let me tell you about my pop

*to the sound of let me tell you about my boat.*

bebitino popochón, as we like to call him around here, is the newest and squishiest member of our family. for blogging purposes i will call him pop, which, as you may already know, also means octopus in catalán. now that i think of it, he kind of resembles one when he scoots around the house on his bottom, stretching out his arms and one leg (he hasn't learned to crawl because being on his belly makes him feel like a beached whale).

anyway, my little pisces was born almost a year ago, a year that seemed either excruciatingly slow or lighting-fast, with moments where time stood still sprinkled here and there, all covered by a haze of sleeplessness.

pop himself is mostly restless, yet sometimes peaceful. he loves tickles and hugs, but will suddenly pull your hair or bite you, or both simultaneously. he's always so charming around people that no one believes he also has a tremendous temper.

he will wash over you like a wave, giving you a little tumble, and you will come out of it feeling refreshed, but probably missing a shoe, which he will of course be chewing on.

triple tiny tragedy (reconstructed)

fafa the fish died yet again. now that coco is three-and-a-half, i believe she could handle the truth and learn an important life lesson. after all, i was about the same age when my pet turtle died, one of those little ones that are smaller than a soap bar, and we buried it the pot of a huge interior plant (we lived in an apartment at the time). that prepared me somewhat for the subsequent deaths of future pets: michael jackson, janet jackson and madonna the fish (mildly tragic), natasha the poodle (somewhat tragic), zico the airdale terrier (terribly tragic), uma the great dane (heartbreakingly tragic), coco lee the poodle (untragic, due to old age) and now, the fafas (slightly tragic).

the point is we would have told her, had it not been for the sudden absence of her preschool class pet guinea pigs, tom and jerry. once the pride and joy of room 1, they eventually became a burden for the teacher, who grew tired of carrying their big cage to and from her house on weekends (and, i have now learned, was unable to care for them during the summer). i thought this issue had been resolved by a weekend custody calendar she started for the furry fellas. so imagine my surprise when i saw item #371 on the school's fundraising silent auction catalogue: adopt tom and jerry guinea pigs, starting bid $20, value priceless.

when she asked me about it, i explained to the curious coconut that they had found a better home. why? weren't they happy in room 1, where pudgy little fingers would lovingly pet (i.e. push, pull & poke) and feed (i.e. shove pieces of fruit and veggies down their throats) them? yes, WHY? why were they taken away with only a few weeks left until summer vacation?

this changed coco's entire preschool ecology and we weren't about to do the same at home. so we welcome fafa number three, a smaller and shyer version of fafa number two, and hopefully healthier than fafa number one.

where's my belly?

i'm four months into my second pregnancy, but my belly has not yet popped. meanwhile, my calendar looks like it's going to burst at the seams, at least for my relaxed standards. my days are filling up with preschool, playdates, ballet lessons (coco rocks in her black tutu), my etsy shop, volunteering for cicLAvia (which is this sunday, by the way!), and planning coco's third birthday party. oh, and i signed up to be room parent at the preschool, completely overlooking the fact that my due date is a couple of weeks before the school's biggest fundraising event. you know you've got pregnancy brain when you keep forgetting you're pregnant!

anyway, the other morning, coco and i were distributing some cicLAvia posters around our area and came upon a brand new yoga studio. unfortunately, they did not have a bulletin board, but before i could even open my mouth to say "thanks anyway", the male receptionist over-enthusiastically said, "wow! are those real? *pause* fruit loops?". i followed his stare to the fruit loop necklace snugly nestled between my breasts. i blushed and answered, "yes, yes they are". clearly, other parts of my body are popping.

leçon de ballet

coco is taking her first ballet lesson this afternoon. we got her a pair of these hideous intestine-pink ballet slippers, which look absolutely adorable on chubby little feet, but abstained from the tutu because her future in ballet is uncertain at this point.

the thing is, the class is technically for girls over three, but they made an exception for coco, since her birthday is only a month away. however, if the teacher thinks she's not ready for such sophistication, she'll be kicked out of the class. i can just imagine the teacher doing a grand battement on coco's petit derrière, sending her flying gracefully out of the studio.

