Well, of course, when we found out we were pregnant, I did all the heavy lifting and stuff. But Gale, being the nice girl that she is, always wanted to keep helping. When we would do the groceries, for example, she would always take a bag or two, like the eggs or the bread or something light.
One rainy day, we got home to our basement apartment. She was walking in front of me because she had the keys to open the backdoor to the house, and then the door to our little place. I had bagfuls of groceries in my hands, and as usual, she had a bag of something light.
The stairs were wet, and she slipped.
She couldn't grab on to anything, because she had stuff in her hands. In that split second that she lost her balance, I could she that she decided to fall on her back, to spare her belly from impact. And she fell right on her butt.
It was like everything stopped. We couldn't believe that had just happened. We dropped everything and went into the bedroom so she could lie down.
She was in a real panic. She was holding her belly. "I don't feel anything," she said. I asked her to calm down. We had this baby heartbeat monitor that we got from Babies R Us, and I put it to her belly. After what seemed like forever, we heard the heartbeat.
From then on, I didn't let her carry anything.
And then weeks later, we got a call from the hospital for a routine procedure. (It's funny how I used to know all the technical terms and explanations but now I can't remember them.) It had to do with it being her first pregnancy and some chemicals in her blood or something. They wanted to to take some of the fluid from the womb to check for the chances of Down syndrome.
This made her very worried. We cried for a bit, just having to think about it. And then we composed ourselves and decided, worrying won't solve anything, and that she shouldn't be upset for the baby's sake.
We met with a hospital counselor, who explained the procedure. They would have to poke a needle through her womb in order to get the fluid they needed for testing. She explained that it's generally a successful process that won't harm the baby. She was very careful with her words in telling us our options while not swaying us one way or the other. She also explained our choices should they find that the baby did have the syndrome. She also explained that we didn't have to know if we didn't want to.
That was the toughest part of the pregnancy for us. Having to wait with uncertainty. Having to consider those things. We decided it would be best to find out, so we went through with it.
Timeout Boy turned out to be normal and healthy. I don't want to think about what would have happened if it had been different. My prayers go out to those parents who are going through that routine testing, and especially to those who find out the opposite results.
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Saturday, July 7, 2012
Monday, July 2, 2012
Timeout Boy: Cellar Dwellers
In the summer of 2008, when we found out we were pregnant, my then-girlfriend Gale Forcewind and I were living in a basement apartment. Our landlady assumed we were married, and we never corrected her. The neighborhood was full of Filipinos, and some of the older middle-aged and married men would sometimes invite me for a beer, and we would hang out and drink by the sidewalk. They also assumed we were married, and whenever they would ask about me and my "wife", I would just say we had a quick ceremony in Vegas.
I liked our little place. It was pretty spacious because it was almost the same area as the house, minus the compartment for the boiler and the heater. The only real problem was that it was not actually safe. The only exit was the door at the back of the house, and the small windows, which at the start of fall, we had to seal with material to keep the cold out. The potential hazard was always in the back of my mind, even before we were pregnant.
Another minor inconvenience was that, since we exited through the back door, we had to walk through the narrow driveway to get to the street. Sometimes there would be a car or two parked there, and we had to squeeze through. I knew this would not be a good situation as my wife's belly was getting bigger.
On the week of Thanksgiving, somebody broke into our car, which we had parked at the corner many feet away from the house. Luckily enough, the day before it happened, we had cleaned up a little and taken our valuables inside. The only thing that was taken was a one-dollar bill which Gale had folded into a ribbon and put inside the glove box.
The window was broken. I wanted to bring it to a shop to get fixed, but I couldn't just call out of work, even with an emergency, because well, I could go on about my work but I'm not going to. So I drove my wife to work, covered up the window with a trash bag and gaffer tape, and left the car at the parking lot where she worked.
I told the landlady about it, and she was kind enough to let us park in their driveway for a night. She figured people were getting desperate with the holidays coming up, and what with the recession and everything. I immediately brought the car in to get fixed so as not to inconvenience the house owners any further, and of course, because it was cold as hell already by then.
Things were okay for a couple of months. I went to a job interview at NYU, got my hopes up and never heard from them again. I watched MSNBC every night, wishing things really would change. And both the Mets and the Jets imploded at the end of their seasons.
