Attika woke me up at five in the morning, as usual. We went about our usual routine: feed, burp, sing. No, we don’t just suddenly break out into song like they do in Glee, not especially at 5 a.m., but she likes to make these gurgling little noises that ascend to many different high pitches. On days when I’m kinder I bring her outside so she won’t wake her father. But on some days when both Attika and I let lose our whippersnappers, we go to the bed where she instantly jumps towards her Dada (or Papa or Baba) and lunges for his dreadlocks. It must be a delight for her to see a big ball we adults call ‘hair’ because everytime she gets her hands on this black thing and tugs it, the man who owns it screams in pain, opens his eyes, smiles and gives her her morning kiss.

Watching the sunrise is also part of our daily routine. The picture on the left is what it almost looked like – my 13,514th sunrise. It’s not much of a photo, I know.  But with a curious seven-month old huddled in one arm, what kind of photo could a mom like me take? Since the day Attika was born, any phone camera within my reach has been my documentary assistant because my professional camera (camera – professional, me – not, husband – yes) impossible to handle with only one hand. Neither can I play paparazzi because I have gazillion chores to do. Besides, the best “Kodak” moments are ones never captured on camera. It’s these lightning-speed, spontaneous reactions a baby makes that no fast-speeding camera could take if a professional photographer was paid to do it.

Mythbusting Cole 
One of Cole’s favorite episodes on Discovery’s Mythbusters is “Diet Coke and Mentos”. He’s watched it four times and still gets amazed every time. My birthday was a perfect time for him to finally get his hands on this experiment. “Hurry! Hurry!” I’ve never seen him so excited to do something. He was almost hyperventilating when he got everything ready. Then he did the drill. Shake the bottle just a little (because he just wanted a birthday fountain for me and not an explosion), drop mentos in the bottle … and there it was, a pretty birthday fountain. It was a beautiful 30 seconds. Even Attika looked really pleased with Uwa’s (Frannie's baby talk for kuya, meaning big brother) fountain. 

Needing kneading 
It’s a Saturday and the day went by really nice and slow. The boys took care of the little girl, who cooperated and did her part by behaving the whole day. By “behaving” I mean she did not whine for me until it was time for her to go to bed at 7 p.m. 

After lunch, my not-so-reliable psychic self sensed a surprise was coming my way. True enough, when I went out of the den a lady from the spa was smiling ever so brightly at me. I always make this fantastic schedule of spending a weekend at a spa to get a good body scrub and a massage. But whenever weekend comes, the loafer in me kills the idea of spa, so I go on to do other things instead – like my Zen laundry. I’m not being sarcastic. I honestly find the laundry a Zen-like experience, something that the dreadlocked one will probably never understand about me. He has been pushing me to go for a me-time. But I’ve never felt a need for a me-time. It’s the us-time that I look forward to at the end of the week. So since I would not budge to go to a spa (and to think The Dutchess Haven Salon and Spa is just downstairs), the boys had the spa come to me. 

Ah, the 13,149 day old me got some good loving with a lot of scrubbing and kneading. Then I realized that my tired muscles really needed some kneading (Shiatsu it was). Maybe I’d go for another one next weekend. 

Let’s see if the Zen laundry won’t kill it. 

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