The Ritz Project

As the date for my 50th birthday steadily approached, I retreated from life. On the outside, it was business as usual. Ahhh, but on the inside? I felt like I was dying. The fact that I was actually turning 50 wasn't the problem. It wasn't the number. It was the realization that I was not truly happy. Not with David or the family but with myself. So what did I do to turn things around? Nothing. November and December brought more bad news. David got laid off again. Still, on the outside I was chipper and optimistic. I was the cheerleader for everyone else. I felt like I was drowning. But sometimes life will kick you in the ass and make you wake up....make you pay attention.

My wake up call was almost losing David in the new year.

As our Christmas festivities came to an end, Tony went back to Denver and I went back to work. David began to complain about his leg around this time. What made things worse was his refusal to come to my office to get the leg scanned. I of course was thinking he had a DVT...a clot in his leg. By New Years Eve I knew it was bad because he didn't want to go to the party we were invited to. By this time he complained of pain on his right side and seemed short of breath. I asked then insisted we should go to the ER. He flat out refused. On January 2 he couldn't take the pain any longer and when he came down from what I thought was a nap he was gasping for air.

I don't know who I am more mad at...him for not listening to me or me for not being more persistent. Irregardless, it turns out he has 2 clots in his leg and 2 clots in his lungs. He made to the ER in time and started on blood thinners. But even with all that, a week later while in the hospital he starts to complain of chest pain. Now i think back on that day and wonder how he made it through.. One of his clots in his lungs got bigger and he threw a new clot in there, The doctor had told him he would die if this happened again. But it did happen again and thankfully he is still here with me.

Before David went into surgery last week, he said he was not scared to die because he is happy with the life he's led and is good with God. As I anxiously awaited for the surgery to be over, I thought, crap...I couldn't say the same. So instead of a New Years resolution (that I blow off within days)......I'm calling it the Ritz Project.

Whats the Ritz Project you wonder? Well it is allowing yourself to take time to learn something new, explore something you are interested in, or do something out of the ordinary just for yourself. What I hope to accomplish with this project is to better know myself, my true needs and wants. Also to discover what really makes me happy.

I'm calling it a project for a few reasons

1) I need accountability .... I'm including a few close friends and blogging about it every week. Hopefully get some of you out there interested too and we can support each other.

2) Making resolutions...really? Doesn't work for me at all.

3) Sounds like work but in a fun way. I'm approaching it like I do my job, which BTW..I'm great at. I have proof...my evaluation says so.


I am 50 and dammit I am determined to find out who I am and what it is I love. Who's with me? Who wants to learn a little more about themselves, discover a new passion?

Today, I'm am making a thank you card for my coworkers (instead of buying one), making a special dinner and photographing both. This is incorporating three things I'm interested in: cooking, art, and photography.

Your turn...tell me what you are interested in.

Hormones and Meltdowns

Is it that my hormones are out of whack or am I losing it??? In the past few weeks I have gone from teary eyed to downright sobbing. I mean the ugly cry. You know the ugly cry. The face, snot, wailing sounds...yeah, the ugly cry.

It started out of nowhere as me and David ordered burgers. I even had to put my sunglasses on so no one would notice, including him. Yeah..that didn't work. That started the questions, what did he do or say. Gotta love guys, they automatically think they've done something wrong. Which most of the time they have...but not this time. I couldn't even talk as I ate my burger through tears. I thought about it as we rode home on the bike with the sun shining down on us. It was such a gorgeous day.....and I'm in tears. GEEZ!!!! Though I had been crying for a few weeks, it was the first time I had cried in front of anyone and had to explain what I felt.

When we got home, Lucy had some "splaining" to do. Wow, where do I start? I feel like time is running out and I haven't explored the things I want to do. Haven't taken the time to do things I enjoy doing. The kids are grown and mostly out (well, baby girl is back) and my life is still revolving around everyone else. What they are doing and how they feel. Why? Why do I keep doing this? There are things I enjoy but I have no one to enjoy them with. I don't do things by myself. So I don't do them. I'm going to need to learn how to, otherwise I'm never going to do anything, and it will be the vicious circle.

I told David that even though I enjoy music and love watching our kids perform, it's his passion and their passion....not mine. I love art and photography. He use to paint in oils and hasn't in like 20 or more years. He says it's because he doesn't have the time. When we moved from Miami to Lancaster,Ca, he gave away everything, all his art stuff. Though he supports anything I do and gives me constructive criticism, he hasn't been interested in pursuing painting again. I would love for us to share that.

Instead of seeing myself as a blubbering idiot once again, I decided to make some changes. I want to create more, take some art classes....I want to take photography classes...I want to....I need to...do more me stuff. Ribfest was my first step. But obviously afternoon festing is not my thing unless there is beer involved. So early festing is the answer. It inspires me and gets the creative juices flowing. It just gives me that feel good high. Add booze and that's just perfection.

