little maestro

He was just there, in his little maestro walker, he pushed a button and a symphony started playing. I, amazed at how more agile he has become with his hands, reaching, touching and grabbing toys, said to amatxu: "He's a genius!". "I know!" she replied, "I didn't know he could compose music so well".

his first words

Gabo has been a lot more verbal the last few days, I swear I heard him say "mama" yesterday, although amatxu thinks he said "obama".

Either way, I'm cool with that.

anti-chef monday

I’ve never been a good cook, but that’s ok, I’ve never liked cooking anyway. Since the baby has been here I’ve found myself eating more veggies and buying less processed foods (I’m a mom now, I need to take care of myself). Working all week outside of the home leaves me with almost no time to cook on a daily basis AND spend quality time with G, so I’m trying to make up for that during the weekends. No cookbooks or recipes though, I’m kind of experimenting in my “lab”. Good thing my partner eats EVERYTHING and is the one doing the tasting almost all the time, since I’m too scare of my own concoctions. Have I told you I’m not a good cook? If you’re going to use it as a sauce over meat (it goes great with pork chops) I would suggest dicing the peppers into small square pieces or long thin strips. I pureed mine and ate it with some cheese.

secularism at home

Can a child be raised in a 100% secular household? That's a question I often ask myself and I guess is something that will only answered as G grows up.

Religion is everywhere, whether we like it or not, it's a big part of who we are, of how we were raised. So far G has not been baptized, circumcised or presented in any church or temple. My partner swears she's going to get him baptized, even when she is a non practicing catholic who despises organized religion. For her it has to do with her culture, a tradition passed from one generation to another, like Christmas (but more boring and without presents). Should I get him circumcised then? Seeing as even my agnostic father had his "Pepito" sniped. (It's a good thing he's no longer alive, since he would have died if he knew I was writing on a public blog about "Pepito").

What about Easter, Christmas, Carnival, Halloween? Should we treat those holidays as a time for fun and not focus on their religious meaning or should we just ignore them altogether? Did my mother had the same questions, or are those questions for our modern times? Religion was not something we talked about at home. Abuela took me to church every Sunday and both my parents gave me presents at Christmas and for the Reyes Magos Day without attaching any kind of religious connotations to them. Did they have the same questions I have now?

I don't want G to miss out on things both my partner and I remember fondly from our childhood, but are we being hypocrites if we “celebrate” those holidays?

As I write this I’ve been told that the costume for Carnaval is a must, so I guess we’ll just decide as we go along.

Gabi says:

"Vaccines suck!".

We tried calming him down with words like "It hurts us more than it hurts you", but who are we kidding?

I know vaccination works, but is there no other way to get rid of a desease than making al healthy baby sick?

“Why Shlomi, why?”

Today my heart goes out to Dr. Ezzeldeen Abu al-Aish.

This must be unbearable for any parent, specially for someone who has always talked about peace.

I had hope, but I'm finding it hard to believe that a peaceful resolution will be possible. I don't think Dr. Ezzeldeen will be thinking of peace anymore.

paper or fabric?

A few months ago, BB (before baby), I took it upon myself to save the planet one bag at a time. A basic plastic bag served as a template for a much better, eco-friendlier version of that disposable classic. I had great plans and good intentions; I just didn’t have the attention span needed to make more than one. And so my small creation that was going to change the way our family went grocery shopping now just hangs there, stuffing its belly with scraps. The tote hanging next to it was made after I found the cross stitched cherry jam my mother had made and never used. I used it a few times, but it has gone into “retirement” and now spends its lazy days guarding some unfinished cross stitch projects.

(As I was finishing this post Amatxu and the baby waltzed (or tangoed) in while Gardel was playing in the background. I SO love my love right now.)

brown and blue

Contrary of what many may think, my favorite color is not green, it’s brown, deep, dark chocolate brown. So when the time came for us to get ready for the baby, and get our hands into projects induced by two terribly out of synch biological clocks frantically ticking inside an already reckless couple trying to become a family, the first color that came to my mind was, you guessed it, brown.

Compromising on a gender neutral combination was not easy, lime greens , yellows and beige looked good; but a simple purchase made it all clear for us… aqua and brown. Things (or stuff as my partner would call them) were made, and then we had to wait.

“So you’re adopting a boy” everyone said when they laid their eyes on my blue and brown creations. “Not really, actually we’re hoping for a girl”. (Insert here awkward silence and “the look”. You know that look. It’s the look your friend gives you when you order the large fries. It’s the look that says: “You shouldn’t.”). But we were stubborn, blue it was, and my vision of little Eva in a pink free environment, much to the pleasure of my partner, slowly grew on me.

And then we got the call, our baby was ready to come home, and it turned out that our gender neutral vision went out the window the moment they said the baby was a boy; a beautiful, healthy, brown and blue baby boy.

I didn't make the baby...

...but I did make the quilt.
Back when I had the time and decided to venture in the wonderful world of crafts, I made this quilt. Without having the proper knowledge about quilting, binding, measurements and lacking of a walking foot for my sewing machine. But still it was “my first” and I could never part with it, just like the cutie laying on top of it.

it matters to me

a little bit of blue amogst all the green

Our baby boy Gabriel came home to us a few weeks ago. So far there have been no time for crafts, books or paintings, and I'm told that will probably be the case until he goes to college. So I guess I'll become a mommy blogger (or mamá blogger in my case).

it had to be green

I swear to G.d I didn't cheat.

