Expectations

As a child my parents always expected the absolute best from me. I've always been the brainy one, so anything less than the best was not acceptable. It wasn't that they wanted MY best but THE best. That's tough to live up to, but I always did well anyway so it was tolerable. My father was the pushy one for the most part. An A wasn't good enough, why wasn't it an A+? My mother was always proud of anything I did, as long as I did well she was happy.

Given that I grew up with such high expectations from my parents, I guess it rubbed off on me and I have nothing but high hopes for my children. So, when I saw a cousin of mine post her son's report card with THREE C's on her Facebook page I was confused. I wouldn't be flaunting Isabella's report card if it had three C's on it (regardless if the other grades were two B's and an A like her son's) and I definitely wouldn't be patting myself on the back and writing off the report card as a job well done on my part. To be perfectly honest, I'd be disappointed.

Is that wrong...?

I shared my feelings with Isabella's father and he said he WOULD be proud of Isabella "just as long as she passes." That's it? Just as long as she passes? What kind of goals will Isabella have if all we ever want/expect from her is the bare minimum? I'm not saying I want Isabella (or my son on the way) to be a super genius and anything less will cause them to be the bane of my existence. Not at all!! Unlike my father, I just want them to do THEIR best, that doesn't mean they have to be THE best. As long as they challenge themselves and do the absolute best they can then I'll be happy. I do not want my kids to just skate by in life. Their dad on the other hand seems like just getting by would be fine by him. He said to me "you have your degree and what has that gotten you?"

On some level he's right. I went to private school from kindergarten to 8th grade, graduated high school as a member of the Honor's Society, a Regents endorsed diploma and ranked 60 out of 519 students academically. I went on to Hunter College, where I obtained a BA in Media Studies. Now, I have a  job as an Intake Coordinator at a home care agency where I make a measly $15 an hour. He was born and raised in Guatemala, did some of his elementary schooling here in the states, was shipped back to Guatemala for bad behavior, came back and got his GED. Now, he's a receptionist at a dental office where he makes a measly $15 an hour. To be fair, his boss is his uncle's "special friend" so his pay rate is higher than that of any of his co-worker's -- it's favoritism. But on the same note, it sucks! He really hasn't done anything compared to me, academically, but he makes the same amount as I do. Although, this could be the infamous "glass ceiling" that people talk about...

What ever the reason and what ever my kids turn out to be like I'll continue to help them do their best and never expect anything less than the results of their hard work.

Which, ultimately, I guess, means I would be proud of three C's if I knew my kids worked hard for those C's. If they didn't then I'd do MY part as their mom to encourage them and inspire them to DO BETTER, isn't that what we're here for anyway?

Pregnancy: Version 2.0

A while ago I came the realization that I am much more nervous with this pregnancy. I was discussing this with my friend (who is also pregnant for the second time) yesterday. She only has 9 weeks left until her due date while I have 18. My heart literally skips a beat every time I think about those pains, that delivery room, the sleepless nights, the tiny breakable baby -- I'm FREAKING out! Thankfully, she is too!

Isabella is such a breeze now, being her mom isn't scary anymore. Being her mom is fun and easy. She's almost two years old and my latest venture in raising her is a foray into making bento lunches for her to take to grandma's. While pregnant with Isabella, I had my first time mom fears; is this car ride too bumpy? Why haven't I felt her move yet? Is this much discharge normal (seriously, though)?! Now with this second pregnancy all of those first time mom fears aren't an issue, it's the knowledge of what's to come.

I'm being given progesterone shots to prevent preterm labor (since Isabella was six weeks early), so at least that worry has been assuaged. But what about everything else? What if this labor isn't as quick as Isabella's? This baby will be full-term, hence bigger. Will it be a long drawn out labor? Will I give in to the epidural this time? With Isabella labor was 5.5 hours if that and then she was out, by the time I arrived at the hospital I was already 6 cm dilated. There really wasn't any time for an epidural. Having Isabella ALL NATURAL is a badge of honor I wear very proudly! But what if this time I'm more like my sister who was stuck at 3 cm for hours?! Or what if, horror of horrors, I need a c-section this time? I don't know why none of these fears assailed me with Isabella, but they didn't.Then there's the issue of maternity leave. I only get "paid" for six weeks of short-term disability. Which in reality only comes to less than what I make biweekly when I'm working. I have rent to pay now, electric, gas, a phone bill, oh and yes I have a two year old! Where am I going to get the money necessary to keep us afloat? And of course let's not forget the hospital bill!!!

Ultimately, I am overjoyed to be having my little boy but his arrival comes with a whole boat-load of worries.

Still, I adore him.

