Holy Mackerel

Tonight, as I was making the boys dinner Lila was playing in the living room. She likes to be on the floor scooting around whenever she can.

Suddenly she start choking on something--I mean really choking turning blue, not able to breathe choking. So I ran in there, swooped her up, flipped her upside down and started whacking on her back, doing the best I could to remember the baby Heimlich we learned in Infant CPR. Mason's looking at me like I'm possessed and asks, "Why are you spanking her?"

The thing popped out after the first couple of whacks, and she starts coughing. I go to flip her over and almost freakin' drop her. I see the offending object is still in her mouth so I'm hurrying to fish it out before she chokes on it again.

It was a tiny tree branch, about 3/4 of an inch long. The dang dog and his shaggy fur, leaves and twigs are always hitchhiking in on him. She's always scooting after leaves he drops and I'm constantly picking them up.

Never before in over four years of being a mother have I had to eject an object from my child's trachea. This is a first I hope I never have to repeat. That Lila is a mischevious little thing.

So I nearly had a heart attack today. But Thank You God, she's okay. And Thank you Mr. Heimlich for your maneuver.

Heavyset to Hardbodies ... and everything in between

I’ve been frequenting the gym long enough to observe that there is an interesting ecosystem within it. And just as with any other, this ecosystem has defined clicks and even a definite pecking order, as well as a few odd ducklings. Once you enter the gym doors, it’s as if you’re stepping through a threshold into a parallel universe… it is literally its own little world.

There are several different groups of people divided amongst the various sweaty corners of the gym.

First, there are the Cardio Queens. They are usually drop dead gorgeous, painted with a full face of makeup, and adorned in perfectly matching workout clothes. The upper echelon of this group sports long, flowing locks that she doesn’t dare pull back into a pony tail (it’s so odd seeing someone on a treadmill with their hair down to their waist, I dare say it’s unnatural). Rarely do they exercise hard enough to break a sweat (their flat stomachs the result of tummy tucks, not toning), and they can often be seen socializing with other C.Q.’s on the treadmill. I’ve even seen one treadmill reading that she’d been walking for 30 minutes and only traveled a mere .5 mile. C.Q.’s are usually in the gym for about three hours in order to complete their 30 minute workout because pesky socializing gets in the way.

The archetype to the Cardio Queens is the Hulks—Big, burly men who grunt when they do their reps. They don’t walk, they strut, and their arms stick out at a 45 degree angle because of their enormity. I think they are all in a major competition with each other to see who can develop the biggest bulging vein amongst their collections of bulky muscles.

The Hulk’s female counterpart is Mrs. Hardcore. These are women who without long hair and sports bras would be confused as men. They don’t just have a six pack; they have an 8 pack, even a 10 pack in extreme cases. They only relax when they’re in the tanning bed, otherwise they are performing some sort of training. And no doubt, they are juiced up on some sort of illegal overseas pharmaceuticals, because it just ain’t natural to look like that.

Next, there is the yoga group. They perch upon their mats, spending a luxurious hour stretching and contorting into various poses. Never before have I met calmer people than the die hard yogis. Calm, peaceful, low talkers, they always seem focused on the miracle of their Zen. Everything I strive to be but alas, am not.

On the complete other end of the spectrum are the Spinners. They do everything fast-- they talk fast, they walk fast, therefore they burn calories fast. And if you watch them during a spin class, you can tell they are pushing themselves so far that they almost might die, but don’t. I’m always waiting for someone to stroke out and fall off a bike, but it hasn’t happened yet. And within this group, it’s a true badge of honor to have puddles of sweat collecting beneath you.

Then there is a special specimen, “Naked Old Lady in the Locker Room” (NOLITLR for short). I mean seriously, why can’t she just be “Old Lady in the Locker Room” – why must she be naked? And when I say old, I mean old. Just today I walked into the locker room and NOLITLR was right by the door. I was not at all prepared for that. This is a pretty big locker room we’re talking about, with at least 15 sinks, and she chooses to take her nakedness to the one that’s right by the door to wash her hands. What boggles my mind is that she often has a towel wrapped around her waist (which I appreciate, really I do)—why not boost it up and cover up the Girls too? It is a locker room, and I suppose it’s an appropriate place to be naked, but there’s nothing wrong with being dressed either. Her exhibitionism amazes me. You’d think she was a hot chick the way she prances around, but nope, she’s NOLITLR. Today I was granted to special treat of listening to NOLITLR’s conversation with another old lady—they were talking about vertigo. NOLITLR, if you’re prone to passing out, perhaps you shouldn’t be traipsing around naked. Could you imagine if the paramedics had to haul you out on a stretcher, buck naked?