Your rainbow is shaded green.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What is says about you: You are an intelligent person. You feel strong ties to nature and your mood changes with its cycles. Those around you admire your fresh outlook and vitality.

Find the colors of your rainbow at spacefem.com.

a rant

Besides the news, there are four tv series that I never miss:

1- Child of Our Time: BBC series with an average of three episodes per year.
2- Lost: haven't seen an episode since the season finale months and months ago.
3- Cuéntame: spanish series scheduled Thursdays nights.
4- Pushing Daisies

So I almost felt like crying when I learned that Pushing Daisies had been cancelled. There's no other show like it on tv right now, the attention to detail, art direction, the performances, specially from miss Kristin Chenoweth and Swoosie Kurtz (I love saying her name Swoosie, Swoosie...).

Are tv executives out of their mind!?!?! What am I supposed to watch now?

I should be celebrating...

but it's hard to get over the fact that discrimination is alive and well. History was made, but equality must be for all, black, Latino, gay, lesbian, rich, poor.

Today my family was denied it's basic rights.

just because

I have everything ready for tomorrow's debate. Will it be as funny as the Saturday Night Live sketches? Crossing my fingers.
Thanks to Tina Fey my nephew (14) is now interested in politics, weird.

Yes, I have too much time in my hands.

sad beauty

Viewing some pics taken in a recent one day trip to the south I was overcome with emotion after seeing first hand the devastation that this hurricane season has caused in the crops. Complete plantain, banana, corn and grape fields are still under water a week after the storms. Thankfully not many lives were lost, as opposed to our neighbors Haiti and Cuba.

is that a duck in my wrist?

I was able to make my first softy a few days ago. I chose a pretty simple pattern found here and couldn’t be happier with the results. After it was done, it hit me: “What was I going to do with a little duck?”, so I added a blue ribbon to the bottom and some Velcro, and voila, a new pincushion!

the last day

The Hudson’s version of an Englishmen's club is anything but traditional. Don't let those Haunted Mansion fake books fool you, we are not here to read, we're here to play and this is what we're doing.

There's no doubt about it, the grape Fanta pool table, as I’ll call it, is the centerpiece and “she” knows it (I don’t know why, but with those solid legs and dressed in that color, the table definitely looks like a gallega lady just coming out of mourning). Hanging above “her” is an oversized domelike lamp providing just enough light to showcase this solid purple beauty. Long gone are the days of drunken commoners playing pool at their favorite seedy joint.

But nothing is more suitable for a place that once hosted the Sesame Street studio than the fifteen black and white pictures of coquette cows donning their best Sunday hats. Forget the coffee table books here and there, with those black and white chubby girls who can look at anything else?!?

Champagne flows by the bottle and lively conversation is enhanced by Amir, the always engaging host tending to our every need. It’s a shame that there's no time to visit Mogadore, suggested by our newly acquired friend as the best Moroccan restaurant in the city. But don't worry dear friend, as the now Governor of California once said: "I'll be back".

Warning: If the room temperature is low and you’re only dressed in your underwear, it’s NOT a good idea to sit on the custom made aluminum chair to blog. Hey Phillippe Stark, can you say butt-freeze??

NY day 2

When I think of Miami I think blue, annoyingly happy acqua blue. When I think of NY I think black, sleek, slimming, deceiving and trendy black.

Fortunately my mother died. Don't get me wrong, I loved my mom, but mourning her has made me feel a little less out of place in this steel mass that houses assembly-line-always-wearing-black people. Suddenly I'm not asked why am I always in black shirts and, unlike Tati, no one has approached me asking me if I'm a tourist.

NY has no sidewalks, it has catwalks. Perfect people gliding by, no sounds coming out of them but still screaming fashion. Is it the way their heads seem to carry an imaginary book? Or is the way their arms barely sway? Who knows! I just know that doing the NY walk is impossible with the hips I have, but that hasn't stopped me from trying.

The Hudson is now my favorite hotel in NY

So far I'm liking what I see. Starting with the bald Godlike creature greeting us at the door and the ascent to boutique hotel heaven thru escalators suited for a subway.

Check in under the chandelier, holographic light bulbs, as real ones are just too kitsch to have at The Hudson.

An then up to our rooms, up in elevator limbo. Red "EXIT"'s bleeding their lights in the dark barren hallways. Am I being taken to an experiment room behind one of those generic doors? I'm numbered, 972 tattooed in my card (thank God not in my arm). Is this what my future is going to look like? I'm doomed.

An then my door opens, soft heavenly glow filtered thru chiffon barriers. Dark wood, mirror and art as nightlight. The required tiny white formulaic b (as in "boutique") bathroom , clean, crisp. My future looks surprisingly brighter now. Too tired to think I jump to my nest. Soft pillow? Hard pillow? I've entered a world in which those are the toughest decisions I will have to face. And so, as my head hits the hard allergenic pile of mush my eyes adjust to the light I find myself wondering: "What is that popcorn ceiling doing here?!?!"

More later.