Yes, I realize how lucky I am

When I was a sophomore in college, my roommate got really sick early on and went home for the rest of the year. It's the only time in my life I've ever lived alone. Free from having to conform to another's lifestyle, I lived happily among piles of unfolded laundry, books, papers, and, my main staple during those four years, bags of gummy bears.

Despite, and probably as a result of, growing up with a mother who had everything in its proper place and would throw my clothes in the dew covered yard whenever I left them scattered on my bedroom floor, the domesticity gene skipped over me. I'd much rather be reading, watching tv, sleeping, or outside counting and cataloging blades of grass by shades of green, than emptying out the dishwasher.

Luckily, I married a man whose hobby it is to compare and contrast different types of hard wood floor cleaners. Tragedy struck our house the day Orange Glo came out with a new formula that left streaks, OH GOD NOT STREAKS!, on his precious floorboards. While Ton Ton obsessed over finding the new perfect product to clean the hardwood, I drank beer and watched TV.

As you can see, our house is the place where traditional gender roles came to retire. We've set up a couple lawn chairs for them and they bask in the sunshine drinking piña coladas all day. As soon as somebody figures out a way for men to lactate they (the gender roles, that is) will forever pass away to that better place in the sky.

In all fairness, I've been trying to be better about maintaining a tidy home, or as Ton Ton likes to call it: acting like a real human person, since Luki was born. I now realize that constantly buying new underwear is not the most fiscally responsible way to deal with laundry, and would like my son to learn so from an early age.

Still, it is my husband who captains the cleanliness ship. So, when he was sick all last week with "a cold that almost orphaned Luki" -- Ton Ton exaggerates almost as well as he dusts -- our Lysol powered Titanic hit an iceberg.

The thing is, I can't act like a real human person if Ton Ton is too high off Sudafed to remind me of it. Without his constant nagging helpful suggestions about picking up my shoes off the living room floor or hanging up my towel after I'm done using it, our house began to resemble my old college pad. Except this time, I wasn't happy in the squalor.

Yeap, it looks like Ton Ton's fervor for organization has started to rub off on me. It's not enough to motivate me to clean, but at least I'm no longer comfortable in a messy home. That's a step in the right direction, right?

Fortunately, Ton is feeling better and things have returned to their natural order:

That's me behind the camera in a pair of boxer shorts, a beer in hand.

It's Magic!

Have a inconsolable baby at home? Did you try feeding him? How about changing his diaper? Is he sleepy? Maybe it's gas, or reflux, or perhaps an ear infection...

...or maybe your baby just wants to ROCK!



It's as if Luki's saying: "Entertain me minions, or I'll unleash my wrath upon you."

Insulin pumps are sexxy!

A few years ago, Ton Ton called me up from Target as he was buying a birthday present for his friend's kid. He said, "I think the whole party is themed around that yellow tooth cartoon, so I'm going to buy a puzzle with his picture on it." Having never heard of this "yellow tooth cartoon," I inquired more, thinking that perhaps it was a foreign animation. "Yea...you know, I think his name is Spongy Bob or something," replied Ton Ton.

The man thought Sponge Bob was a yellow tooth! How he managed to live completely oblivious to the annoying, pineapple-dwelling-underwater-creature for so many years, I'll never understand. But that's how Ton Ton rolls. Just recently, we had a conversation in which I explained that Dora la Exploradora was not produced in Latin America.

And so, during my pregnancy, I would have daily freak outs about how clueless he was on the subject of children and the incompatibility of our lifestyle with a baby's. Ton Ton's response was to just hold me tight and very nonchalantly say, "don't worry, we'll adjust, we'll figure it out" and, when that proved futile, distract me with butter pecan ice cream.

He hasn't quite embraced the new generation of children's cartoons, but adjustments have certainly been made. And today, he took a huge step toward a more stable, family oriented life...Ton Ton got himself an insulin pump!

