Blissful Bills

Yup, you know what I am talking about. Those wonderful pieces of paper that fill your mailbox. Those phone calls at 7 pm just as you sit down for dinner. The only people that will actually miss you if you wind up in the hospital or better yet, die. BILLS! We need the lights on, we need running water, cable, internet (God forbid that get cut off), transportation (in my case, a lovely silver Malibu), the essential... cell phone oh and let's not forget the roof over this lovely raven head. Yeah, bills. It's a funny thing really, cause the other day as I finished making all my online payments, my checking account when from happily full to dreadfully empty... all in about 15 minutes. Yet, as I stared the miserable amount of money in my account, I had to smile. Because I paid my bills and my account was not in the negative. I felt for once so accomplished. I was very proud of myself, even if no one else was. I had spent my hard earned money on something other than myself. Granted those commodities were for me and my beloved but I didn't blow my paycheck, I spent it! And that felt very good. Yay for me!

A year has passed

This day a year ago, my paternal grandmother took her last breath and joined our Creator. With my father at her side, she passed on in the comfort of her home. 3 days later she was buried. All of her grandchildren and many of her great-grand children were present, all but me. I did not make the 350 mile drive to pay my respects. When they called me and told me that she had passed I did not cry. I can't explain my stoic behavior. But she was an odd woman. Not very maternal, not very kind, and certainly not loving towards me. I realize that her behavior towards me does not excuse my absence at her "going away" party.

However, this weekend I visited my grandmother's house. I sat in her rocking chair and thought of her. I sat in the porch where she so often sat in the early mornings or late afternoons as old folks do. I even caught myself remembering the feel of her hands. The wrinkled skin and claw like nails. I remember her watery cataract eyes. I recalled how she would always compliment my features, by comparing me to my mother; which was not a compliment coming from her, but rather an insult. I recalled that she had promised me a ring; which was never found. I also remember how she read my palm when I was 11 years old. I recalled many things about her. And as I wandered from room to room, I almost expected to hear her shuffling steps, her under the breath murmurings, and her constant clearing of throat. But they never came, her ghost paid me no visit and I returned home. I was reassured that she was not angry at me for not attending her funeral and relieved that she had indeed passed on and was not lingering in the house.

I am sorry Grandma. May you rest in peace.

Dedicated to Amelia Pena Lucio

Where is my mini me? She completes me!

Being a busy person such as me, quiet time is often a luxury. It does not come easy. But today, or rather these last few days have been full of quiet solitude. But unlike the quiet time that I often wish to share with my beloved, this unsettling silence has tortured me. For I am alone, without that blessed soul which completes me. There is no small face to look upon. There is no small whispering under the covers. There are no questions, no toys out of place, no ruffled covers on her bed. Everything is in its’ place and I don’t like it. I think I would rather have the hum of the TV, the crayons on the floor, dominos on the table, toys in the bathroom sink. I would rather have all that and have my angel with me. I know I can’t live without her, but 2 days is too much. I hate being without my baby. I feel so incomplete. Busy Moms always pray for quiet time, but when we have it we feel out of place, out of element. Now I know why. :(

The Rain

It begins like most storms, the rumbling in the distance, and lightning flashing against the night sky. Then the thunder grows closer, the wind picks up and the trees seemed to dance to the rhythm of the storm. Before the clouds release their fury, the scent of rain is on the breeze. It is clean and cool. It refreshes even before the first drop hits the ground. I stand there waiting for it to come. I feel the ground tremble and suddenly the clouds give in and fulfill its threat. It rains hard tonight. Not the small sprinkle as before but hard and angry. The ground becomes saturated very fast and puddles soon appear. It comes down in sheets, passionate sheets. The music of the rain fills the night. The wind plays with the rain, it shakes the rain; pushing it beyond the safe shelters. In this storm everything gets wet. No umbrella offers cover from this rain. This is a rain for the bones. This is a rain for a hot cup of tea and really good read. This is my kind of rain.

Drama Queen

My sweet, dear child has been going through some really dramatic tantrums these last couple of weeks. It does not worry me, but it can be very annoying at times and yet at others utterly hilarious. Her latest rant came out of no where. We were getting ready for bed, when she decides (like most nights) that she wants to climb into my bed to sleep. I am really trying to nip this habit in the butt. So I politely mention to her that her dolls and stuffed animals are lonely on her bed and suggest that she should join them. She curtly replies, "they aren't real Mommy!" So I am silenced by this very smart reply -- really I am dumbstruck, but anyway. So then I resign to the fact that I will be awoken in 2 hours by little hot feet kicking me in the back. I start my shut down routine (to quiet the mind) and then just as I was about to drift off to that misty unknown... the covers are thrown off! "Hmph! Well if you don't want me here, I am leaving!!!" She jumped off the bed and returned to her own bed. At least 2-3 minutes had passed since I had even made the slight suggestion and then this! What was she doing for those moments? Thinking up that reply? I could hardly stiffle my laugh. And try as I may to apologize and offer to tuck her in, she just tucked her own self in and ignored me. So I said "I'm sorry" one last time and went to bed. As I began to drift off to sleep again, I asked God, "Now what was that all about?"

The Acorn

The joys of Parenting. I tell you, the journey is never ending. I know that someday (maybe even later as I post this) I will laugh at the "good ideas" my daughter has come up with. Today was one of those days at the office when you can't wait to get home to your child(ren). I stared at her picture wishing it would be 5:00. And then it was and I was off to the race to get to her.

When I picked her up at the sitter, I did not notice anything odd about her. I loaded her backpack, bid the sitter farewell and went on my merry way. The first thing I did once getting in the car was buckle up, lower the volume on the radio and then flip my rear view mirror down to look at her gorgeous face. I then did the most routine thing, "How was your day Punkin?"

She replied, "Someone put an acorn in my nose".

My reaction was of course "WHAT? WHO?"

And of course she replied, "Umm, I dunno" .

My mind started racing a thousand miles a minute, then I paused and thought, maybe she is joking. I am not going to race back to the medical center and pay $100 copay to find out that I have a comedian on my hands. So I calmed myself and told her that it was not nice to tell lies. She then starts whining that she wants to get it out NOW!!! I then realized that it was not a joke at all. As she paniced, her breathing began to make a whistling noise. I rushed home, calmed her and myself down as much as I could and then I thought about taking a look at the damage.

I laid her down in her bed, turned the light up all the way and tilted her head back. There was definitely something in there. I felt around her nose to gauge how far in it was and it was in there pretty far. I massaged it until i got it to the entrance of the nostril. Finally I pried it out with my nails and it was out. I sighed in relief and then began a long winded lecture about foreign objects. I ended my lecture with the usual, "You could have died!"

She vowed to never do it again and pranced out of the room. I wondered if she really meant that or if she rolled her eyes at me as she left. I was also left wondering what the next parenting adventure might be.