Call Me Maybe

I saw some emails suggesting the embassy do this just before I went on prego-vac.  Apparently, while I was out, some fun-loving coworkers actually followed through.  Though released after the craze was over, it's still fun!

U.S. Embassy Manila: Call Me Maybe

Wm loves this song.  His top three are Call Me Maybe, Fireworks, and Gangam Style.  So, this morning we've watched the YouTube videos for these three over and over - and Gangam Style gets changed to "Ian Style" while I make the baby dance, resulting in huge laughs for the big two and big smiles from the little one.  I bet Wm would have loved a cameo appearance in the embassy video had he been in country!

Wm had two critiques of the video:
1. I didn't know construction workers could dance so well!
2. Wow! That's the REAL ambassador. He's COOL!

And then we had to go through slowly so Greg could tell him all our coworker's names and which "team" they are on (ACS, NIV, IV, etc)

GGPA and the boys

I don't use too many photos on the blog, mostly because I like to keep the blog password-free, and I have a strange aversion to too many strangers looking at pictures of me and my children.  But, as I was organizing photos this evening, I wanted to bring together this collection of my grandpa, known as "GGPA" (for great-grandpa) to the boys.  As you can see, he loves the boys so much that I can never manage to get him to look at the camera!  Maybe when we're on home leave, I can get him to sit down with all three and smile at the picture taker :)

(1) With William - their first meeting and then six months later at Christmas

(2) With Patch - their first meeting, then later that week at his baptism

 (3) Meeting Ian - sadly, we only had two days in Bethlehem.  Here's to hoping for some more pictures come May.  And then again in August when we celebrate GGPA's 90th birthday!

How did I ever live without it?

An electric swing for a baby.  Really.  How did I manage having two babies already and not find out about this magic contraption until the third?

Oh wait - I know.  For baby #1, we were living in 1000 sq ft with three adults, two dogs, and a baby.  It being our first, we were under the delusion that it was possible to have an "adult" house, relegating anything that screamed "baby" to a tiny corner of our living/dining room.  The design of these swings definitely have "baby" written all over them with cutesy ocean or jungle themes.

Then, for #2 we were in India with 220V power.  I could have purchased an expensive imported one from the UK at the fabulous MotherCare store which opened a few months before #2 was born.  But, my guess is that after our totally failed attempt to purchase a baby monitor made in China (I'll have to look to see if I wrote a blog about that), I wasn't so up on the electronics thing.  Plus, I never had one for #1, so it never occurred to me to get one for #2, even though our flat in HYD was HUGE and could have easily fit two baby swings discretely.

Now, here's #3.  We live on a compound with 110V power surrounded by other American parents who, like most American parents, own a baby swing.  #3 has tried out two baby swings and fallen directly asleep any time he's placed in either one.  When a neighbor offered to lend hers as her chunko baby was really getting a little too big for the swing, we (specifically my nanny) pounced.

Do I particularly like having such a big contraption in my living room?  No.  Is it annoying to keep on reminding #1 and #2 to not touch/swing/try to sit in the baby swing? Yes.  But ... am I liking the break my back and arms getting after a fussy night and cry-full morning.  Why yes, yes I am.  In fact, I'm able to write in the blog!

Budding Independence / Self-Sufficiency

One of my work friends, when I told her I was pregnant with our third, shook her head and said something along the lines of - well, the next five years will be rough, but then your role will change from being a "worker" to a "manager."  Meaning, I wouldn't actually have to brush each child's teeth.  Or pester them to keep eating.  Or change their clothes.  Or put together their school bags.  I could just ask (and ask again) if it had been done - and if it hadn't, ask that the children please do it.  Hopefully our three boys will be as cooperative as her three kids!  

I had a glimpse of this "manager" life just now.  William asked if he could ride his bike around the apartment hallway (it's covered, but outside - not like he's riding inside corridors).  Seeing as he had finished breakfast, gotten dressed (and even changed his shirt without fuss when I pointed out that the one he picked didn't match), and brushed his teeth, I agreed he could until Joel returned from dropping Greg at work to take Wm to school.  Less than a minute later, I heard the bike being parked outside the door.  Wm came in, took off his helmet, got his back pack, library bag, and lunch.  Turned around and said, "See ya, Mama. Joel's here to take me to school."  And that was that.  As Wm has taken to saying lately: easy-peasy lemon-squeezy.  

I'm looking forward to being the manager.  

Feeling a bit more back to normal

As I sat on the couch, feeling restless at 9PM, I realized that I must be feeling more normal.  The last few weeks I had purposely been avoiding creating a "to do" list -- with settling back into Manila, then adjusting to being back at work, all the while balancing *three* kids five and under, I didn't want to get myself overwhelmed.  And nothing is more overwhelming than a long to do list!

