Category Archives: love bites

Sock’er Mom

Tonight is the big night. Manchester United is taking on Arsenal at the Emirates Stadium for the 2nd leg of the Champions League Semi-Finals. After we demolish the Gunners at their own pitch, we’ll be moving on to whip Chelsea (I hope it’s not Barca) in the Finals.

I have to explain my fascination for soccer. It all started way back in 2000 when Italy took on France for the Euro finals. A bunch of girlfriends decided to come over to my place to check out the cute Italian dudes, and I’d reluctantly agreed to watch 22 men chasing ball like a horde of wildebeests.

But when they zoomed in for a close up of Fabio Cannavaro (who still tops my list of hottest soccer players), I was hooked.

Along the way, I fell in love with the game (and the muscular men all decked out in their soccer garb). There’s all that sweat and testosterone oozing out, complete with masculine grunts. When you watch good soccer, it’s like poetry in motion. Magic.

It’s a myth that only men love to watch soccer. There are plenty of reasons for moms to be a soccer fanatic.

1. Entertainment in your living room.

Being a stay home mom, entertainment options are limited, to say the least. I’m cooped up at home with a kid all day and night, so it’s a good thing I’ve got the telly for company. But with the vast array of trashy programs monopolizing the prime-time slots, soccer is often the best there is, which brings me to my next point.

2. Ogle-fest

It’s the only chance to blatantly ogle at ribbed muscles and tight butts in front of the husband. On a good day, you even get to sneak a peek at their washboard abs when they yank off their shirt with a flourish after scoring a goal. Just make sure you hold a bowl of popcorn so your drool doesn’t collect on the floor.

3. Soccer Barbie

On match days, you get to dress the entire family up in matching soccer jerseys in a show of solidarity. Once you get past the cheese, there’s nothing cuter than dressing the kids up in the tiny jerseys and knee-high socks.

4. Midnight Snacking

It’s the perfect excuse to load up on chips and soda in the middle of the night. So totally sinful, but oh-so-good. And with the occasional ice-cold beer thrown in, the snacks alone is reason enough to be up at 2.30 in the morning.


The Return of Superdad

Let’s talk about dads. In particular, SUPERDADS. It’s tough for dudes to navigate their way around this whole having babies thing. For women, the maternal instinct comes rather naturally. After all, we are the ones that carry the child for nine months and have to push them out of you-know-where. So it’s only fair that we pride ourselves in being the ultimate authority on what they need.

But as far as dads go, all they do is contribute some fine specimens of their little fellas, which let’s face it, hardly constitutes as a chore. Besides, guys are just not wired to go all goo-goo ga-ga on babies. Most guys carry babies like they’re lifting a sack of rice for all of two minutes, then promptly hand them back, citing reasons like “I don’t know how”, or “See, the baby is not comfortable”.

So after the little squirts are born, what’s a dude to do?

In the world of fathers, there are three main archetypes.

1. The sperm donors. These days, you can get them off Ebay for $29.95. All they do is contribute the DNA (hey, DNA is very important, too) and take credit for anything good the child does. Once in a while, they provide very insightful comments like “Honey, the baby is crying” before resuming their oh-so-important quest of fighting the baddies on Resident Evil 5.

2. The functional father. From my observation, most dads fall neatly into this category. To avoid being nagged at by the wife, they do their share of baby chores like making the milk and running the bath. But they’re smart enough to make a hasty exit once there’s poop or puke involved.

3. The Superdads. They form a league of superheroes that can singlehandedly take care of all of the babies’ needs. For all intents and purposes, they’re practically women. They can tell the difference between a fontanel and a fingernail, whip up a pot of baby food, and change a diaper with their eyes closed. And in order to attain the status of a true Superdad, they have to pass through the initiation rite of being pooped on at least once.


I dare say, I’ve had the good fortune of snagging for myself one of those Superdads, which is the sole reason I haven’t completely lost my marbles. Of course, it wasn’t always the case. They did get off to a somewhat rocky start, which led to a rather embarrassing 3-hour screaming fit during a wedding dinner. But they’ve come a long way, and truth be told, I sometimes have to bribe Tru with snacks to make him like me more.

I’m not complaining, though. We’ve got a spiffy little system down pat. Mommy does the weekdays from 9-6, and Superdad takes over in the mornings, evenings and weekends. And that’s just fine by me. Plus, now I’ve got the handy little excuse that I’m preggers and can’t overexert myself. It’s good to be pregnant.

Word of the day: Peckish

One of our banal conversations.

Husband: Babe, what do you feel like having for dinner?

Me: I dunno. Anything is fine, I guess.

Husband: Are you starving or not really hungry?

Me: What’s the word to describe when you’re not hungry but just want to munch on something small?

Husband: Moderately hungry? I don’t think there’s a word for that.

Me: Peckish. You know, like a chicken. It’s a nice word, peckish.

