R-E-S-P-E-C-T

According to Merriam Webster, to respect someone is to "consider worthy of high regard".
As a kid, I was taught to respect, not only my parents, but elders, teachers, coaches, etc.

Is that still the norm? I'm beginning to wonder what has happened to teach our kids respect for other people.

I was chatting with a coworker a few days ago and our conversation navigated into the topic of sports. My daughter plays soccer and his kids do too, so we usually end up comparing notes since our kids play in different leagues. I was telling him about my experience as a coach this past soccer season, and he shared with me the behavior he has seen from some of the kids. For starters, kids openly defying the coaches when given an order, telling them "you are not my parent, I don't have to do what you say", or even sitting out during a tournament because they don't want to play the position the coach has assigned to them.

Whatever happened to teaching your kids to respect other adults besides their parents? Is that teaching outdated?

I certainly hope not. I don't know everything when it comes to parenting. Truth be told, I probably know little to nothing, but there are a few things I want my kids to remember always, and one of those is to respect all people, specially those who have something to offer/teach them: teachers, coaches, pastors.

How are these children suppose to learn how to be a part of a team, when their parents allow them to act this way? How are they to learn camarederie and good sportsmanship when they disrespect the person guiding them through the games, and even their teammates?

Coaching is not an easy job, as I learned last season. We don't get paid, most of us volunteer our time because we want our kids to have the opportunity to learn a sport, remain healthy, and learn how to be a part of a team. I know many of us don't do it because we have "free" time or because we just have endless hours in our days. The last thing we need is a child who is disrespectful towards us.

Coaching is hard. It is not easy to remain calm when your team is not listening to your directions. It is not easy to discipline someone else's child while their parents are watching. It is not an easy job.

So if you are a parent of a child who plays sport, please remind your child to show respect for the coach. Yes, there are coaches out there who makes parents like myself lose their calm, who disrespect the kids in the name of sports. I don't tolerate that. But that's a battle for the parent, not the kid.

I don't agree with children disrespecting adults in any situation, warranted or not. My children know it, and they are constantly reminded when I see another child disrespect an adult in their presence.

So if you ever see one my kids be disrespectful to an adult in your presence, please correct them, I beg you!
And then tell me, so I can make sure they get a lesson in respect directly from me. I don't want my kids to join those children who are growing up thinking disrespecting others is acceptable.

Random Friday

Quitting time is so close, I can almost taste it. So, since it's Friday, and a too-short weekend is about to begin, I'm just going to write about random stuff that's been buzzing around my head today.

*I was driving back to work earlier today, after a quick trip to the store in search of a pair of white shorts for my daughter's softball uniform (which my husband had to pay for when he received it).

I've been trying to figure out why the cost of the uniform (including said shorts) is not included in the $50+ I paid when I signed her up. I mean, I know uniforms cost money. She has played soccer for several years, and the fee we pay includes her uniform and a nice trophy. How come this fee doesn't include a pair of white shorts, or the whole uniform? But I digress. That's just my thrifty self talking.

Anyway, back to my point. This state (Mississippi) ranks #1 when it comes to childhood obesity. I know a lot of it has to do with the fact we rank #1 in adult obesity too, and the link between obese parents, and obese children, and unhealthy foods in school, etc.

But you know what? I think it also has to do with the fact we, the parents, have to pay in order for our kids to play organized sports. Not everyone can afford to pay $50+ for ONE child to play in the league. I'm not naive enough to think that everything is free. I just wish local government (as in the City/County government where I live) would be more willing to fund programs for kids to stay active than to continue funding a crappy school system.

That's just a theory. Prove me wrong, I'm quite ok with that. By next year, I will have 3 kids playing sports. When it comes time to sign them up for soccer, softball, t-ball, whatever, I'll have to write a check for over $100 just so they can participate. Let's not even factor in the shoes, or whatever other equipment they may need. I'm glad we can afford it, and we are willing to pay it because we want our kids to be physically active.

But what if we could not afford it? Why should the children with limited means be kept from participating in activities that would help them develop self esteem, healthy habits, etc? They shouldn't be.

I don't have any solutions, I only have complaints. Hey, it's Friday. What else do you want?

* A couple of years ago, I blogged about needing a parenting manual . That manual still hasn't shown up at my house.
Having kids can be fun, exhausting, and nerve wracking all in one. I'm there, right now. I have a daughter who is turning 9 this year, she will officially become a tween. If you don't know what that is, you are not alone. I had to google it.

So she is getting older and along with that, come a whole lot of changes. She wants more privacy, which her brothers refuse to give her. What's wrong with them barging in the bathroom while she is taking a shower, right? Or (their favorite), let's take our clothes off and run around the house while our sister is screaming to the top of her lungs "they are naked, mom, do something".

Yeah, it's fun. She is starting to discover changes in her body, which means she is growing up. In the meantime, I'm finding more gray hairs which can only mean one thing, this is way more stressful than I anticipated.

* Birthday parties are looming in the horizon. The boys will be turning 4. Of course, they want X and Y for their birthdays. I have told them several times they have the same birthday, so they get one party. I'm pretty sure they know what I'm saying, they are just not listening.
Boys apparently develop that selective hearing early in life.

*Anniversary is also looming in the horizon. TEN years, folks. TEN. We have survived being first time parents, moving to another state, moving back, a hurricane, TWINS and still love each other. It is nice to know there is someone right next to you who knows what is like to hear 2 babies screaming at the same time in the middle of the night.

* Piano recital is coming. I cried like an idiot last year at her first one. I'm pretty certain I will again this year because that's what mothers do right? We embarrass our kids by crying at all their events. Dance recital is also coming, and I'm sure I will need another box of tissue for that one.

I'm pretty certain a few more grays hairs just popped up. Off to find some tweezers so I banish those pesky hairs to oblivion.

Crossroads

I will be the first to admit I don't like change, and I'm not talking about the loose coins in my purse.

Perhaps it is because I've had to change and adapt so many times, moving from one country to another. I'm not really sure. I'm a creature of habit.

For as long as I can remember, my religion has been a part of my identity, just as the color of my eyes, or the fact Spanish is my first language. Being a part of another religion was something I never entertained. How can one change who they are, right?

I grew up in a home where no religion was practiced. By the time I was old enough to understand what religion and faith were, my father no longer considered himself part of the same religion as the one he was baptized into. My mom considered herself to be, but only attended church on special occasions. I find it ironic that even in that situation, my religious identity because so important to me.

I attended a religious school, where we prayed before every class, attended services once a week and religion was a subject we were required to take. Even though my parents were not actively practicing their beliefs, I was brought in the faith.

I remember being 11 and walking to church alone on Sunday. Service would start at 11 am and I vividly remember leaving my house, dressed in my Sunday best and walking 20 minutes to church. I never felt lonely or out of place, sitting in a pew all by myself. I think about that little girl sitting inside that huge cathedral often. Mainly because I cannot imagine how I would feel if that was my child, attending church by herself.

The truth is I never felt lonely on those days. I enjoyed going to church, even if I was going alone. I never gave it much thought because that was just the way things were. And so my religion, and my way of worship became part of who I was.

It never occurred to me that I could worship in a different way. Could I be born again with blue eyes, or blond hair? Changing that part of me was simply not possible.

Then I grew up. I learned the world is full of people who are so different and yet so fascinating. I met people whose faith was an important part of them and yet, they worshipped in a different way.

So here I am, in the crossroads. I sit here wondering in which direction to go. Do I retrace my steps back to where I began, do I take the new unknown path?

I think I will sit here, quietly. I will close my eyes, and retrace the steps that brought me to this point in life. I will listen to the voice inside my head that usually leads me in the right path, and then I will take a step. In faith.

10 People who I would love to meet

My list of ten people who are alive today, and I would love to meet.

1) Dalai Lama. His messages are usually about love and harmony and peace. I think a lot can be learned from him. Plus my father is a Buddhist.

2) Queen Elizabeth. She is a fascinating person to me. For decades, she has been in a position of power usually occupied by men. I'd like to know how she really felt about the late princess Diana.

3) Gabriel Garcia Marquez. He is my favorite author. I love his work and would love to sit down with him and just listen to his life experience.

4) John McCain. Not because I want to discuss politics with him, but because I've always found him to be a fascinating person of integrity.

5) George Bush Sr. Again, no political discussion here. I want to ask him about the whole issue with Noriega. Was he really trained by the CIA? What happened that made him turn against the USA.

6) Jenna Bush. I like her. I think she has a good heart. Ever since I heard about her doing work in Panama with children who are suffering of AIDS, I wanted to meet her. Plus, I want to know what it's like to have a dad who sits in the Oval Office. How do you stay "real"?

7) George Clooney, because he looks like he would be tons of fun. and of course, he is easy on the eyes too. ha!

8) Drew Brees. Do I really need to say why? Not only is he cute, he won the Superbowl, and he has a good heart.

9) The Pope. I want to know why he continues to ignore the pain of the victims and the pain of the millions of Catholics around the world who are struggling with the sexual abuse scandal. Why hasn't he come out and defend himself against the accusations? And why has he allowed other clergy to call the accusations "petty gossip"?
I'm certain this meeting would consist of a lot of yelling by me, and a lot of silence by him.

