Gifts & Moms

This past weekend was Mother's Day. I read the best article about what a mom really wants here in our local paper.
I think that article hit the nail on the head, at least for me. I don't need you to rack your head trying to find a gift that will fit your budget. I just need to know you are living a good life. This year I got a some really good stuff.

17 bought me a Harry Connick Jr CD. It meant that he was listening and paying attention when I was giving my undivided attention to AI this past week when he was the shows mentor for the singers. I love his voice. It was very thoughtful. In addition to that he gave me the go ahead to register him (and pay for-duh!) his college orientation. Why is that a gift because it's a decision. He has been waffling for the past 2 months and he finally decided. I was thrilled with both of his gifts.

20 is away at school and so he couldn't spend the day with us and the extended family. First, he sent me a text. "Hey, mom ru up? Happy Mother's Day!" It was 11am- the middle of the morning, of course I was up. I was getting ready to head out the door for the day's activities but he's in college and still sleeps in - a nice luxury most of us don't have anymore. Once I assured him I was up he called and we chatted for about 1/2 an hour. In that conversation he gave me what I think was the real gift (other than an uninterrupted and unrushed conversation). First he made sure that I was sitting down and then he told me that it was official he had declared his major as Political Science. I was so happy and excited that he had finally picked something. Then in true mother form I started inquiring about a second major or a minor perhaps. I could hear him roll his eyes through the phone lines as he said ma, please. But we'll see. I'll keep watering that seed and see if anything pops out. Later in the day he sent me a picture via text of a bunch of mixed flowers that said what I wanted to send you but I'm a broke college student. I told him they were lovely and would last longer this way.

Later as I reflected on the day I felt all warm and fuzzy inside because what they gave me was signs that they are doing what they need to do, taking control of the next steps in their lives and making progress. It felt good and made me smile. Of course, the smile was bittersweet as the first person I wanted to share this all with was my mom and I couldn't the way I wanted to. I did walk over to a picture of us that I have and say out loud to it (her) they're doing good, huh? And I know she was smiling down on us as I was smiling at her.

Hairy issues

I went and did something crazy. I got my hair cut. I know this is a normal regularly scheduled event for most people but I really avoid them because I am clueless when it comes to hairstyles and hair styling.

My hair style has always been 'wash and wear'. Don't get me wrong, I know how to blow dry my hair and I know how to put all those big stiff rollers and even those soft foamy rollers on and I even know how to use a curling iron. I just don't like spending all that time on my hair which is why most of my adult life post children anyway has been lived with either a barrette or a hair clip on because the other thing I don't like is my hair in my face. I can sit have someone else do it but I haven't found anyone willing to donate their time and come to my house every morning to style my hair before I go out into the world. My poor mother is turning over in her grave, I just know it.

She tried. She really did. I just think I was a hopeless case. I think it all started with the extraordinary amount of time taken to get the knots out of my long straight hair as a kid. Remember, that spray No More Tears? If we would have bought stock I'd probably be rich right now but my mother would sit there and comb it out and it took forever! At one point in my life my hair reached the bottom of my back. We only used to trim the tips 'to keep it healthy and help it grow strong'. My hair was straight as a board. Then came the big hair. Oh, for the love of Pete, my mother would wrap the rollers so tight my skull hurt and I would sit under that dryer forever! Boy was I happy when we invested in the portable one and I could at least walk around with it. I will give credit where credit is due and say that my mom could style hair! I was a brunette Farrah when she was done. The problem was and this is no lie within 20 minutes 30 if you were lucky my hair would be straight as a board again. She tried EVERYTHING. We went to umpteen salons, there was more product purchased to try to un-straighten my hair than you can imagine. I was even given a wave treatment that was supposed to last months and only lasted a few weeks. She would do all the same things to her hair and it would work perfectly but not me. Obviously, I didn't get her hair just her hips.