And lastly (a recent addition) is the New Year’s Resolution clan. They really have no typical physical definitions as they are all ages, sizes, and include those in both sexes. They clog the gym for the month of January, staring at machines they can’t figure out and lifting free weights in an awkward, improper fashion, generally making you insane. They hog up the spin passes only to quit ten minutes in, leaving those who might actually want to take the full hour to settle for an hour on the treadmill. Oh, and P.S. -- putting the treadmill incline at Level 7 and hanging on the the handlebar for dear life while your legs chase after you... doesn't count as exercise. No worries though, they’re gone by Valentine’s Day, no doubt curled up somewhere with a giant heart-shaped box of chocolates.

Riddle me this

The boys have been in their room for the past hour reading books in Cole's bed. There have been no screaming, arguments, or blows thrown by either of them! Just happy chatter about dinosaurs and such for upwards of 60 minutes straight.

Which begs the question: What have I done to please the gods?

Sugar

Tonight I went grocery shopping. Saturday night excitement for a suburban housewife.

I was driving out of the parking lot and there was an old man leaving the store, waiting to cross in front of me. To be kind, I stopped to let him pass. Those of you familiar with Naples know that a) there are a whole lot of old people, and b) they cross the road really slowly. He is taking for-ever to clear the road.

As I'm scolding myself for being polite and letting this geezer pass, I notice the necessity of his cart is merely to help him walk as its contents are only two items:

1. A "Happy Anniversary" Balloon that is flapping in the breeze, and
2. A dozen red roses.

As the man crossed (and believe me, there was a lot of time), I wondered what number anniversary he's going to celebrate and hoped that one day when Rey is old he'll hobble into a Publix to get me flowers and a balloon. And I thought of how sweet it is that this little old man has a little old lady to go home to. Provided, of course, that the flowers and balloon weren't for his little old mistress. : )

Dear Girl Talking on your cell phone at the gym...

I understand you are probably a very important person holding a very important conversation, but is it really necessary to spend 30 minutes lounging on the leg extension machine whilst doing so?

I know, it must be confusing that this is not a resting place, seeing as the machine has this perfect little footrest to assist in reclining, thus making you more comfortable for your rather lengthy conversations, but there are people at the gym who actually want to put weight on said machine and use it to build muscle.

Perhaps, and this is merely a suggestion, you could move you ass over to the couch that is about 8 feet to your right. The gym supplies it for sitting and the machine you're lounging on for exercising.

Sincerely,
Girl Trying to Work on Her Fitness

Savannah

For those of you who know my friend Amber (and even for though of you who don't, really) please say a little prayer for her baby Savannah (who is not-so coincidentally Rey's and my goddaughter). She went into the hospital today for the second time in her barely 5 month long life. Without recapping the rather lengthy history of her maladies, she's rather sickly, and now they are suspecting pneumonia.

As someone who has lived through the experiences of both a hospitalized infant (Cole) and a NICU baby (Mason) I can say they are tied for the worst ones of my life. So I can say with earnest honesty that I hope and pray for a speedy recovery for Savannah, and a chance for her mother to enjoy some healthy children.

Mason

Mason and Cole got these swell pajamas from a relative for Christmas (also known as blanket sleepers). Cole is pretty obsessed with Cars, so he was loving his for that reason (he has many zip up pjs so this was not novel to him).

For Mason, on the other hand, it has been quite a long time since he's worn zip up, footed pajamas so this is a MAJOR novelty for him. All you moms out there are probably aware that a) these are difficult to come by in a size 4T and b) they really are a hinderance for the potty trained child. As a result, he's been sleeping in two piece pjs for over a year now.

Well, Mason is IN LOVE. He would wear these things morning, noon and night if I let him. He will unzip them and store Matchbox cars in the legs, stuff his Ruff Ruff in the stomach portion, etc. and generally carry all his crap around in these things like he's a pack mule.

Yesterday I told him if he wanted to get to sleep in them again that night he couldn't eat lunch in them because they'd get dirty. So he took them off, got dressed, ate lunch, and promptly requested permission to put them back on when the meal was over.

They're pretty thick so I catch him unzipping them and pulling his arms out, leaving the top to hang around his waist. He's sweating buckets, yet still refuses to take them off.

And for those curious minds, he's even figured out and effective and dare I say efficient method of using the bathroom in them.

Who knew that pajamas would be one of his favorite "toys" from Christmas??

Cole

This is what happens to a two year old little boy when he skips his nap! He was out the other day having a swell time in the backyard with his big brother and their buddy Andrew. Those boys are 4 years old and obviously have more stamina, because as soon as the fun was over and Andrew went home, Cole promptly climbed on the couch and went to sleep. Nothing like a little 5pm catnap!

Resolutions, Part Deux

I almost forgot....

This was the very first resolution I came up with--I want to take more video of the kids.