The big birthday is around the corner and nipping at my heels. So I want the Canon Rebel as my present. There is a photography studio that holds classes right by work. I'm going to enroll. There is an art studio on my way home from work....going to enroll in some classes there too. I'm tired of just rearranging stuff in my studio and not creating.

Here are some pictures of what I've been doing since my meltdown on poor David. I've also included a picture of how David spent Father's day.....pouring concrete in order to get ready for Tony's arrival (that's a post all on it's own....oh I cried buckets then too, but for different reasons)

Custer's Last Stand Festival - Went with my boss and had a blast. Inspiration galore!!! She is exactly like me and we went early and left as the place was getting packed.

Even though it was sweltering hot....I came home and started these....

Though they only have a few layers and they are not done, at least it's a start.

And it was so worth the sunburn.... OUCH!

We took Desi to the lake...ah to see sand and water through the eyes of a child.

He walked into the water like a man possessed. Isn't there a movie where Bill Murray does that?

And finally....Father's Day in Ritzland.

We now were ready for Tony's arrival.

Get Use to it Kid

Damien came by yesterday and before he even got Desi out of the car, he shows me something similar to this....



"Do you see that? It's a gray hair....feel that."

It's got a wiry texture to it and it sticks out there for all to see.

Nut up buddy. It's only the beginning.

So why is seeing a gray hair on my 29 year old son's head more disturbing to me than my own?

Maybe cause mine have the decency to hide under bangs.....oh and also hair dye.

Brother-Sister Love; Photobooth Proof

So.... maybe it's because they share a love for music by Lucero,


Maybe it's because they are adults now and embrace the brother-sister bond,


Or maybe it's because it was 2am and they were both really drunk.


Anjelika's birthday present from Damien and Emilie this year was a Lucero show at Metro, and a night out partying at Smartbar and at Gingerman. Emilie ended up leaving early. With the joys of motherhood come the fact that you can't hang like you use to. At this stage in Desi's life, she is tired earlier and partytime isn't what it use to be either.
Before Lucero went on they ran into Damien's old grade school buddy who happen to be out with his little sister too. Then after the show they headed downstairs to Smartbar where they ended up meeting and talking to Ben the singer/guitar player in the band. Damien spoke with him for awhile and Anjelika is convinced that he is her brother's man crush.

So between Lucero, Gingerman and Smartbar, they bonded. They shared the love.

And at 6am I awoke to my darling daughter eating a sandwich and smiling from ear to ear in a drunken stupor. She had just gotten in and wanted to let me know that Damien was able to get out of the cab without falling onto the sidewalk. She made sure he got home okay.

Awww, how sweet.....they DO look out for each other.

Hello Ritz? Death here

Friday's always bring me great joy. I bounce into work proclaiming it to be "Fun Friday" no matter what kind of day I know I'll have. It's all in the attitude. This past Friday was going to be better than any I've had in the past 6 months. Why was this day so special? David got called back to work. YEA!! We can now start climbing out of near financial ruin. The best news? My boob test is NORMAL! Hell yea. I was doing the happy dance and riding the happy train.

Then it happened....my"Fun Friday" turned into "Fuck Friday".

It all started with an incident at work, towards the end of the day and then I got a phone call from my aunt. The phone call changed everything. My emotions, attitude, priorities, my view on family and life. It's strange how one phone call can do that. At that moment the situation at work was trivial.

Roberto, my dad's best friend died. He had gone to walk the dog. His wife found him sitting in his chair with his coat still on. She thought he had fallen back asleep. He wasn't breathing and there was no pulse. By the time the paramedics came there was nothing they could do. He was 79. The same age my dad would have been today. I just saw him last Monday when he had stopped by my office to say hello. He would do that when he was in the neighborhood. He would come in say hello and then go to my aunt's house to reminisce and talk politics. He was 79 but looked like he was 60. A good looking 60. The type of man that made younger women's head turn. Charming? Very. I remember bartending some Christmas parties at the hotel he worked at when I was younger. He was the bar manager then and women would line up on his side to order drinks. We made a game out of seeing who had the most tips at the end of the night. Though I raked in some serious cash, he always won. He was 59 then.

My dad and his sisters were friends with Roberto before I was even born. He is in all the pictures of any of our family occasions. My favorite picture is of my dad and him at a picnic when I was 6. Something about that picture says so much about their friendship to me.

My emotions are more than just about his passing. It's about my dad, my two aunt's who are in their 70's also, and my own mortality. I left work and went to my aunt's house. There they were with Roberto's other best buddy, Ray. I walked in to find Ray crying. I've only seen him cry one

other time in my 49 years. That was when my dad died.

I miss you both.

