it in our agenda to teach Qube. Maybe his daily dose of Showtime is to blame.

We just noticed one night that each time the Dell Fabric Conditioner commercial comes up on TV, he would suddenly turn and stare intently at the TV. Then he would begin swaying his head and move his body in tune with the jingle. That is when we recognized that he was dancing. Several more of  “May one rinse na ang Dell, may one rince na ang Dell…” sang by yours truly, confirmed our theory that he was indeed dancing to the TV jingle.

Now, his repertoire includes: Gotta Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas, Pokerface by Lady Gaga, On the Floor by J. Lo, The Time (Dirty Bit) by Black Eyed Peas, The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani and Akon, and a selection of nursery rhymes and bedtime songs.

Oh, and yes, he dances when he likes his food.

3. Clap them softly 1, 2, 3: The first few times he did it should not be counted. Because they were so random and not connected with any particular emotion.

This time, he claps when he is happy, when he sees something on TV that delights him, when he sees Mama about to pick him up, when he is playing with Leopard (his Animaland stuffed bestfriend), when he is playing peek-a-boo with Papa, when he dances.

4. Alive, Awake, Alert, Enthusiastic: Whenever I arrive home from work, I always try to sneak to the bathroom, have a drink of water, change my clothes, before I show myself to Qube. Else, he would be jumping with outstretched arms and shouting “Mama”, and I would not be able to disengage myself from him until a few hours later.

And every day after work, at playtime, he’d start to babble animatedly, hold his breath, tense his body, and squeal. He always does this when he is excited or when he is very eager to talk. And always, I’d have to rub him on his back to make him relax and just try to talk slowly.

5. Crawling little pig everywhere: By now, I’m getting used to turning towards my back first before making any move, to be sure that I would not be stepping on a crawling Qube, because he now makes his presence known in every nook of our apartment.

At eight months, we could no longer just sit and watch TV peacefully. It would always be either me or Papa chasing Qube everywhere.

One of these days, I might just tie him on a leash. Promise.

6. Bedtime singing: I’ve already mentioned in another blog entry that whenever I sing him to sleep, he’s start to slap my face and take over my singing. He does it every night.

Last night, because I want to tease him and test his singing prowess, I started singing in a falsetto. And he did the same!

But because I do not want to make false claims when I boast this to friends, and especially when I write about it, I modified my singing to use my normal voice. And he hummed in his normal voice. Still, not contented because it might have been just a coincidence, I again sang in falsetto voice. And yes, my Qube also began humming in falsetto.

Well, picture me smiling smugly to the husband*. The baby took after me, afterall.

There are many more little things that Qube does to make us proud parents believe that he is the best eight-month old there is today. But of course, all proud parents think this too.

This ends our amazing – eight journey.

Welcome to nine months, Qube.

Bukol Survival Tips

Qube got his first bump in the head last night while playing with Papa. With how both father and son reacted, i cannot be sure who between them was more hurt.

Qube hardly cries whenever he tumbles to the floor, hit whatever part of his body with his toys, with the door, chairs, or even when he accidentally head butts me. But last night, he was fighting the urge, but let out a sniffle anyway. And it took several more minutes before he recovered to his usual self.

His usual self can be described by flashing back to 30 minutes before his minor accident:

I was singing “Are you lonesome tonight?” – this is his bedtime song – while feeding and trying to put Qube to sleep, when he pulled himself away from me, stood up, and sort of took over my singing (yes, he does that! I’ll probably have to cam cord it as proof.), prompting his Papa and kuya Jigz (who is on school break and came here for a visit) to come inside the bedroom and witness his little show.

Realizing that he had more than his usual audience, the singing turned to dancing and tumbling around while being held and restrained by his dad.

Then it happened.

Maybe I should still be thankful that Papa’s teeth didn’t fall as a result. Though he swears that it is really painful, which I totally believe because Qube once hit me with his head and my upper lip ruptured.

—

For similar future events, which I am told is inevitable, here’s my to do list:  

Stay calm. And tell the dad not to panic (because he has the tendency to overreact). I can tell from very limited experience that Qube’s reactions (crying, shock, etc.) are especially influenced by the expression of everyone else around him (e.g., the flower on his hair, the Ildefonso incident). 

Kiss, kiss. Both the bukol on Qube’s head or any other part which might have been hurt. When I was a child, a kiss from my mom always takes away 80% of the pain. I intend to pass on the tradition to my own kids.

Ice, ice, baby. This one is no myth. And I am copy/pasting my internet research as support: Applying an ice pack will decrease the eventual size of the bump. Apply the ice for 20 minutes and then take a 5-minute break, then 20 minutes again. Offer your child a treat to eat during the icing to console him.