10) Hon. Sonia Sotomayor. What can I say? She is an immigrant (like me), a latina woman, who has lived the American dream. I'd want to hear about her journey.

50 Things about me

I'm not sure if I've posted this list here before or not. What can I say? My memory isn't what it used to be.
So I give you 50 random facts about me.

1) I was born on January 22. My parents' anniversary was on January 21 so my mom wanted me to be born on that day. I'm sure she is glad I wasn't, being they are no longer together.

2) I want to be a lawyer one day when I grow up. That's been my dream since 5th grade. Probably environmental law, so I could use all my degrees.

3) Until 2008, I had an irrational fear of the ocean. To the point I couldn't even drive along the ocean without having an anxiety attack. I got over it standing in front of the Pacific Ocean back in Panama.

4) I've lived in 3 countries in my life: Panama, Costa Rica, and now USA

5) I hate peanut butter and mushrooms.

6) I graduated 3rd in my senior class.

7) I chose my career path my senior year in high school. I thought I wanted to change majors when I was a junior in college. After going to career counseling, it turned out I could chose chemistry or chemical engineering. I stuck with engineering.

8) I've worn glasses since 6th grade. I broke my first pair because I hated wearing them. Thank God for contacts!

9)I had my first job when I was 13, wrapping presents during Christmas at a store back home. December in Panama = HOT. The area where I worked was outside so I spent the entire month wrapping presents for $5.60 per day. Yes, per day, it was minimum wage. I thought I was rich.

10) My father is a Buddhist.

11) I have 3 siblings from my father's first marriage, one brother, and two sisters.

12) I absolutely loved school. looked forward to going to school and learning new things. Yes, I know, I’m a geek. I never get tired of learning.

13) I arrived in New Orleans on December 20, 1990. Everything I owned fit inside a mid-size suitcase.

14) I love to cook and try to do so every day. I learned to cook watching my grandmother as a kid. I express my love for others through my cooking. I would love to be a chef.

15) I trained for the Chicago marathon back in 2007. I didn't get to finish it because they shut down the race due to the heat. But I know I could have finished. Longest run I've completed: 22 miles.

16) I want to run the entire Chicago marathon one day.

17) I've been to Niagara Falls in the winter. Amazing!

18) I collect elephant figurines.

19) I'm terrified of snakes. Can't even watch them on TV.

20) I've been camping once in my life.

21) I don't know how to swim. at all. can't even do the "doggie paddle".

22) I don't play any instruments, or sing.

23) I do watercolor painting to relax.

24) My favorite book is One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I've read it more times than I can remember, in both Spanish and English.

25) I've never broken a bone.

26) I love soccer.

27) I love dogs and don't care for cats.

28) Went to Ole Miss for both my undergrad and graduate degrees. I'm an Ole Miss Rebel. Enough said.

29) I like taking showers, not baths. Don't care to sit in a tub full of water.

30) I love walking around the house barefoot.

31) I read all the books in the Twilight Saga and loved them. Yes, not exactly a literary gem but I enjoyed them all the same.

32) I was married "twice" to the same man. sort of. We got married in the Baptist church, and a year later, in the Catholic church. Long story, for another time.

33) There are no plants inside my house. All of my plants die, even cactus.

34) I love flowers, specially carnations.

35) I love coffee. Gotta have a cup every morning to start my day the right way.

36) Wheat beer, chardonnay, and merlot. I like them all, but not at the same time.

37) I dream of moving back to Panama one day.

38) I have no regrets in life. Every choice I've made helped me become who I am.

39) I'm shy when I first meet people.

40) Aside from Panamanian food, I love Italian food.

41) I never dreamed of being a mom. It just wasn't part of my "life plan". Until I met my husband. Then I realized I wanted to bring life into this world. I'm glad I did.

42) If I could invite one person to dinner, dead or alive, I'd like to meet Mother Theresa. Her life was so inspiring, not just to Christians, but to all people.

43) I'm allergic to narrow minded people. They make me want to hit them so I avoid them at all costs.

44) I have a list of things I'd like to do before I leave this earth. It is a work in progress.

45) I know how to drive a manual transmission car. I traded mine for an automatic when I had kids so I could "reach in the backseat".

46) I hate, hate, hate to spend money on myself. I have no issues spending it on my kids, or on other people who need it. But myself? It can always wait.

47) I hope to write a book one day about my family. So many great people, and lots and lots of dysfunctional drama. ;-)

48) My first car was a 1979 (baby) Yellow Montecarlo. I loved that car.

49) Making this list was a lot harder than I thought. I realized how boring I am.

50) I hope to revise this list next year and hopefully have more interesting stuff to say.

Remembering Abuelo on Good Friday

Lately, I've been having a "spiritual crisis" of sort. I have been questioning my beliefs, and those of my ancestors. You see, my family has always been Catholic. I was born into a Catholic family, in country where the vast majority (90% or more at that time) were also Catholic. To worship differently was to be an outsider.
So, 36 years later, I'm questioning where I am spiritually and where I'd like to be when the day comes to depart this earth.

Wow, that was deep, wasn't it? But this blog isn't about my journey, or my crisis.

For as long as I can remember, Good Friday has been a day of mourning. Even before I really understood what Christians were celebrating during these holy days, I just knew it was a special day.
The whole world would shut down once the Tridiuum began. Holy Thursday marked the beginning as we prepared for the days to come.

As a kid, I was taught on this day, we were to reflect and pray on the sacrifice Jesus made for mankind. There was no secular music on the radio stations, no fighting or shouting at my house. It was a day of prayer.

Abuelo (my maternal grandfather) was a spiritual man but not a religious man. That's not to say he wasn't a believer. He was a man of faith, and he prayed. His temple wasn't a building, it was simply nature. He loved being in nature, and cherish all the things God had given him.

On Good Friday, Abuelo didn't work. He always said it was a day of prayer and reflection. He would rise early, as always, and without saying a word, he would go outside for his Good Friday ritual. I'm not sure what the ritual was about or what exactly he did. All I know is this was his quiet time with God and he took it very seriously.

Abuelo grew up in the mountains, where the nearest church was at least a day away, and you had to ride a horse to the main road before you could find a bus to ride to town. So attending church wasn't something he did regularly, even when transportation became more available.

But he lived his 93 years of life by the Golden Rule: Love your neighbor as yourself, and God above all things. He helped strangers and family alike. He was kind to people, and thankful of the blessings God gave him. He didn't need to be in church every Sunday to know that God was just a prayer away.

So today, on Good Friday, I'm thinking of Abuelo. He knew that his salvation was not coming from a building where a man presided over the service. He never doubted his salvation would come from the one who died on the Cross. I miss Abuelo. But I'm certain he is finally home and rejoicing in the presence of his Savior.

Unforgettable Moments: Part 2

Took a while to get back and finish my list of unforgettable moments. Sometimes life gets in the way of writing.

6) October 19, 1998. First date my husband and I had. I had seen him at the local gym a few weeks before. I remember him walking in, as I looked up. Our eyes met and a voice inside my head said "this man is going to change your life". Love at first sight? Maybe. The truth is he did change my life for the better. We went out on our first date and have been together ever since.

7) May 20, 2000 Our wedding day. As I was getting my hair ready, it started to rain. I started to get a bit nervous then. Here I was in this puffy white dress, about to walk out in the middle of a storm. The girl doing my hair said her grandmother always told her rain on your wedding day was good luck. In our case, it is true. On that day I married my other half, my best friend.

8) September 12, 2001. Our first born, a daughter was born. She was so beautiful and innocent and I was taken immediately by her. Even though the world was in turmoil over the events of 9/11, my memories of those times are happy and sad. Happy to have my little girl finally here, sad for all those who lost a loved one the day before her birth.

9) May 2003. Master degree. Environmental Engineering. A long way coming. I took classes at night, and finished this milestone while tending to my child and my husband. I was able to share that day with my family and have my daughter in attendance. She may not remember the day, but she will see the pictures and will know she, too, can do anything she sets her mind to.

10) May 1, 2006 The arrival of our twin boys. As soon as we found out I was expecting, we told our daughter. She was happy and said "mami, you are going to have two babies". We tried to explain to her she would get one brother or one sister, but she was adamant there were two babies in there. A few weeks later, we found out we were having twins. They arrived early and stayed in the hospital until they proved to the world they were ready for it.
They are a team, each other's ying yang and their own individual persons. It's amazing to watch them interact, and see the love between each other and with their sister. Our family is now complete.

Unforgettable Moments: Part 1

Blogging helps me release stress. Strange, I know. I've been trying to blog every day and sometimes, I just have nothing interesting to say. So I found this idea generator that helps me on those days when my "rock star life" is not inspiring me to write.

So I give you the 10 most unforgettable moments of my life. Some are happy moments, some a little scary, but all very defining in my life.

