Hablemonos del Tu

Lately Isabella has started calling me by my first name: "Abi, Abi, Abiiiiii".

Technically that is correct, but that's not exactly what I would expect to be called by my 18 month old.

Obviously she is not saying it with any particular desire to bug me. She hears other people calling me that, so I guess she figures that's the right thing to say.

Still, I don't want her calling me that. Whenever she calls me “Abi” I gently remind her: "Es Mami. No Abi. Mami. Maaa-miiii". Lionel gets a kick out of it so he is not much help, but Sofia does try to help my case.

Hopefully one of these days we can make "Mami" stick again and her "Abi" go away.

The return

And we are back home.

The girls did great during our 13-hour trip. Sure, we listened to the monkeys on the bed song for what felt like a million times, but we really could not have asked for better behavior on the girls' part.  We only came close to a meltdown once, when we were still an hour away. But we managed to get out of it when I moved to the back with them, and Isabella fell asleep.

We finally arrived home at around 10:30 pm, put the girls in bed, took all the bags out of the car, unpacked the food and a few other things, and went to bed.

Unfortunately it took me less than a day to get back to my old self. I couldn't just see the mess and sit there. So we spent all day today running up and down, until everything was in place: everything unpacked, car washed, clothes washed and put away, etc.

So now I am exhausted. And I am ready to go to bed.

Back to reality...

Well, this is it. Our beach vacation is now officially over. Tomorrow we get to pack all our stuff, and head back home. Not that going home is a particularly bad thing. We are lucky to go back to a nice comfortable home, and to our friends and family that love us.

The real downside is having to go back to work. After a full week away, who knows what "surprises" we might find on day one. Good thing we are going back to a somewhat short week. That in itself should help decrease the pain.

But I am going to miss spending all day with my girls. It's been nice just playing with them without having all my chores in the back of my head: "Should I be instead fixing dinner, attempting to de-clutter the house, or rushing to get them into bed so they can be ready for the following day?". But I know I am lucky to have a job, so I'll try not to complain too much.

Tomorrow we are going back home, but we are not going empty handed as we bring back some fun family memories. And we are also more relaxed, and thankful we had the chance to recharge and reconnect with each other.

To trust or not to trust

This morning we went to the beach one last time. The girls and I were playing in the sand, Monique was sitting down by our towels, and Lionel was standing a few feet from us, talking to this dad.

I was looking down, helping dig a hole, when all of a sudden I heard a voice I did not recognize talking to me. So I looked up and saw this random guy standing right there, holding a nice camera. He introduced himself as "Jeff" and said he was a photography student. He then asked if it would be Ok with me if he took a few shots of the girls and I. He did look like he could be a college student, so I figured he was probably just doing a school project. I then asked: "And what are you going to do with them?" He said he was going to publish them, and that if I wanted he could email them to me as well.

My usual self probably would have kindly told him to "get lost". But I guess I was in a really good and trusting mood, so I told him that would be Ok. He took a few shots and then walked away to get his iPhone. He wrote my email address, and then left for good.

After he left, Lionel came over and asked me what was that about. "He just wanted to take a few pictures ... and my phone number", I said. "Ha Ha", said Lionel, "Funny girl".

If he was indeed a photography student, I hope he got some good shots of the girls and that he does send them to me later on. And if he was just a freak, I hope he got some really bad ones, and they don't do him any good.

In the meantime, here are a few of my shots of the girls.

Rendez Vous

Tonight Lionel and I went out on a date while Grandma and Grandpa graciously agreed to stay with the girls.

We got semi dressed up for the first time this week, gave Lionel's parents as many instructions as we could, and managed to sneak out on time - 6:30 pm - without major drama from the girls. It was a bit early for our standards, but we wanted to make sure we came back on time for bedtime.

It was 10 years ago that we got engaged right here in Hilton Head. So to celebrate, we decided to go out to the same restaurant where we went the night we got engaged: "Rendez vous cafe". 

The neat thing about this place is that it is totally unexpected, totally uncool. Neither one of us remembers how we found out about it, because It is completely out of the way. One of those well-kept secrets where only the locals come each day.

We did not even need a reservation. When we got there, only a few tables were taken. As we walked in the average age in the place must have dropped by, no exaggeration, about 50 years! The waitress couldn't help but to ask how we found out about the place. I think she was as curious about us as we were about them.  

