Having a Scary Good Time

Saturday was a night spent at The Haunt. For the 7th year, a family in Tempe has opened up their home and filled it with gruesome, horrific, make you jump out of your underwear, scary fun. I don't know how they do it, because it is good. The boys were so excited to go, and I being the chicken that I am, was trying to divise a plan that would allow me to sit it out while still saving face. Travis wouldn't have it, so I tightened up my underwear and we headed out.

The line for this free event was super long, but people watching was so much fun. The Grim Reaper came out and was standing in the front yard and that's when Tristan and Ethan went nuts, like a couple of groupies. You'd think they had just seen the girl that they looove from Zoe 101. They waved and waved. We had to tell them to stop, more than once. The Grim Reaper was getting tired of waving, and you don't want to piss off that guy.

When we were in the maze of the Haunt and a monster would jump out at us, Tristan would wave and say "HAPPY HALLOWEEN!" I think that was his way of staving off the scaries, because it was scary in there. It was very cute, so cute in fact it threw the monsters for a loop. You could tell they kind of paused after that, not really knowing what to do next. I don't think that's the type of reaction they expect. We had a good laugh about it. One thing for sure is that kids help you fully appreciate holidays. Their spirit is infetious.

My Legs Broke

So I suck at posting daily.  I suck at a lot of things.  Especially things that I have to do on a daily, regular basis.  My schedule is anything but regular, so I get thrown off quite often.  I don't know how many times I have to repeat the day of the week over and over in my head so that I don't forget to pick up the kids, or most importantly, so that I don't forget to record one of my favorite TV shows.  I don't have a regular work schedule, and since I start my shift on one day, and end it on another, this just adds to the confusion.  I wouldn't trade it for the world though.  I never get bored, it's never monotonous. 

However, now that I've started working out on a regular basis, my schedule is starting to get in the way.  Being one of very little discipline, the only thing that works is exercise classes.  I can't quit in the middle of a class, the way I can quit when I'm on my own on the treadmill.  And this is a good thing.  Except that classes are scheduled, and I can't always make them. 

I'm not giving up though.  I'm seeing changes in my body, I'm feeling strong, and I like the way it feels.  The other day I locked myself out of the house.  I had everything I needed, but the keys.  Poor Travis had to run home to let me in and when he pulled up, I sauntered over to his car, trying to look all cool and sexy.  To which he responded with a honk and a "hurry up!!!"  I ran, and to my surprise, nothing hurt.  Usually when I unexpectedly have to run, the ankles pop and hurt (old soccer injury), not to mention muscle tightness all over my legs.  Not this time.  I actually felt graceful running.  It was nice to feel graceful since I was trying to impress my man.

However, Monday's workout kicked my ass.  I showed up for step aerobics, but the electricity was out so we were to have our work out at the track.  I imagined us doing our cute little routine outside.  Oooh, what fun.  NOT!  First of all, she made us run.  Like 4 laps around the track.  Then we did lunges across the field, and some other football warm-up type of exercises.  I was so sore, I couldn't walk straight.  Going to the restroom was even an issue.  I never realized just how low a toilet sits.  I seriously thought that perhaps I broke my quadriceps.  I realize that's not possible, but they hurt so bad, they had to be broken, or ripped to shreds.  I don't think I've ever been that sore. 

In the past, that type of soreness would have been enough to send my butt back to the couch and my perpetual state of of lounging.  But it didn't.  I'm actually looking forward to my next workout.  I think I might be addicted.  The most addicting part is that the scale now says 135, instead of 150.  Go me!  And I owe it all to Miss. Zoot and her posts about how she's rediscovered running.  In one of her posts she said that she was becoming more of the woman she wants to be.  As cheesy as that sounded when I first read it, I now know what she was talking about.  I am becoming more of the woman I want to be.  A healthy woman who can run at a moments notice.  Which might come in handy with Christmas shopping season right around the corner.

And then they Grew Up

When did I become the lady with the ugly big kids that everyone feels the need to protect their toddler from?  Well, it's not really all that bad, but kinda.  It seems I've gone through another portal in parenthood, and as usual, I was oblivious. 