When Christmas break came, the landlady's kids came home from college. She had three or four of them. They would go out every night and come home around three in the morning. Our bedroom was right under the front door of the main house, and they came in very late at night stamping and stomping and trip-trapping. And their little dog would get excited to see them come home and she would run back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.
So I brought it to my landlady's attention that my pregnant wife and I haven't been sleeping very well for weeks. She was all smiles about it, and she apologized even. But the gist of her message was that, since we were only paying $800 a month, we should just deal with it. She said there were other places out there that weren't basements were people were walking right over you, even though the rent would probably be higher. So I said, okay, I hear you loud and clear.
There were a couple of nights when I totally lost it. I started slamming doors over and over but it didn't seem to phase her little spawns. I slammed the doors so hard that the panels broke. A couple of times, Gale tapped our ceiling with a broom and the noise stopped. For a few minutes. Generally it was around 5am when they would actually go to sleep.
What got us through those times was the fact that we were looking forward to a vacation in Hawaii. It would be my first time there, and Gale's mom was throwing us a baby shower. I kept reminding her to think about our holiday and that in a few days we wouldn't be stuck in that hellhole anymore. And of course, during her whole pregnancy, Gale always kept her composure because getting riled up would not be good for the baby.
We found another place but we didn't tell the landlady yet. We were worried about what would happen to our things while we were away. If they could be that inconsiderate with us there, what more when we were across the continent.
On Christmas night, we listened to the tribe upstairs literally whoop as they opened each present. Each present. Each. Present. They would whoop. "Whoop, whoop, whoop." Seriously. I made sure to explain to Gale that this was not a Filipino thing. At least as far as I know. I don't know where the heck they picked it up.
The next day, we left for the airport. The trip to Hawaii was great, and her family was very welcoming. I had met a few of them before in Las Vegas. And I had also met her mother back in 2004.
Going back to the subject of my job, I was only able to get one week off, while Gale had two. So I left earlier. That was the loneliest time of my entire life. All sorts of thoughts went into my head while we were separated, and I just was never myself.
What kept me going was the move. And I did it all by myself. Granted our biggest piece of furniture was just the futon and mattress, but it still was no easy task. I'm very proud of it. Especially since I did it all without the landlady (and her husband and spawns) and the beer drinking neighbor buddies noticing.
I forgot to mention that when I first got back from the airport, I found fruitcake on our dining table. Full of mold. It confirmed our suspicion that they do enter our apartment without telling us.
When I got everything out, I then told her about it. She tried to play it cool, but I could see she didn't expect it. She wished me luck and everything and went off about other subjects. And then she mentioned that she would still need that month's rent because the deposit should not be used for the last month's rent. She was right. But I didn't care.
I said, "Yes, of course. By the way, can you get me a copy of the basement's inspection certificate? My lawyer said I need it for my taxes. I already have your receipts for the rent, but I'll need the papers that you filed with the city." Something like that.
She stammered. I was pretty sure she didn't have it. And I don't even know why one would need it for their taxes. I can't remember her exact words, some kind of excuse as to why she didn't have it, but then she said, "You know what, don't worry about the last month's rent. I can just use your deposit for it."
"Okay," I said, "Good night." And then I left. It was one of the most satisfying moments of my life. I wish I had a picture of that look on her face, or that I was enough of a wordsmith to describe it.
Oh and by the way, I locked all the doors inside. They didn't have the keys for them, so the whole time we lived there we had to be careful not to lock ourselves out of the rooms.
My future wife and baby never had to return to that basement. Oh, and I never touched that moldy fruitcake on the table.
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I liked our little place. It was pretty spacious because it was almost the same area as the house, minus the compartment for the boiler and the heater. The only real problem was that it was not actually safe. The only exit was the door at the back of the house, and the small windows, which at the start of fall, we had to seal with material to keep the cold out. The potential hazard was always in the back of my mind, even before we were pregnant.
Another minor inconvenience was that, since we exited through the back door, we had to walk through the narrow driveway to get to the street. Sometimes there would be a car or two parked there, and we had to squeeze through. I knew this would not be a good situation as my wife's belly was getting bigger.