Dad

Roberto

The Twins are Pissed But They Got Lovely Parting Gifts

About two months ago, while showering I found a lump on my left breast. I ran my fingers across it as I was taught to do. Yes, it is there, it's not my imagination. I also found another smaller one on the same one. Then, I did the other breast. Okay, there's definitely something there, because the right one is lump-free. I'm quietly freaking out in the shower trying to calm myself down by telling myself that I've always felt something. In my 20's every month I was convinced I had breast cancer. I felt all kinds of lumps. My doctor told me I had fibrocystic disease. Basically, I'm lumpy. So at some point in my 30's I stopped going to see my gyne. I know, I know, I'm stupid. I've scoured the internet to make sure that I did the self breast exam properly. Everywhere I looked, I read the same thing.... From the Mayo clinic on women's health:

"The best time to perform a breast self-exam is about a week after the start of your period. That's when your breasts are least likely to be tender or swollen. Your breast tissue undergoes changes each month during your menstrual cycle. Changes in hormone levels associated with menstruation cause your breasts to swell. Once your period starts, the swelling subsides and your breasts return to normal."

So what happens when Mable stops her monthly visit? Or in my case, comes whenever she feels like, stays as long as she feels like and brings more chaos? When is the right time? Does it make a difference when I do it? Does this mean that since I missed yet another period, the timing for self breast examination is up for grabs?

Last month I made an appointment with a new gyne. Why? Because it had been so long since I've gone, that my old gyne died. New gyne is great, she has wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She is around my age. She understands everything I'm complaining about, not because she learned this from some medical book but because she is going through the same shit. Yea....I can bitch and complain and she'll get it!!!

She asked me when I had my last period. Mabel? Oh that bitch hasn't come to visit since I think December, or was that November? Hmmm, somewhere around there. But then last month I don't think it was really her, it might have been have evil sister Bertha. The one who drops in for a day, is a lightweight and just makes enough of a mess. I'm sure all of you have met her at one time or another. She tells me I have to count her too. I'm told to diligently keep track of my period. Really? I haven't done that since I decided to do my part and stop contributing to the world population by having a tubal ligation. In order to be menopausal, Mabel and Bertha stop coming around completely for a full year. Time to start tracking again. I'm perimenopausal... a prelude to the big M. So everything I'm feeling can get worse?? Greaaaaaaaaat.

Yesterday, I had my mammogram. The technician was sweet and helpful. She showed me how the new machine is now digital. Well that's cool but does it still squish the boob? That's all I cared about. Yes, it still does. I wasn't too pleased that after I was contorted into an uncomfortable position (and humiliated when she had to push my belly fat out of the way) I had to go through a redo, because I didn't relax and muscle obscured the image. Relax??? Are you *&($#@# kidding me?

Well, I got through it. I will get my results next week. Unlike my husband, I'm not too worried. I had my freak out, now I'll deal with whatever comes my way. My advise now is to follow the rules. Have a yearly checkup, mammogram and pap smear. Early detection is crucial.

The highlight for me? They now give you pasties. Well, the technician called them something else and what they were for. Please......whatever, they are pasties in my book. I couldn't wait to get home and flash my husband. Yes, of course I left them on. And of course I had to take a picture. Okay, maybe not of me actually wearing them, (cause besides my husband, who would really wants to see natural 49 year old boobs that breastfed three times?) but close enough.

The Death Box

There are conversations we have throughout our lives that make us un-comfortable, make us squirm in our seats just a bit. They are conversations that need to be had for one reason or another. We may not like it, but we understand the importance of it. At times we may delay them but we know that the words have to be said.

As we get older, we start to think about our own mortality. I started thinking about mine, right after having a heart attack at 46. Thoughts of death and dying clung to me for months. On the outside, no one knew that I felt like I had already died. It took quite along time for me stop fearing life and embrace the one I do have.


We watched The Bucket List this week. Aside from the fact that it is funny, it's the type of movie that makes you think, long after the movie is done. Basically the movie is about two men who are about to die that decide to create a list of things they want to accomplish before they kick the bucket, hence, The Bucket List.

When the movie was over, we told each other what would be on our own list. Without giving any of the plot away, I can see David being the Morgan Freeman character. The man that has given completely of himself for his family and needs to do things just for himself before it's his time to go. As we laughed about the things on our list, we began THE CONVERSATION, the one we've put off, the one that makes us uncomfortable. What will we do when the other dies.

We realized we don't really know the others last wishes. I know David has no clue about the what, where, and when. He would be lost when it came to life insurance, our finances, my personal things, OMG my art supplies! And as usual, he came up with an idea that was both smart and humorous. Okay maybe only to us, but it works.

The Death Box.

In it will be our will that we are in the process of doing, the living will in case we get sick and can't make a decision about our healthcare, insurance papers, and all the names and numbers of what needs to be taken care of financially. It will be easy to get to and everything in one place. It serves to reduce the stress when the time comes. It's something we all need to do but sadly many of us don't.