We had a good laugh about the old fashion ambiance, had some wine, and enjoyed great food. Last, but not least, we ended with three authentic French, decadent desserts. 

So it was a good date, and we promised ourselves that we'll be back again.

Greetings from...

This afternoon we stopped by a CVS to get couple quick things for the girls. On our way out, right next to the register, there was this thing holding a variety of Hilton Head postcards. "Wow!" I thought. I had not seen or at least paid attention to one of those in a very long time.

So, as I was patiently waiting in line, that really made me wonder: "Are postcards obsolete? Is there anybody out there who still sends them?"

I seriously do not remember the last time I sent a postcard. I know I did it at some point in the late 90s, when thanks to school I was lucky enough to start traveling outside of Mexico.  I also remember receiving them and being really happy about it, because that meant somebody thought of me while they were far away, having fun.

But nowadays that is not necessarily the first thing I would think about. After all, it's not like you can even trust they won't get lost somewhere along the way.

And who wants to wait for couple weeks to get an old picture when you can just take a new one and text it, tweet it, upload it to Facebook, or email it right away? And if you were not fortunate enough at the time to have your camera or your cell phone with you, is it Ok to just tell your friends "I was there, if you want to see some good pictures you can Google it"?

Ok, so maybe that last one is kind if rude. But my question still remains:  Can postcards really survive in this world of instant gratification? ... I am thinking not.

Face your fears, get on that bike

Those close to me know that when it's time to ride a bike, I am not always the most confident one around. As my sister knows, there are three very good reasons for that.

When I was a child, I had three bad bike accidents. One involves going down the steps on the side of a building and luckily being stopped by a gate. The second one involves going down hill on a busy street and painfully being stopped by a bush. And the last one involves going down on a dirt road at a high speed and almost falling down a dangerously steep hill. My sister helplessly witnessed all three of those.

So no, I am not the most confident rider, but as long as there's no high speed or steep hills involved, I still like doing it now and then. Today was a good occasion to do so.

Hilton Head is a good place to go biking. And Sea Pines, the section of the Island where we are staying, has a really nice and long bike path. This morning was very cloudy, so we weren't sure if we were going to get rained on, but we decided to take a chance, bring our ponchos along, and walk to the bike rental place. Lionel and Sofia rode a two-people [tandem] bike. And I rode mine puling Isabella in the back.

We were out there for a while and we did not get rained on. Sofia did great pedaling all the time, and Isabella took a good long nap. And as for me, I managed to relax, enjoy the ride, and stay on the right path the entire time.

Y Porque?!?

Kids ask lots of questions. Some are easy to answer, some not so much.

I'm usually good and try to answer to the best of my ability. But many times I quickly realize that Sofia is too young to understand the concept or that she doesn't yet have the vocabulary to know what I am talking about. And sometimes, she simply loses interest before I even give it a shot.

Here are a few of her questions, and my lame attempt to answer:

Sofia [all the time]: Mommy, why does it rain?
Me: When it's really hot, the water evaporates and goes up in the clouds. And then, when the clouds are too full, the water falls down again.
Sofia: Huh? Is it like when I can't hold it anymore and have to go pee?
Me: Sure. Kind of like that.

Sofia [Yesterday]: Mommy, why do boys and girls have different bathrooms?
Me: Because we have different needs when going to the bathroom.
Sofia: Huh?
Me: We have different body parts. Boys pee standing.
Sofia: Does grandpa know that?
Me: I'm pretty sure he does.

Sofia [At 3 years old]: How did Daddy put Bella in you belly?
Me: It was very easy. She was very little at the time.
Sofia: Yes, but how did he do it?
Me: Go ask Daddy.

The joy of doing nothing...

Isabella turned exactly 18 months old today.  And it was a good day.


We went to the beach in the morning:  Ran around, buried each other in the sand, took pictures, and attempted to play with our less than sturdy 1 dollar "Friends-be" as Sofia calls it. She really means "Frisbee".


I enjoyed knowing that, for once, we had nothing else to do, nowhere else to be. After the beach we came home, had lunch, and sat around for a long while just wasting time. Something that does not happen everyday for us. 


The girls and I played with the computer and my iPod, took silly pictures of each other, and jumped rope inside the house while Lionel read next to us. Eventually Lionel and Sofia got back in the pool and Isabella and I went for a short walk. No pool for Bella since she has picked up somewhat of a nasty cough.