Husband: Yeah, sure.

Pregnancy and Sexercise

I was asked to do an interview for an article in a women’s magazine today. At first, I was all like “Why, let me check my very important schedule and see if I have time to sit down for a chat.” But before I even got a chance to savor my sense of self-importance, I took a glance at the topic – Sex and Pregnancy, and my chocolate milk almost squirted out of my nostrils.

Now, I’m not a prude or anything, but when it comes to MAKING THE SEXYTIME, I kinda prefer to keep it all to myself, and maybe at most, a very, very close friend.

However, considering that it is for the good of all mankind, (well, my experience is prodigious) I decided to go ahead and do the interview.

Q1. Being a given that sex is very important to men, was sex or the potential lack thereof a concern for your spouse when you first discovered you were pregnant?

What I should have said: First of all, sex is also very important to women. We are after all the masters of multiple orgasms. Second of all, there will be no lack of sex regardless of whether I’m pregnant or not. We are after all the masters of multiple orgasms.

What I did say: We had to sit down and talk about the adjustments we had to make with regards to our sex life during pregnancy, so that we both know what to expect and how to manage it best. Open communication is really important, rather than avoid the topic and try to second-guess each other.

Q2. What physical changes did you encounter that hindered or encouraged intimacy during your pregnancy?

What I should have said: You get bigger boobs, an increased libido and better orgasms. There’s no way I’m losing my mojo, baby.

What I did say: The belly was a real problem in the later months. It was really uncomfortable to lie on my back or side. Actually, it was just uncomfortable all the time.

Q3. What problems did you encounter when being intimate with your spouse during your pregnancy?

What I should have said: What problems? Did you not hear what I said about the bigger boobs?

What I did say: We had to think of creative ways when the stomach got too big and uncomfortable.

Q4. How did you overcome these problems (e.g. change of position, sexual alternatives, substitute with other forms of emotional or physical fulfillment like cuddling etc.)

What I should have said: There is a plethora of alternatives. Blow job, hand job, nose job (oh wait, that’s something else), woman on top, side-by-side, spooning, the list goes on.

What I did say: There was a lot of cuddling and hugging, which is good. We were also quite experimental with different positions.

Q5. Can you provide a few tips to our readers on how they can best maintain or improve intimacy with their spouses during pregnancy?

What I should have said: Pregnant women are hot. Just lay off the chips and I think you’ll do just fine.

What I did say: Have very frank and open communication with your spouse because things are going to be different, and they won’t understand what you are going through unless you talk about it. Also, have realistic expectations of each other so tension can be minimized.

Evidently, my responses were very safe and appropriate. But don’t you just hate reading sterile answers in those women’s mags where it’s all watered-down and boring. Come on, even my grandmother would have been more explicit.

That being said, I totally chickened out. I do have an image to maintain after all.

Love Actually

I’m celebrating my 2nd wedding anniversary today.

When I first got married, plenty of well-meaning folks (the kind you’d like to stab in the eye with a fork) told me that the honeymoon period lasts for 2 years and then its mostly just getting through each day without wanting to stab each other’s eye with a fork. And they back it up with all kinds of impressive statistics to sound like they’re some kind of authority on the subject.

Oh, and guess what the 2nd anniversary is called. We all know that 50th is Gold, and 60th is Diamond (I like!), but few would know that the 2nd is COTTON. Wow, way to go, I can’t think of a more worthless material. It’s what I use to wipe my kid’s arse. Whoever came up with the names obviously didn’t think much of the 2nd anniversary.

Here’s the thing. When you’re googly-eyed newlyweds, you gaze into each other’s eyes and whisper saccharine sweet nothings all day. And you pooh-pooh the idea that your marriage will be one of the casualties.

But as we neared the big 2-year mark, I realized it’s about the time it takes for the gazing and whispering to get old. There’s only so much mush you can concoct and romance is almost like a reflex action sometimes.

Which got me thinking.

Given that the odds are against us, how do some marriages stay together while others fall apart? Is it really just the luck of the draw or is there something we’re missing here?

And after many days of mulling, I still didn’t have the slightest clue. I was determined to come up with a grand plan to bring back the fireworks. to spice up the marriage and spread some good juju around. You know, to ward off the malevolent eye-stabbing powers. But let me just state that fireworks are a real pain to set off and clean up. And even that starts to wane after a while.

Then one evening as we were going about our usual activities, surfing the net and engaging in one of our usual banal conversations, it occurred to me that this is exactly what makes us tick.

That we can talk for hours about the most insipid topics and enjoy the conversation.

That we can sit in silence and still enjoy the conversation.

That after Manchester United kicks Arsenal’s 4th-place bottom, we can still have a civil chat.

That after I’ve gained 50 pounds, he still looks at me like I’m smokin’ hot.

That when I wake up in the morning, I know that he’s my best friend in the whole, wide world.