When my mother was told she didn't have much time left, she showed me where all her important papers where. She told my stepfather and I what she wanted for her funeral and then signed the do not resuscitate papers.

I can not imagine making any decisions the day she died. In the end she was still mom, she took care of everything. That week I was in a fog and she allowed me to grieve without having to make any decisions.

We want to give each other and our children that freedom.

Not Ready to Be a Proud Card Carrying Member

The envelope came this week. To be honest, it came as a bit of a surprise. I really thought the mailman made a mistake.....till I saw my name on it. Wait a minute here, I'm not 50 yet. I haven't wrapped my head around the fact yet.... that I'll be 50 in September. WOW! It's not that I don't KNOW I'll be 50 this year and in some ways I've been preparing for what I want to do for my birthday. But there is a difference between planning a getaway to a spa and a boozy filled weekend with the girls and shoving a "Hey yo, yeah you, you're old" card in my face. Nope, I'm not ready for that.

I stared at the envelope. I didn't open it, just stared at it. Then, as if it was some secret letter I had to hide from everyone, I quickly shoved it in my purse without even opening it. There it sits, hidden between my checkbook and my make up bag.

Getting older isn't a big deal to me or so I thought, until a few months ago when I missed my period. Since puberty I've been like clockwork. Hence, when each time I got pregnant I knew right away that I was. Before this happened, I couldn't wait till menopause came so I wouldn't have to deal with that anymore. It's not like I was going to have any more kids, I got my tubes tied years ago so I saw no point in having my life interrupted every month with cramps, bloating and spending money on tampons.

The day that I realized that I actually missed my period, I cried. Instead of being thrilled as I always imagined I would be, I mourned my loss. My forgetfulness and foggy brain these past few months weren't stress related as I had thought it was. It's the beginning of menopause.

Through tears, I told David I missed my period. I needed him to wrap his arms around me and tell it me it was okay and that it didn't make a difference. Instead, he looked like I had just hit him over the head and he asked me..." Are you pregnant?" Dude, seriously? If that was the case I would be happily planning how we would be spending all the money we would get from the lawsuit for a screwed up tubal ligation. GEEZ!!

There are changes to body that I've accepted. The wrinkles on my face let me know that I have always smiled alot. Those bags under my eyes mean I don't rest enough. The grey in my hair is respectfully (for the time being) coming in closer to my scalp, well hidden from view. I can get highlights, I like my hair lighter anyway. It has been a hard winter and my legs and feet, OMG the feet are super dry. I officially now have my mom's disgusting scaly, cracked feet. I'm sure I could cut my husband's legs in his sleep if I didn't apply lotion on them. But last month I discovered something new. I was taking my undies off and I saw all these white little flakes in my black pretty undies. At first I thought it was baby powder, till I realized I don't use any. Then it hit me. WTF....who gets dry ass cheeks? Is it just me? Is my skin THAT dry that even my ass cheeks, who never are exposed to the elements, start sloughing skin like a snake?

These days I apply body lotion head to toe when I get out of the shower. My butt cheeks are now happy.

I've started a new chapter in my life that I'm not so willing to begin, but as my husband says...it's better than the alternative. So today I'm opening up my AARP letter. I hear I can get discounts.

Cutting the cord....5 years too late

There was a time when I couldn't wait till all 3 kids turned 18 and move out of the house. I dreamt that when that day came, I would be doing a naked dance around the house with my ball and chain of how ever many years, and I wouldn't have to be so involved in every aspect of their lives. My life would be my own.

HA! The joke is on me.

The happy naked dance never happened.

I'll admit it, I cried when each left, but I knew we had done a good job raising them. I was proud of them and it was time for them to embark on their own journey. Each took their own path, the oldest got married and started his own family, the youngest is on her own and learning to be independent, and my middle son is following his dream.

This past week has taught me a few things about myself as well as having adult children.

My 23 yr old son's fiance went out to visit him in Denver last week and it wasn't the week either of them had envisioned. The life he is leading there is very different than the one he led here. This life doesn't work very well with a long distance relationship. They broke up.

After hearing third party analysis of what happened, I called my son. It broke my heart to hear his voice. It was torn between staying with the band or coming back home to Laura and the life he had here. Our families are intertwined even before they became a couple, so this has affected us all. My son is hurt and confused. I thought of all kinds of ways for this to work out. He could fly home away from everything that is going on there and get a different perspective. I made plans.

I realize that I take charge of situations and try to fix them. Some people may even call it being a control freak, I prefer the nicer version...a control enthusiast. But there comes a time that you have to step back and accept the fact that you did your job and that from now on you have to just be the observer and bite your tongue. This only happened after I spoke to Laura. After I heard her version of what transpired. It's only then, that I went from the mommy part of me, "my poor baby" to the woman in me, "WTF" to the angry mommy side, " I didn't raise him, to act that way".