On the week of Thanksgiving, somebody broke into our car, which we had parked at the corner many feet away from the house. Luckily enough, the day before it happened, we had cleaned up a little and taken our valuables inside. The only thing that was taken was a one-dollar bill which Gale had folded into a ribbon and put inside the glove box.
The window was broken. I wanted to bring it to a shop to get fixed, but I couldn't just call out of work, even with an emergency, because well, I could go on about my work but I'm not going to. So I drove my wife to work, covered up the window with a trash bag and gaffer tape, and left the car at the parking lot where she worked.
I told the landlady about it, and she was kind enough to let us park in their driveway for a night. She figured people were getting desperate with the holidays coming up, and what with the recession and everything. I immediately brought the car in to get fixed so as not to inconvenience the house owners any further, and of course, because it was cold as hell already by then.
Things were okay for a couple of months. I went to a job interview at NYU, got my hopes up and never heard from them again. I watched MSNBC every night, wishing things really would change. And both the Mets and the Jets imploded at the end of their seasons.
When Christmas break came, the landlady's kids came home from college. She had three or four of them. They would go out every night and come home around three in the morning. Our bedroom was right under the front door of the main house, and they came in very late at night stamping and stomping and trip-trapping. And their little dog would get excited to see them come home and she would run back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.
So I brought it to my landlady's attention that my pregnant wife and I haven't been sleeping very well for weeks. She was all smiles about it, and she apologized even. But the gist of her message was that, since we were only paying $800 a month, we should just deal with it. She said there were other places out there that weren't basements were people were walking right over you, even though the rent would probably be higher. So I said, okay, I hear you loud and clear.
There were a couple of nights when I totally lost it. I started slamming doors over and over but it didn't seem to phase her little spawns. I slammed the doors so hard that the panels broke. A couple of times, Gale tapped our ceiling with a broom and the noise stopped. For a few minutes. Generally it was around 5am when they would actually go to sleep.
What got us through those times was the fact that we were looking forward to a vacation in Hawaii. It would be my first time there, and Gale's mom was throwing us a baby shower. I kept reminding her to think about our holiday and that in a few days we wouldn't be stuck in that hellhole anymore. And of course, during her whole pregnancy, Gale always kept her composure because getting riled up would not be good for the baby.
We found another place but we didn't tell the landlady yet. We were worried about what would happen to our things while we were away. If they could be that inconsiderate with us there, what more when we were across the continent.
On Christmas night, we listened to the tribe upstairs literally whoop as they opened each present. Each present. Each. Present. They would whoop. "Whoop, whoop, whoop." Seriously. I made sure to explain to Gale that this was not a Filipino thing. At least as far as I know. I don't know where the heck they picked it up.
The next day, we left for the airport. The trip to Hawaii was great, and her family was very welcoming. I had met a few of them before in Las Vegas. And I had also met her mother back in 2004.
Going back to the subject of my job, I was only able to get one week off, while Gale had two. So I left earlier. That was the loneliest time of my entire life. All sorts of thoughts went into my head while we were separated, and I just was never myself.
What kept me going was the move. And I did it all by myself. Granted our biggest piece of furniture was just the futon and mattress, but it still was no easy task. I'm very proud of it. Especially since I did it all without the landlady (and her husband and spawns) and the beer drinking neighbor buddies noticing.
I forgot to mention that when I first got back from the airport, I found fruitcake on our dining table. Full of mold. It confirmed our suspicion that they do enter our apartment without telling us.
When I got everything out, I then told her about it. She tried to play it cool, but I could see she didn't expect it. She wished me luck and everything and went off about other subjects. And then she mentioned that she would still need that month's rent because the deposit should not be used for the last month's rent. She was right. But I didn't care.
I said, "Yes, of course. By the way, can you get me a copy of the basement's inspection certificate? My lawyer said I need it for my taxes. I already have your receipts for the rent, but I'll need the papers that you filed with the city." Something like that.
She stammered. I was pretty sure she didn't have it. And I don't even know why one would need it for their taxes. I can't remember her exact words, some kind of excuse as to why she didn't have it, but then she said, "You know what, don't worry about the last month's rent. I can just use your deposit for it."
"Okay," I said, "Good night." And then I left. It was one of the most satisfying moments of my life. I wish I had a picture of that look on her face, or that I was enough of a wordsmith to describe it.