Then I had children. Now my hair has all kinds of movement and motion. I would need to iron it or undergo that ionic straightening treatment to flatten it out but that seems like it would be all wrong. Like maybe my mother would come haunt me for straightening it or something.
So anyway, I don't know how to handle this hair. I am clueless in managing it. So, I usually just let it grow out and pin or clip it back away from my face. Every so often I get the urge to chop it off and I do. I go with the best intentions. I look through all the books at all the cuts and styles and I don't find any that speak to me so invariably I tell the stylist to do what ever they want just not too short and not too funky. Obviously, I get something different every time. Imagine. Plus I am never really happy with it. Go figure. But whatever. It's just hair. It will grow out and I will pin it back again and have it chopped off again too. C'est la vie. Sorry mom.

Imagine 75

Today Elvis would have been 75 years old. I cannot even imagine what he would be doing in the world today so many things have changed. Would we be following Elvis on Twitter?

He was one of my moms heartthrobs as a teen and therefore we listened to a lot of his music growing up. My brother would play air guitar on his plastic baseball bat with a towel tied around his neck as a cape and I would sing back. We knew ALL the words. We even used to "perform" for family and friends when my parents had dinner parties before we had to go to bed. We always thought we were the highlight of their parties and could only imagine they were bored to tears after we left. Oh my, those were the days. LOL!

Have you ever had one of his famed fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches? I haven't. Hmm... maybe I will this weekend.

Happy Birthday to the King of Rock! I imagine there's quite a party where he is right now and mom is sure to be front and center dancing along.

Tempus fugit!

Wow. Time flies when you are having fun. I have been a busy busy girl. I can't believe it's been over a week since I have blogged. So, here's a quick recap to get us back on track.



*19 turned 20. He wasn't here for his birthday. He was having finals but he got here before Thanksgiving. So it's all good. I will admit that the fact that I have a 20 year old makes me feel older.



* Thanksgiving happened of course. I hope everyone had a wonderful one with family/friends. I made a new Cranberry sauce recipe which came out super yummy and I made the sweet potato casserole, and I made an apple pie. I also made a cherry pie but that one stayed home for us to eat.



*Thanksgiving would have also been my mother's birthday. That was why I made the apple pie, it was her favorite. She would have been 65, ready to retire. She would have enjoyed retirement because she had so many hobbies and crafts that she loved to do. She finally would have had the free time to do them. But I am sure that she has knit everyone in heaven a sweater and made candles and baskets galore. I thought of her a lot that day and how different my Thanksgivings are compared to growing up but that will get me all misty so I am moving on...



* I went shopping on Friday because I always have and 20 went with me to pick out and try on his gifts. We had a good time and found some good deals. There will be more stories about that later.



* Over the weekend, we put the lights up outside, brought out all our Christmas decorations, bought the Christmas tree, put the lights on, decorated it and started decorating the house. Aside from all the regular boring laundry and grocery stuff.



* This year the gift for the in-laws was a group gift from us and my SIL. We gave them tickets to go see Andrea Bocelli. The concert was over the weekend so we had to give it to them at Thanksgiving. They had a fabulous time. She called us when they got to the venue, she called when they got to their seats and she called the next morning to tell me all about it. They had such a wonderful time.



* We also got together with friends to just hang out and chat. I made Paula Deen's Ooey Gooey Pumpkin Cake. It was pretty good even though I overcooked it. We had a nice time.



*I made batches of egg nog and bottled it. The bottles are all in my fridge waiting to be gifted. I still have one more batch to go but I ran out of eggs so that's the thing to do today. I need to make it early because it needs to sit and the flavors need to combine and mellow. Yumm!



* During the week I want to get the Christmas cards done, address and mailed. That's the goal. We shall see.



So, I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving. I know that I have many many things to be thankful for and that I am one lucky girl.

I'm like mom...I'm not like mom...

You may recall that I am reading Motherless Daughters by Hope Edelman. It is helping me through my current struggle with myself. I am learning a few things. First and foremost I am learning that I am not nuts or at the very least my current state of nuttiness is perfectly normal and many go and have gone through it. That's comforting. As much as I have always wanted and love uniqueness, it's comforting that others have been where I am and been able to move on to more productive places in their lives.