Mason and I bought Rey and video camera for Father's Day 2005 and we've barely used the thing. I take some footage from time to time with the video function on our digital camera, but you can't shoot too long or with much quality. But everytime I see one of the kids in action when they were tiny tiny tiny, it makes me wish I had more to watch.

So, I'm gonna work on it.

So Cute I can Hardly STAND it!

I came across this bedding in my standard Saturday morning leisurely online shopping session. If I were to birth a baby boy tomorrow, this would be his nursery bedding! I love the nostaligia yet currentness of it, not to mention the bright colors and cute characters!

PotteryBarnKids.com has a whole line of adorable Dr. Suess stuff, be sure to check out the cuteness!

Bye Bye Baby(Center)

I have heard rumblings of what has now been made official--the Baby Center store is going out of business on January 6th. Many things are marked down wicked cheap, so if you're in the market for something Baby, head on over because there are deals to be had.

I always liked the Baby Center store, and shopped there on several occasions because they were always just a little bit cheaper than many other online stores. But I am looking on the bright side here and being thankful that the whole site isn't going under. From way back during my pregnancy with Mason, I would get weekly email updates on each stage of his gestation, and to this day I continue to head there to search for topics from "Allergies" to "Yeast Infection Diaper Rash" (my current nemesis, poor Lila). So I'm am glad my little .com partner in motherhood will still be there, even if I'm losing a shopping spot!

2009

res-o-lu-tion [rez-uh-loo-shuhn] - noun

1. a formal expression of opinion or intention made

2. a resolve or determination

3. the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.

Okay, so I'm not typically one to make resolutions. I once read somewhere that only about 12% of New Year's Resolutions are followed through with. But in the interest of being interesting, I'm making a few this year.

First, I going to read one book each month. I used to read at least one book per week, a pace I was able to keep up right through my pregnancy with Cole. So I think one per month is doable. This move is to achieve a greater goal of making more time for myself. I am drowning in motherhood. I need to find more me in ME. I'm thinking of starting with The Hour I First Believed.

Second, I want to get Mason to eat a more varied and by default healthier diet. A kid can't subsist on chicken nuggets, grilled cheese and waffles. He will fight me tooth and nail on this, I promise.

Third, I want to finish potty training Cole. This is a project that started spontaneously by his sudden interest and had stalled just as suddenly due to my lack of interest. Truthly, he's a good 90% of the way there and sports his dinosaur BVDs most of the time, so this one should be easy.

Last, I resolve to cook dinner four times a week. Okay, three times a week. No sense in setting unrealistic goals!

Boxing Day

T’was the day after Christmas,
We’ve survived another.
It’s a tough time of year to be a father or mother.

If I hear "open this toy" even just one more time,
I can't be held accountable for committing a crime.

The trash can is full, the lid closed with a clamour,
the get half of these toys out of boxes you need a jackhammer.

Where is my Advil? A headache is here!
But don't forget, it's a most wonderful time of year!


There are several telltale signs that it is the day after Christmas:

• places are wicked crowded because many people have the day off from work,
• parents everywhere are deafened from the ruckus of new toys,
• trashcans, at the curb awaiting pickup, are literally overflowing with gift bags and discarded wrapping paper, and
• neighborhood children everywhere are crowding the streets, tooling around on their new rides.

Christmas

A few photos from Christmas....


The boys discovered their new bikes and quickly climbed aboard. I am quite pleased that they are the perfect size (I did a lot of hemming and hawing over this matter!).

The obligatory attempt to get a Christmas morning photo of all three of my children. Those of you with more than one know that getting a good shot of them all together is like getting blood from a turnip. Mason is a champ though, he say exactly like this while I fired off about ten shots. The other two were all over the place.

Cole opened this DVD and was beyond excited to receive the "Move It Move" one. Can you guess what movie it is?

Each boy got one of these remote control trucks that hauls Matchbox cars. It's their favorite gift!

Cole and Mason made short work of "helping" Lila open her gifts. She was pretty ticked though because she like playing with them wrapped (shiny paper, girls love shiny things you know).

Cole got these Hulk fists from Uncle Nick. Mason put them on and promptly pummeled his brother. Thanks Uncle Nick! (He has no kids and doesn't realize the liability of this toy.)

As is typical, Lila made her way to be underneath something, this time the chair in the living room. She's army crawling everywhere and getting herself into a world of trouble!

Cousins, at Granny and Pop's house. These two are too cute, and so lucky to have each other!

O Tannenbaum

"He had a broad face and a round little belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly,

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself."
Clement Moore, "A Visit from St. Nicholas"

The Other White Meat

What’s your family’s Christmas tradition?

Singing carols?

Drinking eggnog?

Our family roasts a pig. (I married into this.)