Oh and by the way, I locked all the doors inside. They didn't have the keys for them, so the whole time we lived there we had to be careful not to lock ourselves out of the rooms.
My future wife and baby never had to return to that basement. Oh, and I never touched that moldy fruitcake on the table.
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Sunday, July 1, 2012
Timeout Boy's Greatest Hits
One reason why I started this blog was to put down some moments with my kid for posterity. Unfortunately, most often it would take too long for me to finally have time to write about it. Also, I would try too hard sometimes to find the write right words and discourage myself.
And now here we are three years later, and I haven't even written my son's first words. I'm sure I've forgotten many of them by now.
So before I forget even more, here are some of Timeout Boy's greatest hits...
ball - This was his first word, as far as I know. When he first started crawling around 7 months, we bought a couple of balls from Target so he could go after them. One afternoon, we were lying together on the floor, and I told him, "Ball". And I kept saying it, and he repeated it. However, I don't know if he may have already said that in day care without us knowing.
mum-mah - He said this when he was a few months old. My wife was really excited because he said it first instead of dah-dah. However, he never said it again. Once he started saying dah-dah, he kept saying it to me, but it took a few more months until he would regularly say mama to her.
dah-yee - Actually, he didn't really say dah-dah much. He said dah-yee more often.
ah-ah-ah-ter - I've seen other grown ups point to a helicopter and tell a really young child that it's a plane. I would guess they figure it's simpler to say than a four-syllable word. I always told Timeout Boy it was a helicopter, and I said it was a plane when it was a plane. He quickly was able to tell the difference. Sometimes a friend or relative would tell him it's a plane, and he would correct them. "No. Ah-ah-ah-ter." After some months, it turned into helly-hopper or helly-hotter, until he finally pronounced it helicopter.
Pipper - Kipper the dog, from a TV show. He would sometimes repeat consonant sounds in words. Glenda would be den-dah. Digos (bath) would be dee-dose. Ryan would be yah-yan.
bah-yah-yah-yah!!! - There's no meaning to this, as far as I know. But when he was about a year old, he would once in a while, just yell out at the top of his lungs, with all of his energy, "Bah-yah-yah-yah!!!" Like a tiny little mad man.
I no like... tunder. - This was his first sentence. It was Monday night. And I remember because it was the night the Jets hosted the Vikings in the Meadowlands, when right before halftime it just began pouring buckets of rain. We sat by the window and looked outside. When we heard a loud rumble I looked at him and said, "Thunder." He looked at me and said, "I no like... tunder." It really impressed me to hear him use a direct object in his sentence, although he had to pause to complete it.
I nike. - Its means, "I like," which means "I want some" in Hawaiian pidgin. He generally would say "I nike" and open his mouth during meal times, or when he sees you eating something you want.
eddie body - Everybody.
heady dough - Here you go.
on-dinge - Orange.
pee cup - Peacock.
ah boods - The birds.
ah-bump! - He would say this when he first learned to jump. It was funny because at first he never left the ground.
J-E-T-S Jets Jets Jets! - Yes, I taught him the chant. He knew how to spell Jets before he could spell his name. On that Thanksgiving game against the Bengals, when Brad Smith had that touchdown return when he lost a shoe, Timeout Boy said, "It's Jets. Running, running Jets." Everytime he sees football on TV though, he says it's Jets, even though they're entirely different teams.
mommy aunty - Mommy and Aunty. My wife's cousin lived with us for a couple of years to help out with Timeout Boy. My wife helped her get enrolled and get a job at the college where she works. They could drop him off and pick him up at day care. Whenever they arrived in the afternoon, Timeout Boy would look up from his activities and see them, yelling out "Mommy Aunty" repeatedly. It amused his teachers.
daddy water - Pepsi. He only said this once when he opened the fridge and saw the liter bottle. I said, "That's not for you." He said, "Is daddy water".
ah-show - We have this neighbor who used to blast his music from his car at 5 in the morning, before driving off to work. Sometimes we would be outside the house on a quiet afternoon, and he would just turn his music on and open the trunk so it would get louder. Things aren't so bad now, but we've never exchanged any pleasantries at all. One day we were in our yard when the guy walked by and Timeout Boy saw him. "Ah-show", he said. I guess he's heard me call him the A-word more than a few times. Either the guy didn't notice or didn't react. (Or realized it was true!) We've been more careful with our language since then.