The general gist of it is that I am trying to be like my mother and at the same time unlike her. Can you feel the problem huh, can you? I read through the anecdotes and can relate to them all. For example, I mean why do I bake apple pie for Thanksgiving when no one in my family even likes apple pie? Because mom did and it makes me feel somehow close to her or that I am making her a part of my present when I do a silly thing like bake a pie. Even those sugar cookies I make for my father. I think baking in general makes me think of her; it was her forte in the kitchen. She would bake, she taught me to bake, she baked with me, she let me bake and burn to my heart's content. It doesn't faze me when I have to trash it and start over because it's what we did. There are dozens of other examples.

On the other hand, I am starting to think that my weight has to do with her death too or her illness shall I say. Not entirely but partially. In the book I read over and over about women who avoided duplicating and feared the events/scenarios than lead to their mother's passing. If a mother always avoided going to the doctor maybe the daughter goes all the time and develops hypochondriac like symptoms to not do what 'caused' the mother's illness. In my example, my mother was never svelte but she (read: the family) was always on a diet, always watching her weight albeit unsuccessfully. She was never obese as I am but she had some extra pounds on her. She was never thin until before she was diagnosed with cancer. In reality I know that it had more to do with her divorcing my father than getting sick which didn't happen until a year later but I see it all mushed together because I wasn't living with her at the time. When I saw her after the divorce yes, she was loosing weight but not thin and then the next time I see her she was even thinner and then a month later diagnosis cancer. So, it makes me think has part of me subconsciously been sabotaging my efforts to a healthy weight because I don't' want to be as thin as she was and get cancer. Now, I realize that sounds a little kookoo but I am learning in this book that others have done similar things. There are other examples. Things I have done in my marriage and in my work life that I can also correlate like that but I don't want to get into that here.

The one thing that I already knew I was doing but thought it was a borderline nuts was mourn her over and over again. I really mean mourn not just miss her. Anything can be a trigger. Moments in my life that I so want to reach out to my mom and share with her especially things with my kids. I know she wanted so desperately to be a grandmother. And seeing someone/thing that reminds me of her. Years ago I saw a woman in an elevator put on lipstick just like my mother used to do. I don't do it that way and I had never seen anyone else do it that way and when that complete stranger in an elevator did that I felt like I was going to die from the overwhelming feelings that were suddenly pressing down on me. I don't remember getting off the elevator but the next thing I do remember was sitting in a toilet stall at the office crying as if the world were coming to an end. A friend found me there and brought me water, held me, tried to sooth me having no clue what had happened because I couldn't talk I could only cry and sob. It wasn't until days later that I was even able to tell her. Every time she saw me, she just hugged me and kept telling me it would be OK. Again, other examples are too many to list.

Then there are the milestones that surround her illness and death. Like what I am struggling with now, my age/her age. This was the last birthday she celebrated. Even though she was a poor example of how to be for this past year of my age due to her illness, I have no more example in her of how to be from now on. Holy crap that was hard to type. I need to stop here. More of this kinda stuff to come, I am sure but not right now.

Again and again

I know I haven't been posting much lately but I have been wallowing, languishing, freaking out, pulling myself up, shaking it off and then starting all over again and again and again. I get bursts of Ok and then trip over myself again. I really need it to stop.

I have been struggling of late with my birthday, my mother, her death, I am now the age my mother ever was right after she was diagnosed. At this point in her life, she had been diagnosed with a rare cancer, operated, not able to attend my wedding, was undergoing chemo and had been told she had 6 maybe 8 months to live if she was lucky. That was really hard to type.

I cannot imagine being in her position right now. There are so many things I want to see and do. It's freaking me out.

I am reading a book called Motherless Daughters by Hope Edelman. It's comforting and heart wrenching at the same time. It's killing me slowly and making me stronger all at once. First and foremost its consoling me in that I'm not nuts. What I am feeling is normal and lots of women go through the same thing. Mourning isn't finite. I knew that but now I am reading bout other women going through it the same way. That's comforting. It's killing me because it's making me think and face some things that I hadn't until now which I guess is good but its hard. It's draining. It's exhausting.