Going to Denver, I knew was going to be very different for him. We had talked about it. My concerns and fears for him. I was constantly reminded that we had done a good job and he had a good head on his shoulders. But then I had my second conversation with him and I was angry.
Because the stories I heard was not the son I knew, it was not the man I believed him to be...it was not who I raised.

He has only been gone 4 months. Can that change a man so much? That his wants and needs come first at whatever the cost? Has his head become so big from the adulation and having groupies? Dude, it's not the Rolling Stones, you may be big enough in your corner of the world. But....Seriously???

So this Valentine's Day, I have to accept the fact that I can't fix this. That I have to watch the train wreak from the sidelines. I have to believe that we taught him well and at some point he will realize that how he is behaving is not who he is. I may be disappointed in him at this time but I have to believe that this will pass.

Tony is not 3 anymore and I can't make him do or act as I think he should.
I can not mend their broken hearts nor can I make everything all better.

It is hard to completely let go.
It is hard for me to not tell him what I think he should do.
I want to scold him for behaving the way he is.

I want my baby boy back..... but I've had to cut the cord, even though it's 5 years after I should have..

Googling In Search of Tony

I came across this in my quest to find pictures of Tony with the band. The guy that posted it even said he had tons of pics from the show. Naturally I followed the link only to find that his myspace page is private. Now let me explain the issues I have with this. First off...I want to SEE my baby boy. Secondly....private??? WTF???? You want to make your page private, thats fine, but then you shouldn't be able to be nosey and view others at will. Now I could have added him as a friend, but I figured he would think I was some creepy old hag that was trying to befriend him. So I called Laura (who at this moment is out in Denver visiting Tony) to let her know about the pictures and maybe she could befriend this guy. But oh the sweetie was way ahead of me. She not only did she know about it but she had already befriended said guy AND dowloaded all the pics with Tony. I'm not posting all of them (there are alot) but here are some.

In viewing all these band pictures, I realized a few things....I see my son is doing what he loves and is where he is suppose to be at this time in his life. Missing him like crazy but it warmed my heart when the first picture I opened was this...

Then these....

The Bitch Comes Out

Each day seems to get harder. The money gets tighter and we get more stressed.
Yesterday I said some things to David that later I regretted. After I had a mini freak out and I vomited out words I shouldn't have said, I realized it's not just about me.
Even though he is the quiet, laid back one in our relationship, I didn't take the time to see how all this affects him. I am such a bitch some times that I even disgust myself. Last night I was so ashamed at myself, I couldn't apologize enough. David? Well as usual he took it stride and told it was okay and not to worry about it.

This is a man who has always worked and made sure we were taken care of. He has dinner for me when I get home or will make it once i get here. I go to work and my mind has the chance to NOT think about our situation for at least 8 hours. But for him that's all he thinks about. He is holding it together in his way and since it's not MY way....I don't see it and obviously don't acknowledge it. I feel terrible. I really need to take his feelings at this time into consideration...I'm not the one at home going nuts, worried about my job and my lack of a paycheck. I am not the one feeling like I am not contributing to our household.
If it was me, you know about it cause I would let everyone know how I felt..I would be crying and feeling sorry for myself. But David is not me and he just is quiet and trying to help in other ways around the house, as he waits for his boss to tell him there is work.
I need to learn how to be quiet sometimes

Time to Pull Up the Big Girl Panties

This past week isn't any different than the last few months. The only thing that changed was my perception of what is going on here. I opened my eyes and I hit the wall. Reality set in.
David has been out of work since Thanksgiving and what I make every month doesn't cover all the bills. So naturally the deck of cards was slowly crumbling. I had hope though...I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I was making big plans for my birthday with the girls and then a side trip with David and another couple. This won't last, I convinced myself...we'll be okay. I was cheerful till I took Friday off to get some business taken care of.

The realization of how bad the situation is, came crashing in on me. I knew it was bad...how could I not know? I knew. I just KNEW it was all going to be okay, so I was still hopeful..till Friday.
Friday coupled with David getting in an accident in my car this week, put me over the top. Even though the accident wasn't his fault and we have full coverage...it's just too much.

I made a list. (I love making lists). I started with the mortgage company...I had already called and have been getting documents together to work out our mess. But this time I got some asshole, who basically made me feel like shit. He didn't give any hope, just hey pay or you lose your house. I paid my mortgage, but this guy drew the grim picture. I ended up sobbing when I got off the phone. As I scramble to keep everything afloat..there are some things that are falling by the wayside. And now the light at the end of the tunnel as been extinguished.

David is leaving this week to do a side job out of town. So I will be alone for a week, maybe two.
He wants Anjelika to come and stay here while he is gone. Me? I think I'd rather be alone with my thoughts.

