Anak ka ng PETA!

6,000 hogs joined the death row earlier this week. The hogs tested positive for Ebola-Reston. To avoid further transmission of the virus, experts recommended that the hogs  be killed, burned and buried.

Red tide on fish. Formalin on vegies. Melamine on milk and dairy products (and my favorite Meiji Dark Chocolate!). Surprisingly, these gastronomic threats didn’t bother me as much as Ebola-Reston on pigs did.

Perhaps it did not help that a couple of days after the Ebola news aired, some folks were reported selling double-dead pigs in the metropolis. There wasn’t any direct link between the double dead pigs and the Ebola-Reston junkies. But when these sound and video bytes air on the same week, on the same show, on the same TV, and I’m sitting on the same couch, housed on the same home, next to the same (of course) husband with the same unborn baby in my womb – IT IS SO EASY TO BE SCARED.

What if the adobo I cooked last week came from the ranks of the dead hog walking? I also cooked binagoongang baboy this week. What if that’s infected meat too?

When fear (of cooking, serving and eating viand with Ebola-Reston as side-dish) and anger (to the double dead pig entrepreneurs) collide, violence becomes an instinctive response. So I do not feel any guilt for wanting to destroy the face of this PETA member that  demanded a “quick, painless, humane death” for the 6,000 infected pigs. The pig goddess went as far as to demand that she and her pig-hugging friends be allowed to witness the massacre of the Ebola-Reston infected tribe.

Context. We are a POOR country. The Department of Agriculture cannot even afford to spend one bullet per pig. I don’t know if she knew what she was talking about but I am quite sure that when death is linked to “quick, painless and humane” it means EXPENSE.

Is PETA going to pay for the lovely death of their lovely friends? Maybe. But until they can say, “we will usher these pigs to pig heaven through ____ and we will cover all costs because we have filthy rich endorsers” then they should all just fucking zip it. Advocacy is a verb. It’s not a rhetorical masterpiece.

If you love animals so much, then live with them. Share your bed with a pig. Take your shower with a cow. Or go to Malabon zoo. Find a way to be surrounded by hungry crocodiles. And when you’re about to turn into croco-crunch, think of how faithful you were to non-violence until your very last pathetic breath.

We’re all entitled to believe, live and die for something.

You love animals, fine. You cannot stand cruelty against animals, fine. I am carnivorous. I have meat to protect. Our means to meat protection can be different. I’m ok with kill, burn and bury. You’re not. So what are you going to do about it? If you can only raise your fist and scream like a banshee that pigs are friends, just get out of the way.


Tell me how

As D Day nears (Potling’s turning 32 weeks on Friday), more and more things to do-buy-decide on-discsuss are emerging. There’s one that I cannot seem to decide on.

I’ve been told to cut my hair.

Mom-friends shared the challenge of having to maintain long hair while taking care of a baby – breastfreeding included. But how can one say goodbye to something as pretty-ful as this?



I grew my hair for the past three years in anticipation of our wedding. I wanted long hair on D Day. This pic was taken from that day… And I wasn’t so happy with the length yet – but was quite elated with the magic that hair gel and my own hands did (no curling needed hah!). I want longer hair on our “real wedding.” And I cannot afford to cut my hair now  if that’s the target.

As I was gently combing my hair using my fingers this morning, I made a pact with my fiesty locks.

We will rock this world.

With Honors

I barely remember the things that the reverend minister said during THE Ceremony. There is, however, one specific line that really got stuck inside my head. It was like the voice of God, Zeus, or Michael Buffer. 

He told me to take care of the name that Sharksfin gave me.

“Ingatan mo ang pangalang ibinigay niya sa ‘yo.”

I associate this line with – HONOR. As in, honor thy husband.