Although for Qube, I did not need to offer anything else. The feel of the cold on his skin was enough to amaze him and stop him from squirming free of my embrace.    

Check for cuts, blood. Though if there is any, it would be hardly negligible. I was told though that cuts on the face, scalp area bleed much more than other areas of the body.  If there is bleeding, apply pressure to the cut using a clean washcloth with ice. The wash cloth, well, washes away the blood while the ice prevents the blood vessels from swelling. Basta, do it daw.  

Calpol. Whenever Qube has his monthly vaccine, his pedia always asks us to give him Calpol or Tempra every 4 hours to relieve the pain. Internet research suggests that this works as well for cuts, bruises, bumps and similar minor injuries.

But since the “kiss to the injured part” worked already, I saw no need to administer Calpol, though I’ve made it a point to have one handy, for emergency use which I am glad never happens. 

Go out for a stroll. To help erase the memory, the dad strongly advises taking Qube out for a walk. (Just like how the husband* goes out for a walk and a yosi whenever he is finding it hard to put up with yours truly)

True enough, after the walk and play outside, Qube was again jumping and kicking and screaming in delight, as if nothing happened just a few minutes earlier.

—

When I locked us inside the bedroom for another attempt to put him to sleep, Qube was humming with me to the tune of “Are you lonesome tonight?” while his mouth latched on my left breast to feed. And his left hand was alternating between pulling my other breast and slapping my chest in rhythm with our goodnight song.

TGIF and Friday thank yous.

Believe me, if most part of your nights are spent breast feeding an insatiable baby, and your work days monitoring the time for your next pumpsession and the number of ounces you express everyday, you’ll be as obsessed as i am to discuss this topic.

Scenario 1:
I was telling the husband* (asterisk stands for “almost”) yesterday that the child of my pumpmate at our company clinic yesterday is almost 2 years of age.

Husband* said: “So, you are seeing yourself 16 months from now”.

The initial goal was two months (baby steps)… which then became six months and, before yesterday, was fixed at nine months.

Now the goal is not to live forever, but to pump forever?

Scenario 2:
Also yesterday, while snacking on Country Style’s chocolate doughnuts, i casually mentioned to the husband* that i have not been taking Natalac for several months now.

Husband* said: “Wow. Means you’re really becoming an expert at it. You are Supermom!”
Me: “No. I am Supercow!”

Now i know why i used to love this game:

But no, i am not complaining. If anything, i am very happy to have someone who totally supports me, who encourages and pushes me on when i am losing faith in my capacity to produce enough milk for Qube.

And of course, no small part is played by The Best Nanny in the World who, in her own way, continues to support my breast feeding profession:

• who has learned fast that Qube’s main source of nourishment should be breast milk. And that he is to be fed infant formula only, and only, when there is no more frozen pumped milk;
• who, by now, knows that my temper shoots up whenever there is excess unconsumed breast milk in the sink;
• who, despite the lure of the easy mixture of water and powdered formula, coupled with a crying and impatient baby, chooses to patiently thaw chilled milk everyday;
• who persistently packs an extra pumping bottle for me everyday, even when in the past two weeks, i was not able produce enough to fill those bottles. But maybe because of the pressure of seeing an extra empty bottle, i am now able to produce a few more ounces, to get rid of the empty-bottle malady.

So, given this overwhelming support, i guess i am really off to Supermom-hood. I just hope my Medela can cope with the pressure.

Bite me.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you” has lately become my regular saying whenever i am with Qube.

A joke that he does not yet get, but one that i keep on repeating nonetheless because i love how his Dad reacts and shakes his head, as if wondering how in ef’s world did his Qube end up with a crazy mom who talks in idioms. And i love how Qube looks up to smile at me after i say those words, as if confirming his Dad’s thoughts.

But really, i am not talking figuratively whenever i say that to Qube because, at 7 months, Qube literally bites everything, my hands included. Put him down on the bed and he’ll surely attack Panda’s and Leopard’s noses, Turtle’s head, Spongebob’s arms and feet, blankets, pillowcases, mobile phones, everything. Give him his frozen teethers and he’ll chew on them nonstop, a stranger would think we are not feeding him enough (if not for his very plump arms and legs).

Last week, his first front tooth appeared and just the other day, i noticed two of them already. Given this recent development, i might now revise my saying into: “Don’t bite the breasts that feed you”, which i am sure will make Qube’s dad cringe even more, especially because i am posting this for the public to read.

And yes, i am talking about breastfeeding and my now emerging fear of  being Qube’s human teether.  But biting or no biting, i still hope to continue breastfeeding Qube long after his next sets of teeth appear.

Here are pics of Qube at seven months (totally unrelated to this teething entry):

No teeth yet. No pics with teeth yet.

Qube shouting "Mama!"