1) My first day of school. I remember the anticipation and excitement of finally being able to attend school with my two oldest siblings. I remember my mom taking me out to buy the uniform, my new shoes, my lunchbox. The day finally came, and I was the most excited child in the classroom, at least I'd like to think so. While some kids were crying, I was ecstatic to be there, to finally have a chance to learn.
It was March in Panama, and a beautiful summer day. Once we had met our teacher, they took us out to the assembly area. They lined us up, the principal went up on the stage, and then we sang our National Anthem. I'll never forget that moment, I was finally growing up!

2) The year was 1989. Panama's government was under the command of General Noriega. Things were scary to say the least. I was 15 then and understood most of what was happening. I knew our school had been shut down by the government because it was run by a religious group. Electricity was being rationed so we spent many hours every night without power, sitting outside, listening to a radio station from Costa Rica in a small battery powered radio.
I also knew we weren't allow to congregate on the streets. If more than 3 people met on the street to talk, they could be put in jail under the pretense they were conspiring against the government.

I remember this day because my sister and I were sitting outside, just watching cars pass by and people walking towards town. I remember the men stopping to chit chat, two of them on their way to town, one of them on his way home. They stopped in the corner, right across from our yard. I remember the military jeep stopping right next to them, heavily armed and looking like something out of a movie. They dropped something on the ground, the jeep left, and the men started running, and coughing.

My sister and I weren't sure what was happening but it was scary. We got up and started to run towards the house, that's when we felt a funny taste in our throats. It was tear gas.

It was scary to see how we had lost our right to be free; simply because of the ambitions of one man.

3) Moving to Costa Rica. The situation in Panama had gone from bad to worse after the military threw out the results of the elections and put a puppet government in its place. The decision was made we would move to Costa Rica. We were to cross the border, undetected, and ask for political asylum. We rode to the border, as many people do, in a bus. People went there all the time to buy things, trade things, so it wasn't suspicious.
We crossed the border in an area that wasn't patrolled. I was terrified. What if we got caught?
Once on the other side, we headed to the immigration headquarters, located right on the "safe" side of the border. I remember my parents doing all the talking, signing papers, our passports were stamped, and we bought our bus tickets. We were allowed in.
That first night in our adopted home was scary. I was terrified "they" were following us. What if they found us? What would happen to us? I hardly slept. I remember being cold. San Jose was at a much higher elevation than my hometown and the nights were pretty cool. I remember walking out of the little hostel the next morning, and admiring the beautiful mountains that surround the city. I knew a new life awaited us.

4) December 1, 1990. Our plane had reached its final destination. New Orleans. So much had happened in the past year and half. Here we were, another country, a new home, and the promise that our dreams could finally come true.

5) May 1997. Bachelor's degree. Chemical Engineering. I had graduated 6 months before, but since there was no graduation ceremony in December, I was invited to participate in the ceremony in May. By now, I had a job so I thought I would go and "walk" to give my mom the satisfaction of watching me graduate.
As we started to walk into the coliseum where graduation was held, the magnitude of the moment hit me. I had to fight the tears, I had come such a long way since I had left my home 8 years before. The world awaited.

Science Fair

This morning I had the opportunity to be a judge at the regional science fair. It was a very rewarding experience for me.

This is the second time I participate as a judge but the first time I've done it at a regional level, with children from the surrounding counties, that attend both public and private schools.

I judged in two different categories so I was able to see many different kinds of projects. More importantly, I was able to see how different kids, from different schools, may present the same idea in two very different ways.

It was easy to see which students had an adult supervising, helping out; and which ones had done it on their own without much parental supervision.

I hope it doesn't sound judgemental. That's not my intention. As the child of a working mother, I know many times I did my projects on my own while mom was at work, with only the help of sisters.

But seeing those kids who needed an adult to help them out made me want to reach out and volunteer some of my time mentoring these kids. I'm glad they have teachers encouraging them to participate and to contribute their talent to the science fair.

Some kids were nervous, others were so happy to talk to me and tell me all about their projects, their ideas, and even their grandmothers! I even had a chance to judge a team from the School for the Deaf. I really wish I knew sign language so I could have interacted with the girls, they looked like a fun bunch.

Some of the kids are in the same age range as my daughter. I cannot wait until it's her turn to participate. I made sure to tell all these kids they are winners already. They won in their schools, and are participating against other schools, they are winners in my book.

Reality of Life

The topic of this blog isn't pleasant for me, and probably won't be for those who read it. It isn't something we like to talk about in civilized society, it's one of the taboo subjects we shy away from at cocktail parties, and social gatherings.

A few months back, there was a case of physical abuse in the news. Two very popular people were involved in a domestic dispute. Her picture was in the news, he was all over the news, sharing his "side" of the events, and telling everyone who cared to hear that he, too, was a victim.
Many took her side, others felt he was treated unfairly because he, too, had been injured.

I, as many people, took the side of the battered woman. What most people probably wouldn't know it's because I have seen abuse up close and personal.

I have not been a victim of abuse, but my sister has. Not once, or twice, but several times, at the hands of two different men.

Abuse isn't pretty, it isn't something people want to talk about, it's something people whisper around and pretend isn't happening. I refuse to do so anymore.

I have seen the results of physical abuse. I have seen my sister battered and bruised, and worst of all, ashamed because she felt maybe it was something she did. I have cried with her and stood up for her.

But there are other types of abusive relationship. When most people hear about abuse, they picture a battered woman, bruises and blood. Most never think about emotional abuse, and how prevalent it is in today's society. Most of us go on about our lives without ever thinking about it.
Most people think the abusers are usually uneducated men, unemployed, minority men, or simply trashy people. I'm sure many fit that pattern but many don't.
Many aren't minority males, many are not poor , or uneducated. They may be the doctor in your town, or the lawyer down the street.

For my sister this time around, the abuse is more than just physical. It's emotional. Funny thing is we all saw it coming but it wasn't until we were staring in the face of it that we realized what we were looking at.

It's not easy to see how someone can abuse another emotionally.
I have seen a confident beautiful woman lose her self esteem. I have watched her give up a successful career simply because he wanted her to. I have watched her lose herself, and her ability to stand up for herself.

The signs the abuse was happening were subtle. At first it was about her job, then it was about her not spending enough time at home with him and the kids. Before long, her family wasn't allowed in the home unless he wasn't there, or unless we had prior approval. And we were ever there and he came home, we knew better than to hang around.
She became isolated, always saying that's just how he was. He is eccentric and wants her undivided attention when he is around her.

I'm sure she isn't the only woman in this situation right now. The statistics are clear. 5.3 million women are abused every single year. 5.3 million.
Those women are someone's daughter, sister, mother. Most of the abuse is at the hands of a domestic partner. And most of the abuse goes unreported because the victim feels ashamed of what happened.

If you are lucky to have never been around someone in an abusive situation, count your blessings and offer a prayer for those who are in an abusive relationship.

If you have seen the ugly truth of abuse, then you know how helpless one can feel when a loved one is in that situation. There is nothing you can do to remove them from that path unless they are willing to get out. And most abused women are afraid to move on.

So say a prayer for all the women, for all the men, for the children who have witnessed abuse, for the families who have to sit helplessly while trying to find a way to help the victims.

Life with Children

Never a dull moment when it comes to my life. My kids have a bag full of "surprises" hidden somewhere, I'm certain of it.

Last night I had a battle of wills with one of my boys. He decided that instead of dinner, he wanted hot cocoa. With marshmallows. I nicely told him he could have some IF he ate his dinner. You would have thought I had sentenced him to torture and death. He started screaming at the dinner table. His twin brother started singing "cry baby, cry baby, suck your thumb" which only prompted louder screams. His sister told him to stop crying, they wanted to eat in peace.

I kept trying to reason with him but have you ever tried to reason with a 3 yr old? Achieving world peace is a lot easier. Finally I told him he could go and cry in his room because the rest of us were trying to have a nice dinner. Off he went, screaming as loudly as he could. 20 minutes later, he came out of his room and told me he was going to eat his dinner. No more crying, no mention of the hot cocoa. He ate half of it (which was more than I expected him to eat), and a few minutes later "reminded me" I had promised he could have hot cocoa if he ate. I made good on that promise and all 3 of them got a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows.

Back in my day, my parents would have made me sit at the dinner table until I ate everything on my plate and I probably wouldn't have gotten any hot cocoa. I vividly remember the battles I had with my parents over eating my vegetables. I sat many times for over an hour at the table, alone, because I refused to eat what was on my plate.

Considering how stubborn I was (or am, depending who you ask), I know better than to use that tactic with my own kids. I'm afraid they would end up sleeping at the dinner table and the plate of food would look exactly the same as when I put it on the table.

I know they are asserting their independence and trying to see how far it really goes. I guess you could say having newborn twins desensitize me to their cries. I can tune them out and they are figuring out tears do not work with me. But I'm only human, and from time to time, it gets to me and I lose my patience.

I'm not a model of parenthood, I'm just doing what I can to keep my sanity. Having three kids definitely makes things a little more challenging. Had I had only one kid, I may have given in and hot cocoa and crackers would have been dinner. But with 3, what's good for one is good for all of them, at least most of the time. The other two are watching and they will remember how you let that one get away with whatever it was. It could be something as insignificant as sitting at a different chair at dinner time, they will remember it and use it later on to get their way.

