I Heart D

They say that a good part of a photographer's artistry comes from the ability to see the extraordinary out of everyday things. To see things that others may have overlooked.

In an attempt to achieve this, I went around Greenbelt Park and discovered a "D" that Mother Nature had carved on a tree trunk.

I didn't add a heart on it, nor carve out David's name, lest the guards chase me out of the area. 

But I did take a photo while resisting the urge to hug that tree.

A Fish By Any Other Name

Going through a picture book, Charly spots a picture of a fish.

She points to it and says "Fish".

"Pescado".

And for good measure, "Isda".

Our multi-lingual baby. 

Thursday Night

I've always loved Thursdays. Not quite Friday, yet close enough to the weekend.

And I had the perfect Thursday night last night.

I put Charly to bed, where we had a good old girls' snuggle. She patted my cheek and said "Mom, you ok?" (she always asks this when I'm sick, and last night, I had a cough). She's very thoughtful, that kid.

I said "Yes, bear, I'm ok."

"Mom?"

"Yes?" I asked, hugging her close.

"I love you, Mom" she said patting my cheek again and smiling, before drifting off to sleep.

"I love you too, bear, all the way to the moon. And back."

I crept out of her room and joined the hubby and snuggled in bed to catch the new season of Heroes. 

Back to back snuggles with my favorite girl and best guy.

This is what life's all about.

The Nanny

By now, most of you know that our nanny hunt has introduced us to a cast of colorful characters.

My mom, out of desperation, called the Parish Office at San Antonio Church in Forbes Park, asking to be referred to the agency that most expats use.

Her call yielded 3 biodatas of nanny wannabes with "experience as caregiver" listed as accomplishments.

One had barely a year experience in caring for children.

The other was an X-ray technician (the last time I looked we didn't have any equipment in the house, I wonder how this would contribute to caring for Charly).

The last one was the winner of the lot.

Proudly attached to her caregiving certificates was a document from the Philippine Overseas Employment Agency (POEA) and a Japanese Employment agency listing her previous salary at USD $1,500 / month.

Past work experience: Dancer / Entertainer. Read: Japayuki.

Perhaps they thought her dancing skills would help rock Charly to sleep?

Excuse me while I put a garbage bin over my head and start banging against a wall.

Tits

Charly was tucked in for the night and ready for her bedtime story (did I say story? More like stories as we usually have at least half a dozen runs).

"Tits, mom" she says "I want tits".

Flabbergasted, I said "What did you say?"

Charly giggles and pushes a big book of stories at me. "Tits" she repeated clearly as if I was a bit weak in the head. 

I played along, "Well, bear, seeing as how I'm not short in that department, you'll get yours soon enough." Ok, now I was just talking to myself and just tripping out over the funny things kids can sometimes say. But then most new moms have these moments in abundance.

"Dad dad reads tits" she calmly explained to me, making me wonder what they read when I'm away.

I flipped through the big children's stories collection book as she was eagerly grabbing at it. She finally zeroed in on a short story entitled "TITCH". She always did have trouble with her s and tch's. Laughing again, she looked relieved and said "Please read Titch".

Oh. 

Bad mom.

Mom-nesia

I used to have a frighteningly good memory. Better than an elephant's.

Seriously. 

I could sit in meetings and whip out minutes without taking much notes. I could remember who said what and when and quote them on it. It drove my office staff crazy.

But ever since my C-section operation where I had this wonderful thing called anesthesia (or is it amnesia), I have said goodbye to a lot of things. My waistline, boobs that didn't need underwire support, and most of all, my remarkable memory.

I always used to remember names. I was good at connecting a face to a name and was never stumped for an impromptu introduction.

But these past few weeks, I have had people add me as their friend on Facebook (see, I'm not so old after all), and I could not for the life of me recall who they were. It was horibble. Even after staring at their pictures, I could not muster up enough memory to remember where I met them.

One time, I had to actually ASK. It was embarrassing, I tell you.

I recall an old Erma Bombeck strip saying, "Of all the things I lost, I miss my mind the most".

Funny, yes. But as far as new moms go, with everything we juggle on a daily basis, coupled with the lingering after-effects of c-section anesthesia, it sometimes strikes me as frighteningly true.

Lists and memo pads are now my best friends.

Shutterbuggin'

After almost 2 years in hibernation (a sign that corporate stress had surely taken over parts of my life), I finally dug out my Canon EOS 400D and got to know her better outside of (gasp!) auto mode.

Going around Greenbelt Park, I zoomed in on interesting things that never caught my attention sans camera.

Do I now literally have time to stop and smell the flowers? Most definitely.

My Baby Can Read

Charly has a number of bedtime stories that she likes us to read to her over and over again. Among her all-time favorites are her Mini Masters board books. 

There are times that David and I read them to her over and over that we can practically memorize them.

However, I was still surprised when she actually started "reading" aloud a "A Magical Day with Matisse" to me. Word for word. The entire small book.

David has been teaching her how to read and I know that babies have a tendency to remember what they hear. Still nothing had prepared me to actually have Charly reading - mostly from memory, some from remembering how certain words look like - an entire book to me.

It was like role reversal. My baby reading to me, instead of me reading to her, as we snuggled up in bed.

Very P.C.

Me:  "Who's mom's baby?"

Charly:  "Toddler, mom. I'm a toddler."

Sniff. She's no longer a baby, and she knows it. 

She's now officially a toddler. And a very politically correct one at that.

Monday Mornings

Nice sunny weather. Cool breeze by the pool. 

Just me and my favorite girl.

Monday Blues? NOT.