Fear keeps us from driving on the wrong side of the street, but it gives you nausea.

I know that I started this blog with grand illusions of being as witty as all the women whose blogs I follow. My life lately has not given me many opportunities to do so. I am trying to see the funny in all of it, and sometimes I can, but then there are days like yesterday.


Skywalker and I have a complicated relationship. After I almost lost him, it was hard for me to bond with him for a long time. Sunshine on the other hand, embraced parenthood in a way that I have only seen my father do. He adores his children. Skywalker and Sunshine have always been peas in a pod. I remember picking up Skywalker at daycare when he was a couple of years old, seeing him run up to me at full speed, just to short stop and say: “Where’s Papa?”

It seems that as easy as it is for me to communicate and understand Mini-me, with Skywalker I find myself faced with someone whose language I just don’t understand. Many times Sunshine has had to explain to me what is going on. As a first born boy, I do know that I am more stern with him. He is extremely intelligent but also very immature, which makes me want to knock my head against the wall. Usually Sunshine is my pressure cooker valve. You know, when I get very negative with Skywalker, or if I get very critical with him, or if I pick on him, Sunshine will point it out to me. I do the same thing between him and Mini-me.

Now that Sunshine is away during the week, I have had to deal with the boys all by myself. Needless to say, there isn’t enough time in the day to get everything done before bedtime, so the schedule is tight. There hasn’t been a lot of time for cartoons or videogames at our house. Given the nature of my relationship with Skywalker (which, in case you haven’t noticed, I love with every fiber of my being), I have been especially careful of my tone and the things I say to him.

I thought that all was working rather well until last Tuesday, when he came home with magnets from a science class. These magnets had been stolen by another boy in another grade and ended up in the possession of my child, who thought that they were “cool”. Now, Sunshine and I have had a couple of talks with Skywalker about coming home with toys that are not his. He can sweet-talk a bear out of the last bit of honey in the forest. So… needless to say, he got into a heap of trouble when he came home with stolen goods. A HEAP.

Then, he got in trouble again on Wednesday. This time for lying. I sent him to his room after dinner.

Last night, he lied to me again. When I asked him if he was getting in trouble on purpose, his answer was “Yes”. In total disbelief I asked him why. His response was that he wanted to be in his room. When we got home, I immediately called my interpreter (Sunshine) and asked him to talk to Skywalker and tell me what was going on. Skywalker told Sunshine that he was getting in trouble on purpose because getting sent to his room was safer than being around me. That he was afraid of me.

Afraid.

Ladies, you could’ve knocked me down with a feather, but you wouldn’t have to, because I choked and had the wind knocked out of me.

Sunshine told me to wait a bit and then go talk to the child and get to the bottom of the issue. So I did.

After putting Mini-me to bed, I went to Skywalker’s room and sat as far away as possible so he didn’t feel threatened by me. I spoke softly looked at him in the eye. Turns out, that he said that he was afraid of me, because he knows that when he gets in trouble, I make him suffer consequences. He is afraid of what I will do to him. He didn’t want to go to jail for stealing.

Remember that Cosby Show scene where Theo gives this speech on how his father needs to accept him the way he is and not try to change him and then Bill says: “Theo, that is the STUPIDEST thing I’ve ever heard?”That’s was what was going through my mind as my child spoke. In a calm voice (I was SO proud of myself) I said: “So you are afraid of me because YOU STOLE something?” He nodded. For he next hour we had a LONG heart to heart. I told him that his fear is healthy. How many times I DIDN’T do something in fear of my mom and her wrath at home? I explained to this boy, that fear was what I dealt with every night thinking that my son was stealing and lying. What would become of him if I couldn’t stop him? I explained that people with no fear end up in jail or dead. And that there is also the Fear of God. Not “scared” fear, but RESPECT fear.

I asked him if he was afraid of me when he came home late from his friends house. He said no. I asked him if he was afraid of me when he didn’t do his chores. He said no. I asked him, when are you afraid? When I steal, disobey or lie to you.

