Cowboy's birthday.

I'm going to try to catch up with some events I really want to document for SS. In late August SS attended L's (Cowboy) birthday party. When we saw the invitation we realized that SS is older. Way to go our little cougar! We later learned that his birthday is in September and there was a reason why they celebrated early. Once we found out the reason, we felt pretty awful, because once again, our snark bit us in the rear end.

As we were driving to Chuck E Velveeta, I noted that I had never met L, my daughter's first boyfriend. P told me that he would be easy to recognize as he had the biggest head of any child he had ever come across. That is exactly how I was able to pick him from the crowd, except I picked up on something my snarky husband missed, the shape of his head. L's parents and grandmother were all over SS, they are very nice people. They were aware of the fact that SS renamed him Cowboy, well, more like brow beat him into submission, and they were OK with it. L's mother stated that she was glad that SS was so strong minded. Bet she wouldn't say the same if they were teens and dating. She mentioned that L missed SS now that she is a senior. I did not know they were not together. L's mother (oops, can't remember her name) explained that they chose to postpone the transition to the senior class until after the surgery. That comment made us feel pretty bad and also confirmed my suspicions. One of the teachers later confirmed that L underwent cranial surgery. He has been out since September and SS misses him terribly. We are waiting until he is strong enough for a play date.

We have thought about L a lot since that day and hope he recovers soon. One more time when we reflect on how incredibly fortunate we are that SS has not had any major medical problems. Sure, she gets the sniffles more than most, and it may actually be allergies. At times we worry about her weight, or how she will always be shorter than same age peers. But we are lucky that the only time she has spent in a hospital was keeping her Mama company. We'll like to keep it that way.

An unusual right hand throw.

L made sure that SS sat on his left side.

Very happy with her pirate loot.

Opening SS's gift.

That's all folks!

Where's Baba?

That is the first thing SS asks when she wakes up if her Baba is not here. She always gets the same answer, I don't bother reminding her that she knows. For some reason she needs to hear that he is at work and will return home for lunch, like he has done for the past three years. But our hyper sensitive SS has abandonment issues, so we indulge her. This morning was the same, but SS had an extra question, "where's Baba's phone?" Told you she's entitled. :) Then again, crime fighting and being a super hero is exhausting, as you can see above. Poor thing barely got her mask off before dozing off. Can't blame the girl for wanting to relax by playing angry birds and watching movies.

iPh0ne Savant

P and I were trying to have a conversation after dinner, but were continuously and rudely interrupted by a tiny, and extremely effective saboteur. In order not to lose his cool, P opted to offer his phone to SS, so she could play Angry Birds. But after a few minutes of frustrating grunting, I looked over to find a smiling SS playing a game involving balloons (to K@tie Perr*'s music). P was wondering how she learned to get into the game. Beats me, I never share my expensive phone with spoiled, entitled four year old girls. Then about five minutes later SS said several times "I love Thomas (the overrated engine)." I thought P had downloaded a Thomas game for her. It turns out that SS got into the Netfl*x application and somehow managed to get herself a Thomas movie. What. The. Heck. This is the same child who asks us to feed, clothe and bathe her. Someone has been taking us for a huge ride. SS, sorry, but no iP@d for you under the tree.We are afraid of what you'll do with Internet access.



Two hours later...
Reason #99 why it is not wise to share a phone with a 4 year old. Heh, P lost his phone to his tiny dictator. And yes, she wants an iP@d.

SS gave us a really good scare.

Last night P asked SS what she wanted for Christmas. I was ready to listen to a long list of Light*ng McQue*n, Buzz, Batman, Pirate, Green Lantern and every other dark super hero paraphernalia. But SS was unusually quiet, then turns around to face me and says "I want a baby." P and I went quiet and had that deer caught between headlights look. As I have mentioned many times, JJ was Sula's age when he asked for a sister for Christmas. And let's face it, I suck at the whole delivering a sibling things because it took me 21 years to bring a sister home. Then of course there is the fact that our plans for #3 have changed, #2 (SS) will be our last child. So a lot of sadness while thinking about what to say. I held SS and asked if she was sure that she wanted a baby for Christmas, and she nodded, very sure of herself. Crud, not the talk we wanted to have about dashing her hopes for a sibling forever. Then SS looks at me and says "A baby that doesn't talk." HUH? Technically babies do not talk, but eventually the babble incessantly and then talk up a storm. Was SS placing an order for a mute sibling? Because even to us lax freaks, that is kind of sick. Thankfully for us mentally challenged, apparently inbred duo, SS clarified her request. I asked "why a baby that doesn't talk?" SS responded, "because it's not a real one, it's a doll." P and I sighed with relief like a teenage girl looking at a negative pregnancy test. All she wants is a freaking doll! A doll, really SS? You are so much better than that. Kind of wishing she really wanted a mute sibling.

