Maybe It's Just Me?

I've been out of sorts lately which, sadly, is not unusual. But, I've been MORE out of sorts than usual and it's a little unnerving. We've been living on take out at our house lately because of all the stuff that's been going on. It's almost like our lives have been put on hold - not a state of being I particularly like. But, since we will be renting my aunt and uncle's house for the next 5 months it will be a state that we will be living in for a while.

There have been times when I was a child that we lived in a state of hold. This happened usually when my mom was switching jobs or it was summer or we had visitors from the Philippines. As a child it was a nice time because it meant we got to eat things like hamburgers or take a trip to Chicago's China Town. I remember going to Jimmy Wong's (is that still around?), rubbing the big Buddah's belly on the way in, and falling asleep in a booth while my parents, aunts, and uncles chatted away.

Maybe it's just me or maybe it's because I'm the "adult" but living in a holding pattern isn't as much fun. It's during these stressful times that I look for comfort. Comfort in the form of - what else - Filipino food (and I DON'T mean Spam or corned beef from a can). I'd love to cook something like mungo, but the pots and pans are all packed away. There's something about takeout (i.e., burgers, pasta, salads, etc.) that make me feel less Filipino.

I know that there are Filipino restaurants in Chicago, but it's just not the same as having something that you made yourself. In my younger years, I've felt like an outsider and did silly things like dye my hair lighter so that I looked less like me. But, I'm finding that as I get older, I long for the days when my parents chatted away in a few dialects (to throw my sister and I off from what they were talking about); when aunts and uncles from the Philippines came to visit; and the times when I sat on the kitchen floor while Lola made homemade longanisa.

Those times are gone because I don't live with my parents and Lola passed away long ago. There's something so comforting about those times and I have no idea how to recreate them. Every year that goes by, I feel less and less me; I feel less and less Filipino.

Where Has Sexy Gone?

I'm sure the topic that I'm going to be writing about isn't unique to Filipino parents, but I think that the way that the topic is talked about in Filipino homes is unique. Or, maybe it's not. I don't know - you decide.

Ever since I peed on a home pregnancy test way back in early 2004, my life - the part of my life that makes me feel "sexy" - has been turned up-side-down. It's hard to feel attractive to anyone, let alone your husband, when you're 50 pounds heavier and you've lost your once prominent cheek bones. Then, when that bundle of joy is born, you're still heavier and you're mushy. Add to that the fact that a mere 7 months later, you find out that bundle of joy #2 is arriving.

It's tough and life doesn't stop just because you're pregnant or just because you've given birth to an almost 10 pound human - TWICE in 2 consecutive years. And, one day you wake up and realize that it's been forever since you've snuggled with your husband or that it's been forever that you've held hands. Don't get me wrong, I think I've got a nice life and a great family but sexy has eluded me since 2003. People, it's 2007!!!!

Normally, I would talk to my mom about how I feel. I mean, I talk to her if I'm sick or sad; but, this topic is strictly off limits. I grew up in a very conservative Catholic household. I'm not sure if the fact we're Filipino has anything to do with the boundaries of discussing sexuality with one's parents, but from the other Filipino friends I have it seems as though sex isn't spoken about. Sure, everyone wants to be a Lolo or Lola but the miracle of birth really isn't talked about - hell, the physical issues of pregnancy aren't even discussed.

So in the end, I'm left wondering: Where did sexy go and how do I get it back?

Afraid to Say that Things are Better

Normally I am an optimist or, as I like to say, a "realistic" optimist. But there are parts of my life where I am truly a pessimist and I blame this on my upbringing. In my family's culture, superstition played into everyday life A LOT. There were even some cute sayings around them like "Purse on the floor, money out the door." The translation was that you didn't put your purse on the floor because it would cause you to lose your money.

Yes, I am fully aware this is ridiculous. It's as ridiculous as the belief that you shouldn't jump over someone because it would prevent them from growing; that you shouldn't leave the house on Good Friday; that wearing slippers on a cement floor will instantly give you rheumatism; or that you should never - and I MEAN NEVER - go to bed with a wet head. For the life of me I cannot remember why you shouldn't go to bed with a wet head, but I'm sure one of you will comment and remind me why.

