The Joys of Motherhood

is being a wife to a wonderful husband. Anything the kids can come up with which might have driven me insane is just an entertainment because I have a husband who's there for me all the time.

I do not blog about my husband all that much. It's because having his love and support and all things in between is like oxygen, ubiquitous and constant. And just like that basic element, having a first rate supply of it makes me thrive. It's not that he's been taken for granted, (though he might think differently, what with the sexual thingy I have while breastfeeding!). He's just so much part of me, and how often do you read about me except with my unhealthy obsession on weight?

My husband likes to tell a chronicle of us meeting in ‘Nam. How I was a sniper slaughtering his buddies one by one. I was a sharp-shooter*. The Fall of Saigon and liberation…

We met one weekend when I was eighteen, and got married less than 36 hours later. You could say it's a whirlwind romance. It was and it wasn’t!

We’ve been writing for half a year. We were averaging 6 days a week of letters with an average of 3 pages, and approximately 200 voice tapes. More him on the audio as I detest listening to my recorded voice. With that much communication, it's amazing how much of our personality is imprinted on each page.

How I managed to get good grades in my demanding BS Nursing studies and writing handwritten long letters to someone not-quite-my-sweetheart yet is pure luck. That and a younger brain which retains majority of the important information I need for my test despite markedly decreased studying hours. I was writing letters when I should have been studying.

I firmly believe that I wouldn’t have the audacity to ask my questions or firmly stated my world views. How do you ask a person you just met what his ideal wife would be or his views on fidelity? Or asked all other awkward personal information when I haven’t even kissed the gentleman! Rules and suggestions were exchanged. Dislikes and likes pounded smooth, but never set in stone. I do not recall now what we were writing volumes about, but it was exciting, tantalizing, informative, entertaining, and above all, pleasurable.

We’ve establish an unspoken rule with our first letters that we’ve going to treat it like a conversation. Each letter takes an average of 10 days to arrive. We didn’t wait for the reply to arrive before we’d launch another one. It’s the only way we can keep the flow going. There was no electronic communication in 1991. Mails are delivered by canoes! Phone call cost a fortune, so we limit those to once or twice a month. Phone sex was certainly out of the question. As for dirty letters, I wasn’t daring enough to initiate one. He tried, but his intimation and hints went right over my head…

One day, I received the letter that would change the course of my life. It didn’t hurt that the picture with the letter is one hot dude! After all, I said I was smart and young. I didn't say I wasn't capable of being shallow!

I was eighteen and in my second year of college. I met my perfect man. I had a dream of traveling around the world while working as a nurse a la Betty Neels.** I am not a nurse today, and I am living a dream life.

Oh yeah, the joys of motherhood is not just about having fabulous and fantastic children like mine. It’s also about having an extraordinary spouse!

*I hardly knew which end to shoot from on any gun thingy with bullets in it. Yeah, I live in a state where shotguns is as common as sandals in summer, but I've never actually shot one. (Note to self, enroll in a class. That's after reading an intruction about shooting. Which means, a trip to the library first!)

**Betty Neels writes romances about nurses traveling while working and meeting their dream boy, usually a doctor. She writes sweet and innocent love stories. A endangered genre nowadays.