Recently we took SS to lunch an an Indian restaurant we had not visited in a while. Even though she is so small we are trying to stop using high chairs, toddler sized cutlery and sippy cups. She is almost five, and they do not provide those things at preschool and she does just fine. Need to help her spread her independent wings.


SS stuffed her little face with pakora. After trying the first three she polished a dish full of them.

Can't go wrong with rice and in this case garbanzos.

SS has yet to come across a form of bread she has not liked. The naan did not disappoint her.

SS had two bowls of this fruit custard, it's yummy, but super sweet.

A treat from Aunt Michelle.

SS received a treat in the mail from her Aunt Michelle (seriously, it was addressed that way). SS now has two window clings, "pumpkin seeds" (great use of orange tic tacs, a card with the cutest cats and dogs stickers dressed in costumes, and a do it yourself necklace kit that almost had SS pass out from anticipation. Thank you Michelle for making our girl's day.

SS is absolutely giddy with delight about her new necklace, because anything skull and bones makes her squeal like a banshee.

Having a pet pays off, SS quickly found a way to get rid of her excess candy.

Buzz Bat Firefighter.

SS is back on her firefighter kick, just as she was at this time last year.

And the Oscar for most milking mileage from a boo boo goes to... SS!! That's a shocker. Our little bat fell at school yesterday and came home with a limp, fake tears, and a bandage. SS collapsed in my arms as though she had crawled through a battlefield with a mortal wound. Milked it until bedtime. Then our unlucky girl (takes after her Mama) fell again today, same knee and the scab came off. Oh the drama. Look at that face, doesn't that just pull at your heartstrings?

But like any academy award winning actress, SS can turn it on and off in seconds.

SS, never lose that sense of wonder, that imagination that does not recognize gender barriers, that stubborn streak, and the strength of your convictions. And God help us for encouraging you. :)

TadadadadadadDAH....

BUZZ BAT!!!!!!!!

Initially SS requested to be Iron Man, but P and I immediately nixed the idea. First, she has not even seen the darn movie, and second, too violent a character for our taste. Besides, that was two months before Halloween, and there is no way a four year old would stick to her guns that long. Well, sorta, after stomping her feet and trying emotional blackmail on the weakest parent (P), SS realized we were not budging. OK, no iron Man, then she toyed with the idea of being a fireman. She was emphatic though, fireMAN, not fireWOMAN. She would not even accept the neutral firefighter. We both could live with that as they wear the same uniform regardless of gender. But that choice lasted all of an hour, I guess SS was not feeling it. Quickly after she settled on Batman, although we suspect it was between that and Green Lantern.

Here is where it gets interesting. When I started looking for costumes I was think Ad@m West Batman, because I was born in the age of the dinosaurs. It wasn't until the third store that the classic Batman vs. New Batman issue came up. I preferred the less menacing original version, but I was not the one wearing the costume. When I asked SS she was very sure "Mama, I want to be Batman the Dark Prince or the Dark Night." except that I could not find a dark prince costume in SS's size, the original version was in toddler size, the black version medium (8-10). UGH! And SS would not accept any other options.

I came home frustrated and empty handed. Then after a full day of work, P came to the rescue and retraced my steps hoping to find the one Dark Prince costume that would fit his petite bat without success. P e-mailed me a picture of the Batgirl outfit that I had already tried to sell to SS without success. True to form, our Baba's girl liked the idea when it was Baba's suggestion. Huh? WTF? Well beggars can't be choosers, so I ran with the idea, even though it stung. Yeah, I'm petty that way. But SS still had the last word. So what is the key to get your Batman hell bent four year old daughter sold on a less desirable Batgirl costume? You still call it a Batman costume, and she would not accept otherwise. She does make a freakishly cute bat, no matter the gender. And I talked her out of the Buzz Bat she was sporting in the above picture. She was serious about it.

The Bat has arrived.

Love her "super hero" hands on waist pose.

We took turns making sure her "boots" remained up.

SS loves being line leader (and lunch helper).

Senior class picture. SS's tenure in the Junior room was so short that she never had a chance to be part of a group picture.

With Ms. T, SS's greatest fan at school. She drops whatever she is doing as soon as SS walks in, and they spend free time drawing and doing crafts. Ms. T had been trying to convince SS to choose "something girly" for Halloween. She was very pleased when she saw SS. Why do we place so much importance on gender roles?