Since the owner manuals that suppose to come with these kids was lost in the mail, I'll just continue to use the "trial and error" method and hope my kids won't have to spend too much money in therapy because I refuse to let them have hot cocoa for dinner.

College taught me...

There are many lessons I received while in college. Not the academic lessons I was there to receive, but lessons about life, about people, about friends.

College taught me sometimes people will surprise you. Unexpected kindness from strangers, a smile when you are feeling down, a shoulder to rely on. Sometimes the nice things people do for you are what helps you face the obstacles along your path.

College taught me some people cannot be trusted, not everyone you meet has your best interest at hand. It taught me not all elderly people are good people, sometimes they are just old bodies with mean hearts.

College taught me I matter, the person I am, not the money I have, or the car I drive. I matter because of what I can contribute to this world. I am valuable.

College taught me family is the most important thing, and they will be there when everyone else leaves.

College taught me the friends you make in college will stay with you through the years, for as long as you want them there.

College taught me I will make mistakes, and that's ok. There is no virtue in never making mistakes, it's learning from them that helps you grow.

College taught me to give people a chance. Sometimes you will find a friend in someone you'd never dreamed of meeting.

College was the best time of my life, before marriage and kids. I look back at those years and see the happiest times, with the best of friends. I laughed, I cried, I learned how to be a friend, and I learned how to cherish my friends. I embraced my past there, I embraced the person I was becoming, and I looked ahead to the future with hope.

Losing my religion

I never quite understood the lyrics of that song by R.E.M. But its title seemed fitting to the turmoil going on inside my brain.

If you know me well, you probably know my brain is always in turmoil. There are usually a thousand thoughts racing across my poor brain cells, and making my brain overly tired and overworked.

This time the reason for my unrest is my spiritual life. I seem to be losing my religion.

My faith is intact. I pray daily, I read the Bible daily, and meditate on it. I just cannot bring myself to attend service at my home church.

Until recently, I was one of those people who hardly ever missed church on Sunday. I volunteered, and actually enjoyed being there. I simply need to be surrounded by others who believe and worship as I do. At least I was that person until recently.

I'm not sure when it all began to disconnect, or the reason behind it. At first, I started missing church because I was sick, or one of the kids was sick. Slowly, it began to feel as a chore, not as something I wanted to do.
But only on Sundays. I just couldn't bring myself to attend services on Sunday.

I have been making time to attend daily services near work. I have no issues going to a different church, with a complete group of strangers, and worship during the week. But when it comes to Sunday, my will power depletes and I just cannot find it in me to go.

I have been knowing something was off for a while. I started to notice the "change" going on in my brain. I thought maybe it was a midlife crisis, although my midlife crisis come and go rather frequently and I'm not old enough to have one.

Then I noticed how happy I was to attend daily mass with a bunch of strangers but I simply dreaded the thought of going to church on Sunday with my church family. I have been attending church there almost 20 years, yet I no longer want to be there.
I'm not sure what's happening. No one has been rude or demeaning towards me or my family there.

Am I having a religious crisis? Perhaps. Identity crisis? Quite possible.

Funny how a long drive is the best source of therapy for me. I was driving yesterday for work and started thinking about this particular issue. I often use my driving time to think about whatever is bothering me at the time. Most of the time I simply have a conversation with myself and it helps clear the confusion that's my brain.

A few things popped into my mind as I was wondering what was happening to me.

I'm not questioning my faith or my beliefs. I still feel very strongly about those, so it is not my faith I'm losing.

But I do feel like I'm missing out on something at my current church. I miss not having other people like me there, people I can relate to. Who are these people? Mothers, wives, other people who are going through the same period in their lives. Other women with young children, women who may have the same interests as me. But more importantly women I can worship with.

I am missing the chance to worship with other women like me. I miss not having a group of women who I can attend bible studies with. Not just women, but women who are going through the same stages of their lives as I am, who may be juggling work, kids, husbands, just as I am.

Going to a different church of the same denomination is a possible solution. But the nearest one is 30 minutes away and I've already "tried on" before and it didn't fit. Does that mean I'm the misfit?

And I can always try another denomination. I'm a believer God is the same in every church, we just chose to worship Him differently, so attending another denomination is not an issue for me.

What if I'm the one who simply doesn't fit here, there, or anywhere?

What about my kids? Is my "crisis" going to affect their faith? Strengthen it? Should I start saving for their therapy bill?

One thing is for sure, my spiritual journey has always been filled with roadblocks that turn into road trips. I wonder where this road trip will take me...

Tutorial on Twins

Parenthood is an adventure, no one with kids will disagree. That adventure often turns into an episode worthy of the Amazing Race when you have twins. In my case, twins plus one make life quite unpredictable.

People often makes comments to me about how wonderful it is to have twins and how they wish they had twins. I'm sure they are trying to be nice, but in all honesty, no one knows what is like to parent twins unless you have them. I don't care if your kids are close in age, or if you have 19 of them, twins will throw a wrench into your parenting skills.

We weren't first time parents when we learned twins were on the way. We have a daughter who is wonderful in every possible way. She is funny, sweet, beautiful, outgoing, a dream come true. We wanted to give her a sibling, and ended up giving her two. We figured our experience as parents would pay off. How hard could it be? We had been through the midnight feedings, diaper changing, reflux, etc.

I wish someone had given me a tutorial before the twins arrive. Better yet, I wish they had given it to me the minute I walked out of the doctor's office, eight weeks into the pregnancy and with the news of double trouble on the way.

So this is my attempt at preparing future mothers (and fathers) of twins. My tutorial on how to parent twins.

1) The minute you find out you are expecting twins, run out of the doctor's office screaming. People will stare but that's ok. Their stares will be nothing compared to those you'll get every time you step out of your home with your twins.

2) Invest in a recliner if you don't already own one. Not only will you need it when you get too big to lay in bed comfortably, it will come in handy during those all night feedings.

3) Speaking of feedings, get used to eating cold food. Once the twins are here, you will seldom get a chance to eat a hot meal. When they are babies, they will start crying the minute you sit down to have a meal. Once they start talking, they will call your name the second you sit down. Most of the time the voice will be coming from the bathroom.
When you decide to eat out with the kids, ask for a box to pack your dinner before you start eating. By the time you are done cutting their dinner, telling them to sit down, making sure they don't pour water in their sibling's food, your food will be cold and they will be ready to go home.

4) Invest in earplugs. I know, sounds harsh unless you've heard the cries of two babies at 2 AM.

5) Throw out all the preconceived notions you had about how you'll deal with twins. You may think think you'll put them on a schedule and they will be sleeping through the night by the time they are 3 months old. It may work, it may not. Not only did my twins decide they didn't like the same schedule, they didn't start sleeping through the night until they turned one. And yes, we tried everything. Better to go in without any expectations.

6) Every time someone says "oh, how I wished I had had twins", ask them for a donation and their phone number. By the time your kids are of school age, you will have a very nice trust fund set for the kids, and you'll have tons of babysitters.

7) Speaking of babysitters, once you find one that actually enjoys babysitting twins, pay her well so she'll keep coming back. You'll be surprised how many will hesitate at the thought of watching more than one child of the same age.

8) Twins are individuals and they rejoice in reminding you of that fact. They will like different foods, different toys, even different sides of the car. And once they are old enough to undress, they will take off the clothes you picked out for them, and find something else to wear. This usually happens as you are trying to walk out the door.

9) When it comes to twins, silence is NOT golden. It just means they are probably in the bathroom, flushing everything they can down the toilet.

10) Enjoy every second with your twins. You will be amazed at how strong their bond is, how connected they are, and how much they love one another. It doesn't matter if they are identical or fraternal, your twins will have that special bond forever.

There will be times you'll be so exhausted, all you can do is cry. There will be times when you'll go outside, sit in the car, and enjoy a few seconds of silence. Many times you'll wonder how you will ever make it until they are old enough to go to college.

But there will also be lots of laughter. Kisses and hugs, and I love you's that will melt your heart. Enjoy the moments when you are all snuggled up in bed watching cartoons on Saturday mornings. Rejoice in knowing they chose you to be their parent. I know it won't be easy at first but the best things in life often aren't easy.

Slave to technology

I'm not sure how this came to my mind. I was driving home from dropping the kids off at school and realized I'm probably addicted to my cell phone, to some degree. I don't sit around and text message people all day long. I don't go to lunch with friends, only to pull out the phone and check my Facebook every so often. I can still enjoy normal human contact without having my cell phone interfere with my life.

Still, I remember the simpler times when I could avoid phone calls simply because I was not home. Now, I can't even go to church without being contacted by people!

We have given people access to our lives 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, simply by getting a cell phone. And it gets worse if you happen to have a smart phone, because not only can they text you, they can also send you emails and Facebook messages, and expect you to answer them.

Don't get me wrong. I love my iPhone and it has made my life easier. I can keep my grocery list, my calendar, and my checkbook balance, all in one handy place.

But sometimes, I wish I could use the "sorry, I wasn't home when you called" excuse.

Are you addicted to your phone? Tivo? Computer?

Welcome 2010!

Yes I know. 2010 started a while back but this is my very first blog of 2010. So there.