The Giraffe that Saved Me

My daughter is away for a weekend with her father. They've gone upstate and I'm oncall this weekend so I can't go along. He took her Friday night, I had just enough time to say good-bye. It was heart-wrenching. When their ride came I couldn't face her dad's family. I wanted to spit in their faces and step on their feet. I despised them in that moment. They were ripping her out of my arms in that instant and that's unforgiveable. Especially when you're under the influence of pregnancy hormones.

I went upstairs to our apartment and saw her favorite giraffe staring up at me from her crib.

I grabbed him and cried myself to sleep.

For two nights that giraffe was my only ally. He was all I had to cuddle with to remind me of her.

Did I miss her dad? Yes, I did but it wasn't his absence that made me feel like there was literally a part of me that was missing. My heart, my soul, my reason for being was not with me. I had the new little life growing inside of me but Isabella's absence made me feel like I'd cry until I simply ran out of tears.

Maybe it was overdramatic but I don't think I'll ever spend a weekend away from her again. Unless it's her choice.

Long Live Netflix!

I moved out of my mom's house six months ago and I still don't have cable. And let me say right now that being completely tv-less ain't easy! I totally miss it and so does my daughter. She doesn't watch much TV, I don't want her to be one of those kids who just sits in front of a TV for hours and doesn't get out and play or read books but when she's at my mom's she gets to watch (for a span of about 5 minutes at a time) what ever she wants. She's gotten accustomed to taking breaks from wreaking havoc to have some down time with Linny, Tuck and Ming-Ming, but once she gets home it's all DVD's and after 6 months -- she's pretty much seen them all. So, ultimately down-time at home for her can be pretty boring.

When we first moved out, when we were bored, my boyfriend and I pretty much hijacked my sister's Netflix account so that we'd all be able to watch NEW things. Then two short months after moving in, my apartment was robbed. They took the laptop, the Wii, the TVs, the PS3...you get the gist. We lost everything and really had no way to replace it all in one go. Slowly and, lately, thanks to our income tax returns we've started the process of restoring what we'd lost. I bought a Nook for myself in January and we had fun with that -- I read, a lot and solved crossword puzzles,. Isabella had some Read to Me books read to her and my boyfriend used Pandora and played chess (he's more of a gamer than a reader). Then the novelty wore off  for them (mainly because I kind of became addicted and couldn't STOP reading). Around this time, I had expressed my interest in writing for GeekMom and I was contacted shortly thereafter to be a blogger for them (yes, I'm still totally geeked-out over that!). Which meant I would need better access to the internet and more often that every other weekend.

When I got my tax return, I went ahead and purchased a netbook for myself from Walmart.com. I knew at the time that my boyfriend would get his grimy boy paws all over it (even though I bought a girly-patterned one), so I offered to buy him his own, he shrugged it off saying he wouldn't need one. Fast forward to now and he's on it more often than I am and I've reverted back to using the internet on my phone or my Nook. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind sharing my toys, and I'll totally let him use it for as long as he likes and for what ever he likes with no nagging, just like he'll need to surrender it to me when I need to use it for an indefinite amount of time to post my blogs or if I get to it first and just want to do what ever I want.. I even refer to it as "the netbook" instead of "my netbook," so that he doesn't get all touchy about using "my" things. However, more than anything I like it when we can enjoy things as a family. Which is why when I got an offer in the mail from Netflix for a free one month trial, I jumped on it. We get both the DVD (note, not plural we opted for the just 1 DVD at a time deal because we'd lose them if we had more than one in our home at a time) and the watch it instantly selections that we can stream immediately on the netbook. Now we get to sit down as a family, stare at this tiny screen and get entertained for an hour and a half or two. When Isabella is asleep, we watch things we actually want to watch instead of Dora or the Wonder Pets. Sometimes we'll even stay up late watching movies that we wanted to see when they arrived in theatres but were unable to with a tantrum-throwing toddler in tow.

While having a netflix account with it's one DVD at a time and decent selection of watch it now movies and TV shows can't replace cable altogether it has provided a good few hours of fun diversion until we decide whether or not we're going to get cable in our house (I'm still iffy, since it's pretty expensive and I'd rather spend my weekends off taking Isabella to museums and libraries). On that note, it's doing a great job of keeping us from killing each other.

The Things You Know

As a mom, you know your kids will get hurt. Inevitably something is going to happen to them that will cause some sort of physical harm to them. However, simply knowing this fact doesn't make it any easier when something actually happens.

Isabella had her first big fall today, causing a HUGE bump just above her eye. It happened while under my mom's care but I don't blame my mom. Isabella is 15 months old, bumps and bruises come with the toddler territory. Frankly, it sucks and I can't quite explain how it makes me feel to see her facial features being altered by a puffy eye (sad doesn't quite cut it, more like freaked out, I'm still freaked out. She's acting normal but I still feel helpless like I don't know what to do for her and I'm her mom and there's this huge bump over her eye so I should do SOMETHING, right? Right?! But, what?! WHAT?!) but truth be told we're lucky that it didn't happen sooner! So to blame my mom seems nonsensical to me.