Yesterday, we took care of some more things and we may just barely squeak by.
I feel like we are 20 yrs old again and starting out instead of where we were just this past summer. I'm going backwards instead of forward. Friday I just wanted to run away...leave it all behind. But then what? Where would we go? What would we do? I know there are people out there alot worse off than we are. I can sympathize. I am scared for the first time in over 28 years. I have already let go off the luxuries. We have the basics. So for now we are hanging on.

After I was done paying the bills and saw what was left.. wow..our bank account hasn't been this low in soooo long. I freaked out.

So I laid down and slept..... tomorrow is another day.

He's What???

Last week was Desi's birthday. I can't believe he is two. We can now hear actual words instead of just grunts and groans. My favs so far??? "What?" ( with hand gestures included..totally his dad), "Pees" (please) and of course hearing him say "Mima".

Last Sunday I made chocolate chip cupcakes so we stopped by and gave him a cupcake and his remote control car. He LOVES cars! When he is here he falls asleep with his hotwheels in his hands.

Today the whole family was here, minus Tony of course. I decided to do a kids themed dinner with mini burgers, pigs in a blanket, pepperbellys, and chips n dip. I made a sad looking cake ( it drooped but tasted good)and decorated it by making it a bilingual cake. Due to the fact I was craving chocolate, I also made fudge brownies.


And as always in this house the evening had to end with some music. This time, the next generation chimed in.

Inauguration: The Cuban Connection

My skin color is not black, it is white. But I am not looked upon as being white. I am Cuban, therefore, I'm really Hispanic. I was born here in Chicago, in the USA but I'm not an American, so I am a Cuban-American. That's okay with me because I am proud of who I am and that my parents came here to this country in search of a better life.

I will be 50 this year and it means I was alive during the Kennedy administration, MLK's
I Have A Dream speech, race riots of the 60's, first man on the moon, and now another monumental moment in history.

Tonight as my husband slept through the recap of today's historic events, I cried as I watched...again.

I cried because I remembered my dad.

It wasn't till I started school that I began to learn the English language. I remember crying when my dad would drop me off at kindergarten, not only because I was left there, but because I couldn't communicate with anyone. Though I did learn to speak English eventually, I wasn't allowed to speak it at home. Homework? My dad would make me struggle on my own or ask the teacher. As I grew older and it became apparent that I needed help with a subject, my dad sent me to see my Uncle Rick. My uncle was Mexican by other peoples standard at that time, though his family were Texans since after the Alamo and didn't speak Spanish. My poor uncle had to struggle with Spanish when he met my aunt. Anyway, that's who I could speak English to and get help from.

When I hit the smart ass teenage years, I made a nasty comment to my dad how I was never allowed to speak English at home or get any help with homework. My dad sat me down and explained a few things that night that opened up my eyes and had me remember a few things I either had forgotten or blocked out.

He told me of how my uncle Rick would have to make calls for him to look at apartments only for the landlord to turn them away once he saw what my father looked like, how the only job he could get was as a dishwasher at the Conrad Hilton, and how my mom ate chili at the factory for over a year because she couldn't understand the labels. He reminded me how he would have me read the comic strips to him every night not because he couldn't, but because he wanted me to practice my English. My father loved to read and always read the newspaper to better his English.
I use to laugh at my dad when he said the word funny, because it came out sounding like..fooney.
Chicken was sheeken and ...well you get the idea. The reason I wasn't allowed to speak English at home was because he didn't want me to pick up their accent and then be ridiculed as they had been. He reminded me of the boy in my 4th grade class that called me a "spic", and though I had no idea what the word meant, I knew it was mean by his facial expression, so I clobbered him.
Of course I got in trouble and my father was called in for a conference with the teacher. Though my father didn't condone my behavior he also explained to the teacher what the boy called me. My teacher's reply was that my dad needed to teach me how to control my temper.....damn that Latin temper. The boy? nothing, no staying after school, parents called, nothing. By father just shook his head, walked out and told me not to smack anyone again.

Then my father brought up the boy I had just been dating.
The new boy loved coming over but never took me around his neck of the woods. I had never been to the SW side of Chicago and was curious to see Marquette Park cause I heard it was beautiful. When I finally asked why we never went by his house, he said we couldn't. I just assumed it was too far to come way over to the north side only to turn around and go back to the SW side, to then do it all over again. So I started to ask again and again and again till the truth spilled out. "I can't take you to my house because of my dad" Hmmm is he sick? crazy??
" No, it's your name" Huh?? I know my name is hard to pronounce and the way people say it in English isn't the way it's pronounced but...I don't get it.
Clueless....and as the boy looked down at his feet, my dad explained.
"You're not white..."
Yes I am, my skin is just as white as his...it even says it on my birth certificate.
"You're not in his eyes, once he hears your name ..and it doesn't matter that you speak like him or all your other friends."