We took our bat out for Japanese for lunch. SS, as usual, is mastering a skill in her own way. Her chopstick technique is different, but gets the job done.

P planned the dreaded Mall trip to perfection. We had planned to return to Chico, but even though P took the day off (it is the most important day of the year) he did not feel like driving two hours. Our last experience at the Mall was terrible, a mass of people pressed way too close together. We arrived early and left just when it started to get too crowded for our taste. SS was getting candy by the handful, very rarely was she given just one piece of candy. She also received a lot of compliments on her costume, much to her delight. We were chuckling at the squeals from adults, because really, it's just a little girl in a store bought costume. I told P we should skip the costume next year and put a paper bag over her. Then we'll be hearing how she is the cutest paper bag evah.

SS's pumpkin was heavy, but greed is a powerful motivator and she would not allow us to help. When I finally held it while P buckled SS up I was surprised that she was able to carry the darn thing for so long. Stubborn little bat.








I was behind the door making sure each child "fished" one piece of candy. That is the baby room, where they had 5 kids under 2 years old, and it was quite a task to keep them off my lap and out of the candy bowl.

Happy Birthday P!

Thirty-six years ago the world became a better place, when P entered this world at French Hospital in San Francisco. What a time to be born, the mid 70's. He had pretty happening parents who met at the Playboy Club. Thankfully for Grandpa, those were the days when the fathers were relegated to pacing the floor outside the delivery room. This worked greatly on Grandpa's favor because he was able to watch the World Series deciding game between the Boston Red Sox and the Cincinnati Reds. It was ranked by ESPN as the second greatest world series ever played.

When Grandpa moved to Maui many moons ago, he gave P a lot of pictures from his childhood. P left them in Southern California and never retrieved them. So I was very happy when he returned from his visit to Grandma in 2006 with about two dozen pictures from his early childhood. This is a good opportunity to share with SS those first few years of her Baba's life.

Happy Birthday P! Don't fret, you are actually getting hotter every year. :)

PS. We just realized that today is also SS's Feast Day (Catholic church thing, and no we did not know until today). What are the odds?

Practicing his tea manners by holding out his pinky at eight days old.

With Grandma M at barely 19 days old.

Proud dad holding his one month old first born. Is P smiling?


Christmas card debut at two months old.

Not sure the exact age, but obviously still an infant and doing his power to the people salute.

Check out those wheels (5 months).

P really dislikes this picture (1 year old), because he says it makes him look like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. I think he looks freaking adorable, and I do have a thing for Irish sweaters, even though I have never owned one. I intended to get one for SS, but they are not very practical in our neck of the woods.

One year old with Grandma M, Grandpa C and cousin K.

El Mamo at 15 months.

Halloween 1978 (3 years old) with Cousin K.

The date on the back of this picture (by the developer not Grandma) is August 1979, but no idea when it was taken. I did not know P had a thing for playing cowboy. Too bad he was too young to join the Village People.

Age four on his dad's boat.

In his parents' hot tub practicing his seductive skills. Who knew I would end up marrying this doughy piece of heaven.

Four years old and enjoying the birthday present from the grandparents.

I chose this one not only because of the vest, but also because he is doing SS's favorite thing, pointing when a camera is aimed at her.

P caught the eye of a food critic at three years of age due to his sophisticated palate. This article is why I broke my golden rule about not parading my kids' pictures/names on newspapers.

From the past.

My bio mother e-mailed me this picture a few hours ago. She wrote that it might be a good idea to have it in case SS has questions about her family in the future. Here is the interesting thing, yes that is me ugly as always between my bio brothers. My bio mother is on the right. The rest are paternal relatives, the B's, people with whom I had no relationship whatsoever. As I have mentioned before, I do not have childhood pictures because my bio mother decided that once she passes on, we then can take possession of our past. Cool. What blows my mind is that if she wanted to send me on a trip down memory lane, why not send a picture of Mami and Papi? You know, that couple who raised me, loved me unconditionally and are responsible for whatever good is in me. As in the great-grandmother SS was named after. I know, crazy talk.

So let's meet the Bs. I have no idea how old I was on that picture, probably around one. On the right is my bio brother K, jail bird,physically abusive spouse, and law enforcement eluder extraordinaire. On the left is my bio brother J, the ultimate racist, who demands that his children only date African Americans, and renounces anything white.