I haven't cried this much in a long time. I can't read the book and not end up in tears. A story, a reference of something totally abstract will turn on my internal faucet and there ya go.

Visiting my GM has been much harder for me lately not because she's doing poorly or anything just because all these feelings are very raw right now. I have to force myself to do things like nothing's going on inside and yet I sneak a few tears here and a few tears there when I am by myself in an attempt to not burst into a puddle in front of other people. I thought that maybe writing about it would help a little but this is hard, the screen is blurry through my watery eyes. I need to be patient with myself. I think I need to find some real me time to let this whole thing happen and figure out how to deal with it a bit better. I am hoping the answer is in the yet unread portion of the book. Deep breath...close my eyes...deep breath...open my eyes...smile. Now let me call dad and finalize weekend plans. Here we go!

Happy Birthday Mom!

Today would have been my mother's 64th birthday. WOW! Obviously, I never think of my mother older. Whenever I think about her and "put her in" the picture of my current life events I picture her as she was even before she got sick. Because once she was sick she depending on the stage was either very gaunt or very bloated; I don't see that in my minds' eye. So, to think that should would have been 64, I can't imagine what that would look like. That's not true I guess, because she'd probably look like a thinner version of my grandmother 20 years ago. The three of us look so much a like, that would probably be a pretty sure bet.

So, today I get a little misty because I think of how she missed having grandchildren (and they having her) and I know she would have loved spoiling them and making them all kinds of crap they don't need. I know this because she did it for her kids so it would only have multiplied for her grankids. She wanted boys. Her first words when I was born were "Damn, I wanted a boy!". So she would have been very happy with my two boys. No, I am not making that up, it's in my baby book. But at the same time I know she would have loved my niece because she's a girly girl. She loves her dresses and frilly girly things. I had all that because my mother tried but it just wasn't me.

Thanksgiving is always tough for me because it was our favorite holiday which makes me think about her a lot and inevitably I put her in the picture of my events. I will be baking and cooking with her in mind. Heck, she's why I make apple pie every year.

In so many ways, I am like her (and yet not like her). Of course, there was a time in my life that comparison used to bother the hell out of me. Now, I welcome it. So, today mom, I will be baking your pie and making the American side dishes you loved so much: sweet potato casserole and fresh cranberry sauce. I know Thanksgiving Eve is the one day that you will be in heaven's kitchen cooking and baking. I can hear you bitching about it from here and dad telling you not to do it and you telling him that you have to because its the way you make lasting memories. LOL! It worked, mom, we remember. My brother is cooking too for the holiday. Last year he called me for pie tips. I remember them all and passed them on.
Happy Birthday mom! Still miss you.

Mother's Day

It's always rough for the obvious reason of it's in my face that mom's not here. I get very melancholy and wistful this holiday.

I was recently asked by a friend who's father recently passed, How long does it take to get over it? I told him, I'll let you know as soon as I do. He just looked at me in quiet silence. Then asked, You mean I'm always going to hurt like this? No, I reassured him. It won't always hurt. There will be days it hurts to the point of crying and days that a memory is a comforting warm blanket that helps you through something. But you never forget. They never go away. At least that's how it is for me.

This mother's day, I got my cards, spent time with the extended family, went to my nephews' piano recital (it was lovely!), BBQd at SILs, called other moms and wished them a happy day. It was all perfectly nice. But in the back of my head, nagging at me all day, occasionally causing a lump in my throat was that I couldn't give my mom a hug, that she never met my kids, she would love sitting and telling them all the stupid things my brother and I did as kids and that she did too. Hell, it's making me cry as I type this.

Cuban cooking

Not too long ago was the inaugural Cuban cooking class. It's being documented over here.

I have been wanting to do this for years. I have talked about doing this for years with family and friends and it's finally happened. I am so happy about it. It means a lot to me. I don't know if I can put it into words but here goes. I didn't grow up here in Miami. I grew up in Northern Virgina and so my sense of "being Cuban" is VERY different from that of my friends who all grew up here.

