Mexican Things

There are so many things to love about Mexico.

Unfortunately, there are just too many people, both Mexican and non, who seem to relish in what I can only define as B-ing and M-ing. You know what the B stands for, and the M isn't a bad word, but the title just looks better that way.

I think for one of the first times in my albeit short history here, I can honestly say that I am super satisfied with life. Maybe it's because a lot of things have been going my way and a lot of our dreams are coming to fruition. But, maybe, just maybe, it's because my outlook on life is becoming much more positive.

There are still a lot of things that bother me and make me uncomfortable.

For example, it bothers me and makes me uncomfortable to see people rummaging through the garbage to find food that's still good enough to eat and cans and glass that are clean enough to sell. But, I'm happy that makes me uncomfortable, because if it didn't, it would mean that I have accepted poverty and injustice as normal goingson.

It makes me uncomfortable to see families with the nanny in a uniform pushing the stroller and carrying the bags and attending to the children. While I respect that employment as an accepted norm for a certain echalon of society, I won't let myself feel comfortable with seeing people pretend like that incredibly important individual who is working her tail off for minor compensation, is invisible. Not okay.

On the other hand, every day there is something more to love about this place. Things that make me smile and let me know that it might just all work out in the end. So, we're moving, right? I know I haven't told you, we're in the last hurdles to getting ourselves into our own home and I don't want to really share until I have keys in hand. Anyway, so we're moving and that means boxes and newspaper. I went to the newspaper stand. And by newpaper stand, I mean the 3 ft by 10 ft corregated metal box that's at the corner with a tiny old lady inside. I thought, "Why buy today's newspaper, if I'm not going to read it. I'll ask for yesterday's newspaper and maybe I'll get a deal." (Because, the definition of thrifty is why pay 10 pesos, when you can pay 8?) The aforementioned tiny old lady smiled at me and then asked, "Oh, do you want to buy the newspaper by the kilo?" Yes. Yes, I do. Where else could I go and by 3 newspapers for 6 pesos and have it sold to me by its weight.

I love you, Mexico.

Plus, the guy at Starbuck's and one of the police officers at school know me by name. That just tells me that for some people I've become a household name. That just tells me, that I maybe, just maybe, have a home here.

And you know what? Sometimes little things like that are enough.

Mother of the Year

Just about every day I do something that gets me one step closer to the Mother of the Year award. And by one step closer, I really mean one step closer to the end of the line.

Why, you ask? Well, I wouldn't start a post if I weren't ready to delight you with a little diddy on my parenting.

Do you want the gross one or the funny one first?

I'm going with gross. So, I was changing AV's diaper, which, if you read the Frijoles post, then you can imagine, is pretty gross. Ana is in the super awesome stage where she like really really wants to grab the diaper. So, while I was cleaning her up, she did one of those one-year-old quick as a lightening bolt moves and started poking at the contents of her diaper. To which, I responded with the appropriate parental response of "Oh, Ana, that's disgusting. Don't do that. Yuck-Yucks, Fuchi, EEEEEWWWWW." I, then, proceeded to wash her hand. To which, she responded by putting her (now clean) fingers in her mouth and saying "Aaaahh" with great satisfaction.

Nice, AV.

Now, I make all her baby food, right? Which is easy considering it mostly involves boiling beans. But, since that Frijoles post, I decided that the her repetoire needed to broaden. For her own good, and because, let's be honest, I can't afford as many diapers as she'll need on a bean-diet. So, I made her next fave, spinach. My kid's weird. I know. Have you met her parents?

Anyway...

Later, we were in the kitchen and I was washing the dishes. It kind of, well, slipped my mind that the pan had water in it from steaming spinach. (Now cool, for all of you now concerned about her safety and well-being) So, you know when you grab something expecting it to be one weight and then it ends up being full of green spinach water? Well, what happened was that green spinach water went flying. I, being the one in charge of moving said pan with said spinach water, reacted with cat-like reflexes (because cat-like reflexes is the best way to describe me) and missed all of the spillage.

AV? Not so lucky.

Green spinach water came splashing down all over her. Being the Mother of the Year that I am, I, of course, immediately exploded into hysterics at Spinach Water Baby who was also in hysterics, but the bad kind. I did pick her up, comfort her, dry a little spinach water out of her hair and change her clothes....eventually. But, man, I had a good laugh first.

When can I expect my trophy?

Frijoles

My mexi-baby loves beans.