i know coco is completely capable of doing whatever it is the teacher instructs, the real question is whether she'll understand these instructions in english. or will they be in french? my advice to coco: do as the tutus do and just try to make it through, and next class, you'll have a tutu, too.

belly does not equal baby

so motoneta (formerly known as coco) and i were at the park the other morning, when a very long stroller came through the gate and caught our four eyes. triplets! i explained to my little motoneta that those three babies had all been inside their mom's belly together and came out into this world one right after the other. it blows my mind, but she seemed unfazed.

anyway, she continued playing in the sand and i continued looking at her playing in the sand, when she asked me, "how many babies does that señora have in her belly?". i followed her gaze and found a very large woman walking towards us. she did not look pregnant, but obese, and i had a feeling she spoke spanish. i quickly responded, "um, i don't think she has any babies in her belly". but, of course, this answer was not enough for the extremely inquisitive motoneta, who further investigated by asking, right when the woman had taken a seat on the bench in front of us, "then why is her belly so fat?".

in that moment i looked down at the sand, wishing i could dig our way out of the pickle we were in just like fantastic mr. fox (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jq2I7xs0Dtc).

motoneta

coco has stopped being coco for a while now. ever since we went to barcelona in may, she's insisted on being called motoneta, which refers to a small motorcycle or moped. she was amazed by these little vehicles zooming past us on passeig de gràcia or parked in clumps everywhere. i think she saw funny faces on each one, kind of like jack black's motorcycle on that new friends yo gabba gabba episode (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qE3JRjcbcX8&feature=related).

so, it was really no surprise that when i asked her this morning about her upcoming birthday party theme, she quickly replied "¡motonetas!". i'm just glad her answer to the halloween costume question was "¡un cocodrilo!".

the bucket

coco's sand toys include: two buckets, one shovel, one rake and a set of rainbow stacking cups. we have managed to keep the cup set complete, which is pretty impressive, considering we share our toys with the other kids at the playground, which is an unspoken rule at our park. in the past week, our modest toy collection has been targeted twice by parents infected with a very unsettling, yet common virus: greed.

the first incident happened when i was gathering up our toys to leave the playground. our blue bucket (see image above) was missing, so i scanned the playground and found it in the sand amidst other plastic toys. i approached the middle-aged father sitting nearby and politely pointed out mine saying, "excuse me, i think that's my bucket", to which he replied, without even glancing at the aforementioned toys, "it's not. this is all our stuff". i said, "oh, okay" and walked away, even though i knew for a fact that it was coco's. i'm not spineless, i just figured it's not worth arguing about a bucket that costs a dollar.

just this morning, i witnessed a similar occurrence. coco and i were walking back to the playground after filling her remaining (pink) bucket with water, when i heard a mom asking her toddler, "isn't that your shovel?". she then walked over to the bench where our things were, grabbed the plastic toy and inspected it carefully. unsatisfied with her findings, she threw it on the ground. this woman is very attractive, drives a luxury suv and has a giant diamond ring. why does she care so much about a plastic shovel? i wonder what i would have done had she taken it.

it saddens me a little to think that i'm going to have to sharpie coco's name on her toys to avoid future confrontations with greedy parents and not possessive toddlers.

naïveté

coco's back and she's more potty trained than ever! ready for summer and (hopefully) ready for preschool, which is only a month away.

meanwhile, i'm filling out forms that make me realize two things: 1. that my hands start aching after two minutes of writing with a pen, and 2. that things might happen while coco is at school. i'm not talking about her being lost in translation or getting her feelings hurt by another kid. those are little things that i expect to happen. i'm talking about big things like THE BIG ONE. it freaks me out that i have to prepare an earthquake bag with an extra set of clothing and a meaningful item from home and pay $10 for an emergency kit containing food and other supplies.