Today, though, I felt like I didn't do much productive.  We attempted to go to church, but had to cut out during the sermon.*  We came home, I putzed around the house a bit, then met some friends for Sofitel lunch.**  I came home, pumped a bottle (the only thing I produced today), then played on the playground with all the Seafront kids who finally came back from vacation.***  At bedtime, I slowly read Cars & Trucks & Things that Go to Patch, while he sat on the potty, keeping fingers crossed that maybe - just maybe - after 45 minutes he might be convinced to go poo poo on the potty. No cigar.  I then tried to boost my knowledge of Settlers of Catan by playing on the iPad.  An hour after that, I was even more restless.

Which has lead me to the obvious conclusion: it's time again to make a to do list.  Ian must be sleeping well enough, and work is going smoothly enough, that I have extra energy needing an outlet.

*Last Sunday, Wm and Patch wanted to stay with Ian in the service and not go to Sunday school.  It was generally OK, so we agreed to do the same this Sunday.  But, Wm kept on going in and out of the sanctuary, and when he entered the Sunday school room he sat with his back to the class distracting the other kids.  So, having managed to disturb both the congregation and the Sunday school kids, we cut our losses and headed home.

**In India, we really enjoyed the hotel brunches, but haven't really done it here because of the cost - and the conflict with nap time.  Today, my meal pretty much consisted of sushi, shrimp, cheese (and more cheese and more cheese), beef (sirloin, tenderloin, prime rib...), and champagne.  Plus some chocolate mousse and caramel tapioca pudding to wash it all down.  Tasty for a one time treat, but still not convinced it was worth $70.

***Nov 30 was a Filipino holiday, and many of our neighbors cut out of town.  We weren't quite up for preparing for a trip with Ian, so we stayed put.  Though, given how restless Wm and Patch were after two days of just me and Greg as entertainment, I think we should have taken up our neighbors offer to join them at the beach when another family cancelled last minute.  The hour and a half packing around with various kids at the playground and chatting with our neighbors was quite relaxing - especially after the huge lunch!

The Purging Begins

I found myself with a quiet house at 8:30: all three sons in bed, as well as Greg who had a minor flu today.  All the things on my to do list were either long projects or not enticing.  I had already rolled out the three extra pie crusts for the freezer and putzed around on the computer long enough for my liking.  I wasn't in the mood for reading.  What to do?!

Then I realized: I should start purging papers.  The biannual ritual when one moves so frequently.  I decided to tackle the "art drawer," picking and choosing what to preserve of the boys' masterpieces and what to toss in the trash.  Honestly, most of Patch's preschool work from last year was in the trash pile, until I thought that he might - twenty years later - wonder why I was such a cruel and heartless mother not to save things.  So, I kept two folders worth.  Except, now as I type this, I think I should probably just keep one or two pieces.  After all, I don't think I want to look at (or carry around) boxes of my childhood artwork.  Why would Patch or Wm?

Really, the only piece of artwork I remember creating is a yellow blob of clay that sits (or used to sit - not sure if it does right now) on my mom's dresser.  I remember making it because, in kindergarten or first grade, I got in a huge fight with my art teacher.  I forget what we were supposed to be making, but I wasn't in the mood to make that and instead made a bowl.  But then the teacher became upset with me (or at least I perceived she was inordinately angry with me) for not following instructions.  With a minute left in art class, I mushed the piece of clay into a ball and put it with the rest of the class' works to be fired.  The next week, everyone else had some creation to paint.  I painted my blob plain yellow, not even choosing the shiny paint.  Very rarely did I not follow a teacher's instructions, so the origins of this yellow mass stick with me.  The rest of the stuff I could probably do without, if it was even saved.

New reason to be sad on Sunday night

Because I have to pack up my pump parts.  I love the weekend of just feeding Ian whenever he's hungry, with no stress about if I'm pumping enough and at the right time.

I didn't have to pump that much for Wm, since he was seven months when I went back to work.  I did pump a lot for Patch, but since it provided a nice structured break during my visa interviews, I welcomed it -- even though my "lactation room" was the visa filing cabinet and I balanced my trusty pump amongst boxes of the old DS-156 forms.

I do love having an actual lactation room here.  Briefly chatting (commiserating?) with the other pumping moms (currently five of us) boosts my spirits and keeps me going.  All the same, though, getting together the gear on Sunday night is a sad reminder of what is to come on Monday.  If only my office were at Seafront and I could just take the breaks during the day to nurse instead of pump.  Now that would be awesome.

Right now neither Ian nor I are in enough of a "schedule" to try and have him make the trip up Roxas to the Chancery for his meal.  Maybe once he's six months or so and has started solids...