In fact, growing up my family didn't talk a lot about Cuba and their life there, their exodus etc. I caught bits and pieces because I learned early on how to sit quietly and listen. Grown ups tend to forget that you are there and you pick up on all kinds of things. In any event, the gist is that Cuba wasn't a part of my upbringing the same way it is if you grow up here in Miami. My parents and grandparents all spoke perfect English. I didn't even study Spanish in high school. I studied French and by the time I graduated high school I spoke that better than Spanish. My Spanish was negligible and I couldn't read or write it all.

My grandparents and parents actually went to school here in the states and therefore acclimated very easily to American life. They had homes in the states, in Cuba, Madrid, Miami and Tampa since the early 30's and travelled back and forth with ease. My parents were very American and brought us up that way. I didn't grow up on the Cuban-American hyphen. My mother was adamant that we were American. I know that was a sore spot between my parents. My grandparents and father were very active in politics (that was why they relocated to Northern Va.) and therefore made many friends and enemies Cubans, Cuban-Americans and Americans alike. My father always put me and my brother in the forefront of any march or protest. I don't remember all the causes but I remember all the arguments. My mother always won only allowing us to participate if we carried American flags not Cuban flags because we are American not Cuban. Period. And so with that as a background, you can understand that meals at my home were meatloaf and mashed potatoes not palomilla and frijoles. My grandmother never cooked anything, it's just not her style. My paternal grandmother was the cook and although she ended up in Elizabeth NJ, working in a factory after her jet-set life, I always thought of her as my only proof of 'being Cuban'. Since she lived so far away, I never shared those things with her but I am always told that I am a lot like her.
I didn't grow up with the Cuban smells, sounds and tastes. I only experienced that in the summers when I would come to visit in Miami. It was a whole other world. Honestly, I never thought I'd live here. I always associated Miami with vacation not life, work and real world stuff. Nevertheless, here I am. For years, I talked about learning to cook the recipes that my husband's grandmothers made for us by heart, with a pinch of this and a little of that. Sadly, it never happened and we have since said good-bye to both of those ladies. And as I am now watching his parents, aunts and uncles get older and a little more tired I am determined to learn these things because I want to be able to pass them on to my grandkids and not have these meals just be a memory that my kids talk about to them but I want to pass them on to them.
I know there are a million restaurants that we can go to and buy the food already made but it's not the same. (I'm the one who makes Thanksgiving completely from scratch-just because.) When one of my kids ends up in Timbuktu and I can make Arroz con Pollo or Carne Asada and Flan, it will bring back a flood of memories and help create new ones for others. I love when 18 walks in the house when I am making Ropa Vieja and says "It smells like abuela's house when I was little." It makes me smile.

The kitchen is the heart of the home and I don't want to loose the Cuban beats. That's why I was so excited about the lesson a few weekends ago and look forward to those to come. We were taught to make ham croquettes. When my husband bit into a freshly fried one he said "I remember these." I later fried a few to take to my GM at the rehab center and when she took the first bit she said they were just like when she was little. It brought tears to my eyes. It took her to such a happy place and that meant so much to me to be able to do that. Memories...more and more I am convinced that's what it's all about...memories. Que siga la tradicion...
Mom, I know I'm American but I think I am much more than that and I embrace it all.

Year of Magical Thinking

WOW! When I finished reading it I simply took a deep breath and though "yeah, wow".


She writes so beautifully you just glide along her story. Such a heart wrenching thing to write about. She so put herself out there for all of us to read about. Illness, death, loss, grief, bearing it all. I haven't lost a spouse as she has nor a child which I don't even want to imagine. But grief, I know. There were so many parts that I totally understood and related to. How after someone close to you passes you live on relating everything to that last one. Last month today we were...., last year today we were... How one minute you are in the present and the next minute you are flashing back to you last days/hours and then back further to some arbitrary memory. You go back and forth with her and yet are never lost in time but feel suspended in her reality as she deals with her grief and then you remember how it happened to you like that too.


