Uly’s got the words…..

So my husband left for Salt Lake City, Utah, yesterday. Only for three nights. As always, I helped him packing up. Shirts were perfect and crisp, taken from laundry. Underwears. Shocks. Belt. Ties. Jeans. T-shirts. White undershirts. Jackets. Bath kit. A pair of my clean black panties and Alana’s Elmo soft toy were secretly put in the suitcase, to remind him that his wife and daughter exist (hahaha…).

We had our phone call last night, even chatted on YM. Paul entertained Alana through webcam, showing her Elmo and said hi. Alana was a bit puzzled to find her daddy and Elmo on tiny screen of webcam. She didn’t stop saying, "Hi dada… Elmo, Elmo" It was soooo funny. So, yeah, everything was perfect.

Paul went to bed earlier, because Utah’s time is one hour ahead. I was still on my computer until midnight, and sent one last email before bed. Just a line to tell my husband how lonely I was without him.

In the morning, I checked my email, and got a reply from his blackberry: This morning I’m looking for my pants.  No pants.

I felt soooooooo bad. I don’t know how he survives three nigths without his black working pants. Those jackets (they’re more like suits) don’t go well with jeans. I guess he has to make a stop at Macy’s or any stores near his hotel.

I’m trying to be a good partner, helping him out on every trip. That’s one little thing I can do to show him I care and I want him to feel less pressure. But today I feel so embarrassed. No pants? Uly, what were you thinking?!!!

Whatever you call it. But yeah, that’s pretty much my life now. A perfect Sunday afternoon is as simple as: riding my bike slowly to downtown Tempe with Alana on the back seat (that pink helmet makes her too cute), my husband, gorgeous Arizona weather 78F (25 C) an hour or so before sunset, a slice of Hawaiian pizza (lots of pineapple bits, please….), fun conversation, watching people from the corner of pizza parlour.

Domestic life can be dull sometimes, but most of the time: it’s warm and pleasant like a morning breeze.

Maybe that’s the most wonderful part of sharing life with my two significants. Being together in a Sunday afternoon in the middle of a non-famous city. Nothing pretentious. Just simple. Easy. Secure.

So, Thomas Beatie is pregnant. It’s not miracle. Duuuh. He used to be a woman, but chose to change his gender legally. Married to a woman for 5 years, their marriage looks solid. His wife cannot get pregnant (but already got 2 kids from her previous relatioship), that’s why he took his wife’s job to carry the baby.

I’m disappointed at him, for not being consistent. I know it’s his body (or should I say "her" body, because when he decided to get pregnant he’s back being a woman!). And noone or no institution should be able to ban anyone for wanting to get pregnant. It’s something you do with your own body.

But Thomas is a man, legally. His body has changed. He takes hormones but been off for quite some time to get pregnant.

I’m a bit confused. And bothered. I try very hard not to be judgmental. But how can I not? Thomas is a man. He chose to be one, and no one forced him for being what he is now. And as far as I know, men don’t give birth.

How is he gonna explain to his future daughter? "Sweetie, do you know how hard it was when daddy gave birth to you? Thank God, mommy didn’t leave daddy’s side."

OK, that’s not really necessary. The bigger picture is, this couple brings a mixed message, a serious messed-up message to their kids, and lots of kids around them. Of course it can be explained. And with lots of love, hopefully the baby will grow up fine. But I’m still bothered. I feel like Thomas is a person who wants everything on his plate. He wants to be a man, but when he bumps the rocky road (for having a wife who cannot get pregnant) he realizes he can take advantage from his denied sex. That’s unfair.

But maybe–hopefully–he deserves the baby much more than some crackhead moms who abandon their kids. So, who am I to judge? Oh, yeah, I’m a mother. I can judge. I judge all the time! ;))

There is one good reason why I’m such a believer: I’m afraid of death. I really am.

I love living my life, no matter how it sucks. Part of me wants to be young and immortal, but another part of me is very curious: does ‘life after death’ really exist? Because if it doesn’t, I’d be doomed. That is so unfair. For scientologist Tom Cruise and his robot-wife Katie Holmes, at least they experience beyond luxurious life to finally find that heaven is just a myth. But for me–and most of the believers in this planet–our lives are not really the picture of heaven, are they?

Things have been getting worse since I have my daughter. I spend amount of time thinking, "What would happen to her if I died? Would she remember me the way I want her to remember me? Would she long for me?"