At 27, I feel that I have a very limited understanding of what it means to honor a husband. I think it means that

  • cheating is not allowed
  • cheating – regardless of human dimension   intellectual, emotional, social, spiritual, physical, etc. – is not allowed
  • cheating – regardless of manifestation,verbal, non-verbal, written, etc. – is not allowed
  • wife should not engage in any act that will embarass and hurt her husband
  • wife should obey husband – of course after diplomatic negotiations and dialogues
  • wife should respect husband and demonstrate it all the time (ex. consultation/conversation before making any decisions that will affect their shared time, resources, space, etc.)
  • even when it’s difficult, wife should always be on her husband’s side. Disagreements are to be discussed in private. In the public domain, they are one.
  • support the husband’s process of becoming (got this from a book about wedding vows) – maximum tolerance and patience to be exercised

These  are some of the things I already know (think I know). What I need to discover is how Sharksfin wants to be honored.

My mind wanders… in exchange of honoring the name supposedly “given” to us wives, what do we get? Let’s say, for some reason, husbands are suddenly told to “HONOR THY WIVES,” how would wives like to be honored?

Well… I’d go for the bullets I enumerated. Golden  rule. Plus there’s one more.

I don’t want my husband to be seen inside a girly bar.

And it’s not an issue of trust. It’s an issue of honor and respect.

Ehem… Ehem…

Guysh… anong petsa na?

Ang mga pangako ha?

Tinatawagan lahat ng marunong bumasa at sumulat.

Dadda’s Wrath

I am extremely fascinated with Sharksfin’s ways and means of expressing disappointment/aggression/anger (except when I am the root cause of a negative emotional response). 

Yesterday, Sharksfin’s officemate found out that the baby brewing in her tummy is a boy. The officemate followed her news with a killer statement – “ayan may ka-love team na si Potling.” Sharksfin managed to come up with a courteous reply – “oo nga.” 

The statement solicited an angry thought balloon from the dadda-to-be. Last night, on our way home, he recounted the conversation with a S N A R L. And since I find these rare “emotional” outbursts fascinating, I used the statement several times to irk the king.

Earlier this morning, Sharksfin and I were talking to Potling. He said, good morning Potling! I said “Uy potling, may ka-love team ka na. Mag-aasawa ka na?”

My statement earned a resounding…


I love it!

Breast Pump and Butterflies

We bought an electric breast pump last Saturday. My swollen elephant legs and feet couldn’t take my weight anymore so I just decided to sit in one of the waiting areas while Sharksfin looked for an adaptor for the key to Potling’s nourishment.

Since it was the day of hearts, the mall owners set up a little concert in the busiest area near the supermarket. While waiting for Sharksfin, the violinist and pianist played “Butterfly Kisses.” I liked this song from the first time I heard it in 1997 (thanks 96.3 WRock).  During my last year in high school, I dreamt of using it for my bridal march. “That” didn’t happen but 4 years ago, a friend got married and used it for her wedding march – complete with butterflies. It was beautiful. Since then, the song never failed to make me cry – but it’s a healthy kind of cry.

Last Saturday was a different kind of crying. I just found myself thinking about Potling and Sharksfin. How they – we – will be like when it’s time for Potling to walk down the aisle.

It already hurt. But who knows… Potling might not be as “hot” for weddings as mom. Or maybe weddings will just be a thing-of-the-past in Potling’s future. Whew. Too early to think about these things…

Posting lyrics for Sharksfin. The music video’s in YouTube but embedding is disabled.


Butterfly Kisses (by Bob Carlisle)

There’s two things I know for sure
She was sent here from heaven
And she’s daddy’s little girl
As I drop to my knees by her bed at night
She talks to Jesus and I close my eyes
And I thank God for all of the joy in my life
Oh but most of all

For butterlfy kisses after bedtime prayer
Stickin little white flowers all up in her hair

Walk beside the pony dady
It’s my first ride
I know the cake looks funny daddy
But i sure tried

Oh with all that I’ve done wrong
I must have done something right
To deseve a hug every mornin
And butterfly kisses at night