You get up and do what you are supposed to do and then for a snippet forget the person isn't here anymore because any day you would have done this on your own and then you get to the part where you would have called/seen/spoken to that person and realize now what? They aren't here. There's no one to tell, no one to show, no one to care. Eventually, you find that others do care but not the same way because well, they are someone else aren't they. Special in their own right but not the same. Then you flash back and forth and keep going again and again and again.

Do you ever stop grieving? I don't know. My mother's been gone forever and I still have moments when I realize that I can't pick up the phone and just tell her something. I still cry when my kids do something that she would have loved to see and she's missed it. I still talk about her and refer to things that she would have liked or comments that she would have made. Yet, at the same time I realize that she's not here and when I look up to the heavens and talk to "whoever is driving my bus" I direct my thoughts to her as if she were riding shotgun and has some say as to which direction the bus will go.

But back to the book. I already passed it on to someone else and would recommend it for reading. It was comforting to read that Didion went thru some of the same things that I have and we still keep on keepin' on.

Let them eat cake

I went to a friend's house for Halloween and there were lots of goodies to eat. Among the varied desserts was a lemon cake that everyone was raving about but I didn't try it. Don't think I was being so good or anything. I had already had brownies and Reese's peanut butter cups and more appetizers than I can write about. Back to the cake, as we were leaving and she was handing out leftover pizza as party favors to other guests, I served myself a piece of lemon cake and wrapped it up for breakfast. I could just imagine it would be perfect with my cup of coffee. MmMMm! I retrieved my children and headed out to the car carefully balancing my piece of cake on the box of crackers that was also left over. Although I was sleepy, in the car I held on to it. Getting out of the car I gingerly step out and whoosh, there goes the cake plate sliding off the cracker box onto the lawn. I yelp (yes, I yelped) and look! the cake actually came off of the plate, out of the wrapper and is sitting in a bald spot of the lawn in the dirt. Great! I pick it all up and just laugh looking up at the sky. I guess the driver of this bus called my life was sending a message: Let them eat cake - not! ;) Oh, well. I will survive. It's not the end of the world. I'm sure my mom was having a good laugh up there from her seat in the clouds. Heck, she probably pushed the cake off the box ;)

Thank you.

As any parent will know, parenting is a 24/7 job and no one thanks you for it. Sure you get satisfaction from seeing the merits of your toil when they finally make to the toilet after months of potty training you want to dance a jig. There are gajilllions of moments like that.

But last week after dinner one night the boys and I sat at the dinner table talking about stuff. All kinds of stuff. One of those great talks that's about nothing and yet means so much. We talked about school, teachers, my work, the dog, upcoming parties, friends, the car, even painting the house. I am telling you we talked about everything. In the middle of it while we were talking about things that were happening at school, 15 stopped and put his hand on my shoulder and said "oh, yeah and I want to thank you for making us normal." Now, isn't that about the sweetest thing you have ever heard!? Of course, being me, I couldn't just let it drop there. I had to ask what do you mean and that when the conversation turned to friends and things that were going on with them etc. and both my boys said that they have me to thank for making them normal. I got all misty and just said well, "your welcome I'm just glad that you are able to appreciate it now and didn't have to wait until you have kids." which was how long it took me to appreciate MY parents. The conversation quickly moved on to other things but I just need to perpetuate the moment so I can read it when I need it.

Becoming a mom

When I told my grandfather I was pregnant +17 years ago, he sat smoking his cigar staring into space. My GM thought he hadn't heard and yelled at him "Did you hear her?! She said that they are going to have a baby!" He dramatically took the cigar out of his mouth slowly bringing it down and sighing as he exhaled he said, "You will never sleep well another day in your life." My GM was horrified at the comment and berated him, telling him you are supposed to congratulate the person not tell them something like that. But grandfather said, I have never lied to her before and I won't now. If she's happy that's fine, I'm happy but it's the truth she won't sleep again. Someone has to tell her.

He was right. I don't think I have ever slept as soundly again but I'm happy being a mom and would never have traded it for anything in the world.

SO, Happy Mother's Day to me and to all the others out there.