And that’s how I really want to believe, that when I die, I’d still have the chance to reunite with my child (and my husband–if we’re together ’til last) somewhere in universe. I really want to be able to reunite with people I love, living the life that’s even better than the life I live now.

I was born Christian, raised as one too. I didn’t really have a choice when I was little. Now, I’m open for any religion, but I still stick with my old religion. It’s not a big deal for me. I’m too old to learn a new belief (I’m even too old to change my PC to Mac!), and I don’t see it necessary.

But, honestly, I long for God who confirms his existance in a very simple way. The kind of God who doesn’t inspire humans to kill each other to spread what they believe or to defend God. Sadly, to my ideal of belief, every religion fails.

I’m a believer. A strong believer. But if God is pictured as an inspiration for dehumanization in any form, I really don’t want to know that God. Let me be sad and depressed to conclude, that the glorious life after death is only an illusion for the believers.

At least, that’ll make me appreciate my existing life even better. Because, when you die, you’d just turn into dust, so you want to make the best out of it. There I said it. (Oh, shit. I’m scared now!!! A depressing posting for sure)

After 16 months, finally I and Paul took a break from Alana. We dropped her off at her aunt’s house in Cave Creek on Saturday afternoon, and had a big night out: Indian wedding party in Chandler, adult shop for some naughty toys, bar hopping, "just us" time at home until 2 AM.

It was soooo much fun… and I was at my best, until a tequila shot, a whiskey coke, and a champagne kicked in, I started to feel really excited ;). I told Paul, "We’re not going home."

So we went to Library bar in downtown Tempe, drinking beer and watching the kids dancing. Yippee. It’s spring break. All the bar was packed. Super cute kids were all over. I felt like a little girl in candy land. It was hard to behave. So I told Paul, "Honey, you go smoking outside. Come back later."

A few second after he left, a 20-something boy came to me and picked up some lousy lines, "Hi, are you with someone? My friend said you’re very cute." I replied, "So, you don’t think I’m cute?" He was smiling, "Of course, you’re very cute. But are you with someone?" I just smiled, and finally had to say, "Yes, I’m with someone here." The boy came from Chicago, with four other friends for spring break. Of course they all wanted to get laid, and tried their luck. We had a "friendly" brief conversation until Paul came back to protect his "property". Hahahaha…

Paul asked me what the boy’s pick up lines. I told him, and my husband was laughing out loud. "Stupid boy. If I were him, I would have said, "Hey, are you here with your daddy?" (since Paul’s a lot older than most of the boys in the bar!). Of course he knew you’re here with me. But he’s not smart enough to pick up some witty lines. Knowing you, he is soo not getting anything no matter how cute he is."

That’s what I like about Paul. He is funny, and very secure. He would let me enjoy my time alone with a crowd in the bar, pretending to be single (but I was not allowed to take my wedding ring off. "Just hide your finger," he said). He just smiled when another boy hitting on me saying, "You know you look exactly like my friend in Colorado." I replied, "She must be super cute", and the boy said, "You got it."

I couldn’t stay long. Too much. Paul actually enjoyed the fact that his wife was still desired (actually his term is fuckable) by kids. But I didn’t. It’s good for my damaged confidence. But it’s also torture. It just brought back some old memories, when I was young and free, when I could just talk to a stranger and didn’t feel bad to flirt. So, we walked out the door, and outside the bar I screamed loudly. Aaaaaarggggggggghhhhhhhhh!!! Paul just smiled. He knew me too well. Being committed sometimes frustrated me.

We went home, and did every thing we could think of. It was totally our night. No Alana, no baby to nurture. Just us.

But when we went to bed, I really missed my little girl. I always love watching her sleeping, cuddling with her, kissing her little hands and feet. In the morning, seeing her face always makes me smile, no matter how cranky I am.

I didn’t really sleep well, thinking of Alana. So in the morning, I didn’t wait too long to pick her up. She was just fine when we got her. She didn’t even seem happy to see me. But when we’re back home, she didn’t let me go at all. She’s suddenly very clingy and demanding. I guess, she missed me a lot too…

I remember when I used to hang out with my girl friends–taking a break from our cool-but-shitty-paid-job for a quick lunch at Setiabudi Plaza or once-a-week looooooong lunch at Plaza Senayan–we liked dissing women who seemed doing nothing but shopping or having lunch with their friends at the plaza. Those women dressed accordingly, flaunted polished nail and full make-up. They carried brown paper bags with brand names printed on (Mango for the middle class, LV for some serious lucky bitches!). And we the girls liked to think (with jealousy), "Hey, what are they doing here? Don’t they have to work their butts off like us? How come they look so pretty and wear expensive clothes? While we look tired, sweaty, and can only afford Mangga Dua cheap clothes, so we interpret ‘fashionable’ as required by the employer pretty well?"