I realized all this while at the pumpkin patch on Sunday.  I took all the boys that stayed over on Saturday night, and they had a great time.  However, upon looking around, I realized that all the other parents were there with cute, chubby, little toddlers.  I was there with awkward 8, 9, and 10 year old boys.  Their hair, their teeth, the holes in the knees of their pants.  It's all so not cute.  Of course, they're cute in their own way, but I long for them to be cute again, in a toddler way.  The way the run around and attack every activity with such enthusiasm is enough to make any parent want to shelter their little kids.  I know this because I was that parent not to long ago.  Or at least it seems like it wasn't too long ago, but I guess it was. 

The worst part is that I know the moment is right around the corner.  The moment when I say "hey guys, let's go to the pumpkin patch", and they respond with "yeah right Mom, that's sooo lame".  They'll roll their eyes at me, and life as I know it will be over.  I only wish that I could slow it all down.  I only wish I could go back again to our first visit to a pumpkin patch, 10 years ago, when Tristan took his very first steps. 

Mush Brain

The past few days have been a blur.  I'm sleep deprived and my brain don't work.  Don't?  Doesn't. 

I've been working full time for about a year now, and it's still an adjustment.  Granted I only work 3 days a week.   But when you have to cram the mommy gig with 36 hours of work into 3 days, somethings gotta give.  Usually, it's my brain.  I have mush brain.  Mostly what gives is the laundry, dishes, bathroom, kids, pets, hygiene.  Today when Travis got home from work he called me to ask why the kids were hungry.  Why haven't the been fed Woman?  I apologized profusely- the mommy guilt.  I forgot to feed the children!  Actually, I slept until 5 and had to be at work at 6pm.  THAT'S WHY THEY'RE STARVING!!!  I'm not a robot after all.  He was cool with making them his specialty - peanut butter and jelly.  But like he said "first I have to find a space on this counter where I can fix food".  He's worked about 60 hours this week.

Yesterday, which I believe was Thursday, I had parent teacher conferences which took a chunk out of my sleeping time.  So, after 3 hours of sleep, I wiped off the drool, smoothed down my hair and made my way to school.  Fortunately the conferences were fun, since it was all praise.  I got to hear another person praise my children; what could be better?  I don't think I could have handled a bad report, which would have required thinking.  The comment on Tristan's report card was "Tristan is a fun kid to teach."  That there folks, tells me that I'm doing an okay job.  She also said that he's a funny guy, which confirmed his assertion that he's the "class clown".  He takes pride in being the class clown.  I think I'm in trouble.

So, tonight's my last night of work.  Tomorrow though, we have a sleep over planned.  Why do I do this to myself?  5 Boys in my tiny house.  I think I might require some Corona.  Perhaps a shot of tequila?  Don't forget the lime!

A Post a Day Keeps the Blues at Bay

I'm a joiner!  I'm going to participate in National Blog Posting Month.  Official Seal and all.

I'm a bad poster.  Granted, I don't have masses of readers waiting with bated breath to see what I have to say, but this blog is a good grounding point for me.  And it makes me happy.  When I'm floating around with my head in the clouds, and my body being turned in 101 directions, it's such an outlet to be able to come here and document important stuff.  Or not so important stuff.  So to do it every day.  That will take commitment, perseverance, I'll actually have to use my brain on a daily basis.  I guess that's a good thing, so I'll give it a go and see how it, um, goes.  I think it officially starts in November, but like the blogger who started this, I'm going to try posting everyday as of now.  I'm a lemming, what can I say.

Ugly Betty is not so ugly after all

Ugly Betty, how I love thee.  Just looking at that picture, what's not to love. 

The show has been on for 3 weeks now, and it just  gets better and better.  And if you haven't watched it, you're missing out on all the soapy, campy fun that is Ugly Betty. 

Betty Suarez, an aspiring journalist sets out for an interview, hoping to land a job with a "serious" magazine.  What she ends up with instead; a job as the assistant to the Editor in Chief of a high-gloss, haute-y, fashion magazine.  Needless to say, she doesn't fit in.  Hilarity ensues.  The best part is that she's okay with not fitting in.  Her charm and intelligence will win them over in the end.

I watched the show with my mom and grandma last week, and we all enjoyed it immensely.  Finally something that I can watch with my 86 year old grandmother who watches nothing but telenovelas. 

And for that, I thank the very beautiful and talented, Honduran-American, America Fererra.  Kudos to you girl!  A curvaceous Latina has infiltrated mainstream television.  Oh no!  And she's the star of the show, not just a supporting role.  It's about damn time, if you ask me.  Latinos are the largest growing minority group in the US, so represent.  And represent she does.

