In spite of the everyday chaos of my life, (thanks to the willingness to cooperate of my husband, kids, and dogs) I’m still finding a few ways of celebrating my birthday today…

- I’m sitting outside on the upstairs terrace, and it is a gorgeous, warm and breezy day.

- I’m re-reading one of my favorite books, Cristina Henriquez’s Come Together, Fall Apart

- Later, I’m also going to re-read some of one of my favorite childhood books, Antoñita la fantastica, for old times’ sake, because it is also such a great read

- I have a new Moleskine notebook I bought myself for the occassion, in which maybe I’ll have a few minutes to write

A little peace and quiet is the best birthday gift some years.

Of late, I receive a number more acceptances than I did when I first started sending out my writing, but, still, always, there are rejections.  None like today’s though, which came from a poetry journal:

“We are sorry not be sending you an acceptance, but please do not attach too much significance to that because of the unpredictable and subjective nature of such temporal decisions.  We did keep the piece for a second and third look.  Thanks for sending to us.”

Scenes from the last week…

I. 

A friend (and her two kids) and I (with my three kids) take a walk through the neighborhood.  An elderly couple stops us, talks to us for five or so minutes, then asks the kids’ names.  

I answer first, saying our kids’ Latin-sounding first names.

Silence.

They turn to ask my friend her kids’ names.

She answers with her kids’ first names, which are Scottish in origin.

They compliment her on her kids’ “nice, American names.”

My eyes bug out of my head. 

II.

On the same walk, we stop to look at really old oak tree that’s decorated with a tiny door painted on the trunk.  The woman who lives on the land where the tree grows comes out of her house.  

My friend compliments her on the door, and asks her how she came up with it.

She explains her craftiness.

I tell her that my kids love it because they think “ardillas” live there, and then explain that “ardillas” are squirrels, in Spanish.

Silence.

My friend says that her kids think the Kebler Elves live there.

The woman turns to her and says, “Your kids are right!”

My eyes bug out…again.

III.

After the Friday night cliffhanger of my novela (Querida Enemiga, if you’d like to know), I get into my post-novela “I need to hear more Spanish” funk.  And, as usual, I decide to pester my husband about how he needs to practice his Spanish more.  So, we’re sitting outside on the terrace talking about neighborhood current events (chismeando about los vecinos); I’m speaking in Spanish and he keeps slipping and answering me in English.

I say: “Si estoy hablándote en español, hay razón!”

He answers: “I’m not a rat!!”

(”razón”= “reason”…but “razón” (mumbled, after a long day)= “raton” = “mouse”…which my husband turned into “rat.”)

Home, sweet hogar.

When I wrote my last post, I didn’t expect to have such a long absence.  But, it turns out that, even though we’d (somehow!) completed the move, there was still lots to be done and lots of need for rest.  I’ve been writing a bit in the meantime, but mostly just trying to organize the house and chase after the kids.  Also in the last week, our older daughter’s decided to outgrow naps!  At 2.5!  So, while her brother and baby sister nap, she follows me around, helping me cook and do laundry, and then, she sits and “reads” one of her new books (Bonnie, if you’re reading this, we all love the titles you sent us!) or her magazine (Babybug) while I attempt creativity.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to get back into the swing of things directly.

But, just in case you missed me, you can read my new article (a cover story, btw) on bilingualism and adoption for MultiLingual Living Magazine in their latest issue, here.  Here’s a blurb:

“In our home, we’ve taken the approach that bilingualism and biculturalism are more about the journey than the destination.  Our choice is all about our family living and loving in various languages, inspired by our various histories- not about measuring up to some gold standard.” 

We’re finally moved in!  Our first night at the new house was last Friday and I’ve been blissfully without phone or internet until today.  

Some aspects of the move have gone more smoothly than I expected (the kids’ and dogs’ transition, for example) and some a little less smoothly (I should have listened to my husband when he said we should be packing more of our things ahead of time), but overall, it is SO good to have made this change.  

