2003 | archives
Dec | Nov | Oct | Sep | Aug | Jul |
Jun | May | Apr | Mar | Feb | Jan

THANKSGIVING DAY, USA.

Since it's my first American Thanksgiving, I asked Tracy what is a typical rundown of this special holiday.
And I did learn something.

First, everybody has to brave the agony of travel stress, the day before.
Then come morning, everybody wakes up to the beautiful sights, sounds and colors of the
Macy's Day Parade. A display of amazing and inspiring floats that parades through New York city streets.
This year there is a very special addition to the big beautiful balloons and floats,
The winner of American Idol, Ruben.

Then all the women of the house stay in the kitchen and prepare the feast,
while all the men, do whatever they want to do.
Watch TV, Football, Car races, or whatever is on.

Then everybody stuff themselves with the most amazing
gut-popping, artery-clogging, belt-unbuttoning feast of food that they can consume,
and in the end, Men go back to watching TV, while the women clean up and share stories
or gossips, or whatever happens in there, I don't know.

Then every one would have leftover turkey for lunch the next day.
Which is fine.
Until say about Sunday, where everybody says the exact same thing:
"If I ever eat any more of this Turkey, I will lose my mind!!!"

So anyways, somewhere in all of this, I learned one thing.
The reason why Men don't help Women in the kitchen is because
If we were in there, there would be no more food left for the actual celebration.

Oh, and I hope somewhere, somehow,
Everybody was able to squeeze in a little prayer, for the things we are truly thankful for.

Like, thank you God, I don't have to eat Turkey again for a whole year!

"He's out of Danger,
You can stop worrying now."

These were the words I had hoped for these past few days.
And today, I finally heard them.

A couple of days ago,
My cousin and his wife were accidentally hit by a stray bullet
back home in the Philippines, while waiting for the bus.

I can not explain the feeling of worry and helplessness,
while dreading the next phone call I might receive would be what I fear.

I can not explain the panic I had,
As I try to figure out his condition
while talking to the nurses in the ICU.

I can not explain how I endlessly search for a news report online,
Hoping to find clues on how, what, when and where it happened,
And who's responsible,
but in a way,
A part of me would rather not see or read anything about it,
Since it will re surface my anger, worries and fears.

I can not explain how distressing it is that,
This happened because someone had easy access to guns and ammunitions.

I can not explain why bad things happen to good people.

I can not explain how I feel that,
Even though how many times I pray, I feel I am not being heard.

And since hearing that my cousin and his wife are doing better now.

I can not explain how grateful I am to the Doctors and Nurses.

I can not explain how much I would like to thank their friends
who willingly volunteered to donate blood
And being by their side.

I can not explain how lucky we are, to have those good Samaritans
Who brought them to the hospital.

I can not explain,
How wrong it is for me to doubt the power of prayer.

And since hearing those words, that I need not worry anymore,

I can not explain why I still do.

New Title

From this day forth,
I will no longer be referred to as a Stay-At-Home Dad.
I shall be known as a… (trumpet fanfare sound…)

Domestic Engineer.

This job description clearly states the reason behind this change of title,

• Calculation and management of time, to perform domestic duties safely and effectively.


• Assess and survey the premises for safety hazards and the prevention of child choking emergencies.


• Providing of nourishment by mathematically integrating the exact ratio and proportion between water and formula within the proper temperature.


• Waste disposal management.


• On-Call duties to be performed at variable times whenever the client wakes up in the middle of the night, hungry or just for re assurance.


• And to top it off, supplier of entertainment.

Pretty cool huh?

----- That last one is the hardest, since that "peek-a-boo" trick isn't cutting it anymore.

For at least a good couple of months now,
Something has been bothering me and I can't quite keep my finger on it.

Every time I try to see what time it is,
(Okay maybe most of the time)
The time will always have an "11"
it doesn't matter what the hour was,
the minute will always be "11"

I don't know why,
I don't know how.

It goes even further than that.

Sometimes I am drawn to it.
Like there would be no reason for me to look at the clock,
But it will grab my attention and I end up noticing it.
We would be driving and I would try to change the station on the radio,
When I suddenly notice the time.
With the minute on "11"

I would walk by the kitchen
and notice the time on the Microwave panel.
With the minute on "11"

I would ask Tracy what time it is,
Since the alarm clock is on her side of the bed,
With the minute on "11"

I would play Tyler his Sesame Street DVD,
And the counter while it plays,
Would suddenly grab my attention,
With the number "11" flashing on the Elapsed playtime.

I would be on my Computer,
And for no reason at all,
I would suddenly glance at the time on the right side of the Taskbar,
With the minute on "11"

I know I am getting a little bit paranoid.
No it's not paranoia,
I think it's more of an annoyance.
Honestly I am getting irritated at it.

What aggravates me the most is when I see it as "11:11"
Or worse … "9:11".

What does it mean?
Is it an omen?
I have no clue.

And today,
Since it's November 11. (11/11)

I am staying at home.
I will not do any thing.
Not even shower.

Okay maybe at midnight.

Today is Tracy's Birthday.
And as a gift,
We got her that new J'Lo perfume.

This only means one thing.

I am going to start smelling like Ben Affleck.

Or Chris Judd.

Or P. Diddy.

Hmmmmm.
Puff "T-Bone" Diddy.

It's got a ring to it, don't it?

____________________________________
Happy Birthday my sweet Tracy.
Thank you for my beautiful son.
We love you very, very much.