When I was  a kid, I was just as obsessed with TV as I am today.   There were no Latino characters on American TV.  I wanted blue eyes real bad.  And for that reason,  Salma Hayak and America Ferrera should be commended.    Because brown is beautiful, and with people like them in the mainstream, little girls today can take pride in their identity instead of always trying to fit the mold.  The wrong mold. 

Hope

Open mouth, insert foot.  I feel like an ass.  In my last post, I wrote about my disappointment at my 17 year old, half-sister's pregnancy. 

Well, the pregnancy isn't doing so good.  She's had bleeding.  On Monday, a doctor told them that the baby was the size of a peanut, but he was worried that it wouldn't grow anymore.

She's scared.

While I was sad at all that D would be missing by having a baby so young, I'm even more sad with the thought of the loss she might have to endure.  No mother, much less a very young mother should have to endure the loss of a child.  Even a peanut sized one.

I'm so sad, I don't know what to say other than; hang in there little peanut, we want to meet you!

But I know that whatever happens will happen for a reason.  Yes, I'm of that school of thought.  Like my moms says in her very cute Spanish accent, "I'll put it out there to the universe, and see what happens".

Times like these, in a life like this, that's all we can do.  Like my dad said in his last e-mail to me; Ah, life.

Save the Drama for Yo Mama

Finally, a quiet moment to sit and...just sit. I've had the past 5 days off from work. Not a planned vacation, but since I only work 3 days a week, that's just how my days off worked out. Travis has been off as well, and what have we accomplished? Nada. Absolutely nothing. Except perhaps lots of laundry and house chores and for some reason, there's been very little down time. As for Travis, he's been catching up on sleep. Like every day. Like a lot. Oh well, whatta ya gonna do? He'll be working his legs off coming up, so enjoy the rest.

My sister is having a personal crisis, so I've been busy talking to her. Talking more than we have in the past few months since she's had a boyfriend, who's now maybe possibly but probably not, her ex.

Her boyfriend wants to have a "break", or something like that. We laughed at how much that was like a "Friends" episode. She's in shock, and hurt, and really misses him. So, what's a blogger to do in such a situation- why blog about it, of course. Which is what she did. Someone then took excerpts of what she wrote and e-mailed it to the boyfriend, and he took it the wrong way. Of course, probably because he didn't bother to read the actual posts. So, anyway, she gets a call from him to not blog about it. My first question was, "so are you gonna blog about him asking you not to blog about it. And if you're not gonna blog about it, can I?" I don't remember if she said whether or not I could, but there you have it. I really do hope those silly kids can work things out. He really made her happy, and I like her happy.

Just a little something to add to the drama. A little something which is also really upsetting my sister, and myself I must admit. Our 17 year old half sister, is pregnant. I want to be happy, but it's hard, Especially since I've seen my sister's struggles, and she was a little older when she had Shawn. But it has been one struggle after another. Mal's really disappointed, I think she just hoped for better for D, who's she' really close to. Another young latina mother. Embrace the stereotype, why don't we. I know we'll put our personal feelings aside, and show our support, but still. It's hard.

On the bright side, Project Runway is on and it's getting good. More drama.

10 Years of Loving This Kid

I can hardly believe he's 10 years old. Yesterday while Tristan was looking at himself in the mirror, he said "Meemo, come and see how awesome I am". And awesome he is. He is the kindest, most gentle caring person I know. He loves all animals, especially his Chihuahua; Chico. He's the best Sea Monkey breeder in the world. Not to mention his past successes with Silk Worms and Lady Bugs. Today while I was in his class after school, all the kids were wishing him Happy Birthday. One girl in his class came up to him with a paper cupcake and told him to make a wish and blow. When he blew, she cut off the flame. Someone made him a paper crown and as we were walking to the van, he was still receiving birthday wishes. He was over the moon with all the attention. When I see this, I see the person that he is becoming, and I couldn't be more proud. Happy Birthday to my awesome son. My first born. I will never forget those first moments we had together 10 years ago. I'll never forget the way you smelt, the softness of your hair, the sound of your cry. All these things I carry with me all the time. I also look forward to another decade together, and bearing witness to the wonderful person you will become. I feel so honored to have you in my life.

Do as I say, Not as I Do

Hypocrisy reared it's ugly head, as it so often does in the trials and tribulations of parenthood. 