Speaking of blaming my mom (or rather not blaming in this case) now that this has happened to Isabella while under my mom's care I can honestly say that I can't relate or understand my brother or sister-in-law. I'm only further puzzled by their reaction to my mother accidentally pulling out an IV, at the time attached to my nephew's foot, while carrying him when he was hospitalized with a severe UTI. Did Shawn cry? Yes. Did it hurt? Of course! Did she MEAN it? Definitely not. I knew that then, just as surely as I know now that she genuinely means it when (describing Isabella's accident today) she says "creo que yo llore mas que ella!"

The great IV Catastrophe seems to be the root of all of the current inter-family awkwardness that exists between my brother and his in-laws and us, his one-time close-knit immediate family. My brother doesn't bring my nephew over to my mom's house. She always has to go over to their place to see him. Mind you, the IV incident happened when my nephew was months old, he's now 14 months old. Thankfully he recovered from the UTI and wasn't left with any lasting emotional or mental trauma from my mom yanking out that IV, I'm almost 100% positive of this. Even so, I feel like my brother and sister-in-law hold a grudge against my mom for the whole thing. As a result contact between "us" (my parents, sister and I) and "them" (my brother, sister-in-law and nephew) dwindled down into non-existence. The lack of contact caused yet another problem in the form of my family (sometimes overtly) favoring Isabella. My sister makes no apologies and (maybe it's because I'm Isabella's mother) I agree with her point that their favoritism was bound to happen because they NEVER see Shawn. As I stated previously, my brother does not bring him to see my mom. They've never been to my sister's apartment and they only made a fleeting appearance at Isabella's first birthday party.

I don't think my mom meant to pull out that IV. I know Isabella's accident today was in no way her fault. I know my brother is a big dummy who will live to regret cutting us off from his life. I just don't think HE knows...

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Queso Frito...

Growing up, the best Sunday mornings consisted of my mom blasting cumbia music while cleaning and making breakfast. The memory of waking up to the mouth-watering smell of platanos fritos (fried plantains, with salty sour cream, YUM!) , huevos estrellados (huevos rancheros to some, basically sunnyside up eggs with a homemade tomato sauce, YUM!), or queso frito (fried cheese, YUM!) remains indelibly etched in my mind.

This morning I woke up in the mood to recreate one of those mornings for Isabella. When she woke up, I picked her up out of her crib, changed her diaper and took her to the living room, while I went to rummage in my fridge. All I had in there that resembled a proper Sunday morning at my mom's was eggs and queso tropical (that's troh-pee-cahl not trop-ih-kil). Queso tropical is a fresh white cheese for frying and it ended up winning by default because I definitely CANNOT make my mom's tomato sauce for the huevos estrellados...not to mention there was no bread in the house.

So, I put on the Sonora Dinamita station on my Pandora radio while frying up some slices of cheese. As the female vocalist crooned about an old man hitting on and honking his horn at her, the oil in the pan popped and little drops landed on my arms causing sharp little bursts of pain. I yelped a small "ouch!" with each drop that sizzled on my skin but the slices of cheese browned nicely and the fantastic smell of fried cheese filled my kitchen. I was only able to fry up two slices of cheese because Isabella walked in and I didn't want any of the popping oil to burn her. So, I took my two slices of fried cheese, got a glass of juice and shuffled back to our bedroom.

My boyfriend woke up when I came in with a steaming plate and mumbled "mmmm...food! What are we eating?" "Queso frito!" I exclaimed, he pulled a face and retorted with a drawn out "ewwwww."  To which I replied "that's fine, I didn't make any for you! Just me and Isabella." At the mention of her name, Isabella started in with her "mum-mum-mum" babbling signaling her eagerness to dig in. I cut off a small portion of the cheese and popped it into her awaiting little mouth. She chewed for a bit almost as if she was mulling over the taste before finally deciding that she was not a fan and spitting out the chewed up bits of yummy cheese all the while pulling a face remarkably similar to her dad's. I sighed, gave her a bottle while I finished my cheese, then returned to the kitchen and got her a bowl of fruit loops, which she gobbled up.

So, maybe I haven't got Sundays at my mom's down to an exact science (what with Isabella hating the fried cheese) but I can at least create my own version. As long as it includes breakfast and some really great tunes, we'll be set! After all she did shimmy and wiggle to the sounds of El Viejo del Sombreron and why wouldn't she with lyrics as awesome as these?!

