elephant in the room/car/boat

the stone on my engagement ring is lime green, which happens to be my favorite color. it's a peridot, probably from afghanistan, on a vintage setting, probably from the sixties. panzón and i bought it online and it came one november morning on a big brown truck, as we were leaving for disneyland with my parents. my dad, who has a sixth sense for delivery trucks, caught a glimpse of it and tracked it down, first by car, then by foot. we watched as he persuaded the man in the brown uniform, with matching socks, to give him the parcel by showing him the address on his drivers license. my dad got back in the car and triumphantly handed the cardboard box over to panzón, who opened it and, after rummaging through the packaging popcorn, extracted a small ring box. i covered my eyes as the three of them oohed and aahed.

once the ring was safely in its box in panzón's pocket, we stopped talking about it and it became the elephant in the room, or rather, the car. panzón smuggled the lime green elephant into disneyland, where it almost made its debut on the dumbo ride, which would have been so fitting, except that i made the mistake of saying that i thought that movie was sad. as the day went on, my initial excitement turned into anxiousness, then irritation, and finally into indifference.

later that afternoon, when i had already forgotten about the whole thing, i felt a nervous hand searching for my finger in the quiet, pitch dark of the pirates of the caribbean ride, between the blue bayou restaurant and the first drop, before all of the yo-ho-ho-ing. the ring felt heavy on my finger, but heavier still was the frustration of not being able to see it. i was so preoccupied with this that i completely forgot about the drop and suddenly felt the rush of weightlessness. the elephant fell off the boat and was replaced by laughing and hugging and kissing.

here's a lime green elephant that you can actually ride from danish company, bObles: http://tr.im/DmrH

quinceañera

i've only been to a quinceañera once in my life. it was not mine and i was not fifteen. i was probably around seventeen when my lifelong and then inseparable friend, ev, invited me to his cousin's party.

i met ev at the cute little french school in guadalajara (in mexico, not spain) when we were around three-and-a-half years old. he had extremely straight, shiny, dark hair, which he later dyed royal blue in high school, and very squeezable cheeks, which he still has, under his beard. he loved dinosaurs and slimy goblins and had a birthday party at guadalajara's first mcdonald's, which was so avant-garde at the time.

after many years apart, we reconnected in los angeles, when he came to visit with his family. we were delighted to discover that we were both avid listeners of the smashing pumpkins and other similar bands. we were moving back to mexico and ev, with plenty of encouragement from my parents, convinced me to go to his high school. soon after that, i myself turned fifteen, for which my parents gave me a very special gift: a pair of silver eight-hole doctor martens.

so here we are, around seventeen and at a quinceañera, dancing exaggeratedly like we've always enjoyed, mouths halfway open, arms flying everywhere. ev tells me in a serious tone that we have to talk. oh my god. the talk. this is going to ruin our friendship. he's totally going to tell me that he likes me. wow, it really took him a while to realize it, but it was bound to happen. now i'm going to have to tell him that we're just friends, but it'll never be the same again. i ineffectively try to avoid the talk and it eventually makes its way to my ears, but wait! what just came out of ev's mouth? did he just say that he's bisexual? i love it! i give him a big hug and tell him how great that is.

how embarrassingly enormous was my ego? huge. and how horribly wrong was my gaydar? very. ev is now a super talented artist in the gay art scene (http://ivanlozano.net).

you say tomato

the best halloween costume i have ever had is, by far, the custom-made tomato costume i wore when i was nine years old, and again when i was ten and living in another city in another country. i tried wearing it after that, because i am a firm believer of extending the useful life of things, but, sadly, i could not fit into it anymore.

my thin limbs were made red by leggings and a turtleneck, and my midsection was completely covered by a red bubble, giving me warmth, while providing me with much appreciated room to expand my stomach, privacy to scratch my bellybutton, if necessary, and storage space. the hat was the finishing touch, soft and lampshade-like with a green stem sticking out at the top, also doubling as an emergency treat bag.

now that i think about it, this would have been the perfect costume for me when i was pregnant, two years ago, had we celebrated halloween. it's super comfortable, the red accentuates maternal glow, and you can secretly stash all of the candy you can get your hands on, while giving a healthy impression to others, especially kids. the only drawback: running into naughty nurses, desirable devils, foxy french maids and feeling, well, like a big about-to-burst blob.