Many other things were said in this conversation. When he told me that he was afraid of going to jail and never seeing me or Sunshine or Mini-me again, he cried when I asked him how did he think WE would feel about not being able to see him either? He was surprised when I told him that I cry over him when I don’t know what to do. He was shocked when I told him that I was afraid of dear, sweet Abuela. He seem to understand that every time he leaves the house, I can’t go with him and make sure that he does the right thing, BUT, if the fear of what the consequence of his actions would be is enough to stop him from making the wrong choice, then fear was ok with me.

Still, I am trying to deal with the fear of having to deal with all this. I can barely keep my lunch down.

When the going gets tough, the tough's kid get sick

Ah, the bliss of being a single, working parent! Sunshine left on Monday at the crack of dawn as he usually does (thank goodness there are only a couple more of those left). We had been together all weekend long. I had taken two days off last week and spent it running errands like a mad woman.

I tried to enroll Skywalker in his new school (I'm still mad about THAT incompetent school secretary, so I can't write about it that- yet), so I returned to work yesterday ready to tackle this week.

At about 2pm I received a call from Mini-me's daycare. He had a fever of 102, complained that his belly hurt and wouldn't let anyone touch it. Yeah, you know EXACTLY what I thought.

I left work early and found him, laying on his cot, looking miserable. Poor thing! I approached him and as he looked at me he whispered: "Can I play my Nintendo DS when I get home?" I knew that he would survive.

I took him home and gave him some Motrin. He woke up twice last night asking for water. I considered bringing him to the bed with me, but I figured that being woken up a couple of times (and every time I heard him move) was better than getting kicked all night.

Amazing how a mother's ears work. Mini-me's room is down the hall from mine, and still I could hear him talking in his sleep. While I slept. With the TV on... This morning, he still wasn't feeling well, so I asked my parents to please take care of him so I could go to work. My mom volunteered to take him to work with her. (Have I mentioned how much those two love each other?) Mini-me was at first disappointed that he couldn't go to school (let's see how long THAT lasts) but then was super excited about spending the day with his Abuela.

When I picked him up, my mom told me that she had given him another dose of Motrin at 4 pm and he is still warm. I already had to call work and let them know that I can't come in to work tomorrow. Of course he couldn't get sick while I was off last week. Of course he couldn't get sick over the weekend. Of course he doesn't get sick when my dad hasn't spent 1 week taking care of my nephews and is ready to give up grandchildren. Of course he doesn't get sick on the days that my parents can help with him (other than today). Of course.

Random Thoughts Monday

I am taking a page out of one of my favorite blogs, Sounds like Tomatoes, I am doing a list of Random Thoughts... I have a lot on my mind...

• Why is it so hard for boys to chew with their mouth closed?
• Why won't the hair on the back of my head lay down? Why does it insist in making me look like Dennis the Menace?
• Why do I insist on trying to control things I have no control over, like the selling of our home?
• Why don't I insist on controlling the things I can, like the amount of brownies I ate this weekend and slacking off on the exercise?
• Why can't I get the job websites to stop sending me emails about jobs?
• Why can't I get the telemarketer of Insurance jobs to stop calling me?
• I love sleeping next to my husband.
• When he leaves, I can actually FEEL a void in the house.
• When I feel that void, every little noise scares me and I wish he was still here.
• Maybe I can either get a night light or go sleep with Mini-me.
• I worry about Skywalker and his transition into a new school, in a new town.
• I love my boys. I rather have this knot in the pit of my stomach because I worry about them. I hope one day they understand it.
• I am blessed to have children, a husband and a home to be worried about.
• I've been praying a lot. I am fortunate to believe and be able to pray not only to God and my Lord Jesus, but also His Blessed Mother. She understands what is like to worry about her boy and Her household.

Swimming is supposed to lower your blood pressure.