Have I mentioned that my husband has the Diabetes? No? Well, he does..he's had it for over 15 years. And for the past five or so, his doctor has been trying to convince him to get on the pump. But getting an insulin pump means having a medical device attached to your body 24 hours a day -- it's basically the equivalent of growing an extra arm. That did not mesh with Ton Ton and his rock 'n' roll ways.

So, imagine my surprise when he came home from a doctor's appointment a few weeks ago armed with three different pump brochures. He told me that, although his Diabetes is pretty well controlled, an insulin pump would yield much better glucose levels...and that he wants to be as healthy as he can for Luki.

After extensively researching the exciting world of pump therapy on Youtube, he settled on the Omnipod when he discovered that..."there's some really famous kid's band with a member who is diabetic and uses it."

Yes, Ton Ton, that would be THE JONAS BROTHERS!

Luki may be the only kid in school who listens to Guns 'n' Roses and watches Yogi Bear (in Spanish!), but at least he'll be doing those things with his daddy.

Eh...John has always been my favorite Beatle anyway.

Once upon a time, when waking up before noon on a Saturday was sacrilegious and our shot glasses had not yet been replaced with baby bottles, Ton Ton and I went to Vegas. Shortly after our arrival, as we gazed out the window of our pyramid shaped hotel, we laid eyes on a giant billboard announcing that Paul McCartney would be playing Sin City the very next night. Sir Paul McCartney! Needless to say, my husband crapped his pants. Two minutes later, we were standing at the ticket booth inquiring about availability and prices. Good news! There were two tickets left, yay! Bad news...they were $250 a piece. Ton Ton was willing to pay $500 of money we didn't have to see one of the Beatles, but I refused. In the end, I won, and we didn't go to the show. Instead, we played the slot machines, won about $800 and lost it all before getting on the plane home. Yes, we even gambled in the airport.

Anyway... ever since that trip, the name Paul McCartney can't come up in casual conversation without Ton Ton giving me the evil eye and saying that not going to that show was "the biggest mistake of his life, Paul is old and he can die at any moment." Oh, my Ton Ton and his penchant for overreacting...

Ok, so fast-forward to this past June: I'm thirty million weeks pregnant and we find out that the Beatles' front man will be playing Atlanta on August 15 with much more accessible ticket prices. Ton Ton starts doing his happy dance..."this is great! we can drive down for the day, maybe crash at your brother's place, oh we'll have so much fun!" Yeap, that all sounded great, except for the pronoun, we. He seemed to have forgotten that by August 15, I would have a tiny person permanently attached to my boobs. I could see the disappointment in his face, so I decided to give him a ticket and permission to go to the concert with a friend as his birthday present.

And that is how Ton Ton spent this past Saturday in Atlanta, standing in a park, wiping tears from his eyes as Paul belted out "Hey Jude." He came home ecstatic, proclaiming it the best show he'd ever seen, talking about how wonderful and friendly Paul was, how he played for three hours, the energy, the lights, the fireworks...I just handed Luki to him and told him to change his diaper.

I admit it, I was a little bit jealous. The thing is, Luki has changed our lives so much; we love him in a way that we didn't even know existed before he arrived, and our love for each other has multiplied. Ton Ton, who is even more sentimental since becoming a dad, recently told me that he fell in love with me all over again when he saw me give birth to our son. Yet, Luki hasn't changed the fact that we love to rock, and go to the cinema, and try out new restaurants, and travel. And, I think it's important that we continue to do all those things...they will keep us sane and our son grounded. As much as I care about our baby, I don't want him to ever think he is the center of the universe, not even our small, three person, solar system.

So, in the end, I'm glad Ton Ton got to see one of the Beatles. It's a great story he can share with Luki when he's older. And I know that the day will come when our son's fixation with my boob will be replaced with an obsession with baseball, or playing guitar, or vacuuming WITH HIS DADDY. And on that day...I shall rock again!