She has never met a bean that she hasn't loved and then devoured. She eats beans for every meal. And I am being completely and totally serious. Whole beans, blended beans, refried beans, canned beans, homemade beans, with salt, without salt. If it's a bean, AV loves it.


She eats beans and eggs for breakfast. Don't bother trying to give her eggs on their own. She knows the difference. She'll have a few bites of oatmeal. She might nibble on some toast or Cheerios. But, when the beans come out she gets real serious about eating.


Lunch, beans and rice. Maybe the occasional spinach puree here and there. She might tolerate some carrots, squash, corn kernals, peas, etc, but only as long as they are mixed in with the beans.


Dinner, more beans. Tonight found us sitting on the kitchen floor because, well, when it's 6:00 and she's wearing only a diaper, her hair is going every which way, she's got fewer clean spots than dirty spots all over her body and has been going from zero to pitching a fit about 5 times in 20 minutes, you just make the executive decision that we don't need bibs or highchairs right now. What we need are beans. Cold beans in a tupperware, bubble wand in one hand, beans in the other. AV decided to share some beans with me, I got a mouthful of bubbly tasting black beans. De-lish. Thanks, darling.


I guess it could be worse. She could be addicted to chicken nuggets or candy or, I don't know, drugs. I suppose there are worse things than a food that is high in protein, fiber, folic acid, iron, and other minerals. I concede that she could probably love a food that was may more expensive or difficult to prepare, but she doesn't. She loves herself some beans. More power to her.

Things I forget.

AV and I just spent a fabulous 10 days in Bellevue. It is so nice to be at my other home where people are jumping at the possibility of spoiling us, spending time with us and making our time will spent. Though, living away from there makes me realize some things that I forget about the Seattle area and its people.

For one, sun = hot. Now that I live in a place where I can pretty much gaurantee that I'm going to see the sun at least 355 days, if not more, I forget how precious a commodity it is to Seattlites. Sun means we're eating outside, even if that means that we need to dry off all the lawn chairs and table and have goosebumps while eating. The sun's out, dangit and we're NOT going to waste a single minute of it.

On that same note, it can be sun = hot one day and you can wake up the very next day to the crappiest, dreariest, ugliest rainy day. It kind of makes you wonder if the day before even really existed. Was that yellow thing in the sky real or was it just Washington's version of an oasis?

Pedestrians are like, totally something you have to consider when operating a motor vehicle. Wait, what? You no longer have to dash out praying that the driver 500 meters, excuse me feet, won't take you stepping into the street as a signal to speed up. You just have to glance at the street and someone's already stopped to let you pass. Crosswalk? What's that? You don't need no stinking crosswalk. Cross wherever you please. EVERYONE will stop, and give you the "hey there, neighbor" wave. Amazing.

I really love my family. This isn't so much something that I forget than it is something I put in the back of my mind. I have a seriously kick-booty fam. My nephews are incredible. They are the perfect combination of silly, friendly, spunky, tricky and trouble-maker. It makes every moment interesting. I love that AV was so interested in her cousins. She loved following Liam around. She patted, and by patted I mean stuck her hands on Connor and Sawyer's faces. She loved all their toys and how they didn't even mind her being just a tad needy. And by a tad needy, I mean that I now need a vacation from my vacation.

Church can be lively, uplifting and fun. Now, I'm not saying that Mass isn't Mass in other places. I'm just saying that there is so much positive energy at St. Louise. Everyone seems so happy to be there and makes it a place where everyone else can feel the same way. Whenever I go, I leave with a happy heart. AV loved it, too. She danced all through Mass, clapped for the baptisms, and is learning how to make the sign of the cross. Just a couple pats on the tummy for now, but she's getting it. Going there reminds me why I drag myself to church Sunday after Sunday.

Going home reminds me most of all, just how blessed I am to have two places to call home.

I'm one now!

Otherwise known as, the day AV fell in love with cake and frosting.

I took the day of from work because a) that's what personal days are for and b) your baby only turns one once.

I had promised AV that I would take her to the aquarium a long time ago, so we did just that. By aquarium, please don't imagine Seattle Aquarium or SeaWorld. Think more along the lines of not quite an aquarium but still better than a fish store. They had tropical fish and fresh water fish. Fish from Africa, the Americas and Asia. They even have a shark tank, with no sharks. AV happily ate fishy crackers while we perused the tanks, which I found very appropriate.