As part of my efforts to lead a healthier lifestyle, I am trying to get the children involved in some type of activity. In the past we have tried Little League, but since Sunshine is not much of a baseball fan, Skywalker found the bugs flying next to him on the left field more interesting than the actual game. Needless to say, it was a bust. I tried to engage him on trying another sport. His friends are into football and Sunshine was a football player in Middle School and some of High School, but once Skywalker saw how they get hit, the sport lost its appeal. Some of his other friends and his cousins are really into soccer, but when Skywalker saw all that running, he decided that this sport was also out. Last year, in my desperation to find something to get him engaged, we started him on swimming… and he was good! Added plus: unless it is thundering outside, meets and classes are not cancelled!!! His teacher said that he has a lot of potential and he enjoyed it! Then, as he progressed through the classes, I found out that the swim team at the Y practices at 3:30 pm every day. I called the Y and inquired about it. Really? 3:30 in the afternoon? Who schedules practices at 3:30pm? My son’s school bus doesn’t even drop him off in front of our house until 4pm! And there is also the little issue of him having two working parents. His swimming future seemed to be evaporating… (don’t like that pun? How about: it was going down the drain? Ok, ok, I’ll stop). I asked the coach how kids who had working parents made it to practice. Her response: carpool. Awesome, I said, but how do you know who is willing to carpool. Her response? By coming to practice. After about 10 seconds of silence to see if she would catch the total lack of logic in her statement I hung up the phone disappointed. We had to take him out of swimming.

Finally, someone with someone with some brains realized this issue and changed the swimming practices to different hours of the day. There are some that still start at 3:30 but there is another one that starts at 5:30 pm and another one at 6 am. I am willing to get up for my kids to go to swimming practice just like my parents did for my brothers, so I re-enrolled him (and this time also Mini-me) in the classes. Bonus: Our new home will be located less than half a mile of the local Y... and Skywalker is going into the afterschool program there!

Today we had our second session. The boys love it. Today Mini-me actually got over his fear of dunking his head under the water and he is starting to get the freestyle stroke – and it's only his second lesson! Skywalker is loving the time in the water. I am glad for him. I want him not only to be able to exercise his mind, but also his social skills, be part of a team. So I was a little taken aback when I heard him asked another child in his class if he wanted to be friends and the boy looked at him and flat out said: No. They had met 3 minutes ago and this was his response. Skywalker caught my eye and I tried to smile, but I think he was too embarrassed by the fact that I had witnessed this rejection, so he looked away. Geez, who taught THAT kid manners??? I understand that Skywalker doesn't have to be friends with the entire world, but...

As I sat there on the pool deck, re-living my childhood (my brothers swam competitively but I didn’t so I sat by the pool MANY hours). I noticed several issues. First, there was a little girl (maybe 8years old) swimming around in the pool – never mind that there were 4 preschool swimming classes going on at the same time, this girl swam and dove, splashed in the preschoolers’ faces and interrupted the lessons by swimming into the instructors and kids, while her mother read a magazine. At one point, the lifeguard told her to please move to another section of the pool, but her mom told her not too because it was too deep. Now, I understand that this is the Y, but there are 23 preschoolers in the pool, taking classes, the lanes are reserved for this purpose and your daughter is being disruptive to the class I PAID for. Ok, so I took a deep breath and tried to enjoy watching Mini-me with his HUGE goggles “swim” around.

Once Mini-me finished, it was Skywalker’s turn. As the classes (now 5 classes with about 25 kids total) progressed, more and more people were getting in the pool – to just stand and swim. Parents were coming with their little babies to splash around, older kids were playing around, and then, they had the nerve to get upset if water got splashed on their precious 5 month old (who was not supposed to be there at that time in the first place) or upset if they got smacked by a flailing swimming student, or completely ignored them and made the kids stop in the middle of their swimming strokes, so they could leisurely swim right across their path… it got so bad, that one of the instructors had to ask the lifeguard to blow her whistle and yelled at all these people to stay by the walls of the pool or exit the water as there were 5 simultaneous lessons going on. Three teenagers were actually "asked" to leave the pool. Order lasted about 10 minutes as other people entered the pool and not having heard this announcement started to get in the way. It was exasperating to watch. One of the culprits even swam the length of the pool THROUGH the classes when there were 3 lanes open for lap swimming. And the 8 year old girl? She was joined by her father and little sister, who having been part of the preschoolers’ lessons was now done and did not need to follow any other rule.

I refuse to be a psychotic mother, but I kept my nine year old sitting next to me, on a bench, while the preschoolers were having their lessons, to respect the rules. I refuse to be “all high-and-mighty” but I can’t help to be bothered by the lack of respect and courtesy at the pool today.

How about you? What would you have done???

