I Said:

I said that I would write again this weekend cuz I had something to write about. Well, I just should have written it then, cuz I can not remember what I was gonna write about.

That kind of thing always happens to me. Like when I'm holding a set of keys, and I say to myself "I'm gonna put them right here so I don't forget where I put them", or I'll have a paper and say "I think I'll put this very important paper right here in this folder so I won't forget where I put it", and of course, I can not remember. That's the downside to being unorganized, but I'm working on it, and I haven't lost my wallet in quite awhile, knock on wood.

Thank you to the blog followers by the way.

Hmm. It's really bothering me that I can not remember what I was gonna write about. I thought about it the other night, while I was up doing all the house stuff, and now, I'm in the same boat. I've been up, surfing the internet super highway, just to read about other moms who seem to do a million more things than I do. I think they just publish books to make me look bad. Whateva. But now I'm mad that I can't remember.

Remember. Remember. Come on Sara. You can do it. I know you can. I think you can... I thought you could.

Was it about your neighbor and almost losing their cat while they were outta town? no.

Were you gonna write about the neighbors who invited you to worship with them? no.

Was it about Effie wearing lots of blue eyeshadow for the Halloween party? no.

Were you gonna write about something very strange that Alex said to you? probably.

Ok. This is hopeless. Why don't YOU tell me something about yourself? Huh? I'm tired of all this writing about me. Oh, yeah, but this IS my blog. Hmff...

This is a lost cause. The world is in chaos. The markets are down. Elections in a little more than a week. My kids are strange. I have WAY too much on my mind. And I have nothing to say. Oh well. I guess it's just one of those days. I think I'll stop wasting your time, and go read a blog about one of those super mommies. Maybe I need some inspiration.

Peace out fools. I love you all.

Just Stop Thinking

Hi Kids. Thank you to Becky, Cathie, and Lucena for signing up as blog followers. I'm glad you are not ashamed. Hee hee.

The more I think about what I should write about on any given day, the harder it becomes to write. For the past hour, I've been doing laundry, making mole, (mol-eh, a mexican dish, not an animal or an enlarged freckle), doing dishes, and surfing craigslist for fine, used, automobiles. During this time my mind has been racing with thoughts from the past week. We seem to do a lot even though at times it seems like we don't do anything.

Celia tends to have lengthy conversations with herself. We took a walk the other day and she insisted on taking out her "map" out of her "backpack", then creating some adventures prior to arriving at our destination. (too much Dora)

She also had a long conversation with her poop the other day. I'm shooting myself in the foot for not having recorded this but here are some of the things I remember her saying while she sat on the toilet. (Please don't tell her I wrote this down when she's older)

"Poop! Here comes some Pee- Pee! Watch out - you're gonna get wet!!"
"Oh No! This is a terrible situation! What are we gonna do!"
"Ha ha ha! Wait! No NO! Poo poo - please hold still!"
"Watch out or your butt's gonna get a rash!"

(this type of screaming went on for at least 15 minutes. I had to pick her up off the toilet or I'm sure it would have continued for a good hour)

Yesterday and today I found out what Effie (a.k.a. to some as the "Destructor") would do if I didn't take away her unfinished portions of food.

I gave her a bowl of rice, and a glass of orange juice. When she was done with both, she decided to mix rice into the orange juice, which she would then drink. Then she would remove grains of rice from the orange juice and put them back in the bowl, then eat them with a spoon.

Today I gave her a glass of apple juice at the table, which she mixed into a cup of mint chip ice cream. Later, she poured out the juice from the sippy cup onto the table, then rubbed her hands in it as if it were finger paint, then would rub her face and hair. She was all gross and sticky until I put an end to her destructor madness.

Yeah, my kids are perty funny. My dad witnessed a tantrum from the depths of the underworld today that I blame on a poor breakfast. Hmm. Good times. Good times.