Then came dinner, followed by bed time for the girls. And then, more time to relax. This is exactly what vacation is all about!

Down memory lane...

When I look at my Sofia I can hardly believe my eyes. She is only 5, but she is such a big girl now.

Today at the beach I was taking pictures of her and Isabella. And it felt like it was just yesterday that I was taking pictures of Sofia's baby face, chubby arms, and sweet loving smile.

They really grow so fast...

Later in the afternoon we were watching a TV show where a little girl about her age was talking about wanting to be a firefighter when she grows up. So I asked Sofia what does she want to be when she grows up. Her answer was the same as many times before. With a big proud smile she told me: "I am going to be a mommy". I then asked her is there was something else she was going to do to which she replied: "I am going to take care of my little sister". Yep, that sounds like the Sofia I know and love.

So we then went about our day, with her playing big sister time and time again.

At the end of the day I tucked her in bed and stayed with her for a few minutes as I always do. But here's a change: We are in a strange city, in a strange house, and she was Ok staying in a separate bedroom all by herself. The first night I was fully expecting she would come looking for us in the middle of the night. But she never did, bittersweet for me.

After saying my final good night, as I was about to walk away, she told me one last time: "Mami, I love you".

I love you too Sofia, more than you will ever know.

Monique & Philippe

This is our third family trip to Hilton Head. And this is the third time my in laws come with us. This may sound uncommon, but I actually enjoy having them here. That does not mean we don't get on each other's nerves now and then. But overall we do enjoy each other's company and manage to settle into a nice week long routine.

I applaud them for wanting to do this with us in their older days: They are in their late 60s and early 70s now. It has been a long, long time since they had to endure all the inconveniences of going anywhere with small children.

Today, for instance, it took us about 20 minutes to be able to leave the beach. Collecting our stuff, rinsing the sand off of bathing suits, shoes, and so forth was a real production. We are used to it, but they sure are not. And I know if we hadn't been there, it probably would have taken them 2 minutes flat.

I think it is also safe to say they are not used to handing anybody a plastic fork for dinner, seeing anybody spit their food, or hearing on and off whining all day long.

But they haven't really complained about it. So I think through it all they are enjoying themselves. Because when you are with the children you love, for every inconvenience there is a sweet smile that completely makes up for it.

Summer time

This summer is going to be awesome. I know it, I feel it. I can hardly wait!

Our trip to Hilton Head Island is the first stop: A well deserved family getaway, and Isabella's first trip to the beach outside the womb.

I'll be bummed when our beach vacation ends, but I will then be looking forward to our next adventure: our sister’s trip to Columbus at the end of June. We are going to see the Michael Bublé concert in style: 5th row tickets. Gabi doesn't know it yet, but I think she's going to love every minute of it.

Next, our friends’ night trip to Toronto at the end of July: A weekend of girl time, and the opportunity to reconnect with a good friend who'll soon experience the greatest gift in life.

Maybe, if I'm lucky enough, I will even get my friend Lulu to visit for the ATP tennis tournament.

And what a better way to close out the summer than with a weekend getaway to Las Vegas with my “babies' daddy”, and hubby of 9 years at the end of August? He'll love going back to Las Vegas, and I'll love the entertainment.

Yes, this summer is going to rock!

Family Road Trip!

The time we’ve been anxiously waiting for has finally arrived: Our family vacation to the beach!

I have always been a planner, and I religiously rely on lists. So a couple weeks ago I started my “do not forget” list. And last night I started piling it all up in a place where it would be hard to miss, and the kids – especially Isabella – can’t get to it for now: Our dining room table.

It has not gone unnoticed that this “do not forget” list does NOT include one single clothing item or accessory of mine: no favorite dress, shoes, or earrings. Sure, I’ll need them all, but I will just grab them with whatever time and presence of mind I have left before we leave.

Tomorrow we are driving to Hilton Head, which is going to be a long drive. But it has its advantages, because when you travel with kids there’s just way too much stuff you might need. And this way we get to take it all with us. Besides, we have our secret weapon: Built in dual DVD players, so each kid can watch their own stuff.

Driving will also allow us to move at our own rhythm: No folding the stroller to get it through the metal detector while trying to hold on to Isabella and hoping Sofia stays in place. No taking everybody’s shoes off and then having to put them back on while trying to retrieve our suitcases AND trying not to hold the line. No getting dirty looks on the plane because this is the 50th time our kid has to go pee.

