First week of my challenge over! This week was a toughie too, starting with the fact that we stayed over at my father-in-law’s, which does not yet give me that ‘home’ feeling. Then I caught a killer cold from my sister-in-law. Usually I don’t get sick, so when a bacterium does get past my defenses, it just kicks my ass three ways from Tuesday: headaches, lead-filled limbs, throat-spasming dry coughs, and both a stuffy and a drippy nose. The only thing I could do for two days was breastfeed my baby. Then, when the headache released me from its clutches, Houdini got her shots and fussed up a storm. Then my husband and his aunt got sick.
Damn. We got through it though, and by remembering to write down one good thing my husband’s done each day, I’ve come to realize something: He doesn’t meet all my expectations as a perfect father or husband, and there are things he does that annoy the heck out of me BUT for a relationship as nouveau and topsy-turvy as ours, we’re doing as well as can be expected.
I would’t describe us as an unconventional family, for the simple fact that there are more ‘shotgun’ weddings in the Philippines than our government would like to acknowledge. Of course, our dear networks like to wrap it in drama and sell it as afternoon romance, but execs gotta make money, right? If our life was a tv show however, it would be more ala-Friends than Gulong ng Palad (Wheel of Fate), no matter how much of a kontrabida I am.
Kontrabida: The villainess of the show. There are two kinds: 1) The one who craves the man/company/hacienda and machinates her evil plans with a full red lip and artfully arched brows or, 2) The selfish one who takes every minor slight as a major insult. The last one is particularly devious as they can come in any size, color or age. No one believes that they could possibly be a kontrabida, not until the final two episodes. The most discerning watcher knows that the only way they can be distinguished from the hapless hero/ine is by the perpetually pinched skin between their eyebrows and a quick constipated look when something good happens to someone else.
Who then, therefore, gives a crap about how much he isn’t perfect, when I am a dysfunctional evil-doer? Thankfully I haven’t yet unleashed any plans. I’m even more thankful for the fact that, even after a year of being together, my dear resilient husband still puts up with my ways. And he gamely brings me the one thing that can lift my bad moods: a Snickers bar.
Chocolate. That’s how you stop a villainess, showbiz.
This is a good start, I think. We’ll see what else I learn about myself next week!