Kudos to Carrie for getting me to update this thing. I've been lazy and needed a kick in the you-know-what to get back to blogging. Now if she can just get me to exercise...

The first two months of this year have passed me by. I wrote a list of resolutions, and so far, I've been keeping most of them. keyword: most. The exercise thing is just not happening. I have zero motivation. I am hoping as the weather gets warmer, I will be more motivated to walk during my lunch hour.

Reading more books is another one of the resolutions. So far I've read 5 books this year. Finally read The Notebook (had already seen the movie). It is a sweet story but I wasn't that impressed with the writing. Maybe it's just me? Or it could be that I read it after I finished To Kill a Mocking Bird. Now that's an awesome book, and if you haven't read it, shame on you!

Also read Wuthering Heights. I wasn't so sure about it but once I started reading it, I was hooked. I liked the characters, even if Heathcliff isn't the most likely "leading man". He was real, and he felt "human" to me.

The other two I read: "Marianela" which is a classic in Spanish literature; and The Age of Innocence (good but not my favorite).

Speaking of books, I have joined a "virtual" book club. Real Simple magazine has a "book club". Readers get to vote on the book and they can opt to read the chosen book, or wait for the next selection. That's my kind of club since I never know what craziness may be going on in my life.

And while we are on the subject of craziness, what the heck happened to my babies? I have a daughter who is growing up way faster than I'm prepared to accept. My sons are little men now, not toddlers anymore. My house is a circus any given night, but I wouldn't trade this circus for anything. Specially since I am the rink master. ha!

As if having my own circus wasn't time consuming, I also volunteered to coach Candace's soccer team. I love it! I have the best players and parents, if I can say so myself.

So that's basically what I've been up to since I last updated this blog. Work, parenting (still looking for the manual that should have come with my kids), coaching, and trying to stay on top of the madness.

Memories

It's funny how some smells can bring back a flood of memories.

Coffee and gardenias take me back to my childhood. I was fortunate to spend a lot of time with my grandparents. I didn't know then how much I would cherish the memories I made there.

Every morning for more than 60 years, my Grandfather started his mornings the same way. He would grind the coffee beans he had harvested in his backyard, and make coffee. The smell of freshly brewed coffee takes me back to those beautiful mornings. Before he had any coffee, he would bring Abuela a cup of coffee to bed. Every morning for more than 60 years.

He would go on about his morning routine, feed the chickens, and start his day; while Abuela made breakfast. She would let me help her and made me feel so special. She put so much love into cooking, maybe that's why her food was always so good. That's where I get my love for cooking.

After breakfast, Abuela and I would go out and water her plants. She has a beautiful garden, even now. She would tell me all about all her plants, where she got them from, how long she's had them, when they bloom. I loved the smell of the gardenias and even now, they remind me of Abuela.

It's funny how as we get older, some memories come back more often. For me, the happy memories of my times in el Cope, with my grandparents, are one of my most treasured times.

Juggling

I very often complain there aren't enough hours in the day to get things done. There are always loads of laundry left undone, shopping lists not quite complete, chores, chores and more chores that I can't never get to.

I used to think it was simply the way things were. After all, I work full time outside my home, I have three kids, and well, taking care of everyone and everything takes time. Now I think I'm just one of those people who actually enjoy the "busyness" of life. Apparently I actually "enjoy" running around like a nut, trying to figure out how to tend to everyone, and everything, and making sure everyone is taking care of.

My epiphany came shortly after I signed up to coach my daughter's soccer team. Yes, you read that right. Here I was, complaining that I have no time to get it all done, and still, I sign up for yet one more thing. Why do I keep doing this to myself?

Don't get me wrong. I don't regret volunteering to coach. Soccer is my favorite sport, my daughter loves to play, and well, I want to do my part so our league continues to grow and she has a chance to develop her skills.

I already juggle many balls in one day. My day starts early in the morning, when I start my "lunch assembly line" and get everyone's lunch boxes ready for the day. Then it's time to get clothes laid out for everyone, get everyone up, get breakfast on the table; and finally get ready for work. I spent the next 8 hrs working, and from time to time, thinking of what I can cook for dinner that night. As soon as I get home, it's time to get dinner going, to hear how everyone's day went (usually all of them speaking at once); check homework, etc, etc. You get the idea.

Did I mention I also teach Sunday school?

I know, it sounds like I'm complaining, doesn't it? In reality, I am happy having so many balls up in the air. I love all the roles I have on a daily basis. And even though things can get crazy (and believe me, they do); truth is, I want to be as involved as possible in my children's life.

I may not be home every day when they come home from school, but they are lucky enough to have their father there instead. And I'm lucky to have a husband who shares the load with me.

I hope one day they'll remember their soccer years, when mom was their coach and how much fun they had. How mom participated in all their church activities, and even helped out. How, even though mom worked in an office and not at home; they spent quality time with her when she was home.

So you see, it is a blessing to be able to do so much for my kids; not a burden. Even when I'm exhausted and wondering where I'll get the strength to get up the next morning; all it takes is one look into their eyes to see it is all worth it.

Transitions

A new school year has begun, and many changes have come with it.

My daughter is now in second grade. It's hard to believe how much she has grown, how much she has learned, and how fast time has gone by. Not too long ago, she was just a toddler, and school seemed so far away. She has mature so much, she has a radiant personality, and is very secured in herself. I'm proud of her.

My boys are now starting school, in 3 yr old kindergarten. It wasn't that long ago I brought this tiny kids home, and now they are little men. They are out to discover the world, and conquer it. They are a team, definitely two peas in a pod, and I enjoy watching them interact with each other. They are each other's ying yang.

My niece Stephanie has graduated high school and it's getting ready to start her freshman year at MS State. I was there the day she was born, it's hard to believe she is now a young woman.

New beginnings are always hard because they mark the end of an era. But it is also nice to see how far I've grown as a person since the days I became an aunt, and later a mother.

Historic Photos of Mississippi- A book review

One would think there is not much to say about a book filled with pictures. At first glance, there are just pictures bound together, with captions that detail where and when the photos were taken.

But whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words was right. That's the case with this book "Historic Photos of Mississippi"

I am relatively new to the state and to its history, even though I've spent the last 18 years here. There is so much to this place, to its history, that I've yet to uncover, and for the first time I've gotten a glance of the way things used to be before I arrived here.

The book is filled with photographs and its divided in four sections: "The Civil War and Survival", "The Joy of the Golden Age", "Depression Years and Singing the Blues", "War in Europe and Struggles at Home". The captions for the photos are written by Anne B. McKee.

Each section tells part of the story of the Magnolia State in pictures. You will not find lengthy discussions about each pictures but in reality they are not needed. Each photo in this book speaks for itself.

In the Civil War section you will find pictures of the battlefields, of towns and homes destroyed during the war, pictures from the period following the war that show the growth in cities like Jackson and Meridian; you may even recognize some of these buildings as they still stand today.

The following section shows the Mississippi of the early 1900, when the state was prospering. You will find photos of historical buildings like the Old Capitol Museum, a class photo from Sykes Chapel School (an early African American school), of people at work, and steam wheelers in the Mississippi river.

The flood of 1927 in the Mississippi Delta, the times of the Great Depression, the Civil Right era are all documented in this book.

I wish the book had included pictures from the last 3 decades of the 20th century, as the last pictures included were from the dawn of the 1970s.

Still it is a good book. Perfect for someone who loves the state of Mississippi, and wants to reminiscence about the good ol' days.

Early Saturday morning

A few weeks ago, I decided I would volunteer for the Renaissance Half Marathon. I wasn't sure what job I wanted to do, but I figured I'd come and support my sister and her husband as they ran this race. I managed to recruit one of my sisters, my niece, her boyfriend, and a friend to come and be part of the water crew at Mile 8.

Saturday came very early for us, since we had to report to our stations by 5:15 and we live 1 hr away from the race. As I was getting ready that morning, I kept wondering if I had lost my mind. Why on earth would anyone get up so early to go and hand out water to people who are even crazier than me?

We arrived at our station in the Bridgewater subdivision. Wow. Those houses are enormous, big enough to fit the entire Duggar family! We picked up our jaws from the ground, and started to set up. Coffee hadn't started working yet, some people were trying to be the "boss" and well, no one was getting paid so we didn't exactly appreciate the attitude. Finally we started to see runners coming up.

Our station was Mile 8 of 13.1. The front of the pack fit the stereotypical picture of a runner: fit, faster than a speeding bullet, and "in the zone". Most didn't want any water, others wanted us to throw water at them to cool them off. They went by us rather quickly, we were all in awe to see them disappear as quickly as they approach our table, like a bunch of gazelles. Some of them you could hardly hear breathing.

Then the middle of the pack started to show up, the real people, people like you and me who enjoy running and don't care if they ever win a medal. They are just loving it.
Some of them thanked us for being there, for cheering them on, for getting up so early to help out. I saw several people I knew, some from work, others whom I had trained with for the Chicago marathon.

The back of the pack were mostly walkers, but boy, can they walk! They smiled, they were just happy to be there, and didn't seem bothered by the fact they still had 5 miles to go before they could claim their medals. They were happy to be doing it.