Sweet 16 today
She’s lookin like her mama
A little more every day
One part woman
The other part girl
To perfume and mke up
From ribbons and curls
Trying her wings out in a great big world
But I remember

Butterlfy kisses after bedtime prayer
Stickin little white flowers all up in her hair

You know how much I love you dady
But if you don’t mind
I’m only gonna kiss you on the cheek this time
Oh with all that I’ve done wrong
I must have done something right
To deserve her love every mornin
And butterfly kisses at night

All the precious time
Like the wind the years go by
Precious Butterfly
Spread your wings and fly

She’ll change her name today
She’ll make a promise and I’ll give her away
Standing in the bride room just starin at her
She asked me what I’m thinkin
And I said I’m not sure
I just feel like I’m loosin my baby girl
And she leaned over

And gave me butterfly kisses with her mama there
Stickin little white flowers all up in her hair

Walk me down the aisle daddy
It’s just about time
Does my wedding gown look pretty daddy?
Daddy don’t cry

Oh with all that I’ve done wrong
I must have done something right
To deserve her love every mornin and butterfly kisses
I couldn’t ask God for more than this is what love is
I know I’ve got to let her go but I’ll always remember
Every hug in the mornin and butterly kisses

Ice Cream vs. Hot Flushes

I reached the peak of my preggy blues last night. For the record, no one must be blamed for these random rant items but hormones. I know how to address each one of these ugly emotions. I just felt them overpowering me last night as I was fighting back with spoonfuls of ice cream. I finished 800-ml of Selecta Coffee Crumble in less than thirty minutes. I think that means I won.

  • The house is a mess. I do not have the energy nor the fundamental ability to sweep and scrub. I cannot even see my feet
  • My feet and legs are swollen.
  • I am so heavy, I can barely move.
  • I am overweight.
  • Even when it’s freezing, I feel hot.
  • I can barely sleep at night (it doesn’t help that I perspire while I sleep/attempting to sleep).
  • I sleep at the wrong places and at the wrong times (at work!).
  • I am clumsier and klutz-ier than ever.
  • I am supposed to be on a diet but my cravings are domineering.
  • I am always hungry.
  • I am lousy.
  • My personal finances is in a state of calamity. I would have loved it if I was able to save at least P100K before I entered into marriage and motherhood.  In lieu of 100K, I entered marriage with high hopes, zero savings and inherited financial responsibility.
  • I am useless at work. A trainer who is not able to teach is as good as gone. I owe so many people so many apologies for the hassle of my workload falling on their plates.
  • I am running out of ideas to fill the weekly menu.
  • I want to try out new recipes but I do not have the energy nor time to shop for ingredients that are only available in supermarkets.
  • I cannot find time for the post-wedding paper work (SSS, Pag-IBIG, Philhealth, BIR, etc.) because I work from 8:30 AM to 5:30 PM. I must not go on leave.
  • My pregnancy-related problems are neverending. The stupid infection does not want to go away. Threatened abortion has become pre-term labor. Why can’t I have a normal pregnancy.
  • I don’t know what’s going to happen  after my maternity leave given that Potling will be in QC while we’re in Makati. I do not want to move back to QC because we both work in Makati. But I do not want a yaya too. What/who gives?
  • Old wounds are catching up on me. I loathe shouting and clutter.
  • Someone’s perenially making me feel bad about the happiness I found. I thought she’s lost that power over me, but I was wrong.
  • I miss being with my smoking friends.
  • I’m starting to hate the attention and attitude thrown my way by some people. Kayo na kaya ang magbuntis kung sobrang galing niyo pala.
  • I miss being able to make plans (for myself and my life) and being able to always execute as planned. It’s so difficult to live without plans.

I guess the last bullet is the root cause of all my evil thoughts and emotions. The spontaneity of life caught me unprepared. It sucks because now that valentine’s over, I don’t have any other excuse to feast on an 800-ml ice cream by myself until my birth-month comes.