Well that was then end of that.

When David told his family I was Cuban..they asked if I was black.
When I got pregnant...they worried if he would be dark. Did they NOT meet my family?

So I cried today. I cried for my dad and what he and my family went through.
I cried because I do understand discrimination first hand. I cried because I am proud to be an American and to see a nation united on such a historic day.

I cried.

Baby It's Cold Outside

What happened to Global Warming???

It is beyond cold outside. Right now it is 6 degrees and steadily dropping.
The weather channel is saying more snow is suppose to come our way. I HATE winters in Chicago. It is only around this time of year that I miss living in Miami.

Last night I stopped in to visit with Damien and his family. While I was there it had started snowing. By the time I left, there was a pretty good dusting on my car...but SOMEHOW, through all that snow... a cop was able to see the little sticker on my license plate was expired and felt the need to get out of his warm patrol car and stick a lovely orange ticket on my car.

GOD I HATE THIS WEATHER!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yesterday: Lost in Translation

All day I've contemplated doing a bit of a rebuttal and I feel like I need to explain a few things.

Yesterday I blogged about my view of the mother daughter relationship from a mother's perspective. I meant it to be humorous but also make a point. But from the comments and emails I received, the humor part was lost on some.

First I want to say how lucky and blessed I am that all 3 of our kids still like to hang out with us. They pop in frequently and call throughout the week.
We have fun together and truly enjoy each others company. Damien getting married is just another sibling for Tony and Anjelika and for us another daughter.

The fact that I wrote that my daughter just pops on over without calling is only because I would like to spare her the embarrassment that I endured (as did my mom) when I walked in on her and my step dad unannounced. Scarred for life, from then on, I never used my key.

We all go through our trials and tribulations with teenagers, especially when those teenagers are our daughter. Some of those comments I made, did happen and that is how I felt. We laugh about them now. Did I think some of the stuff she said was stupid...yes. Would I actually say that? No. My words were more like.."what are you thinking". As for not being there for her? I always have been and still am. I listen, comfort, and give advise. Only now I try to do it only when I'm asked.

There are times that we as mothers do not want to be bothered. The fact that I said that, caused all kinds of commotion. I know I'm not the only one that feels this way. I worked full time and trying to divide my attention between 3 kids and a husband, was exhausting. How do some women find the balance? I never did. So the only one that didn't get as much attention was me.
Don't get me wrong, a martyr I'm wasn't. I'm still trying to find that balance. Why? Because we never stop being a mother. I couldn't even imagine my life without them. I am richer for having the chaos that is my family. We are a loud bunch with music and laughter filling the air. I wouldn't have it any other way.

But just as our kids bitch and moan about us, there is nothing wrong with saying that sometimes motherhood is a pain in the ass. The mother-daughter thing? Well that just makes it a bigger pain in the ass, cause we butt heads more.

I wasn't the Leave it to Beaver mom or even Mrs. Brady. I didn't have the books or the Internet then . I flew by the seat of my pants. I cheated by buying cookies at the bakery, then decorated a coffee can and passed them off as home made, I rearranged my schedule at work in order not to miss a school recital, and made a craptacular angel costume by hand for Damien's first school play. I would compare myself to the other moms I saw, and think...wow, I so suck at this. But those times that I considered a pain in my ass, also make the best memories.

Damien and Anjelika both read my post, with two very different reactions.
Anjelika laughed and agreed with me. She knows me best I think, but also knows that even now, I'm am there for her no matter what. Damien thought it was scathing. When I reminded him that it's nothing she doesn't know and that it was meant to be humorous, he just shook his head.

Back when he had to wear that craptacular angel costume and I sat there crying, feeling ashamed and sorry for him compared to the other kids. He wiped my tears and asked me why I was crying. I apologized to him for not having a nice costume like his classmates. He held my face in his hands and told me that he was proud of his costume because I had made it and that he was the only one with a glittery cardboard harp.

Today that same little boy is now a man with his own son. Today he told us how much he loves us and then reminded me that he is a musician.

Okay, and???

"Don't blog about me and I won't write a song about things that bug me about you"

I know I bug you.

" yeah well, don't make me write a song for everyone to hear"

So now I'm thinking...What will he name it and if it will be a collaborative effort with Tony and Anjelika.

Insert a haha now.

A Mothers View on Mother-Daughter Relationships

After 9 glorious hours of sleep, I grab my coffee and head on over to blogher. As I bounce from post to post I come across one about the mother daughter relationship and it's complications. And as I read more, I come across our view as we get older and we become the care givers.

Which makes me think of how my view of my own mother changed with my mom and dad's divorce during my late teens and then when I became the caregiver and her heart started failing.

But that isn't what this post is about.