This first time I saw an entire raw pig, it was lying on my mother-in-law’s kitchen countertop. I had been party to enjoying a meal off one of the family pig roasts prior to this, and I’ve seen a whole pig fully cooked before, but I had never seen one raw, pink, and so very Wilber looking. It was weird to think this creature had been alive mere hours before. I’m definitely a meat eater, and understand that this is the ugly truth behind that fact, but it was a)shocking to see and b)astounding to me that it was on someone’s kitchen counter. As I got over the initial shock, my father-in-law and his cousin carried in another pig and slapped it next to the first.

One of the first questions I get when people find out about this tradition is: Where does one go in Naples to locate a whole pig suitable for roasting? You’d be surprised how easy it is! Rey’s cousin Carlos has been raising them, killing them and selling them since I first met him when he was 13. He was a strapping young lad at 13, and I remember being struck by how entreprenual he was at such a young age. He still is, and he still raises pigs (also dogs, horses, chickens, I call it Old Carlito Had a Farm). So sometimes the pig literally comes from the family farm. But there’s also a Cuban butcher that you can buy them through, already killed and cleaned and prepared for cooking.

The night before, the pig is prepared. The pig is split at the open at the breast, opened up and the men will season up this pig. It’s a pretty simplistic seasoning, the main ingredient being sour oranges. Then they’ll close it up so it looks like a normal pig again and left overnight to marinate.

The next morning, they start cooking it in a box that looks like a cheap coffin. It’s called “La Caja China” but the Cubans pronounce it as “La Cahacheena”. (It took me a long time to realize that this box was Chinese and the name was two words. I thought it was just yet another Spanish word that I didn’t understand.)

Here comes the particularly laborious part—the men sit around the roasting pig and get drunk. Sometimes a game of dominoes is involved.

When the pig is done, it’s taken to an area to cut up, and people will literally snap off piece of skin as it goes by (think pork rinds, same concept but it’s fresher). Trays of white rice, black beans, yucca and Cuban bread come flying out of the kitchen, a buffet line forms, and the rest is history.

Our family does this every single Christmas Eve, most birthday parties, many weddings, some baptisms, and once in a while just for the heck of it. I think it’s interesting how something that was once such a major culture shock for me has evolved to have its own little place in my holiday tradition.

And as a side note: When Rey was in college he, and his fraternity brothers wanted to roast a pig on their semi-annual brotherhood retreat. It was the first time he had been “in charge” of a pig roast and I think in an odd way it was somewhat of a coming of age experience. I remember hearing about them icing the pig overnight in a hotel bathtub. I hope they left the maid a really good tip.

Have you seen this kid?

Today we took the kids to the mall to (among other things) make the obligatory trip to see Santa. After seeing Jolly Old St. Nick, Lila needed to be changed, so while I took care of that, Rey took the boys to the play area.

After I finished changing her, I walked up to the play area just in time to see a little boy open his chompers, lean over, and bite into poor (little?) Cole’s arm. Cole immediately started screaming like a banshee.

Most mothers can attest that their children have a regular cry and an I-am-really-really-hurt cry. Cole was crying the latter. He’s a pretty sturdy kid, takes a lot of beatings from his big brother, but he was inconsolable from this bite.

The little boy broke skin. Cole has a big purple welt on his arm, along with three very defined teeth marks.

Here’s the part that’s pretty astounding to me—the parent of the biter made no motion to discipline his child, nor did he inquire as to whether of not mine is okay.

Look, I’m really sympathetic towards the parents of biters. My nephew was a biter and it nearly drove my sister to the brink. I realize it’s often not correctable and simply needs to be outgrown.

However, please, have the decency to come over, check on the bitten child and at least offer a meager apology to the parents for leaving them with a freaking out child.

Cole is healing well physically (it’s not nearly as raised or purple as it was) but the poor guy is emotionally wounded. He doesn’t understand why a kid would hurt him like this. He explains with tears in his eyes that “That guy eat me on the arm with his mouth!” And even if you ask him about it now, hours later, he tears up, almost like he’s scared.

Once bitten, twice shy.

Hell has frozen over and Pigs are flying

I was sorta on the I'll-never-have-a-blog bandwagon. I always labeled it as something that's too time consuming and yet another thing in my life to maintain.

I actually started a blog back in January 2007, but it never really took off. Rey was working in Key West for three weeks and I had some spare time (which was probably the last time in my life I can honestly say I had some spare time). But he was only gone for three weeks, and when he returned to my life, blogging left it.

I started again in July 2008. I figured it'd be a good way to keep people abreast of our life and of Lila's every growing newborn self. I can't really explain the failure to launch on that attempt. Just one of those things that went alone the wayside as I exercised a preference for the occasional wink of sleep.

Alas, I have been strongarmed by several (you know who you are!) to join to blogosphere.

So here we go again. The re-relaunch, just in time for the Holidays. I hope to have some Christmas cheer to post in the coming days! : )