Babies. I love babies, then again...

I have two wonderful sons. Beautiful sons. They make me laugh and at least one of them will make me head to the spot on the wall where I bang my head every day. I love the hugs, and playing UNO with them (and all the "sportsmanship" that comes with the game in this house), but I love babies.

When I was pregnant with Skywalker it was the worse experience ever. I had read the What to expect when you're expecting book, but too me, being pregnant at that time was one hurdle over another. Morning sickness subsided to be replaced by swollen legs, which was replaced by body aches... I hated being pregnant. Then to top it off, I ended up with toxemia and spent 2 weeks in the hospital, on magnesium sulfate (NASTY little bag of drugs) just to give birth prematurely and go through a new set of mind-boggling craziness and emotional rollercoasters.

A couple of years later I was told I couldn't have any more kids. Something about secondary infertility. The news were given to my by my fertility doctor after 3 tries of artificial insemination. We went to talk to a lawyer about the possibility of adopting. It was hard. I packed up all my baby things, you know, the ones that I had been saving for 4 years and took them to Goodwill. After I unloaded the car, I sat in the parking lot crying for about 20 minutes. I let go.

Two weeks later, I was pregnant with Mini-me. I swore right there and there that no matter what, I would ENJOY this pregnancy, because I knew that it would be my last. It was great. I was very high risk and even early in the process I told my OB that if something should happen, to make sure to to a tubal ligation. My body just could not handle another baby. He agreed. He admitted to not knowing how to talk to me about the need for such measures. Another baby would kill me. Mini-me was born full term and beautiful. I think that he is so much like me because he spent the entire time in there, with me being so positive about his development. He certainly took a better part of me with him.

But, there is the other part. Sunshine and I still feel that we are missing something in our family. The thought of a girl still becomes convesations amongst us. We know that we are now just trying to get over the huge unemployment, change of location, change of job, getting out of debt again, selling the house adventure, but we had set the goal of considering adoption once Mini-me became five. That milestone is this October.

Sunshine and I are believers that God will send blessings our way when we are ready for them. Mini-me was definitely the proof of that. Prior to the perfect timing of his coming, I wonder if our marriage would've survived him or if I would've appreciated him as much as I did.

Then, I also think about how we are past the baby stage. Our boys are potty trained. They sleep the entire night. They can walk. They can eat by themselves. They can entertain themselves. The challenges are different.

I sometimes babysit my 8 month old nephew and I am surprised about how hard it is. I believe that's how we continue as a species. Mothers forget how hard it is to take care of babies. We just see the cuteness and then, WHAM! you're hooked. I am glad that after a couple of hours, I can return my nephew to my brother.

I love babies, but they are exhausting.

Heaven - on a fork...

I absolutely LOVE seeing the recipes posted in all of your blogs! Love the decadent recipes from Not Your Average Soccer Mom, and the healthy yummy sounding stuff that Too Many Hats posts in her blog. Not to be left behind, I am including here THE BEST Tres Leches cake you will EVER have. Let me warn you though: This cake is SUPER easy to make, hard to put down once you start and will RUIN you for ever. When you try other Tres Leches recipes at the latin restaurant that you go to (you know, the one that you only go to because of the Tres Leches they serve) or the one that your great-aunt Gertrude finally gave you the recipe for after you had to relinquish all claims to her 3 strings of pearls... you know what I mean. And if you don't, try this cake. I dare you. 


P.S.: I refuse to be responsible for broken scales or marriages/relationships broken because your spouse or children TOUCHED your cake - or the fact that once you share this cake with your co-workers or friends, you will ALWAYS be assigned to bring this cake, which serves you right for sharing it in the first place.



Yield: 10 to 12 servings
Ingredients:
The Cake:

• 3 eggs
• 1 cup sugar
• ¼ cup milk
• 1 cup all-purpose pour
• 1½ teaspoons baking powder
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract

The Cream Filling:

• 1 can (14 ounces) sweetened condensed milk
• 1 can (12 ounces) evaporated milk
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract

The Frosting:

• 1 cup whipping cream (or buy Cool Whip - one version is just sweeter than the other... can you guess which one we do in our home?)