this reminds me of the time panzón and i went to get my second or third ultrasound when i was pregnant. we were so excited to find out the sex of our baby that it hit us like a ton of bricks when the technician said quite indifferently, "the fetus shows no signs of malformation". and then, very causally, "so, do you want to know the sex?". holy crap. there could have been something wrong with the baby. that, it suddenly dawned on me, is why when asked what sex mothers want their unborn child to be, they answer with a (now-i-don't-think-it's-so-)corny, "i don't care, as long as it's healthy".

i guess i'm just naïve sometimes. which will probably come in handy when coco decides she wants to give scuba diving a shot or turns seventeen and wants to go to france for a semester. i'm just thankful that other people (people in schools and hospitals) give these things more thought.

leaving barcelona

we gave back the key to our miniscule loft on the morning of the second day of the year 2008. we wanted to stay until the very end, just like when we had arrived almost two years earlier when, wanting to move in as soon as possible, we had slept on towels and sheets because our mattress hadn't been delivered yet.

we celebrated new year's eve with a couple of benjamines, personal-sized bottles of cava (the spanish equivalent of champagne) and twelve wishing grapes each. we could barely hear the crowds of drunken people just a couple of blocks away, muffled by the thick walls of our old building into a quiet rumbling sound. the next day the streets were dead silent and the thick rug of broken glass that covers las ramblas every noche vieja was swept up and taken away by an army of small BCNeta! trucks as if nothing had happened.

the woman from the rental agency appeared at our soon-to-be ex-address at ten sharp and rang the alarmingly loud intercom. the space looked just as we had found it: empty, except for a ladder that we had lovingly added and two-month-old coco, fast asleep on her little raft, floating peacefully into oblivion. apparently, the lady was in a hurry and matter-of-factly rushed us out, slamming the door and ushering us out of the building into the now bustling street.

we wanted to take one last walk around before squeezing into our previously packed car and driving an hour or so to reus, where we would hibernate for a month, waiting for coco to be old enough for traveling overseas. it's very unsettling to feel so vulnerable in your own neighborhood, to have to pee and not be able to do so in your own bathroom. and i had to pee. so, we went to the only place that we knew we could count on near plaça catalunya, even though i always complained about it, el corte inglés, the famous spanish department store.

it was crowded, as always, and we waited while the sluggish elevators opened their doors to spit people out and gobble them up again repeatedly until it was finally our turn to be squashed with strangers. upstairs there was a very long line for the restroom, and by the time i was done, coco needed to be fed and changed. so we took the elevator again, which took infinitely longer than the first time, to the diaper changing station located on the children's level. there was also a lactation room, so i figured i should pump for coco's next feeding while we were there.

when we finally managed to step outside the five-level store, several hours had elapsed, it was getting dark outside and it had started raining heavily. after helplessly waiting for the rain to cease, we made a run for it, feeling horribly irresponsible for not having a rain cover for the stroller and trying our best not to fall on the slippery pavement.

we were drenched when we got to the car. we were so tired and so sad that it was actually quite comical. we drove slowly in the dark with the car's yellow lights illuminating the raindrops that the windshield wipers immediately swished away. coco was asleep and we drove in silence. then, two little bright white dots appeared in front of us. they kept growing and growing until we realized that a car was coming toward us on the slow lane of a four lane highway. i was so scared that i didn't even scream, i just thought this is it. cars kept passing us on the left, leaving no room for our red golf, but panzón managed to change lanes at the very last second and we made it.

yes, leaving barcelona was hard.

adiós, chupi

the other night right before bedtime, i mentioned to coco that her pacifier, which she calls chupi, was getting kind of gross and that we would have to throw it out soon. the next morning, she continued the conversation by asking, "we are going to buy a new one, right?", to which i had no answer. panzón got me off the hook by diverting her attention and later that day, after some thought, i told her that we would not be getting a new one.

i told her the truth, that she's too old to be using a pacifier and that it could be harmful for her mouth in the long run. she yelled out, "¡mama no!", and went running to her crib. i imagined a toddler protest scene: coco with the pacifier in her mouth, stomping her foot and holding on to her crib with all of her might. but she actually took the chupi out, kissed it several times and said goodbye. she then, to my utter amazement, threw it in the trash can. i almost cried.