For me, the one that I believe and I'm sure a lot of other people believe is that when things are going well, you should never say that they're going well because "they" will send a bunch of bad stuff your way. Who exactly "they" is I have no idea. But, the belief that one should never talk about how good things are going because you'll jinx it and bad stuff will come along is a mainstay in my life. I am sure that I am not alone.

Today I had a conference call with my boss and it didn't do well, but I didn't get yelled at. Instead I got some constructive criticism that I can actually work with. I have to wonder if he read my post from yesterday. Please tell me that I won't have to password protect my journal or censor myself because that would really just suck!

I Don't Know How to Cook

This weekend I was planning on cooking, but I didn't. I couldn't decide what to cook and I was craving some home cooking. You know - the stuff of my childhood like Mungo and rice. When it really comes down to it, I can cook like 3 things from my childhood (1) egg rolls (2) bifsteak and (3) adobo. And, I can only cook the chicken adobo because my beef adobo turns out rock hard.

How sad is it that I cannot make something simple like mungo or nilaga? I blame it on the fact that my mom didn't really cook. Actually, I can't blame anyone but myself. My lola and lolo lived with us while we were growing up (big surprise) and she cooked everyday. She made longanisa from scratch and I remember sitting on the kitchen floor watching her stuff the pork casings by hand. She didn't use a meat grinder or food processor either; she would chop the mean and mix the ingredients by hand.

Yes, I have a Filipino cookbook but everyone knows that pancit is a personal thing and all pancit is not created equally. I could ask my aunt to teach me how to cook, but like all Filipina aunts she would just say, "Eh - it's easy. Just a little of this and a little of that to taste." I think the cooking thing is a birthright like being able to point to something with your lips. I think maybe I need to go on the Internet and find a Filipino cooking class. One that caters to daughters that never learned how to cook Filipino food properly.

Breakfast of Champions

This morning my husband made breakfast. I could smell it before I got up and it brought me back to my childhood. It was SPAM. Yes, SPAM. I think that breakfasts of rice and SPAM or Vienna sausages, which really aren't sausages but I don't like to think of what it actually COULD be, are the stuff that Filipino childhoods are made of.

I would dare to say that if you did not have SPAM at least once when you were growing up, then you didn't grow up in a true Filipino household. Okay, okay I take that back - maybe you didn't have SPAM where you lived or Vienna sausages or maybe the parent that had the Flip in them didn't do the cooking.

So David made SPAM this morning and he made it like my Ma made it. It was cooked in a frying pan with butter and it was slightly brown on both sides. I like my SPAM burnt to a crispy crisp. Yes, with rice and maybe a tomato with patis.

How about you? How do you like your SPAM?

Family Still Confuses Me

I am so excited to contribute to the Filipina Moms Blog.  Contributing to this blog means that I get to talk about things in my life that are very Filipino.  Being a Filipina and being raised in a very Filipino home mean that my upbringing was not like a lot of my friends.

For example, not being able to leave the house or watch television on Good Friday or eating rice with every meal.  Sometimes I wonder if the kooky things that happened in my house were just quirks of my parents or if they were truly part of growing up in an immigrant household.  To this day, some of the kookiness remains even though I am a 30 something mother of 2 toddler boys with a husband and home of my own.

Case in point, my relationship with my parents.  This year has been very rocky.  Earlier this year I had a disagreement with my mother, which means my father decided to put his 2 cents in.  In the end, I stood up for myself and my mother got upset and my father got very VERY angry at me.  So much so that heated words were said by him.

Normally, I would take those heated words with a grain of salt, but for GODS SAKE I was a grown up and I took those words literally as any normal adult would.  As a result, I did not visit my dad for Father's Day - I DID call - and I haven't set foot in their home since.  The boys do see their Lolo and Lola at least once a week, but David takes them there.

Normally, I would let the entire thing blow over and at some point in time, all of us would pretend that it never happened.  Actually, we would pretend it never happened until the next blow-up.  I wrote about this in my personal journal (Chicago Chick) and received a lot of e-mail on how this was normal for a Filipino dad.  Is that really true?  I always thought that it was just my dad's personality - that he was overbearing and controlling.  I never thought that my parents refusal to see me as their grown up daughter and their insistance on seeing me forever as their CHILD was a personality thing.