Enjoy!!!:

Dicen que es vino tinto

Pero es un rojo uva mi carrito

Es un último modelo

Que siempre va conmigo a donde quiera voy mi carrito

Por que el es mi compañero ese carrito es mi vida

De el nunca he tenido quejas

Cuando consigo a una chica

El me lleva a donde quiera

Cuando consigo a una chica

El me lleva a donde quiera.



¡Señorita a la orden la llevo!

No gracias estoy esperando al viejo del sombreron

Uy no me diga que tipo tan afortunado

Ay llego vera.



¡El viejo de sombreron!

Ese viejo si es rebuena

¡El viejo de sombreron!

Para conseguir mujeres

¡El viejo de sombreron!

Será que tiene secreto

¡El viejo de sombreron!

Ese viejo si la mueve.



Voy a comprarme un sombrero

Un sombreo bien jalón

Pa' hacerle la competencia

Al viejo del sombreron

Señorita de mi alma

Tengo una preocupación

¿Por que esta tan entregada al viejo del sombreron?


Lo que pasa es que una gota de agua sobre una piedra hace un orificio

Ese viejo tiene su carrito y cada vez que pasa se sonríe conmigo

Va de largo, se regresa si me encuentra parada en la puerta

Me lanza un piropo y me toca el pito

Va de largo, se regresa si me encuentra parada en la puerta

Me lanza un piropo y me toca el pito

Pipipi es a cada ratito que pasa el viejito y me toca el pito

Pipipi es a cada ratito que pasa el viejito y me toca el pito

Pipipi siempre vivo pendiente

Pipi cuando el viejo me toca

Pipipi siempre vivo pendiente pi pi cuando el viejo me toca

Pipipi ya me tiene mareada con el pi pi con el pi pi con el pi pi

Con el pi pi me toca el pito pi pi me tiene mareada con el pi pi.

Bi-weekend-ly...(and the wonder that is my NOOK Color)

So, it seems like this blog will be updated bi-weekend-ly. It's the ONLY time I really have to myself, because I'm not at work (well, actually I am at work but not doing my regular work, which takes up much more than my allotted 8 hours per day and would NEVER allow time for blogging) or at home therefore my daughter isn't around to crawl/walk/climb all over me or knock anything out of my hands. Also, my boyfriend isn't around to suddenly attack me in need of "business time" ... which, naturally isn't always a bad thing. Except for when I'm sound asleep and a cold hand startles me awake...that's just not sexy, I'm sorry. I love him to bits but he has the WORST timing...but this blog isn't about him. *sigh*

What is this blog about?

Nothing, really I just felt like writing. That happens to me a lot when I've been reading incessantly (that and I start to narrate my daily life in my own head, I'm a bit of a weirdo). And since purchasing my Nook Color I haven't been able to STOP reading. Which, of course is fantastic -- I know, I know as a self-proclaimed bibliophile an e-reader goes against everything I stand for but, damn it all! I LOVE MY NOOK!!!!! I have downloaded 71 e-books since January (a special shout out to Barnes & Noble's "Free Friday," which has definitely contributed to the increase of my library). Granted, some are samples and some are short stories but it's still exponentially more reading than I did last year.

I mean the fact is that since becoming a mom I don't have the energy (let alone the space what with carrying around a diaper bag more often than a purse for myself) to carry around any books, with the Nook I can carry around 71 books in ONE slim little device. Plus, I get to read in the dark because of the fantastic backlit screen. I've always been, what my sister lovingly refers to as, a book-eater, which means once a book lures me in, I'm hooked and I can't stop reading until I've devoured every last morsel of a word. This has led to many a night spent squinting at tiny fonts with nothing more than my cell phone to illuminate the pages and at 27 years old, that's really not cutting it anymore. Because let's face it my eyesight definitely isn't what it used to be (on a different and ironic note, I think I need glasses now, whereas in the past I wore them as a fashion accessory).

In addition to all the wonderful stuff the NOOK color has for me (oh, did I forget to mention the other features? Oh, well let's see it has crossword puzzles, chess, Pandora radio and sudoku. Plus it's not only for reading books you can read magazines and newspapers too! Also it runs on Android and I've been on Team Android since the G1 came out -- which, incidentally I still own! But I digress...) it also has kid's books with a "Read To Me" feature, which will be so incredible when Isabella is a little older. And, don't worry the Read to Me books do have a Read by Myself option so I can read the book to Izzie, or when she's old enough she can read them by herself...if I let her touch my Nook, which I don't...not often...not yet.

So, all in all, while an e-reader can never truly replace the wonder that is reading a book (i.e. the intoxicating SMELL of a book), it's still a great little device and I'm simply in love with it.

Maybe Barnes & Noble can invent a Nook case that smells like an actual book...hmmm...