I think I'll write again on Sunday, so stay posted. I actually had something else in mind to write about today, but I'll save it. And don't let me write any more dream entries. It seems like since I wrote that last one, my dreams have gotten weirder.

Oh - for those of you who make mole - and use the glass jars of Dona Maria to make it, put it in the blender first. What a world of difference that made. I think it takes about an hour out of the mole making time. Now I think I'll make mole sauce to pour over eggs, burritos, pizza, mint chip ice cream, or whatever.

44 Stories Later

And now time for a dream.

If you know me - you know I like to sleep. In fact I'm almost always yawning. I'm tired a lot. Sleeping is real fun, and cozy, and wonderful, and whenever I remember my dreams, I know I've slept ok.

I'm the kind of person who can fall asleep within 20 seconds of putting my head down, and even if I get 10 minutes to doze, it'll do me a world of good. In fact, just now, I put my kids to bed, took a little nap, and now I'm up and at em.

I would've thought I was pregnant last night cuz my dream was so bizarre. But NO I'm not pregnant - but what I mean by that is when I was pregnant- those 18 combined months of being a host for a fetus - I had the weirdest dreams all the time. Some dreams included me swimming in the middle of the ocean watching cannonballs wizz past me while I was wading in the water with Danny DeVito. In another, my friend Vicky and I were on the lookout for second hand sofas on a deserted island.

Well, last night my dream included some of these things - in random order:

Driving my sister's bug to San Francisco.
Arriving in SF and receiving a collect call from Ireland where someone asked me to host a couple in my house.
Going to the dentist for x-rays.
Going to another dentist for a check up.
Seeing someone I knew at the x-ray dentist.
Then seeing them again at the check up dentist.
When I saw them at the check up dentist, that person said "Seen anyone we know lately?", and I said "Yeah, I saw you at the x-ray dentist a minute ago."
Getting a text from my sister that said she was evacuated from her house due to large announcements made by airplane that there was gonna be an earthquake.
Going back to LA to see those big airplanes.
Those airplanes turned into huge rocket ships that shook the ground when they'd fly past me.
Those huge rockets turned into aliens.
Those aliens multiplied and gave me birthday presents.
My mother-in-law asked me who got my kids those cute gifts.
I told her they were from the aliens.
There was never an earthquake.
I walked with my brother-in-law along a maze while I watched him carry my 2 kids.
One fell out of his arms but I caught her.
I ended up on a bus to mexico and saw Alex at one of the stops.
The bus driver wouldn't pick him up cuz he had 2 strollers, so he said go to the next stop.
I ran off the bus to help Alex and we ended up RUNNING miles chasing after a bus with kids and strollers in our hands.
(it was exhausting and I wasn't even awake)
In my dream at one point, I recalled the first whole part of my dream to someone telling them how weird it was.
We made it to the end of the bus route and ended up outrunning the bus.
I asked a woman for our bus fare back, cuz running was such a pain in the butt.

Ok, that was some of it. I promise not to quasi-entertain you with riff raff dreams again, but for reals, I had nothing else to write about. I mean, this week has been fun, and for the most part quite gratifying as a mother cuz I got my kids to eat breakfast, brush teeth, and get dressed before 9am for 6 days in a row. That to me is like deserving a medal. (if anyone who reads this knows Dallas Howard, tell him to bring me one next time he sees me)

Anyways - I'll write soon. Have a great Monday, etc. etc. etc. Say hi to the real world for me. Adios.

Bye Bye

It's been awhile. More than a week I think, but if you know me - then you know I was busy due to the party at the park. And if you made it, thank you. It was too much fun. We could barely make it home cuz there was so much crap to pack, and ended up putting a full cooler on top of Effie's lap. She thought it was funny.

Last night I was up till 3am, yeah, doing some dishes, cleaning up, making a new schedule for my babies, and preparing a few things, and all the while I was thinking about what to write about. And as I stared at the sink, and all the water going down the drain I noticed that our new garbage disposal had a name. It's called the "Insinkerator".