trencadís

every week i add a new recipe to my limited repertoire, as an attempt to expose coco to new flavors and ingredients, especially vegetables other than peas, tomatoes, corn, and the occasional carrot. last week, i made this zucchini lasagna (http://tr.im/BQ3O), which, of course, coco didn't even touch. can't blame me for trying.

when i make lasagna of any sort, i usually miscalculate the noodles, even though i use the super easy non-boil kind. foodies, say what you will, but cooking anything more elaborate than a quesadilla around a toddler is a feat. i just say, good thing these lasagnas aren't buildings.

in this occasion, i had to use my creativity to make up for missing sheets by summoning the pasta-shattering powers of antoni gaudí. with my yucatecan salt and pepper shakers looking on, i put together this masterpiece, that was later covered up by a sticky ricotta and cream cheese mixture and, by absorbing moisture from other ingredients, expanded in my toaster-oven, hiding its cracks forever.

by the way, coco didn't touch it because it had zucchini and because she didn't believe the white stuff was cheese, but it really did turn out delicious.

on & off

the weekend came and left, as did my sister and adorable baby nephew, and coco's cold. i was not quite sure how coco was going to react to their visit, even though there was definitely some mental preparation going on before their arrival, which included a framed photograph of said nephew in coco's room, right next to the paddington bear chata brought her from london. it's challenging to explain that tía chata is my sister, and therefore her aunt, when coco herself has no siblings to speak of.

the reason i worry about these things is mostly because on previous visits with family and friends, since she was an infant, coco would scream when she was held, and sometimes even touched, by someone other than myself, panzón or my parents. this would me to stress out because, for one, her screaming would pierce my brain via both of my ears, and because even though adults understand that babies are fickle, i just know that it made tiny cracks in the hearts of family members.

now that toddlerhood has given coco more independence and confidence in herself, and that she doesn't have to be held at all, she gives us one loud, juicy kiss on each cheek and a big hug, which, to my amazement, was the greeting tía chata received when she walked through the door. coco melted when she saw her baby cousin and immediately gave him his long-anticipated nickname, ov, which is pronounced OFF.

during their visit, she would gently pat his head, sweetly kiss his chubby cheeks, and lightly touch his nose with the tip of her finger. she wanted him to sit close to her, so that they could enjoy a book together. the cold situation had me a bit uneasy, but the tenderness that oozed from coco and ov being together was just irresistible.

incidentally, coco has started referring to herself by her real name, which she pronounces ON.

why bingo, anyway?

my mom and i planned a baby shower for my older, and only, sister, who we very lovingly call chata, which means short nose. this is a pretty common nickname in spanish-speaking countries. she calls mesnot face sometimes, which is infinitely worse, so it evens out. anyway, she was expecting her first baby, a boy, who is now almost four months and absolutely adorable, and for whom i still have not made up a nickname. i'm hoping something will occur to me during their visit this weekend, something that does not involve noses or snot. coincidentally, coco has just come down with a cold and a small, yet constant, amount of snot is trickling down from her nose.

anyway, we wanted to have games at her shower and looked desperately online for a modern bingo game, only to find hideous, outdated versions that did not go with our event, which turned out beautifully, by the way. so, i decided to make the game myself, using photoshop. it was a huge hit! a couple of guests went so far as to say that i should sell it. i was flattered, but didn't really take it seriously until i found that i had some extra time on my hands, in the form of small gaps during the day (coco's nap time, video-watching time and alone playtime), and that motherhood had transformed me into a more productive person (see procrastination post).

i started slowly, reading about home-based craft businesses, learning the basics of illustrator, finding suppliers and thinking about a format that would save time and money, while reducing waste. i developed the cluster design concept, which made sense to me, since every game is in itself a cluster of images. i made these illustrations, bought the necessary supplies and equipment, and, although it happened little by little, before i knew it, i had the first cluster design bingo in my hands. i opened my etsy shop and, as a way to promote it, opened a facebook page, twitter account and, finally, started my blog.

i have enjoyed every moment of the process, which has been a much needed creative outlet and a source of great personal motivation, and am exited about the journey that lies ahead. i can also thank bingo for my blog, which allows me to deconstruct my personal cluster and share it with others.