The energy is completely different here.  It fills me with illusión to imagine the writing and living that I’m going to do in this place.

I’m still in the thick of moving, but my june Multi-Culti Mami column’s up today at Literary Mama.  Here’s a blurb:

“I’ve never really believed that babies and children don’t have the power of memory. I’ll concede that maybe it’s not the same kind of memory adults have, that more quantifiable kind, but I can’t help but believe that life makes its mark on us all, from the very beginning. And so, when I ask our older daughter if she remembers the garden we walked her through when she was four months old in Guatemala, or the way her foster mom cooked with her on her hip, and she nods, I believe her.”

Go read it here!

First, I came down with a stomach virus; then, our son, who kept trying to give me besos y abrazos so I’d feel better, got sick.  (The girls and my husband are both fine, thankfully.)  Then, my husband, already in his busiest time of the year work-wise, got even busier.  Then, my allergies started aggravating me much much worse than they even had been before.  And what do I do, as we’re a week out from beginning our move?  I just keep telling myself that it’s going to be fine, grind my teeth and make a detailed to-do list/ outline for the move.  

Last week, as I was convalescing and wanted to be distracted from my nausea, my husband sat with my on the sofa as I sipped ginger ale and quizzed me with the BrainQuest Hispanic America cards we’d bought recently for the kids to have when they’re older(because that is the sort of person I am- competition and intellectual stimulation can make me forget that I’ve just thrown up a dozen times).  There was a question about the cultural value of “aguantar” and I thought to myself, “Really?  That’s an obvious value in Hispanic culture?”  Aguantar is all about silently enduring and, as vocal as my loved ones might find me, in this case, and in a few others, I’m definitely aguantando.

Really, I’m not sure everything move-related will be fine.  I’m afraid that my plan to move in gradually over two weeks, instead of all on one or two days, will not, in fact, be better for the kids’ transition, for my husband’s work schedule, and for my sanity, but that it’ll be worse.  I’m afraid I’ll forget something major.  And…I’m afraid that the house we’re in now will somehow swallow us and force us to stay before then, because I still can’t believe we get to move into our absolute dream house.  I will believe it on the first night I get to sleep off of a terraza again, as I used to long ago.

I’m not a googler of people, so much as I am of places.  (What does that say about me?)  Anyway, this weekend, as I was working on my next column, I googled the name of my old school in Madrid.  I’d done this before, with no accurate results, but, since I was taking a little break to clear my mind between paragraphs, it ocurred to me try again.

And this time, I found its official page.  And pictures.  (Except for the amazing tech upgrades in the classrooms) It looks exactly the same and it completely took me back.  This was a place I loved.  

Here’s a picture of my favorite spot in the school, by that beautiful almendro.

The first wrinkle was actually exciting, because I’m the sort of woman who can really appreciate the gift of living long enough to get a wrinkle.  BUT, the second, third, and fourth wrinkles that quickly sprung up in the following months were NOT charming in any way.  Even less so when I started being able to notice them in photos (I had to zoom in a bit, but still, they were there!)  

Now I come from a long line of fantastically-aging women and have always had a young look; I’ve been off caffeine for months, I drink plenty of water and tea with antioxidants; my diet is varied and healthful; I rarely even see the sun… but I don’t feel I have any time for more than one step skincare routine and haven’t since, oh, before college.  Could that be it?  Tell me what to do, dear readers!  I can’t have more wrinkles than kids!

Q: How do you celebrate a wedding anniversary with three kids age 2 and under?  

A: You exchange presents at midnight- so no one but you and your husband is awake, and so you don’t accidentally forget- juggle work and kids all day long, and then you get your favorite Mexican take-out for dinner, which you eat together in pjs after the kids are back in bed, and then you cuddle up and watch a movie.  And all the way, you are so happy in the choices that brought you to this moment, thinking that you would choose this man all over again and again.