Well, that's it for now. I'm sure there's more, and I'll probably come back with another list. Definitely I'll have to write about some of the latest things he's been saying.
Tweet Follow @dvdvill
And now here we are three years later, and I haven't even written my son's first words. I'm sure I've forgotten many of them by now.
So before I forget even more, here are some of Timeout Boy's greatest hits...
ball - This was his first word, as far as I know. When he first started crawling around 7 months, we bought a couple of balls from Target so he could go after them. One afternoon, we were lying together on the floor, and I told him, "Ball". And I kept saying it, and he repeated it. However, I don't know if he may have already said that in day care without us knowing.
mum-mah - He said this when he was a few months old. My wife was really excited because he said it first instead of dah-dah. However, he never said it again. Once he started saying dah-dah, he kept saying it to me, but it took a few more months until he would regularly say mama to her.
dah-yee - Actually, he didn't really say dah-dah much. He said dah-yee more often.
ah-ah-ah-ter - I've seen other grown ups point to a helicopter and tell a really young child that it's a plane. I would guess they figure it's simpler to say than a four-syllable word. I always told Timeout Boy it was a helicopter, and I said it was a plane when it was a plane. He quickly was able to tell the difference. Sometimes a friend or relative would tell him it's a plane, and he would correct them. "No. Ah-ah-ah-ter." After some months, it turned into helly-hopper or helly-hotter, until he finally pronounced it helicopter.
Pipper - Kipper the dog, from a TV show. He would sometimes repeat consonant sounds in words. Glenda would be den-dah. Digos (bath) would be dee-dose. Ryan would be yah-yan.
bah-yah-yah-yah!!! - There's no meaning to this, as far as I know. But when he was about a year old, he would once in a while, just yell out at the top of his lungs, with all of his energy, "Bah-yah-yah-yah!!!" Like a tiny little mad man.
I no like... tunder. - This was his first sentence. It was Monday night. And I remember because it was the night the Jets hosted the Vikings in the Meadowlands, when right before halftime it just began pouring buckets of rain. We sat by the window and looked outside. When we heard a loud rumble I looked at him and said, "Thunder." He looked at me and said, "I no like... tunder." It really impressed me to hear him use a direct object in his sentence, although he had to pause to complete it.
I nike. - Its means, "I like," which means "I want some" in Hawaiian pidgin. He generally would say "I nike" and open his mouth during meal times, or when he sees you eating something you want.
eddie body - Everybody.
heady dough - Here you go.
on-dinge - Orange.
pee cup - Peacock.
ah boods - The birds.
ah-bump! - He would say this when he first learned to jump. It was funny because at first he never left the ground.
J-E-T-S Jets Jets Jets! - Yes, I taught him the chant. He knew how to spell Jets before he could spell his name. On that Thanksgiving game against the Bengals, when Brad Smith had that touchdown return when he lost a shoe, Timeout Boy said, "It's Jets. Running, running Jets." Everytime he sees football on TV though, he says it's Jets, even though they're entirely different teams.
mommy aunty - Mommy and Aunty. My wife's cousin lived with us for a couple of years to help out with Timeout Boy. My wife helped her get enrolled and get a job at the college where she works. They could drop him off and pick him up at day care. Whenever they arrived in the afternoon, Timeout Boy would look up from his activities and see them, yelling out "Mommy Aunty" repeatedly. It amused his teachers.
daddy water - Pepsi. He only said this once when he opened the fridge and saw the liter bottle. I said, "That's not for you." He said, "Is daddy water".
ah-show - We have this neighbor who used to blast his music from his car at 5 in the morning, before driving off to work. Sometimes we would be outside the house on a quiet afternoon, and he would just turn his music on and open the trunk so it would get louder. Things aren't so bad now, but we've never exchanged any pleasantries at all. One day we were in our yard when the guy walked by and Timeout Boy saw him. "Ah-show", he said. I guess he's heard me call him the A-word more than a few times. Either the guy didn't notice or didn't react. (Or realized it was true!) We've been more careful with our language since then.
Well, that's it for now. I'm sure there's more, and I'll probably come back with another list. Definitely I'll have to write about some of the latest things he's been saying.
Tweet Follow @dvdvill
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