Yes, driving is the best choice for us for now. It will also have its own challenges, but I think we’ll do fine. We just have to make sure our “do not forget” items come with us.

The List:

Baby wipes, Kandoo wipes, Clorox Wipes, paper towels, napkins, tissues…
Regular diapers, night diapers, swim diapers, portable potty, extra bags for portable potty…
Fruit, cereal, water, juice, milk, snacks, plastic knives, spoons and forks, paper plates…
Tons of sun block, Sofia’s noodle for swimming, floating thingies, toys to play in the sand, bag for toys to play in the sand, base for girls’ umbrella, girls’ umbrella…
Portable DVD for the house, Isabella’s DVDs, Sofia’s DVDs, Books, crayons, paper, toys…
Camera, camera charger, camcorder, camcorder charger, home computer, charger for home computer, iPod, thing to listen to our iPod through the radio…
Pink and yellow beach mat, beach towels, beach bag, trash bags…
Travel size Tide, travel size fabric softener, travel size dish washer…

Once a loser, always a loser?

When I was in school I never EVER failed a class. I have never failed any professional exams either. I did come close to failing couple classes when I was in college, but somehow, probably due to collective misery and last minute teacher mercy, I managed to get a passing score.

But I wonder how difficult it would have been to get a passing score later on if I had failed the first time around. Maybe the pressure would have been too much. Maybe I would have lost all my confidence and would have convinced myself that those classes were just too much for me.

Once we fail once, are we that much likely to fail again?!?

Couple weeks ago I "scratched" my car. It was not THAT bad, I just hit a car as I was trying to park my big SUV in a tight parking spot. The problem is, this is not the first time I do something like that in a parking lot. So this makes me ask the following questions: Is this really a sign that I am a danger on the road? Is it a matter of time before I get myself into a more serious accident? Should I be prominently featured in one of those videos that make fun of bad women drivers?

My husband might thing so. And quite frankly, I have to wonder that myself. This self doubt of course makes me less of a confident driver, and therefore also makes me more likely to make the same mistake again.

So I need to figure out how to shake this feeling that "it will happen again", and hopefully I can do it FAST! I don't want to get in trouble again, and I certainly don't want to cause anybody any harm.

Numero uno?

I've never been one of those people who have to win at everything: I don't feel the need to outdo everybody around me, or to convince them that they would love to be ME. In fact, I think that eternal need to win is an extremely annoying trait - and one that makes me run the other way.

That does not mean I don't enjoy winning at all. I really do! It's nice to know there's at least one thing I am good at, or, at the very least, that I can get lucky now and then.

I guess its human nature to want to win, even when you may not even know the prize. The other day, for instance, I was driving home and listening to the radio. They had a contest in which they gave you clues and you had to find out what object they were talking about. I was so excited when I listened to the clues because I knew right away what they were talking about: A piñata. I of course have no idea of what they were giving away, but that was not even the point. I simply felt oh so special because I, Abi Estrada-Bey, "Just knew it!".

And have you ever gone to an amusement park and "won" something for your kids? I have, and I know I had fun winning the prize, even though I am positive I spent more money on the tickets than the prize itself was worth.

So maybe it is the surprise factor that makes it all good.

The whole reason why I am even writing about this is that I won something today at a work event. I did not even know they were raffling things, so I certainly did not expect to win anything. But it was surprising and fun to hear my name being called, and getting up to pick up my prize: A "Relaxation themed basket". How appropriate! Now, if I could only find the time to actually use the stuff in it...

Isabella and the Hippos

Isabella is transferring to the toddler room this week, a clear indication that my baby is my baby no more. Of course it's not really a surprise; we've known this for a few months now. She can walk, run, go up and down the stairs, clumsily use a spoon, and say a few words. She is also a master at pulling everything out of place, enjoys playing with her food, can hold her own against her 5 year old sister, and can even throw a few - and thankfully short- tantrums. Toddler indeed...

Transition week won't be easy: New classroom, new teachers, new friends, new routine. But kids are resilient, so I know she'll be ok. And I know she is going to love the "Hippos" classroom as much as Sofia did when she was there.

So Isabella is my baby no more. And that makes me sad in a way, but that's ok because that doesn't change the fact that she'll forever be my girl.

Rise and shine!

Every parent has experienced this life injustice: During the week your kids struggle getting up to go to school. But during the weekend, when they could actually stay in bed as long as they want, they pop out of it without problem, even BEFORE their regular wake up time.