We the girls liked to think, that we’re very much special. We’re more than just a bunch of women who spend their husband’s money at the mall. We worked like crazy, got some millions rups to pay our bills, to hang out, and to enjoy life to its fullest (Oh, well, with our way of life). We’re proud that we’re poor but we’re very independent.

So, when I was in Seattle, I met my friend Vevy. She’s the type of woman I used to make fun of (because of jealousy. Duuh…) when I lived in Jakarta, when I sometimes had to work 20 straight hours and slept under the table in the editing room. You know, the pretty woman who dresses so well, you feel like crap when you sit next to her. We lunched together. And suddenly, I felt so bad for being so judgmental when I was younger and such a hater.

Because some of those women actually know more than just "shop" or "lunch". Those women could be caring mothers, wonderful wives, some passionate women who put their career on hold, because they have to deal with their domestic issues.

I’m now part of those women, those who lunch at the mall during working hours and being looked down by the career women in their power suits. I stroll my baby around the block while some women work their way up to top managers of prestigious companies.

So, for women at Plaza Senayan, Plaza Indonesia, and some other places in Jakarta who spent time to fulfill their lives by taking care of themselves and their loved ones, I want to say, "Sorry for being so judgmental. Keep doing what you’re doing. Because, man, you’re good. I don’t know how you do that. I don’t have my shitty paid job anymore, but I’m still that girl who doesn’t know how to apply eye liner or to dress like a decent wife. So, please befriend with me. I need to learn one or two from you!"

Seattle, WA:

We stayed at Red Lion Hotel on Fifth Avenue, in the heart of the city. It’s just a few blocks from the famous Pike Market, next to Betsey Johnson boutique. The hotel is not great, but our suite room is more than just fine. My husband was very happy with the coffee Tully’s, and I was happy with the amenities from Bath&Body Works.

Seattle is a cool city. Not great, but definitely not bad. The downtown is not so impressive to my taste, but it’s fun enough to explore. I loved our breakfasts, from the Athenian at Pike Market where one of the movie scenes Sleepless in Seattle was shot, to a cute coffee shop across our hotel.

I met my friend, Vevy, and we went to Indonesian restaurant. The food was just ok, but it was so much fun to catch up with an Indonesian. We walked around the city, spending some time together. Alana had a fun time with Scarlett, the pretty little girl with her curly hair and long eye lashes.Vevy is kind of girl you want to hang out with. She’s a stylish cool girl with a cool SUV! Hehehe… I wish we had more time to spend.

I pretty much spent time exploring the city with Alana while my husband was working his ass off (don’t you love being a housewife sometimes? Hehehe…). Luckily, his big boss didn’t come to the city, so he was free every night. We had a great dinner at Wild Ginger, an Asian bistro. The food was excellent and the service was unbeatable. I had Laksa that tasted exactly like Laksa was supposed to taste. In USA, it’s impressive.

We were going to Vancouver on Saturday, so we didn’t really explore any places outside downtown Seattle. We went to Space Needle on Sunday. And that’s all about it.

Vancouver, BC, Canada:

On Saturday, we drove two and half hours from Seattle to Vancouver, just wanted to get out of the USA. It’s been awhile since the last time I used my passport! (Sadly, I traveled more when I was in Indonesia).

Somehow, I like Vancouver better than Seattle. It’s not fair, because I didn’t spend much time in both places. But from my very quick visit, I did enjoy downtown of Vancouver more. It has so much character. The people, the way they dress, the Asians, the restaurants, the buildings…

Funny, we met quite a few chicks in Vancouver who couldn’t wait for summer to dress provocatively (that’s a better word for "slutty")! It was 40s F, I saw some girl wore very short shorts, bare midrif, and looked very uncomfortable. My husband tried not to be judgmental by saying, "Maybe Canadians are used to very cold weather." But I proved him wrong. Because I looked around, all people on the street dress in winter clothes. So? As I said before, some girls just cannot wait for summer to flaunt their assets.