tiny tragedy

yesterday was valentine's day and the sun came out in southern california to warm our damp hearts after a stormy month. we opened the blinds to let the sun pour into our living room and then left, enjoying a morning out at a sunday farmers market. panzón had to work, so coco and i spent the afternoon at my parents', watching the winter olympics, video-chatting with my sister, her husband and baby ov (who now crawls, by the way) and making a messy valentine card, which included gobs of glue and glitter, for panzón.

by the time we all got back home, which was past coco's bedtime, fafa the fish had ceased to exist. luckily, coco went straight to bed and didn't see him entangled in his fake plant, pale and motionless. he had been our pet for only two weeks and now he was being flushed down the toilet. i called my parents, who just happen to live close to the aquarium where we got the original fafa, and asked them to pick up a successor in the morning, while i took coco to the park.

panzón washed the fish bowl and put it back in its place, fake plant and all. this morning, coco was so busy getting dressed, eating breakfast and brushing her teeth, that she didn't realize her beloved fish was missing in his bowl. we had a great time at the park and when we got home, a slightly darker fafa was there to greet us.

here's to fafa the first. apparently the sun shone just a little too brightly for him.

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.

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.

in the bathroom

privacy practically ceases to exist in motherhood, especially during toddlerhood. i have learned to live with this and don't think twice about using the toilet in front of coco, which is extremely potty-educational, or bathing with the door wide open.

the real challenge is keeping her entertained and out of mischief for the duration of a shower. sometimes her natural curiosity is enough, though being scrutinized makes me feel somewhat awkward, but most of the time i have to be resourceful. i do a lot of disco-bathing lately, letting her practice with the light switch, while standing on a step stool placed against the wall. filling her potty (http://tr.im/z0f4) with bath toys (http://tr.im/z0eu & http://tr.im/z0eh) is also a great source of amusement and keeps her busy long enough to actually wash my hair! at least she's using her potty constructively, right?

procrastination

motherhood changes you. there's no way around it. it changes your body forever because, even if you lose the weight afterwards, the pregnancy fairy always leaves something under your pillow. bigger feet, for example, or, in my case, a tiny shift of the tailbone. i'm also pretty sure my bellybutton moved, though i can't precisely tell in which direction. most of my senses are sharper now, making danger-detection easier. unfortunately, my eyesight didn't benefit at all from maternity.

motherhood also affects the brain. priorities are reprioritized and attitudes towards life (or at least towards giving life) are carefully reconsidered. procrastination is reduced to a minimum because there is certainly no room for laziness in motherhood. you have to act now and you have to plan ahead. always.

these are things that i didn't do on a regular basis before. i have found great empowerment in ridding myself of the sticky slime that is procrastination. and now that napping, a pastime that had given me great joy for years, has become (almost) extinct, i have made a huge discovery: i have enough motivation and time and newfound structure to actually do something productive with my creativity. bingo!

moloko

the moment i looked at this vandalized city sculpture in reus (small city, south of barcelona, where famous architect antoni gaudí was born), i identified myself with it. with her. i was breastfeeding at the time, and let me tell you, it's tough. sure, it's healthy, natural and beautiful, but exhausting and, at times, even excruciating. that is something i was not expecting while i was expecting, during which a lot of my energy, and a little bit of fear, were focused on childbirth.

for the first few days, it was a cup of tea, lovely and sweet. as the hours progressed and the feeding continued, a slight discomfort turned into shut-your-eyes-and-squeeze-someone's-arm-pain that eventually became unbearable pain. after all, a tip of me was being sucked ferociously by a tiny, yet very hungry person.

what did i do? i pumped my way through three months of breastfeeding in a bottle. i did it every three hours, whether at home, in the car, at the museum (in the restroom, of course) or on an airplane. it was physically draining, which is why, when my coco became as plump as a cherub, i gradually stopped my supply. apparently, if i had originally sweated it out for two to four more weeks, everything would have gone back to cup-of-tea mode. unfortunately, i learned this after pumping my heart out.