I'm all for freedom of speech, and anti-censorship.  Did you know that last week was Banned Books Week?  Well, it was.  I wanted to celebrate the week by reading something from their list, and I still plan on it.  But I had this conversation with Ethan about his birthday, and realized what a hypocrite I am. 

We were discussing how his birthday is the day he came out of my tummy.  I knew he had a general idea of how it happens, but he doesn't know any of the nitty gritty details.

All bashful like he says; "I know how the baby comes out".

"What do you mean Ethan?"

"Well, I saw a picture of it"  he says while hiding his face with his hands.  "Yeah, I was looking something up in the library, and it was under B for birth.  It was a picture of a baby coming out".

Oh my gawd, my baby saw a picture of a vagina, with a baby coming out? 

"So, what did you think Ethan?"

"Well, it's kinda freaky that they come out of there."

"Well, that's what those parts are for Ethan.  Mom and Dad parts that is."

As he grabs his crotch with a very worried look on his face.  "You mean I'll have to have a baby too?"

"No Ethan, only the Mom has to do that."

"GOOD!"

At this point, I'm just hoping that the Earth will open up and swallow me whole.  I'm so not ready to talk birds and bees with my 8 year old son.  Luckily, the conversation ended there.  He lost interest, and I wasn't about to delve any further into that topic.  Times like these, I seriously wonder who thought it would be a good idea for me to be in charge of these young impressionable minds. 

The problem was,  my first thoughts were:  What book?  Where do I find it?  Who do I complain to?  How do we get that off the shelfs?  My son has seen a woman's VAGINA!  At School!

Then, I had to chill the hell out.  He didn't seem traumatized by it.  Besides, childbirth is natural and beautiful, and blah blah blah.  But still, he saw a VAGINA.  I realize that in his life he's going to see a lot of things that I have no control over.  You just don't expect for it to be at their school library. 

I can now see how so many books have been banned.  It was probably because of freaked out parents.  I don't agree with the practice of banning books.  We should be given the control to view, listen to, or read whatever we want.  You can always turn the dial after all.  But how conflicting is it to have that stance, yet want to protect my children from seeing or hearing bad stuff.  Not that childbirth is bad, but you know what I mean.

Just when I think I've finally got a hang of this parenting gig, I'm thrown for a loop, AGAIN.  Where once my biggest problem was dealing with tantrums and sharing issues, now I'm going to have to figure out a way to explain sex to 2 very silly young boys.  I know those questions are right around the corner and I'd best be prepared. 

It just keeps getting better and better! 

Warm Fuzzy Feelings thanks to the Blogosphere

I'm continually amazed by how many intelligent, interesting, funny people are out there in the blogosphere.  People have such stories to tell, and tonight I read two stories that had me reading through blurry, teary eyes.   I realize that the posts are from a few days ago, but I'm behind on my blog reading.

First there was  Moobs story about another failed IVF treatment.  I felt his pain and his words were more powerful than anything I could ever read in a newspaper or magazine article.  That man has a way with words.

Then I went and read Amalah's tribute to her son's 1st birthday.  She managed to put into words what I feel about my boys, and the video...there are no words.  Just go and read them.  I guarantee that warm fuzzy feeling will course throughout your body.  And what a way to start of your week.

New Do

I was in the need of a little pick-me-up, so I got a new do.  It's a lot shorter than I would have preferred, but I needed a change, so a change I got.  My only regret is that I can no longer wear a pony tail. 

I had to take a picture because never EVER again, will my hair look that shiny and smooth.  That's due to the 30 minutes that were spent with a flat iron.  I've never had that done, so I was thrilled.

Just thrilled, until I walked into my house and my nose was accosted by the most horrendous smell ever. 

Buster, our oldest dog had a poop explosion all over the back room.  Including the laundry room.  Why do dogs panic when this happens, and  feel the need to run around.  Not a good time to chase your tail you stupid dog!  Why couldn't he have been considerate enough to make one steamy pile?   Instead I had about 8 steamy piles to pick up.  I just about passed out from holding my breath for so long.  The dog is old, the smells are not pleasant.  Why is it that when you're feeling good, life hands you a steaming pile of poop.  In my case, literally.

And that there folks was the highlight and lowlight of my week.  The highlight being my new do, and the low, well you know the low.  And when I think about it, I realize how very lucky I am that my only low point was having to pick up some dog poop.  Very messy, stinky dog poop mind you. 

Life's pretty good.  Now, if only I could get my hair to look that good all of the time.