My editor signed me up for the three-day 5th Annual Filipina Summit spearheaded by the Filipina Women’s Network (FWN) in Washington, DC last week, the highlight of which was the unveiling of the 100 Most Influential Women in the US. Although it rained like crazy in those three days, the conference was quite interesting and I still owe my editor two stories. I realized I was not cut out to be a photographer and writer at the same time – all my pictures of the gala night were out of focus. I am inclined to blame the camera though. Plus, I ran out of batteries. I am, however, loving my super sleek digital voice recorder, courtesy of the husband. My former media colleagues might be surprised to know that I am now using a recorder. I stuck with pen and paper for the most part simply because it was easier to meet deadlines that way. Transcribing interviews could be time consuming and time is often a luxury for journalists. So now a recorder is a constant in my purse. Maybe having it has something to do with age, or laziness, or both. Not that I have shaky hands and can’t write legibly anymore (although, admittedly, there are words in my notebook that I have trouble deciphering). I have simply decided to go the way of convenience.
Anyway, that is not what this post is about. The first day of the conference I called the husband at work and informed him I would be gone all day. After laying down the details of the summit, the first question out of his mouth was: “What are we going to do?” Not quite sure what he meant, I responded with “You can do whatever you want,” to which he reiterated: “What are we going to do for food?” It’s one of those moments where you slap your forehead and go, “Gawd! I AM married!” You know, one of those moments where men, right after getting married, couldn’t seem to find their socks anymore.
I was tempted to blurt out a smart-ass reply just to jerk the husband around such as, “I am not bringing the rice cooker with me!” or “The fridge is not under lock and key.” The situation reminded me of my mother who one too many times told my father in jest that she was not lugging the kettle with her when she would have to be somewhere and might be home past dinnertime. However, I wasn’t sure if the husband was in the mood for that kind of humor so I held my tongue and assured him there will be food to eat when he gets home. He said he was not to be held responsible for the state of the house.
On the gala awards night, I told my stepson that I will be attending a party. And the conversation went like this:
Boy: But what are we going to do?
Me: There’s dinner in the fridge and you only need to heat it up.
Boy: I mean, what would my dad and I do?
Me: What do you mean? You could watch movies…
Boy: Yeah, but who’s going to tell us what to do? Like, you know, what to clean.
The husband told me it was proof that I was the bossy type. I said it was proof that men need women to manage their affairs. Kidding aside though, I realized that marriage changes a lot of things in one’s life. Before, whenever I had to cover a story, all I needed to worry about was how to get the story. After the exchange of marital vows, I had to make sure the house is clean, the dishes washed and my housemates fed before running out for a coverage. The husband said he cannot be held liable for my OC-ness, but I say it’s been a wonderful change so far.