I have to say the volunteers at our station were awesome. We never discussed it but when the first runners showed up, we started to cheer for them, as they came up the hill to our water stop. And we didn't stop until the very last person passed our water stop. We cheered them on in unison, which was very cool, because up until that morning, most of us had never met.

As I was there, watching, serving, I realized why I got up so early that day: I have been in their shoes. I know how important it is to hear a stranger call your name, cheer you on, tell you they believe you can do it. Saturday, I was one of those strangers for a lot of people. By the time they came to our stop, they had gone 8 miles and still had 5 more to go. That's where their minds would start to take over their bodies, and they'll have to pull the strength out of somewhere to finish.

For some, this was their first 13.1 miles. They had never done it before, and probably weren't sure if they could finish it. I wanted to offer some support, to let them know that finishing 8 miles was a big accomplishment and they could complete the rest.

A lady told us we were the best water stop so far, because we were cheering everyone on. She thanked us for that. That felt pretty good, I have to admit.

When we finished, we went back to the finish line to find my sister and her husband. Along the way, we passed some of the runners in their last mile towards their goal. One of them said "Oh, there you are again" and smiled. We cheered them on as we passed them and told them the finish line was close.

It was a great experience. Having been in the shoes of a runner before, I know how good it feels to have complete strangers line up the streets and cheer you on as you battle to conquer your goal. You may think it's not important if you are there or not, but runners notice the expectators and the volunteers, and they are thankful for you.

So next time there is race in town, like the MS Blues Marathon, consider coming out and cheering. You may be surprised how good it feels to know you made someone's day.

Discovering Navarre Beach

Our annual family vacation this year was to a destination that most people haven't really heard of: Navarre Beach, Florida.

The first time I heard of it was in 2004 in a Southern Living Magazine. It talked about how beautiful and quiet it was, and how appropriate it was for families with kids. I filed it somewhere in my brain for future use.

You see, back in 2004, I had an irrational fear of the ocean. I'm not sure when or how it started but the first time I went to the beach I realized I was terrified of it. The sound of the waves, the feel of the sand slipping away under my feet, I simply could not handle it.

It wasn't until last year that I decided to face my fear. My children are growing up, and they had never seen the ocean. I wanted them to see it for the first time during our vacation to my homeland, Panama.

It was there, in front of the Pacific Ocean, and facing 12 ft waves that I faced my fear and conquered it. I'm not even sure how it happened. I just stood there, took a deep breath, and allowed the sounds to enter my soul, and I kept telling myself everything was fine. Before I knew it, a sense of calm came over me and I was able to enjoy my time there.

So I began to plan our first official "beach vacation" earlier this year. My criteria for selecting a beach was simple: it had to be within a reasonable driving distance, the water had to be beautiful, and the lodging options affordable. I asked beach lovers about it, most of them recommended places like Destin, Panama City Beach (which was on top of my list simply because it reminds me of my beloved Panama), Gulf Shores.
While I was doing my search, I remembered that article in Southern Living, and started researching Navarre Beach. Before long we had picked it as our destination.

I started to look for places to stay that were affordable, and not on a high rise building. I have 2 children who believe they can fly, so I wanted to make sure they weren't going to pull a stunt while on vacation.

We were fortunate enough to come across this townhouse . The price was reasonable, the location was great, so we made the deal, put down a deposit and prepared for our vacation.

We arrived at Navarre Beach on May 30, in the late afternoon. It didn't take very long for us to realize we had picked the right place and the right house. The beach was gorgeous, the water had a blue-green hue to it, and the sand was so white. The kids were in awe, and so were we. The house was more than we had expected, had more amenities than we could have ever imagined, including bicycles for us to ride around the Santa Rosa Island, beach chairs, toys for the kids, and even a cart to help us carry our stuff to the beach. The place is beautifully decorated (no tacky stuff there), and so comfortable. We fell in love with this place. The best part (as if being on Navarre Beach wasn't enough), the master bedroom had an awesome view of the Gulf.

We spent a week doing absolutely nothing more than relaxing. The kids enjoyed it beyond belief and so did I. It was exactly the place I was searching for, there were mostly families at the beach, it wasn't crowded, and it was beautiful. We came back ready to plan our next trip to Navarre Beach.

I know most people go to some of the other more popular beaches where there is tons to do, and the crowds are big. But if you are looking for a place to relax, with an unbelievably beautiful beach, Navarre Beach may be for you. ;-)

Nine years

Today, my husband and I are celebrating nine years of marriage. Time has flown by, if it wasn't for the fact our kids are getting older, I wouldn't know it has been this long since we said I do.

We met at the least likely of places, at least I think so. I was working out and then he walked in. Our eyes met for a brief moment and that voice in my head simply said "this man is going to change your life".

And so he has, and only for the better.

I knew I was going to marry him a month after we started dating. He had asked if he could join me at church that morning, and as I was praying next to him, I just knew. A year and half later we were husband and wife.

The last nine years have brought lots of wonderful times, and its share of trying times.
We have brought into this world 3 amazing people who fill our days with laughter, joy, tantrums, and their share of messes.
We have faced our kids' illnesses, emergencies, and happy birthdays, and we have learned together how to be the best parents we can be.

He is my best friend. He knows me like no one does, and loves me in spite of my flaws. He knows when to give me room to unwind, when I need a hug, and when I just want to cuddle.

We are each other's ying yang, I suppose. I'm more reserved, more private, an introvert, and he has never met a stranger. We are different in a lot of ways, but we are one in the things that really matter. I am a better person because I've spent the last nine years of my life with him.

He makes me laugh like no one can, he makes me feel pretty even when I'm walking around in pajamas and my hair is a mess; he knows what makes me tick, what angers me, and what makes me happy. There is no one I rather spend my life with.

Thank you for being my best friend, my companion, my lover, the father of my children, my only one.

I love you.

To my niece

1991. There are a lot of things I don't remember about that year. I barely remember the people who were in my classes in high school, or what fashion styles were "in". I don't even remember my birthday that year.

But there is day I have not forgotten, even after all these years: March 10, the day I became an aunt.

She came into the world on a beautiful spring day. It was a Sunday. As I heard the news of her arrival, I looked out the window and saw the bluest sky. I wanted to remember that day, so one day I could tell her what a beautiful day it was the day she was born.

She was a joy to be around from the start, and I was lucky enough to live with my sister during the first months of her life. I helped take care of her, and enjoyed every minute I spent with her.

The years have passed, and that sweet girl has now become a young woman. She is everything one could have dreamed, she is intelligent, beautiful, kind, humble, giving, loving; the list could go on.

I've had the privilege to watch her grow up and overcome obstacles along the way, and become the person she is today.

In a week, she will be graduating high school. It seems like only yesterday I saw her for the first time, and now she is getting ready to begin the next phase of her life. There are so many things I want to tell her but simply can't find the right words.

I want her to know how very proud I am of her, of the person she has become, and how much I admire her. There have been hurdles along her path that many people could have used as excuses. Instead, she has risen above them, set her goals high, and achieved them.

I want her to know how proud I was the night it was announced she had the highest GPA of her class, how every time I think of the little girl she was, and how far she has come, the tears fill up my eyes. Of how thankful I am to have her in my life, to have her setting a good example for my own children, and how big are the shoes she has left for them to fill.

I want to tell her how much I love her, but even that doesn't seem enough to express how I feel.

I want her to know how thankful I am for the bond we have; that she can always come to me no matter how much distance separate us, or how long it has been since we last talked.

I want to tell her the rest of her life is just around the corner. That the years she spends in college will help her become the adult she is destined to be.

I want her to know that there will be obstacles along the way, some will seem insurmountable, but most of them seldom are.

I want to remind her to believe in herself and in the power of her dreams. I want her to know the measure of success is not in material possessions, but rather in the happiness you feel from having lived your life to the fullest.

I want her to know every day will bring a lesson; and it's up to her to learn from it.
That life should be lived without regrets, that there is a lesson in every moment, and that she should cherish all the good ones because they are the ones that will carry you through the tough times.

I want to tell her how much I'm going to miss her, how incredibly proud I am of her, and how much she means to me.

Thank you Stephanie for the gift you are to me.

The sound of music

I'm probably one of the few people who have never attempted to play an instrument. I would have loved to play piano, and I still think before I get older, I'd like to give it a try.

But for now, my daughter is the only musician in our house. She has been taking piano lessons since August of last year. She likes it, and she is good at it. Seh can memorize a piece rather quickly, which really amazes me. Sheet music look like a bunch of squiggly lines to me.

Sunday was her very 1st piano recital. She was nervous and excited, and at one point said she felt like "butterflies were coming out of their pupa inside her belly". I was surprised she actually knew what a pupa was. :)
She was the second one to play at recital, and didn't seem to be nervous at all as she sat on the grand piano on the stage. She began to play Chugga Chugga Choo Choo by Elisabeth Gutierrez.

That's when I lost it and began to cry. Where did the time go? It was just yesterday I brought this tiny child home and became her mom. Now she sits in front of a grand piano, and makes music.