Method:
The Cake:Preheat oven to 350ºF. Separate the eggs. Beat the egg whites unti1 fluffy. Add the sugar gradually and mix well. Blend in the egg yolks, one at a time. Alternately blend in the milk, flour, and baking powder. Add the vanilla and blend well. Pour into a greased, square baking pan, and bake 45 minutes or until a knife inserted in the cake comes out clean. Remove the cake from the oven and pierce it with a fork, making little holes evenly over the surface. Set aside to cool. DON'T TAKE IT OUT OF THE PAN.
The Ice Cream Filling:
In a large bowl, mix condensed milk, evaporated milk, and vanilla extract until well blended. Slowly pour the mixture over the top of the cake. It will look like a lot, but believe me, it'll fit.
The Frosting:
Beat whipping cream until stiff. Spread over cake. Slather the delicious white goodness all over the top. Open top button of your jeans. Eat, then fast for 30 days or so. Repeat.

Twenty five years are heavier than you think...

Yesterday I did something I hadn’t done in a loooong time: clean my wallet. If your wallet is anything like mine, Mary Poppin’s traveling bag has nothing on us: we can pull ANYTHING out of there. Once in a while I throw away old crap to make sure I have space for all the new phone numbers, cards and information that I will never call or use. During the exercise in organization I happened to find an FYE gift card. I have no idea how it got there nor when it got there. Sunshine checked on the Internet and I had the original $25 still available on it. SCORE!

Later that evening, we decided to go celebrate my job offer after Church. We went to Chili’s and had an amazing time as a family. The kids didn’t know why we were there because until I see the offer and actually accept it, I don’t want to get them excited (in the case of Mini-me) or totally bummed out (in the case of Skywalker). God knows I can only go through that one time, so I am saving it for when it actually happens.

During the conversation, Skywalker, who was sitting next to me, started talking about how he could win a race between the two of us. Having just completed a 5K not that long ago, the competitive streak attacked our table. Sunshine agreed that I would smoke the kid… Skywalker did not appreciate the challenge and all of a sudden I was agreeing to a race with my NINE YEAR OLD.

We were to run down the street to my brother’s house, touch his mailbox and run back up the street to our house. First one to touch our mailbox wins the FYE card. From there on, there was nothing but smack talk between the two of us. “Skywalker, can you please go brush your teeth? You know, so they are nice and clean when I beat you in the race tomorrow!” and “Mom, do you know where my jacket is? It’s going to be sad seeing you cry at the finish line and I don’t want to get cold waiting for you to get over your defeat…” You know, loving words. Even Mini-me got in it saying that I would win the race and get the “gold necklace” and Skywalker would get the “Silver necklace” (where did he learn about that, I don’t know, since the airtime the Olympics received in our home this year is about the same as Ronco Steak Knives infomercials… None.). His loyalty touched me (suck on that one Sunshine).

We took a break for Sunday School but as soon as we got back in the car the talk continued.

At 11:30 we stood in front of our house. Mini-me took his position and after a couple of false starts, the race was one.

I don’t know if you know this, but a 9-year old runs fast. Even if he doesn’t participate in sports, he runs at recess every day and with his friends all the time. He is a cheetah, sprints quick fast in short distances, while I am more of a water buffalo (yes, I just compared myself to a massive cow) and can run longer. I discovered this too late.  There were a couple of times when I almost caught up, but when looking over his shoulders, he would see me and sprint again out of reach. The thoughts that went through my mind were not the ones of a loving mother, but the ones of a LOSING RUNNER. He beat me by about 10 feet. The irony of it was that he collapsed on the grass while I could’ve kept on running. Mini-me came running to me, jumping over his brother and declared me the Winner. Gotta love that kid!

When Skywalker caught his breath, he came over and put his hand on my shoulder, looked at me lovingly and said: “Where is my card?”

Now, there are a lot of things I can say here to excuse the fact that I lost, you know: the calf that received physical therapy this week, the lack of training time these last two weeks… you know, not excuses but REASONS. The reality is that he beat me fair and square. I went upstairs and got on the treadmill for the first time in two weeks. This is not over by far. You know that a re-match is coming. After all, second place is just the first loser.

Until then, you will now excuse me. I have a nine year old to take to the mall.