I don’t remember what I was dreaming this morning when I heard Isabella’s cry in the background. That woke me up for sure. I looked at the clock: “6:18? Ugh”. I then looked at Lionel: “Did he hear her? I guess not”.

So I got up, took her out of her crib, changed her diaper, and brought her to our bed. I have tried this move a million times without success. Instead of settling back down, she starts jumping up and down, putting her hands in your face, poking you with her little feet, and in short, doing whatever she can to ensure you get up as well. It’s playtime after all!

But this morning it was different. She actually snuggled with me for 40 minutes! A pleasure I rarely get to experience anymore.

So early or not, that was one special way to start my day.

Any given day…

I rarely give this much thought, but every passing day we go through a full range of emotions. Some are just momentary, some may completely make or ruin our day, and some may even have a lasting effect.

Today I was particularly aware of my emotions, so I decided to write some of them down, along with whatever made them surface. Here we go…

Relaxation: Yoga rising class.

Anger: The older kids who kept taking things away from Isabella and being mean to her, while Sofia was getting her haircut, and the kids’ dad did absolutely nothing to keep them in check.

Disapproval: The teenager standing on the side of the road wearing a somewhat skimpy outfit, while holding up a “Free Carwash” sign.

Anxiety: All the senior citizens driving around Anderson Township who clearly should have their driver’s license revoked ASAP.

Anticipation: The upcoming vacation and all the fun things planned for the summer.

Pride: My sister’s MBA commencement ceremony.

Hope: Our small family able to come together for a special event.

Disappointment: Not hearing back yet from a once upon a time best friend.

Guilt: Leaving my children with a baby sitter not once, but twice today, because taking them with us would have been hell for all of us.

Happiness: Spending time with my family and my friends, while enjoying good health and the peace of mind that comes with stable lives.

Sadness: The good friends who are moving away soon because that is where life is taking them.

Gratitude: My mom taking care of the girls yet again.

Peace: Watching my kids sleep and writing this list to let go of the day.

Date night

Friday night has to be the most relaxing night around here. Once the girls are in bed, Lionel and I get to catch up on all the TV shows we taped during the week. We get to sit around and relax, without worrying about getting ready for the next day. It is our "Date night", except that we don't have to worry about dressing up, choosing the restaurant, and so forth. It may sound lame, but to us it's actually pretty sweet. When you run around all day at work and then come home to chase the kids, sitting around is simply as good as it gets.

The tough decisions on a Friday night: "What show are we watching first?", "What are we having for dessert?", and "Who is going to go get it?" For some reason, "Who is getting the best seat?" is not one of them. I just get it by default, which allows me to sit here with the computer on my lap and, well, multitask.

So this was another good night. It is 11:16 and I think we are on our last show as we are seriously staring to yawn. Time to go to bed, but not before stopping by and kissing the girls good night.

Good Night...

I can't believe it's already 11:30pm. For some reason I never manage to go to bed at a decent time. Every night I tell myself "tonight you are going to bed early" and every night I fail miserably. I guess I like to push it. I like to think that I really only need 5 more minutes to do something. And then, one hour later, I tell myself: "But you are so close, you might as well stay up and finish". And so it goes...

I was really looking forward to writing tonight, even though I hadn't quite landed on a particular subject. Not that I did not have any ideas. On the contrary, there's always so much in my head that it is hard to just pick one subject.

But it really is late, and I really need to go to bed...

The visit...

When I announced to Sofia that she had her 5 year checkup today I tried to sound as calmed and relaxed as possible. I did not want her to notice the slight hint of concern in my voice. "They are just going to see how big I am now. Right mami?" she said, with more than a slight hint of worry in her voice. I knew what she really wanted to know: "Are they going to give me any shots?". So I said what I usually say when I do not know what to answer, I know she is not going to like it, or I just need to delay my response: "I don't know. We'll see".

The weather was terrible. It was pouring down rain, and the sky was so dark that it really invited you to stay inside. This did not go unnoticed by Sofia who told me as we were about to get ready: "I think we can't go to the Doctor. And I think I can't go to school today because it is raining too much". Nice try ...

She got dressed in full rain gear, and we headed to the doctor's office. She did great answering all their questions, letting them check her blood pressure, and all that. Then, the dreaded moment arrived: The Doctor said she would be getting shots. I suspected she would get one, but when he said she would get 3, I cringed and she buried her face in her hands. Poor Sofia...