Then we were off to the Honda dealership. What's more fun than spending your 1st birthday dropping off mommy's car for its service? Then we crossed the street, and by cross the street I mean I attempted to maneuver her Cadillac of a stroller on what can only be loosely defined as a sidewalk and darted across four lanes of traffic in fine Frogger style to the mall across the street. AV had her first taste of McDonald's soft serve and then commenced to walk the entire length of the mall, stopping only to check out the taco stand. Like father, like daughter.

Ramon picked us up and we spent the afternoon around the house. AV played with her birthday toy, which I am thrilled to put in the parent "Win" column considering my child is usually more interested in her toothbrush and the empty tube of toothpaste than any of her toys. She even played with it today, too. I'm impressed to say the least.

We walked over to the church where we baptized her and helped her to say "Thank you" to Jesus for one year full of growth and health and the joy she's brought to our family. She waved to Jesus and blew kisses which I think is as close to saying a prayer as you can get a 365-day year old to do.

Then we finished the evening with....CAKE!!!! I invented funfetti cake by adding sprinkles to white cake mix. Fancy, I know. I got real fancy with the frosting, a can, but I made spirals and ribbons with my new fancy dancy piping bag that I found for 50 pesos at the random store around the corner. AV loved it. Love. Like mother, like daughter.

As with any really classic first birthday, we ended the evening with a total meltdown and a much needed bedtime.

I can't believe it's been a year already. AV is a walking, talking tornado that makes us laugh and brings more joy to our lives than we ever could have imagined. Who knows what the second year of her life has in store for us, but if its as good as these past 365 days, I'll have absolutely no reason to complain.

I went and totally redeemed myself.

I am officially amazing. For the record.

Remember that time I made a million cracker/cookies that were just plain old sucky? Yeah, I didn't want to remember either. Well, today that day can be washed away from all the history books. It can be forgotten forever.

Because... I am amazing.

I made the most kick butt-est (kickest butt?) chocolate chip cookies today. From scratch. No recipe.

Yeah.. jealous?

Here is the recipe for the best chocolate chip cookies in the world.

1 stick Mexican sized butter/margarine. It's less than a US stick of butter. I don't know by how much, but it apparently makes a difference.

1/2 cup Mexican brown sugar. It's not squishy. It doesn't pack. But that don't matta.

1/2 cup white sugar.

Pinch of salt.

Use the 1/2 tsp but don't quite fill it of Baking Soda

Use the 1/2 tsp but don't quite fill it of Baking Powder (But fill it a little more than what you filled of Soda.)

Add flour 'til it's the right consistency. Like 2 - 2 1/2 cups-ish. (I live at high altitude. I don't know why that matters, but it does. I don't know how it will change your recipe for kick butt cookies.)

Add 1 cup chocolate chips.

Get out the lighter stick and light your oven....oh wait, your oven probably turns on by you pressing a button, whatev. Adjust the flame to between "cinge your eyebrows just by looking at it" hot and "you could put something in here for days and nothing would happen" lukewarm. That will get you a varying oven temperature that jumps between 200 and 400 farenheit.

Cook the cookies until they smell like they're done.

Take them out and write me a thank you note.

No one's giving you a Starbuck's card...

So, apparently, parenting doesn't come with cash rewards.

I did not get this memo during pregnancy, labor, delivery, or the first year of life.

I think a lot more people would have babies if there were some sort of incentive. You know, other than, like, that super cute baby you get to call yours.

Why am I saying this? So, the other day AV got a little fever. Nothing serious, I think the highest it got was around 100, but it was enough to make her cranky and needy... all night long. She decided she'd like to sleep in my arms. Fine by her, not so fine by me. I curled up on the couch. Why I curled up on the small couch and crunched my legs all up instead of moving to the big couch is beyond me, but I, along with many others I'm sure, don't tend to make the soundest and most coherent decisions at 1:30am with a crying baby.

Anyway, AV decided to wake up every hour, cry for a couple seconds and go right back to sleep. She slept fine. Me? Not so much. In one of those delusional sleep-wake moments, I got this fabulous idea that I was going to get a Starbuck's card for being up all night with her. That was the best idea I had heard in a real long time. It got me through the night.

But, then the morning came. Apparently, that is not, in fact, true. No magical Starbucks card with tons of free coffee coming my way. Just my same old decaf waiting to be made, by me, in my coffee maker, in my kitchen. No free day off. Just the same old 6:00 wake-up call, same old fifth graders, same old job.

But, would I spend the night squished on the tiny couch with AV again? Yep.
Even though there is no Starbuck's card? Yep. (Though I might conveniently forget so I could have that motivation next time.)

OR, I could just give myself the prize of Starbuck's...But paying for it myself just doesn't bring the same joy.