"Insinkerator", I thought. "That sounds like "N'Sync -erator."

Then I remembered how last week at ballet class the teacher was blasting that song "Bye Bye", by N'Sync and making my child dance around like a looney to it. The teacher kept saying how much she loved N'Sync, and you could tell by the way she was dancing, and I felt a little disturbed at the fact that my kid was enjoying it so much. Just like that time I let my kid watch "Barbie Island Princess". (Note to parents - NEVER RENT THAT MOVIE OR LET YOUR KIDS SEE IT!)

Well, getting back to the Insinkerator. Now then whole time I was watching the water go down I kept singing that "Bye Bye" song to my dishes and thought it was only appropriate that my sink now has a name and a theme song.

I paid particularly close attention to the ballet teacher today to see if she'd do or say anything funny again worth blogging about, and no she didn't. It was a little excruciating to watch the class though cuz the teach kept trying to get 10 2-4 year olds to do real ballet and no one was listening - especially Celia who was laughing her head off during the entire 45 minutes, for what reason, I don't know.

When I got home tonight, I remembered that my neighbors were going outta town and I had to take in their trashcans. (Now in my home, mi "gordo" or "viejo" or "old man" aka husband does this chore) So there I was, listening to my kids scream at me through the screen door while I walked their cans to their backyard. By the time I was done, Alex was out in the driveway with Celia who was sitting in a cardboard box on the lawn in the dark, and Effie was next to her. They couldn't stand to see me gone for more than a minute and I was glad to be with them. And after I dragged Celia in the box up the driveway and got inside, my man was sitting on the piano bench with a very serious look in his eyes.

"Sara. When are you gonna start taking in OUR trashcans?"

(Now if you know this man, then this may be funny)

About 6 seconds passed before I responded:

"When you die."

It's late now. "BYE BYE" everybody. Oh - and for you loyal readers, I have a thingy at the bottom of this blog that says "People who read this". So if you are not scared of showing your face, go hed and represent.

Me No Like

Me no like:

SPIDERS - especially when the biggest one you've ever seen in your life is crawling on your daughter's stroller. Euck.
And... especially when it's night time and you are taking out the trash and you put your hand on the handle and it goes right through a spider web, and the next morning you see the biggest black widow you've ever seen in your life on the trash can. Euck.

CRICKETS - They crap like termites and they are loud. Sometimes they find a hiding place right next to me and make all sorts of loud ass cricket noises. Then they make little babies and the baby crickets are cute but you just have to smash em cuz you're not gonna eat em.

DISHES - yes I know this is getting old. Tell me about it. In fact many of you blog readers have seen me doing dishes elsewhere and have asked me why I'm doing them. Well, it's not that I hate them per se, I just don't like seeing them in my house, and I don't like when you wash a whole tub full just to turn around and see that about 26 more dishes/pots/pans are on the stove and after all that hard work, there they are again. I don't mind washing them when they are not in my own house as much. Boy do I have to just find something better to write about or what?

NO MORE WALKS - I love walking. But putting two reluctant children in strollers when they'd rather walk, run, run and stop, sit on grass, turn in circles, roller skate without knowing how to roller skate, ride a scooter, or whatever - is not fun. Many blogs ago I wrote about how perfect my life was when we were walking every day and putting the offspring to bed in their strollers all snuggled with blankets every night. Yes, it was nice, but it obviously didn't last. Success as a parent can be short lived at times. And me no like no more walks especially when my shins have been extremely sore for 3 days due to the fact that on my way out of the house at 11pm the other night to take a walk alone while my family was in dreamland, my favorite neighbor saw me and said:

"Hey! How do my halloween lights look?"
"Great! My kids love them. You put me to shame. Now I have to get some."
"Where are you going?"
"On a walk."
"Why don't you come inside and use my gym?"