So the doctor left, and I asked her if she wanted to sit on my lap, to which she said yes. I was fully expecting she would totally lose it but she hung in there, just sobbing softly, waiting for the nurse to come. When the nurse finally came, she was so fast, yet so gentle and empathetic, that Sofia never knew what hit her. It was over so quickly, that she even looked surprised.

Before we left, she got one sticker for each shot she got. Her choices? Dora, Barbie, and Ariel. And just like that, the Doctor's visit was over, and we were once again, just outside, my girl smiling and walking in the rain.

Not necessarily name calling, but...

I don't like it when people call me "Ma'am". It is like nails in chalkboard. A piercing sound to my delicate ears.

I think it is because it makes me feel like they are talking to my mom, my mother in law, or a much older version of myself. I know people do it out of respect, because they have been told that's the polite thing to say. But it just doesn't feel like ME.

The other day we went to a restaurant where, for once, I wasn't called "Ma'am", and I almost got up and kissed the guy. I literally thanked him, much to my family's embarrassment I am sure, for NOT calling me that.

I mean, there is nothing wrong with just leaving it at: "Thanks for visiting us today", "Thanks for your purchase, come back again", or "Hope you enjoyed your meal". Why does everything have to end with "Ma'am"? Most of the times it is people older than me calling me that, which is particularly odd. So I just think to myself: "Don't "ma'am" me! You are the ma'am".

Strange enough, it does not really bother me when people misspell my name. And it happens all the time. "Abi" becomes "Abbey", "Abbeey", etc. It does not bug me because I figure that's just how my name sounds to them. So if writing it that way helps them remember it, I am ok with that.

It doesn't even bug me when they tell me: "I used to have a dog named Abbey".
At least dogs are men's best friend.

A matter of time...

Sofia is now keeping her bedrooom door closed when she goes to school. She is doing it to keep her sister out so she doesn't touch her toys. I wonder how long it's going to be before the does it to keep ME out.

About My Mommy

This week Sofia brought home a questionnaire she answered in school about me. This was one of my Mother's day gifts. I have to say she did get several answers right. That's my girl! ... Is it obvious which ones are off?

About My Mommy!

What's your mommy's name? Abi

My mommy is 23 years old.

She weighs 42 lbs and is 22 in tall.

Her hair is black and her eyes are brown

What does she do at her job? Works on computers.

What does dad call your mom? I think he calls her "Baby"

What is her favorite color? Red

What is her favorite food? Rice, chicken, onions, and salad.

What is her favorite movie? Movies that are not for kids

How many brothers and sisters does she have? 0 brothers and 1 sister

Where does she like to take you for fun? To the park and swings

What message do you want to send her for Mother's day? I love you! I love you mommy!

Feliz dia de las Madres a mi! Happy mother's day to me!

If I only knew...

The other day my neighbor, who is an avid gardener, came over and started talking to me about mint: "Mint is a very invasive plant. It can easily take over an entire garden"... "Really?!?" I said, clearly remembering how last year I planted mint right in the middle of my brand new vegetable garden. "Uh-oh. This is not going to be good... ".

Good intentions, mixed results.

I guess we've all been there. Just like the time I was pregnant and someone asked me if I was sure I wasn’t expecting twins, because [in THEIR opinion] I looked HUGE. Or the time my sister and I were told we did not look Mexican because we were not chubby and short. Hmmmm.... I could keep going, but I’m sure you get the point.

It's music to my ears...

I don't play the piano. I don't play the guitar. I was never in a band, and I can't sing to save my life. I don't go out of my way to find new radio stations, and I am not a music connoisseur, but I still love music, just as much as any of you.

Music has the amazing power to make us happy, to make us sad, to calm our anger, to help us connect with each other, and to bring memories back to life.

I clearly remember the first song that actually made me cry. I can still hear it in my head: "Si quieres verme llorar, dime que ya no me quieres" ... "If you want to see me cry, tell me that you no longer love me". I was probably about 5 years old. At the time I did not know that this song was probably about two lovers about to go their separate ways. But I obviously understood that not being loved was something worth crying about.

I also vividly remember getting my heart broken as a young woman and listening to songs that depicted my state of mind: "Thank you for breaking my heart, thank you for tearing me apart...", "if you leave I won't cry I won't waste one single day. But if you leave don't look back...", "Here's where the story ends...". Listening to them was painful, but somehow it also seemed like the only way to temporarily let go of the sorrow that only time would take away for good.