We went to Granville Island. It was a nice place for family trip. We walked around the dock, watched the beautiful seaguls. It was a perfect place to visit when you only had one day to spend in Vancouver. The market is waaaaaaay better than Pike market in Seattle. We had lunch at Sand Bar, and then enjoyed the beautiful scenery.

We spend a couple of hours in downtown Vancouver, eating crepes and having good time with the crowd. Alana was bundled up, but only for a few minutes. She didn’t really like to be wrapped.

We drove back to Seattle on the same day. It was tiring, but we’re really happy we made a little trip to Vancouver.

For the first time, I feel like I’m in love with Arizona. This state is not bad at all. The more I travel to places in the country, the more I find many places are not so pleasant. Especially the weather.

Here I am in Seattle, the city I expected to amaze me, trying to find the uniqueness of the city, but unfortunately I have to admit, Seattle is just another city. The downtown is fine, but not great. The famous Pike Market is just another farmers’ market. Nothing really special (ok, maybe the giant lobster tail… if it’s really important).

The weather is mostly cloudy… it makes me appreciate sunny days in Arizona even more.

There are lots of nice things I like about Seattle (I save it for my articles on Harian Seputar Indonesia, ok), but overall, Seattle doesn’t impress me that much. But I do enjoy my time here. Alana loves to walk around in her coat and new Ugg boots.

I’ll write more about our trip later. This is just a teaser. So, Vevy, if you read this one, you gotta wait til I say something about you!! And you must know it will be a nice one!

Cheers from Seattle.

It’s almost three o’clock in the morning. Gosh, am so worn-out. Went to my creative writing class (hey, I never knew that poetry could be so much fun!), fed myself… helped Paul with his writing. He has to review some proposals for education grant. Big deal, too much work. I wanted to scream!! Couldn’t relate well to education matters. What’s that with nanoscience?!

He’s leaving for Washington DC within 14 hours (thank God, I cancelled the trip. I don’t think I want to deal with airport securities, suitcases and Alana throwing tantrum in the cabin). I guess tomorrow I’m gonna slow down, watch DVDs, have some comfort food while my husband doing his nobel duty. Hopefully he judged the teams well.

Are you sure that one, honey? I thought the other proposal is not that bad to be rated as "fair"? But don’t listen to me. Who am I to judge, at three in the morning, talking about nanoscience and podcasts? I better get some sleep.

When you finish an old carton of orange juice from the fridge, and open a new carton for your husband. Because the new one is always better, and you think your husband deserves better. Oh, yeah, that’s love. Pure love.

When you try to keep the room quiet for him, because he needs his napping after 60 hours working his ass off to pay the bills.

When you let him buy Michael Kors and Hugo Boss sport jackets (both are black) even though you’d been eyeing a pair of Elie Tahari heels. It’s only fair because you know his boss wears Prada (straight from the boutique), and he meets like 100 people at work. And you don’t need expensive heels to walk around the neighborhood with your daughter every afternoon or to meet other mommies, do you?

When your husband had dinner with his multi-millioner boss at a fancy restaurant in Chicago, he intentionally didn’t finish the steak. Because it was so good, he wanted to share the steak with his wife who was waiting for him in the hotel room with their baby.

When your husband wants pizza, he decides to go to Panda Express instead, because he knows you like Chinese food better, even the crappy ones.

When he passed the invitation for the Kingdom premiere (which was shot in Arizona), because he’d rather spend time in the couch watching Ugly Betty with you.

When your husband takes diaper duty on Sunday morning and plays with your daughter in her play room, because he wants you to have extra sleep.

In the first months of being a mother, your nipples are sore from breastfeeding, you almost give up, but then you think, "Breast milk is the best for her. Just suck it up!" As she grows older, you let her suck on your breast with her butt up in the air, she treats your nipples like they are her toys. You then realize, your beautiful chest is now history.

When you’re frustrated, you spank your daughter’s butt (not so hard though), even tell her "I’m done with you. You’re such a bad girl!" And you’re afraid she’d hate you. But she looks at you right in the eye, and says, "Mam-ma, mam-ma" How can you not love a little girl?

When you see your daughter sleep peacefully, you’re so touched and you say, "I’d die for you, my girl", you don’t just say it; you actually mean it.

Everyday when you tell your husband and your daughter, "I love you guys." You do love them, and surprisingly, more than you love yourself.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my friends. Love is not easy to find. When you find it, hold on to it.