Well, I thought gym meant 24-hour fitness or Bally's, but I accepted the offer cuz I love blabbing my life away with her. So I go in and start the leg lifts as I gazed at the framed autographed picture of George from Seinfeld in his underwear in front of me. (Now that's what I call going to the gym to look at hot bods) Well, my neighbor must be one buff woman cuz I couldn't even budge them damn thing. I had to set it to the lightest setting for wimpy people, and my neighbor just laughed.

(in case you are wondering -my garbage disposal will be fixed tomorrow. I know I said I wasn't gonna write - but I needed something to do before tackling those 26 dishes on the stove. Good night.)

Shout Out

Hey peeps.
Here's a shout out to:

Dad
Cathie
Monica
Becky
Brooke
Alyana
Gina
Mateo
Sherida
Tati
Lucena
VIcky
Mom
Mama Lety
Lety

and WHOEVER else reads this thing.

I wanted you all to know that the end of my blog has come.

Reason being -
my garbage disposal is out of commission - thus resulting in me not being able to do dishes.

If my dishes can not be done - then that means I can not blog.

So goodbye blog -

Well, not really... maybe just goodbye for about 2 more days until Luis our plumber comes back to fix the pipe and the garbage disposal.

I know it all went to hell cuz I wash so many dishes. Se la vie.

Freeway Puppy

When I was 10 or so, I got a cute little Pound Puppy from Toys R Us. I don't remember its name or exactly what color it was (Cathie?) but I do remember how excited I was. A few weeks later in the mail I received the dog's personalized name tag and collar. Cathie had a P.P. (hahaha P.P) too, and for some reason while we were riding in the backseat on the freeway she let my P.P. fly out the window. All I remember was a lot of screaming and sadness.

Now lately I've been dealing with trying to make my first born tough. Man, I was anything BUT tough when I was a kid and I don't want her to be a wussy. She gets her feelings hurt perty easily but she's used to playing nice, and very princessey.

The other day at the library 3 bullish little boys did not want her to play with them and she got sad. I mean real sad. Lots of tears and hurt feelings. Well, we dealt, and later that day I made a point of trying out role playing exercises to teach her how to ignore bullies and walk away. I think I need her to watch Annie a few more times to toughen up.

Anyhow, back to the P.P. thing. One day this week we were on the freeway headed home from the East Side when the first born held a plastic bag out the window. God forbid she throw it out. It's the scariest thing to be on the freeway and have a plastic bag land on your windshield and get stuck on your wipers and block your view. So I yelled at her.

"CELIA! Don't throw that bag out the window! The wind will pick it up and it'll fly away like my Pound Puppy!"

"What MAMA?"

"Yeah - throwing things out the window is dangerous. Once Cathie let my Pound Puppy fly out the window on the freeway and I never saw it again! - so be careful!"

(now don't ask me why I compared throwing a plastic bag out the window on the freeway to a stuffed animal, but I did.)

The next thing I know, Celia's face is all red and she's drowning in tears. She was so sad about my story.

"What happened to your puppy Mom? Where did it go?"

"It wasn't a real puppy, Celia, it was just a toy. I think it stayed on the side of the freeway."

"Why didn't you go back and get it Mama?"

"Cuz the freeway is dangerous. If you drop something out the window you can't get it back."

This was real dumb cuz she wasn't comforted by anything I said, and I had to hurry to put on the Sound of Music CD to distract her.

Then Alex said:

"Sara. Can you do me a favor and not use this moment to tell her how your grandparents died or about the holocaust? (There he goes with the holocaust again) It's not the right time. She's already sad enough."

Yuk yuk yuk.

Now I know that my 4 year old is not ready emotionally for any tragic stories. But she IS getting a little tougher. Tonight a little kid pushed her at the playground at the mall and she said "Go take a hike!".

Maybe that's what I should have told my sister after my P.P. died instead of being a cry baby.