mary lou

my athletic performance throughout my life has been mediocre at best. it all started during toddlerhood, when my mother took me to swimming lessons at a dark, warm and humid place that smelled of chlorine and the promise of a chocolate chip cookie. i was outraged to find that my instructor was a male, who wore speedos, and demanded someone else if i was expected to attend subsequent classes.

when i was about three years old, i tried gymnastics. my sister excelled at the sport, won several medals and was obsessed with nadia comaneci. we watched the nadia movie (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087774) like a million times. we each had the 1984 olympics american leotard and pretended to be gymnasts at home. she was always nadia, of course, and i was mary lou retton because my hair was short like hers, my sister explained. i didn't even know who she was. anyway, at the gym, my underwear would bunch up and peek through the leg line. plus, every time i attempted doing a forward roll, i would pee a little, creating a dark circle that would be clearly visible when i tried to do side splits.

later on, i tried ballet. although wearing tights under the leotard was a great improvement in my opinion, i still detested the color pink, especially powder pink, and was quite disappointed to learn, after the first class, that i would not be using a tutu on a regular basis.

then, after failing miserably at tennis, there was swimming, again. i overcame some obstacles, like changing in the locker room and diving into cold water and wearing a swim hat and showering in the locker room after class. i was doing okay, until i was signed up for a swim meet by my instructor and mom, who thought it would be a good thing, at the time. the day of the swim meet came, my parents and sister were there, along with the parents and siblings of what seemed to be a hundred competitors. i swam and swam, while loud speakers announced winners. i kept swimming and swimming, while the pool slowly emptied out. i had swum my last lap, when i realized i was one of three swimmers left. yes, i came in 98th place.

i pretty much gave up on all sports after that. years later, i discovered yoga and have been practicing, on and off, for a number of years. my mom is happy that i finally found a physical activity that i enjoy, but wishes she would have known about it when i was a child. oh well, better late than never.

mixing the colors

coco and i started going to this crazy mommy and me class that is a hodgepodge of cultures, where at least six languages are spoken. the teacher tries desperately to get everyone's attention by shouting in english, while moms chat away in hindi or spanish, or encourage their children in russian or japanese, or scold their kids in farsi or hebrew. it is total chaos, yet coco loved it from the start.

there is a table set up for craft-making, which is always a messy affair. aesthetics are not a top priority for toddlers, who prefer to use every color within reach, usually resulting in a mishmash of hues. coco invariably ends up with paint on her shirt, although today it found its way to her socks and even her shoelaces. her artwork is proudly displayed on our refrigerator, right next to andy warhol and, ironically, the famous less is more statement by mies van der rohe.

circle time takes the form of an amoeba, specked with pom poms, hand puppets and bubbles. ridiculous dance moves are made, chubby fingers are accidentally stepped on, songs are exaggeratedly sung with accompanying hand gestures, and translations are simultaneously whispered, as coco exclusively understands spanish at the moment.

during snack time the moms tend to regroup, a picnic table per ethnic background, it seems. we're the exception, choosing to sit at a remote table with our friends, who got us into this mess in the first place, for which we are ever so grateful.

potty time!

the other afternoon, my parents, coco and i were sitting in the living room having cookies and coffee with/or milk, when coco suddenly announced "¡pipi, caca!" and tugged at her diaper. my mom, whom i had asked previously for guidance during the daunting period of potty training, asked coco if she wanted her to take her to the bathroom. coco, who calls my mom tita, sternly said "tita no". so, my dad, also known as tata, certain that she would give him a negative, offered. to his great surprise, she answered "tata sí". we all looked at each other in shock. coco had never wanted to go to the bathroom, not even with me. tata panicked and tried desperately to get tita or me to take her, but he was the chosen one, so now he had to go.

before coco, my dad had never changed a baby's diaper, ever. much like myself, he didn't know the first thing about potty training, since my mom did all of the dirty work with my sister and i. nonetheless, he took coco into the bathroom by the hand, lowered her pants, removed her diaper and had her sit on her potty. he encouraged her to go and waited a couple of minutes. even though it turned out to be fruitless, or pipi/caca-less, i was so proud of her for trying and grateful that my dad followed through and showed me how it's done!