My wife has been pregnant for 9months. 40 weeks and 4 days, to be exact. She has been carrying that bulge on her stomach for almost a year now and its getting bigger and creepier every week.

What makes all these difficult though is trying to get used to the constantly growing gap between us everytime i give her a hug, or the occasional barrage of fists and kicks as my unborn son tries to muscle himself out. There was even this one time, i kid you not, he was able to skip songs played from mama’s ipad as she leans the device on her belly to let him listen to genius-stimulating orchestra with nothing but brute strength and pure unadulterated love for good music. My friends say it was just coincidence, i think its raw talent.
in fairness, my wife is nothing but gentle, soft-spoken, easy to handle, disney-like princess all through out this pregnancy, nearly none of the things old folklores warned me about- extra fat, mood swings, big noses, food binging. A Human Blue-whale.

Today we just got word that the baby is
descending a little slower than expected and the plan would be to guide him out by inducing the delivery.

I’m scared. Scared out of my wits

I want to scream.

Run.

Eat ice cream.

We went out instead and she did her last strut along the shiny Target floors- last before entering Motherhood.

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Time flew by so fast. it was just a few months back when she first told me we were pregnant. I must admit it wasn’t a sudden elation or a sense of accomplishment that welcomed me. It was more of – am I ready for this?

One thing is true though, every time he moves, every time he gallops, it never fails to keep me wanting, waiting for more.

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Going to work with this routine is impossible. i dont know but for some reason everyone started bringing ridiculously mouth-watering, pure-meat enriched lunch.

everyone’s conspiring against me.

Even my patients meals look so appetizing, better than the salad i was having.

this  reminds me of the stories from Jesus going on eating nothing for 40 days. Man, he must have been starving. no wonder the devil said turn these rocks into bread ’cause i’m sure those cold rocks were feeling warm and freshly baked  after the 20th day.

But where can one find the strength to survive 40 days without anything, no food, no water, just meditation? wouldn’t your mind be wondering off  every second dreaming of anything to chew?

well, just to let you know, when i got home my pregnant wife was devouring Spicy beef and Orange chicken. i can’t tell you what happened next.

 

I’m off for the weekend.

and I could see myself lounging around like a hippo for 3 whole days. wake up 30 minutes past midnight, zombie-walk to the freezer and grab a 3 foot nutrient-filled-vanilla-coated-cookies ‘n cream- choco-fudge ice cream for an early breakfast. life could never be greater- Unless you  purchased a full bed from walmart, that needs assembling.

last week we decided to buy a new bed for the guest room in our brand new apartment. Somehow the idea of moving into a new place  really made an impact on  both of us that  seeing the  room half filled with boxes,unwanted clothes, pair-less shoes,a barrel of toxic waste and some old used tires  was unbearable.

So Jen, the Shop Guru, and  my mom, hit the web to search for the coolest neon- colored- full bed ever.

I’m not a connoisseur in bed mattresses or anything but I’ve always had this idea that beds are for comfort. soft and fluffy. simple. and parts shouldn’t  just fall off when two  100- pound adults decide to jump on them  on a boring Friday night.

before the weekend ended, we have cleaned the room and made ready for the newewst member of our small family. I took out the trash, piled boxes, hand-picked bazillion crumbs off the carpet (since we don’t have a vacuum), eradicated ants, stray horses, guinea pigs.

By monday, UPS called me to bring the package in. what I thought was a full stuffed bed with pillows,  inviting blankets with Canon playing in the background were 3 boxes and a mile long instruction list on how to assemble 6 planks of wood, 89 screws, 52 knots using an inch sized screw driver. it was like boyscout all over again.

IT’S A RIP OFF!  this was nowhere near  the picture they showed. there it was standing and firm and well lighted while these are all wood!After 16 hours of studying the manual(which translates all other languages aside English) we were able to holster it all in, we, as in Jen attaching all the screws and putting them all together while i do the most difficult manly job of internalizing the complex structural schematics.


Its great to be back here again. Its been pretty hectic this past months with the wedding and changing jobs and moving apartments. and finally, it seems like the dust are slowly settling down, just enough to have a breather.

Thank God.

Well, it seems like i have enough time today so I might put up some long over-due pictures from the past 3 months.. maybe a few will do.

ever since the first kiss, a kiss on her forehead is still one of her favorites

we had to wait for a few minutes for the right sunlight so we started playing in the water

the grass and meadow was great that day..it felt so soft. this was taken in calabasa where the kardashians live.wooot woot

she looks so comfortable here. i dont know but the grass and the wind and her top makes it looks so korean-ish. *wink wink

karen and kathy were there all day to help us. a billion thanks guys. here they provided some extra spice and drama.taken while waiting for the tram

photographed by Andy Seo

heres some of the moments from the wedding 05.23.10

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we had so much fun. its weird when its your wedding coz you really cant eat that much … but i heard the food and those little food stuff were really nice too..

photographed by Andy Seo

I was out with the fiance the other day to pick out my tux-an equally challenging task.  

 To allow ample amounts of time to prepare myself emotionally, I had to cut off my working hours early to reserve myself for the rest of the day.

  Yes, this was planned  months ago, but this is Tuxedo day, you see. Women, on their part, have numerous days assigned for fitting and refitting their mile long gowns, not to mention, the bazillion hours of phone calls spent with girlfriends discussing the pros and cons of each and every gown in bridal magazines, while I, the lone groom, only have 1 day- ow, make that just 30 minutes, to be exact. 

This is, of course, one of those crucial times in marriage, along with wedding pictorials, family reunions and child support payments where a considerately productive groom-to-be or any real man, in that matter, are expected to perform exceedingly well…or at least, way up above  average.

 you understand the scenario I’m in  right? the level of pressure?

If there was a time in my life  I’d  wish I could be as suave as 007, this would be it. Go in the store, flip a cigar from my side pocket, say some french clothing-language that only me and the expert tailor comprehends; sit at the counter and leisurely  drop a killer “one liner, “Martini; shaken, not stirred”.

Unfortunately, like the realities of  espionage and make-believe movies, I was the clumsy green ogre that day, stumbling over a shelf of wedding brochures as we stepped in.

I always thought choosing tuxedos were easy. I mean, there are only 2 available colors to choose from for crying out loud and the designs, well, aside from worrying if its gonna be double-breasted or not the suits look basically the same.

but it turns out, when your inside a den filled with  black and white customary drapes for aspiring husbands, the similarities evaporate and now you face  endless variety of exquisitely designed tuxedos,silk, non-silk ,ties, bow ties, bent collars, straightened collars,  or whatever else they are.

Choices which are  too complex for my already shrinking pea-sized brain to decide on.

 I heard that one way of chosing the best one, something that’s truly YOU would be to close your eyes and listen to your heart decide.

 Well, I don’t exactly know how the heart tells you , maybe in a quick extra beat or a skip but walking inside the corridors filled with tagged coats, I had a feeling my heart decided to abandon me on this, or maybe missed its still small voice  for all I heard were my shoes squeeking on the well polished floor and terror-strickened soul screaming,  drowning from confusion and indecisiveness. 

I traversed each aisle aimlessly, touching each possible coat, hoping, nay, praying that one enchanted tux would connect with me.

 but there was silence. there were no sparks.

Fortunately, the fiance was there to lend me her expertise, holding my hand the whole time. Snapping me back from my hysteria. And without breaking a sweat, even with eyes closed she, in slow-motion, extended her finger and rested them gently on a black, double breasted, polyester tuxedo. 

Then the room glistened. 

I swear I heard angels singing right there.