Behind us is Mami L, the white grandmother J seems to forget is as part f his DNA as our black grandfather. You can't tell in the picture, but she was blond with blue eyes. There is a poem we studied in elementary school titled Y Tu Abuela Donde Esta? (And Where is Your Grandma?). I think about that poem whenever J goes on his racist rampages. The poem is about a little boy who is blond and has blue eyes and does not care for dark skinned people. Another child keeps reminding him about his grandmother who is not white. This is the case for us Puerto Ricans, we are not homogeneous by any means, and to claim one race based on phenotype is absolutely ignorant.

On the right side is my bio mother rocking the late 60s look. On the left side is Titi L, and behind her husband Tio P. Behind my mother is Papi A, the African dude, the one J recognizes as provider of his entire gene pool. The woman with the glasses is Mami J, Mami L's sister. I hope people are getting an understanding why I hated the way the title Mami was used as though it did not have any special meaning. Behind Mami J is Tio D, and he is the opera singer who has been living in Germany for over 30 years. I have no idea who is the man to the left of Tio D. My guess is that is probably Tio J, but that is just a wild guess. The older gentleman with glasses is Papi P, Mami J's husband. How is that for confusing.

Come to think of it, I should not be surprised by my secondary infertility. Both Mami J and Titi L were unable to have children. Mami J and Papi P pulled off the ultimate stunt in obtaining a child. Forget adopting a child, there were plenty of those. No, they volunteered to take care of brother K while my mother finished her nursing degree, you know to "help." Then once my mother graduated they refused to return him. Easy, breezy, peachy way to kidnap a child. Go B's! Mami L and Papi A raised brother J, and once again those parenting skills really made a life long impact.

The B's never cared for me and Mami L was jealous about my relationship with Mami and Papi. They were vile about my amazing parents, calling them animals and some other things I cannot repeat. On the occasions I was forced to be with the B family, I took a lot of spankings and smacks to the head. Also, Papi A's belt made quite an impression on my flesh. K & J were always begging me to be quiet, to let the insults go unchallenged, and I never listened. It is a horrible thing as a child to hear your parents criticized and brutalized in such a manner by a so called Christian couple. I always stood up for them and ironically, also for my bio mother. Even though she never returned the favor it did not matter. As a result, I shed more tears in that house than throughout my entire childhood. I am proud to this day that I stood up for Mami and Papi, they were poor, while the B's were upper middle class. The B's seemed to have it all, except love and warmth, those are two things I never found in their presence.

One time after a nasty spanking Mami J snuck into the room to try to console me. She pleaded with me to let the insults roll off my back, but at 5 I just did not have that control. OK, it did not change as I aged so I can't blame it on age. Mami J then sighed and stated that it was my bio mother's fault that they treated me so poorly. While I was by then well aware that I was not my mother's priority, I did not make the connection as to how she was to blame. Mami J told me that when I was born she counseled my bio mother to take me to my paternal grandfather, hand me over and say "Here A, here's the daughter you never had." My bio mother refused (best decision she ever made) and that is where their undisguised disgust of me began. Whatever...

When my bio parents divorced my bio father was court ordered to pay a paltry amount on child support. He never paid a cent, but Mami L and Mami J decided to clean up his mess. They each opened a savings account for the child they were raising and deposited the child support money that was never sent there. It was supposed to be for their future use and I have no idea (nor care) if they ever received the money. They conveniently forgot about me. One time I heard them discuss the omission and the reasoning was since Mami and Papi "got the girl, let them come up with the money." True, Mami and Papi could not fund a savings account for me, but they gave me so much more. They instilled in me a love of learning, reminding me that if I let a day pass without learning something new, it was a wasted day. They insisted on a bilingual education even when I wondered if my brothers and cousins were not bilingual (at the time), why should I be. Even more important, they taught me to love without regard to age, ethnicity, religion or other minutia that is a deal breaker to others. Without Mami and Papi I would not have the family I love and cherish today. My Caucasian (Catholic, younger) husband, my Chinese daughter, and my Puerto Rican son who is twelve years older than my daughter. I did not have a garage full of toys, nor did I engage in fun, expensive trips. What I did have was two wonderful role models who loved me and in turn, taught me to love. Plus I have never been in arrested (hard as I have tried), or in jail/prison.

SS, your Abuela wanted you to know about a side of me I have never discussed with you. So here it is, a quick rundown on why you have never heard about the B's. If there's something I learned from them is that it is unconscionable to use children as weapons or targets. Hope you are never disliked based on your parents' decisions.

On a lighter note, SS was practicing her sidewalk chalk writing skills Sunday. Don't know what made her write the L that way; still, made me smile.

Buzzing around.

I caught a fish THIS big!