But let's not forget about upbeat songs! Upbeat songs can make a good day even brighter. They can make you smile, can make you dance, and can fill your heart with pure and endless joy. I also find that with happy songs I am more willing to overlook awful, superficial lyrics. After all, who cares what the song is about as long as you can happily shake it? ... I know the 90's were definitely full of those ... "I am so sexy for my body, so sexy for my body...", "Informer, blah, blah, blah, a licky boom-boom down". What was up with those songs?!? But I loved dancing to them! So dumb or not, they still have a special place in my heart because they will forever remind me of my college days.

It's weird how some songs stay in my head even if I have not heard them in a long, long time. Somehow I still remember every single word in them. How I wish I could say the same about all the things I learned in school.

Now, if you excuse me, I have to go download some music..

Say what?

I have been living in the US for almost 12 years. And I want to believe that my English has improved along the way. I have definitely become a master at using synonymous, particularly when I know exactly how to spell something but I have no clue how to pronounce it. I was so happy when "Lazarus" became "Macy's" simply because it was SO much easier to pronounce.

But there are things I will never get right. Is it "on the table" or "in the table"? And are "Male" and "Mail" supposed to sound different to me? And how about all those different variations of "put out", "put off", etc? I will also always say "MargaRRitas", and "CaRRne asada", and "ColoRRado". It just seems wrong to even try to say it differently.

Some words I DO know how to pronounce, but I have a really bad habit of speaking fast. And when I do, I tend to get myself in trouble. The other day I was in a meeting and my boss's boss was utterly confused about what the cops had to do with anything. The thing is, I was saying "cop", but I meant to say "co-op".

Sometimes I can laugh at it, and sometimes it hurts my feelings when others do. But it is what it is. It just comes with the territory when you try to express yourself in a language other than your own.

So occasionally -or maybe more often than I would like - you may read something here that is grammatically correct, but it just sounds "funny". Or maybe it is not even grammatically correct at all. But as long as you get my point, and this blog reflects "my voice" I am cool with that.

I know what you might be thinking ... I should save myself the trouble and just write in Spanish. I am a native Spanish speaker after all! The problem with that is ... some people who have been kind enough to read this blog do not speak Spanish. And I would love for them to come back here!

So I'll keep writing, and hopefully you'll keep reading. And when I mess up, I'll just have to laugh at myself and try to do better next time around.

Once upon a time...

At what point in our lives being "different" becomes either our ticket to success or our ultimate reason for being doomed? And what if we miss the boat and forget to wave our "I am proud to be different" flag at the right place, at the right time?

As a small kid, I remember not being particularly keen on standing out. After all, being different many times seems to scream: "Come here, pick on me". And how often have you said "He/She is just different" and meant it as a complement?

I started going to grade school when I was only 4, so I was visibly smaller than the rest of the class. No, I was not gifted by any means. I guess I just wanted to be close to my sister and the school and my parents went along with it. I am glad they did it, but being smaller meant interacting with the other kids was not necessarily an easy task.

To this day, my family still remembers the infamous "Yogurt episode". It goes like this ... A bigger kid was trying to take away my yogurt. So I went and got my big 6 year old sister to defend me. And while they argued about it, I did what any other 4 year old would have done: I ate it. Take THAT big kid!!! ... Funny thing is nowadays my mom sometimes wonders if that was really MY yogurt. But that's beside the point, and I honestly have no idea whose yogurt it really was.

But I have digressed...

My point is that as we grow up, if we are lucky enough, we naturally go from "feeling different" to understanding that "we are unique". And when that moment comes, it’s pretty cool if you ask me.

What really matters...

So we did it! We officially survived Sofia's very first graduation.

The park looked beautiful; green everywhere you looked. And we couldn't have asked for better weather. Abuelitos, tia, and tio were also there to show their support.

The teachers welcomed all of us, talked about what a pleasure it has been to see the kids grow - which I am sure is true most of the time anyway - and made a point to emphasize how much the kids rehearsed to prepare for their special day.

