Hark, the Headlight...

Hark, the Headlight Angels Sing...

My little Angel had been singing Christmas songs lately, quite enthusiastically I might add. In her endearing, if somewhat off-key manner, she belted out in her bell-like voice such classics as Jingle Bells, We Wish You a Merry Christmas, Silent Night.

And the classic Hark, the Headlight Angels Sing.

I gave her the green light to go on singing.

Of Boob Jobs and Skin Flicks

Ha! Got your attention with the title didn't I? Nope, I did not get a boob job, nor do I have a penchant for watching skin flicks.

It's just that these seem to be two of the hottest topics in Philippine media lately -- the sex video scandals that have spawned quite a number of Hayden puns, and more recently, the alleged leaking breast implants of our country's Kumander-in-Tsip.

What the !#$%^&^?

The media has had quite a heyday with these topics, what with the prurient interest of the public fuelling newspaper and magazine sales, and Internet sites logging hits upon hits. And our esteemed lawmakers are not much better either: a privilege speech focusing on the Hayden (and hidden) videos when there are infinitely a lot more items needing advocacy in the august halls of the Senate. And of course, the latest question on whether leaking breast implants really played a role in GMA's stay at the Asian Hospital.

What about improving the social services available to Filipinos, like having hospitalization for the sick as a right instead of a privilege? Or being able to define who has jurisdiction on correcting the error-filled local textbooks in our schools? Or having clearer guidelines on fuel quality and vehicles so as to eliminate the numerous smoke belchers on the roads? Or extending maternity leave benefits, for that matter?

Of course, nip slips and boob jobs and video clips of local artistas rate a whole lot higher in drumming up interest than those items above. After all, they're oh-so-entertaining. So of course those items can be relegated to a lower rung at the moment, in favor of those currently highest in the Filipinos' consciousness. Strike while the iron is hot, right?

I'd rather strike the right iron.

101 Nights

Yep, you read it right, 101 without the extra zero in between. I didn't suddenly turn into Scheherazade, although I would certainly welcome that storytelling skill to lull my older daughter to slumberland!

Back to 101.

Today was my first day back in the office, and I had some bouts of separation anxiety from being away from my baby, with whom I had spent the last 101 days and nights. Yes, 101 days and nights of being with her almost 24/7, of being (almost always) within 20 feet of her, of being able to run and comfort her whenever she whimpered, or cried, or hungered for milk, or needed to be burped, or was sleepy, or just needed to be held and cuddled.

Or maybe it was I who needed to hold and cuddle her, to smell her milky-baby powdery-scent, to feel her head with its warm fuzzy hair nestled on my shoulder, for my own comfort. It was I who needed to gaze at her and wonder at the way her innocent eyes would look at me, I who wanted to see her whole face light up whenever I smiled at her and she would smile back and chuckle, with her dimpled left cheek and oh-so-happy gurgles ensuring that I was wrapped around her teensy little finger.

Things weren't so bad today though -- I was not on the phone calling home every hour, nor was I constantly obsessing over how my baby was doing every minute. Of course it helped that the office is just a 5-minute drive from our house, and that we even get to go home for lunch everyday. It's also comforting to know that we can go home in no time at all if there is an actual emergency (knock on wood!). And of course the flood of email messages and scheduled meetings and reports to accomplish took a large chunk of time as well.

All in all I actually think I did well.

Till tomorrow comes. And I start missing her again.