I would have turned this into a parenting blog—where I may never have to run out of things to write and, therefore, make a living out of it—but it will only reveal the sh*t mom that I am.

You would probably read nothing but parenting fails. I would be shamed for being the kind of mother who orders pizza for dinner, gives in to screen time to shut the kids, lets toys take over the living room, doesn't mind the kids rolling on dirt, and one who would probably use a child leash at the mall when the situation calls for it.

I'm sure I was a great parent before I got a kid. But now, I am exactly like the parents that I used to judge. The parent I promised I would never be. I never thought I would be besties with formula milk, YouTube, chicken nuggets and all.

But I wouldn't say the same to Jan who is more maternal than I am.

He has this way with our tornado duo. He can soothe them and make them feel safe and secure like no one else could. Not even me or my now-retired milk jugs.

I am the easily agitated MOMster while he is the gentle parent. So it's no surprise that the kids gravitate toward him—which is both a boon and a bane. I get low-key jealous that the kids run to him whenever they get boo-boos but, at the same time, thankful that I can just enjoy watching Big Bang Theory while he has to carry and comfort two inconsolable toddlers who fought over a cookie they wouldn't even eat. 😁

Then a few days ago, Jan shaved his head, his mustache and, would you believe, his goatee.

And oh boy, what difference does a little facial hair make that I was so convinced I am married to the Tom Cruise in Minority Report. They're practically identical twins, separated at birth.

Before anyone points out how I needed to be evaluated for an immediate psychiatric intervention, I swear, if you squint really hard while standing at least 20 feet away, you can see the resemblance. 😁

Even our daughter doesn't recognize him anymore. She refuses to go near this youthful-looking man who shares half her DNA, and she would cry hysterically and go looking for the dada that she used to know. You know, the one who looked like Piolo Pascual. 

Again, I'm not crazy. You need to have your eyes checked. 😁

Anyway, I have to go because I have some parenting to do. I am going to relish this moment before Jan's hair grows back and I become the second favorite parent again. 😅

P.S. Okay, you're right. I'm crazy. What the hell was I thinking when I compared my husband, the most handsome man in the universe, to those celebrities? I can't believe I just insulted him.