The class then sang a song I did not quite recognize ... Sofia probably sang couple lines of it, although she never really got into it.
The class then sang "You are my sunshine" ... Sofia did not quite sing, but she did follow with the arm movements.
Then, as some sort of an inside joke, the class sang "Proud Mary". Yes, Tina Turner's song. But by then Sofia had abandoned all intentions to even pretend to participate.
After the kids got their fake diplomas we had our second chance at picture time. I promised Sofia a hundred times that this was really "the very last picture" before I finally let her run to the playground with her friends.

When we finally got home I asked her: "Did you like your graduation ceremony?" She said: "Yes". I then asked her what was her favorite part, to which she replied without hesitation: "When I went to the playground and played in the sand".

Enough said.

Milestones

Preschool graduation?!? .... Pleeaaaassseeee .... Who celebrates THAT?!? ...

That was exactly my reaction the first time I heard somebody saying they were attending a preschool graduation ceremony. I mean ... it is not like finishing preschool takes that much effort. Right?

Fast forward a few years, and two kids later, and all of a sudden the idea does not seem as ridiculous and far fetched as it once did. And I am pretty sure it has to do with the fact that this time around we are talking about MY kid.

Sofia's preschool graduation is tomorrow night. There will be no real diploma, no speeches, no pressure. This graduation is really kind of a free pass. But she is excited, and we are excited for her. So this is going to be fun.

The teachers have put together a graduation package for each one of the kids. Sofia's says: "Most likely to be: Art Teacher". She loves to draw, so I know they are not too far off ... for now anyways. It will be interesting to see what she really turns out to be.

We have been reminded several times to bring lawn chairs to the park, to recharge our camera batteries and, most importantly, to bring some tissues. I of course think I will not be needing the tissues since I am not usually a crier. But once I see Sofia singing with her little friends, saying her goodbyes, and telling me how she is ready to go to her "big girl school", I just might.

I know this "graduation" is really just the beginning. And I know we [hopefully] have several real graduations ahead of us. But I also know that does not mean this one is not special in its own little way. Because, most of all, this one means that our little girl has outgrown her first home away from home. And she is ready for new adventures, whether we want it or not.

So my most sincere congratulations to my very special Goddard School Dolphin, class of 2010.

Se habla Spanglish

“Mo! Mo! … Ma! Ma! Maaaa!!!!”. That is my 18 month old’s version of “More” and “Mas”.
“Mami, espera por mi”. That is my 5 year old’s version of “Mami, esperame”, or “Mami, wait for me”.
And let’s not forget about Sofia’s “vamos a jugar una last time”.

Yes, "Spanglish" is quite common in our household. My husband and I get a real kick out of it. After all, it could be worse; they could speak no Spanish at all. And I have always been determined to teach my kids Spanish. It is simply part of who I am, and 50% of who they are.

Sometimes it saddens me that they will never get to experience some of the things I experienced when I was a kid: No "dia de reyes". No "dia del niño" celebration at school. No "desfiles". No "bailables". No "kermeses". Granted, some of these were painful, such as the "bailables", if only because invariably you never got to dance with the person you really wanted to dance with. The "desfiles" (parades) were for sure not a personal favorite of mine. But all those things really helped create a bond among friends. Nothing like everybody complaining about the same thing I guess.

No. My kids will probably never get to experience that. But I know they will get to experience things I never did. So instead they'll have prom, and homecoming dances, and church festivals, and all those things that will be as special to them as my memories are to me.

And hopefully, in one way or another, they will let me come along for the ride.

The beginning...

Today I realized that I have too many random thoughts to fit them into my Facebook status. So i decided that I wanted to start a blog. Out of nowhere I blurted this out to my husband who quickly responded: "Blogs have been around for so long, and you never showed any interest in them. So what are you going to write about?" ... It's not like I had given this too much thought. It was a brand new idea after all! So I simply said: "About my life, about the girls, about all the random things that happen to us every day".

So here I am...

While creating my blog step #1 was to give it a name ... hmmmm ... I hadn't thought much about that either. So I just chose a phrase that sometimes describes my girls so well:"Chicas Terremoto". Hope that is not too lame. But if it is, that is Ok. After all, I think I am really writing this for myself. Good thing I guess, considering that nobody else may come across these lines. I wonder how many blogs are even out there.

I am glad I am doing this. I should have started a long time ago. I love to write. I always did. When I was in school my classmates always used to dread writing papers, but I secretly loved every minute of it. We all have a guilty pleasure right?

I haven't quite figured out whether I should write in Spanish or English. Maybe it will depend on the day.

Good night to me.