Folding Machine

I hate house chores. I really do. Growing up, my family had a maid until I turned 13. By then, my 2 oldest sisters were gone to college, and my parents decided they didn't need a maid any longer. So my sister Glenda and I became the maids. We did our own laundry (NO washing machine), and kept the house clean (no carpets, we had to sweep and mop).

So I guess that's why I hate doing chores. The one thing I can do without complaining is the dishes. Our dishwasher decided to retire a few months ago, and even though my husband wanted to find a replacement, I talked him out of it. Doing dishes actually relaxes me.

Laundry is my biggest enemy. There is a never ending mountain of dirty clothes to be washed, baskets of laundry to be folded. It is time consuming, and I rather do something else with my time. Even though my laundry experience has come a long way since my teenage years, I still dread doing it. I guess doing the laundry for 5 people doesn't make it any easier.

As I was folding clothes this afternoon, I was thanking whoever invented washing machines and dryers, when it occurred to me, no one has invented a folding machine. Now, I would be willing to pay anything to have a folding machine where I could just throw the clean clothes, and they'd come out neatly folded and just ready to be put into the drawers.

So to any inventors out there, please invent a folding machine. I'm sure there are thousands of us out there who would love to own one.

Wacky happenings

It has been a month since I last posted on this blog. I guess you could say the "blogger block" was more than I could surpass.

I decided to change the layout and title of this blog so I can (hopefully) feel more inspired to blog daily.

You can file this under "strange", "eccentric", or just plain crazy. Take your pick.

Our offices moved to a new, much nicer building last year. A lot of us lost our hard wall offices and ended up in a "workstation", aka: cubicle. Rules were published as to how our workstations should look and what was acceptable to display and what wasn't. Common sense would tell most people that certain things (bikini calendars for example) are better kept at home.

A "new" person moved to our hall recently. She really isn't that new (she has been here for a year already) but we had not seen her in our area before. A few days after her move, one wall of her cubicle was covered with a type of material often used to cover casseroles that normally will be cooked in the oven. Do you get the hint? Aluminum foil.

I later heard through the grapevine the reason this person covered the wall is to prevent radiation from the laser printer on the other side from harming her unborn baby. I personally had never heard of laser printers giving off any type of radiation. I guess that explains why my children glow in the dark. HA!

Anyway, fast forward to a month later, when this person and I crossed paths in the hallway. I noticed her pants had a funny print on them. Not being a fan of prints, I took a closer look, only to realize the prints were stars, clouds, and cows. Yes, cows. These are pajama pants, my friends.

The pants have made an appearance for the past two weeks, just about every day. While I understand pregnancy can be a rather uncomfortable time in a woman's life, I was pregnant twice before, and never came to work in my pajamas. I may have worn flip flops when my feet were too swollen to fit into anything else, but never came to work in clothes I would wear to bed.

Why do I care, you ask? Because we have a dress code. Some of us dress more business like than others, depending on what we do. Sometimes I wear jeans if I'm going to do sampling, other times I wear skirts, heels. Very seldom do I wear suits, unless I have a meeting. I guess you could say we have a very relaxed dress code because we all have very different job functions.

But nowhere in the dress code does it say pajamas are acceptable for anyone, regardless of the job function. Unless yours is "sleeping on the job".

So that has been the highlight around here, everyone wondering how long it will before we get a memo reminding everyone what the appropriate office attire is. Of course, once the memo comes out, the only person who won't read it or abide by it will be the one who needs to do it the most.

Libraries

I took my daughter to the library early Saturday morning. This was my second trip in a very long time. I almost hate to admit it had been years since I had stepped foot in our local library.

I have a million excuses, some reasonable ones like their hours and my work hours don't coincide, I like to keep some of the books I read; others are not so reasonable: I simply have not made the time.

My daughter loves the kid section so she quickly settled in her space at the library and suggested I find something for me "to read" if I felt so inclined.

As I was walking amidst the rows of books, I discovered why I love libraries and how much I had missed them. There is something magical about that place, so much knowledge contained within those pages. As I browsed through the books, I began to wonder the history of each volume found on the shelves. Was it gift? Who donated it? What were they like?

I managed to find a couple of books and a couple of CDs to bring home with me, as did my daughter. We are making plans on going back next Saturday to get more books, and so she can get her very own library card.

I hope her love for books will remain as she gets older. I wonder if she feels the magic of the library the moment we walk in. I hope that magic remains with her forever.

Family

It's funny how a simple word can be defined in so many different ways.

Out of curiosity, I went to Merriam Webster to see how it was defined. The first definition listed said " a group of individuals living under one roof and usually under one head".

In reality, there are so many definitions of family, each of us has a different one, taught to us by our parents, and grandparents. There are blended families, single parent families, multiracial families, the list goes on.

So what do you consider family? What's your definition?

In all honesty, I can say I hadn't thought about what family really meant to me until recently. And it wasn't until recently that I realized that it doesn't mean the same to everyone. I guess when it came to "family" I am still a child, I still believe that everyone has a family just like mine.

Even more surprising I have realized that even two people, who have shared the same parents and somewhat similar upbringing (one raised in one country, the other in a different one) can have two completely opposite ideas as to what family is, and what roles family plays in your life.

Family to me has always been sacred. These are the people who know me best, and who are the closest to my heart. They include my parents, my sisters, my cousins, my aunts, grandparents. The bonds we share cannot be shattered, they are the ones I go to when things are going great and when things fall apart.

Inside that family core, there is that bond of sisterhood I share with my sisters. These women are my best friends, the ones I can say anything to, and know they will love me in spite of my mistakes. When I needed someone to stand up for me, they have been there. When I needed someone to share my happy moments, they have been there. When things have gotten rough, they are ready to listen, and offer advice. When I am making a mistake, they are the first ones to point it out, even when they know I will get mad.

There is no other relationship like the one I share with them. There are no other people in this world who could understand what we've shared, the struggles we have seen, the triumphs we have achieved. These women, all in their own ways, have helped me become the person that I am.

Even when we allow weeks to go by without a phone call, even when we get wrapped up in our busy lives and we don't talk often enough, I always know they are just a phone call away. I never hesitate to call if I need them because I know they will always be there. They are part of that most intimate part of life I call "private".

Not everyone feels that way about their family, or their siblings. Funny how I'm just now realizing that.

I believe that my children will probably define family and brotherhood based on what we teach them. They will follow our example and our teachings. I just hope they can always feel they are important parts of each other's lives. I hope they always feel comfortable talking to each other, sharing their most intimate thoughts, without fear. I hope they know that when things get rough, they can count on one another. I hope they can be honest with each other in the good times and the bad.
I hope they remember to love each other unconditionally.

The call of the pavement

If you have known me for a while, you probably know I trained for a marathon a couple of years ago. I was not a runner, I just read an article in the newspaper and thought that was something I wanted to add to my list of accomplishments.

Training was rigorous, but fun. I made great friends, and learn a whole lot about myself and about how much I can achieve if I'm willing to push myself beyond my known limits.

I didn't get to finish my first marathon. I didn't quit, the marathon quit on me. It was extremely hot in Chicago and they had to cancel the race after one death and several wounded.

The months after the marathon were very disappointing. I kept trying to tell myself there was nothing I could have done, but in the back of my mind, I kept thinking: what if my pace had been faster?, what if I had lined up towards the front of the pack, would I have been able to finish? Even though my family and friends kept telling me I had accomplished my goal because I had completed a 22 mile run, it just didn't feel the same.

The past two years, I've been trying to talk myself into getting back in the race. I've been trying to convince myself to lace up my running shoes, and go out and run. I just have not found that motivation inside of me that makes me want to run.

The last few weeks, I've started to feel that little flame inside of me. I've begun to remember what it felt like to run, to feel the rush of adrenaline, to just enjoy nature.

I can hear the pavement calling me. I am starting to feel that urge that only runners can understand, that need to get out and push yourself beyond the limit one more time. I've actually read my Runner's World magazine, rather than putting it aside because I felt it's meant for runners, and I'm just not one of them.

I can hear that calling. I am ready to lace up my shoes and just run. There will be another marathon, another chance to prove to myself that I have what it takes to finish 26.2 miles.

But right now, I just want to feel like a runner again.

What I hope to teach my kids

There are times when I wonder what my children will remember about me when I'm gone. Will they think I was fun? Will they remember our vacations, and the times we spent watching their favorite movies over and over again?

More importantly, what lessons will they have learned from me? What do I hope will be my legacy in their lives?

I hope to teach my kids to:

Respect life, all life, big and small, rich or poor, human and non-human. Every living thing deserves to be treated with respect.

Respect yourself. Your body is a temple, treat it as one. Respect your ideas, and the person you are and never sell yourself short.

Love life, laugh often, and learn at every opportunity.

No one can put you down unless you let them. Believe in the potential hidden inside of you.

Have faith in something bigger than you. Call him God, or whatever you like, but believe in something bigger than your imagination.

Believe in the power of your dreams. Never give up, no matter how unattainable they seem, never stop believing.

Stay close to your siblings. Even if they drive you crazy, they will defend you against anyone and will stand by you when things are not going well.

Never forget your ancestors and the sacrifices they made. You are able to dream bigger because of the foundation they laid for you. Honor them by going one step further than you think possible.