Where is the view from a mother's perspective on this subject? I can't seem to find it.

Does it go against good parenting to voice how WE feel about this complicated relationship?

Will I be viewed as a bad mom or am I really the only one that feels this way? (Which is actually my biggest fear.)

Out of the 3 kids, she is the one who sucks the life out of me. It's exhausting. But I'm there.

Why? Cause I'm the mom, I love her, and that is what I'm suppose to do. Do I want to? Not really, not always. I find myself comparing our relationship to mine and my mothers. It's different because, I made sure of it. I wanted the open and honest relationship that I didn't have. So I made my bed and I'm laying in it.

Anjelika will be 22 in less than 2 months. She is the youngest of 3 and the only girl. The boys were a piece of cake in comparison. She is very different than me...not that I wanted a mini me. She has traits that I wish I had and I'm proud she is outspoken and opinionated, not worrying on how she is viewed by others. But I am mom and I don't really want all her outspoken and opinionated views. She is open with me to the point of me cringing at times. She is honest to the point where I've learned through her, that little white lies are definitely so much better than the hard core truth. Filter..PLEASE!!!

So as I read about all the complaints daughters have about their mothers. Here I have some of MY complaints through the years about my daughter.

1. If you know I think he's a douche,why do you feel the need to: talk, complain, or bring him into this house.

2. If you know my opinion on a subject and it differs from your view, don't get pissed. Why even bring it up? It's an OPINION. MINE!

3. If you know that the outfit you are wearing makes me think of a hooker in the red light district, don't show me or ask me "How do I look". You know you won't leave the house looking like that.

4. If you know that your bedroom looks like a wrecking ball just hit it, don't tell me you can't find___. You know what I'll say.

5. If you know that I've carved out some me time in my art studio, it's not the time to hear about your problems with your roommate. I can care less right now or any other time for that matter.

6. If you ask me for my advise and don't agree and voice that you knew I'd say that...then don't ask me in the first place.

7. If you start a conversation with me by saying.."this may sound stupid to you" you are right...it is.

8. If you see me reading a book, do not cover the pages with your hand to get my attention. You are 20 not 2 and it's not cute anymore...that just pisses me off.

9. If you know that me and your dad haven't had a vacation sans kids in all our years together and we finally plan one...don't invite yourself along cause you need to get away for awhile.

10. If you know that me and you dad are now alone in the house. Don't you think you should call first before coming over?

I'm just saying.

I seriously believed that once they were adults it would be my time, but boy...it NEVER ends.

Now I will gladly accept the crappy mommy award, thank you very much.

If It's Too Loud, You're Too Old

Tonight there is a show at Reggie's. There is great music, good friends, and free flowing booze.
And what am I doing?

I'm taking a nice long hot bubble bath in a freshly soap scum free tub (courtesy of David) with
a bottle of wine for company.

Nowadays after a long rough week, I like my Fridays very mellow.

Pray I don't drown while mellowing out.

Whadaya Mean I Can't Tell Anyone???

I'm on my way home from work and talking to Tony on my cell, when he tells me some BIG..I mean HUGE news.
Then adds....."Please don't tell anyone yet." Huh???
Do you not know who you are talking to?
And just like that, he tells me he has to let me go cause he is on his way to practice.

Quickly I call him back to get the ok to tell his dad. He laughs and gives me the ok and says he is only telling his siblings and Laura till everything is in place.

I so suck at keeping big news in.

I pounce on David as soon as I walked in the door. In typical verbal diahrrea form, out spills this fantastic news. His reaction?? "Oh cool."
THAT'S IT???
God I hate laid back people sometimes.

So now I have all this amazing info and I'm busting to tell the world...and I can't...I PROMISED.
Shit this so sux!

If I give a hint..it's not really blabbing is it???

Music and a certain well known station..

That's all I'm saying..lips are now sealed.

A Special Bond

Anjelika has her first date tonight since her break up with Kirby.
It's the first time I've seen her THAT excited in a long time. She was stressing about picking up her outfit and still having time to go work out before getting ready.

So tonight I got a text from Emilie telling me that Anjelika had asked her to help her get ready. Emilie applies makeup like a pro and she did a great job as usual. Then she did her hair. She took a picture and sent it to me. Not only did I get details about the makeup used but she texted me this..." It's so cute. It's like I have a little sister." Both Emilie and Anjelika have 2 brothers and they are the only girls.

Instead of getting her BFF to help, she asked Emilie.... her SIL.
Even though they live in the same building and one floor apart, she doesn't want to bother her.
It warms my heart that she reached out to Emilie for help and that Emilie was there to act like the big sister she doesn't have. To not only help get her ready but to share in her excitement. And I see how their relationship has been growing outside of the SIL relationship...as sisters...as friends

Damien did good by marrying her...though I already know this....she always finds another way to tug at my heartstrings.