Travel as much as possible, and respect other cultures. You are not better, embrace the differences.

Check boxes in a form do not describe who you are. Race doesn't matter, neither does gender, religion, or money. Integrity is what counts.

Everyone has a gift. Find yours and share it with the world.

Keep an open mind. Even if you disagree with someone's religion, political views, or philosophy of life, show them respect. It's our differences that make this world interesting.

And when the times come to share your life with someone, and raise kids, make sure love is what guides everything you do.

It's just hair

As you have probably guessed, today's blog is about hair, and also about lessons learned, and knowing what's truly important.

A couple of weeks ago, I had an appointment with my regular hairdresser to get a haircut. She wasn't there when I showed up, and I ended up making an appointment with a new hairdresser. I figured it would be ok, after all it's just hair and I didn't want anything out of the ordinary.

I arrived at the new place on time for my appointment, only to be met by a stare. I guess I wasn't what they were expecting? Whatever. Sat down and waited. Finally, after 20 minutes waiting, it was my turn. I showed the hairdresser the picture, she got ready to begin, and then it happened. She cut the first piece. As I felt the razor go through my hair, I knew this haircut would be a disaster.

She cut that first piece really short, shorter than I wanted it. There is no way to fix that mishap except to cut the rest of the hair the same length and let it all blend in. I walked out of there with the worst haircut of my life, and mad that I had to pay for it.

If you saw me, you'd probably say it looks fine. Except this is not what I wanted and paid for.

I was feeling pretty blue last night after I washed the bottle of hairspray off my head. I looked in the mirror and realized just how bad it really was, how much styling it would take to make the hair look ok (at least to my standards), and was about ready to ask my husband for the clippers so I could finish the job and join him in the world of baldness.

That's when the voice in my head whispered something to me: Think of the women who are battling cancer, who have lost their hair, who are wishing theirs were as long as yours is right now.

I felt pretty ashamed. There I was, dwelling on my stupid hair, worrying about what people are going to think of it, completely absorbed in my own pity party.

I said a prayer for all those women who are cancer survivors, who are currently fighting cancer, and those who lost their battles. Many of those women are family, friends, coworkers.

I decided to make a donation in the same amount I paid for this haircut to the American Cancer Society, in honor of all women who have lost their hair during their battle with cancer.

I am still mad at the hairdresser for messing it up and still expecting me to pay for it. But I'm no longer upset over the hair I lost. I am thankful because I'm healthy and before long, my hair will grow back and all this will be just a bad memory.

I'm also thankful for the lesson I learned: it's just hair.

Sleep

Whoever came up with the saying "Sleep like a baby", obviously did not have twins.

All the things you've heard about twins are probably true. They are each other's best friends, they do everything together, miss one another when they are apart. And they are definitely like day and night, at least mine are.

They are fraternal twins, so of course they don't look alike; and from the day they were born they have been acting differently.

Cade is the oldest (by a whole minute) and was the bigger baby weighing 5 lb 1 oz at birth. Both he and his brother were the same length, but Braden was only 4.5 lbs at birth. The first few days in the NICU, Braden was always awake. He would look for me every time I spoke and was always moving, alert. Cade slept most of the time, he just couldn't be bothered to visit with his parents.

Braden came home first. He learned to eat first, and was sent home a few days before his big brother. Then Cade came and our life became a chaotic blessing. Diapers everywhere, bottles, and sleepless nights.

We figured once they started sleeping through the night, we would be able to catch up on our sleep. We are still wondering if these kids come with an OFF button.

Braden is a night owl. He stays awake for hours after we put him in bed, talking, singing, laughing. Once he decides that it's time for bed, he is out and doesn't wake up until next morning, usually after 9 AM.

Of course, his brother is the opposite. Cade goes to sleep right away. Then he proceeds to wake up several times during the night, calling my name. Many times all he wants is to know I'm there. We've tried everything, Benadryl makes one hyper, and it doesn't work for Cade. We tried no naps, we tried putting them to bed later.

So I finally decided three years without sleeping through the night is enough. I'm tired of competing with Pete the raccoon (who hangs out in my backyard). I'm tired and it's time these kids go to bed and stay in bed until the sun comes out the next morning.

I ordered some herbal remedy that suppose to help. I just hope it does, and doesn't have the opposite effect on them.

Then again, if it does make them hyper, I'll just take the herb and call it a night.

So next time someone says they slept like a baby, feel free to smack them. Apparently no one told my kids what "sleeping like a baby" meant.

Music, Life, Lent

This past weekend Candace participated in her first music festival, hosted by MC. It wasn't really a competition, the children (adults too!) had a chance to display their musical talents in front of judges and get scored on their performances.

We left the house early enough to pick up her grandmother and arrive at MC on time for her 11:30 appointment. Just as we walked into the building, she informed me "she wasn't so sure about that" anymore. By "that" she meant playing for a judge.

She was obviously nervous, she has been playing less than a year, and she had to play in front of a complete stranger. We told her to pretend this judge was her piano teacher and she was at practice. As we waited for her turn, other kids who take classes from the same teacher, showed up and tried to ease her nerves. Then it was her turn. She was not too thrilled that we couldn't be in the room with her, but we were right outside.

I have to admit I was as nervous as her until I heard the notes streaming through the door. She did a great job! I was so proud because I know how much heart she had put into getting this done. Yesterday she had her weekly lesson and the teacher gave her the score sheet with comments from the judge. The comments were more suggestions than criticism and they ended with "Great Job" and a Superior score, the highest you could get.

Now we are getting ready for recital. As we practice the pieces she'll play, her favorite audience (her brothers) will be listening and cheering her on. They probably feel (as I do) that she plays the music of angels.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This time of the year always brings back lots of childhood memories. Lent and Easter were very important parts of our lives.

Throughout my life, I have observed Lent every year, sometimes casually, other times with full reverance. This year is one of those times when I'm determined to do it the right way.

So, the first thing most people ask is "what are you giving up for lent?". It should be a sacrifice, so I chose coffee. Nourishments of the gods, and what keeps me going every single morning. But I depend on coffee to function, and that's never a good thing. I could easily get the same boost of energy from exercising in the morning. That's where the sacrifice will be found because I have a hard time rolling out of bed every morning.

I keep remembering something I read a few weeks back. If you are a Christian, then you believe your body is the place where the Holy Spirit dwells. I want my body to be in its best shape so it can properly host such important tenant.

So I'll go to Mass tonight and have ashes smeared on my forehead. Hopefully the journey won't end on Easter, and will continue throught the year.

Life Purpose

Getting older sometimes has its perks (you can buy beer) but it also has it downfalls (wrinkles, gray hairs). For some reason, being a year older and closer to the prime of my life has made me think about my life, career, and put things in perspective. Plus having setbacks at work has helped my epiphany too.

I love what I do. I've never doubted that I chose the right career path, being an engineer is something I love. I also know I chose the right field, protecting the environment is something of a calling, I guess you could say. I have poured my heart, soul, and knowledge into this field, into being the best engineer in my area, and have always felt I needed to do more so that my contribution be more valuable to my employer.

Then setbacks happen. You begin to see, that no matter how many cracks there are on the glass ceiling, the ceiling is not budging. You keep trying, you try yet again, and the disappointments keep coming.

I'm not a quitter. I set goals, follow through with them, no matter how difficult they are. I'm not bragging, it's just how my brain functions. It's a curse, I guess you could say because I'll get so wrapped up in finishing the goal, that sometimes I miss the whole picture.

Then it happened, another setback at work. I had poured my heart and soul into a project that I thought would be awesome, and it was turned down. Not even given a chance to discuss it, and present it, just simply turned down.
Rejection hurts specially when you have invested part of yourself into a project, when the project is more than just work, when it is something you truly believe would benefit all parties involved.
I was upset, until now.

Maybe I've been looking to apply my talents in the wrong places. Yes, I am a good engineer, and I am good at my job. But being an engineer is only job. It's not who I am. Perhaps all those other talents I have been blessed with were not meant to be shared in this setting.

I was blessed with the ability to conquer my hatred of math, and pursue a degree most people don't ever dream of attempting. I was blessed with the intelligence to see it through, and a job that lets me apply my knowledge and protect the environment.

But that's just part of me. I have so much more to offer and for the longest time I've been trying and trying to use my other talents at work. I have prayed, I have cried, I have fought, and the whole time I forgot that sometimes an answer to a prayer is simply no answer.

All of a sudden, the glass ceiling is not important anymore. I still love my job, my career, and I plan to continue in this path until I retire, God willing. But perhaps I am meant to share the rest of me in other venues where those other talents can be best utilized.

Who I am is bigger than the career I chose. I am a Sunday school teacher and have discovered how much I enjoy working with kids, and I can apply those talents in place where my rewards are smiles and the knowledge I have "planted the seeds" in them. I am mother, I am a wife, a sister, a friend, and I have the chance to share my talents in all those roles.

So now I embark into the journey to find those other places where I can help others and use my talents. It won't be at work, that I know now. I probably won't be paid for it either. But I guess that's where the difference lies between your job and your life purpose. Your life purpose fulfills you and completes the person you are and that is its own reward.