Weekend Recap

So, after two months of waiting and rushing to the TV everytime the trailers came on, we went to see Wall-E on Saturday.

Thanks also in part to Empress who happened to have two marvelous V.I.P. tickets, we only had to splurge on Miss C's.

That's the benefit of having a Fairy Godmother with the right contacts.

Miss did not sleep. She had been waiting for this movie for months.

She screamed, she laughed, she got all the jokes.
I laughed, I applauded and almost even cried.

The movie is far from spectacular. I am in love with Wall-E.

Don't miss out on a spectacular family film!

After the movies, we hit the beach (we went to the first screening). We cooled off and spent the rest of the evening playing UNO with True's folks.

Yesterday we hit up church, saw the Yankees lose to the Mets and went home early to catch up on old films and a great Calzone from our local pizzeria.

To sum it all up, in the wise words of Miss C, "Momma, that was wicked!!"

Sure was kid. Sure was.

Beg to Differ

When she asked me if Miss C crawled and I answered no, she responded with this:

“Oh, then don’t worry, that means nothing, many children skip that whole phase and they have no issues. That old theory (meaning Jean Piaget’s and Erickson’s developmental theories) are about to fall out”.

I guess I didn’t get the memo.

I immediately intervened: “I’m sorry, but I differ. It is not NORMAL that a human being completely skip a whole developmental phase, these phases are crucial for acquiring skills. Crawling promotes bilateral development, so important for pedaling, going up stairs, physical exercises, moving your torso and legs in opposite directions, etc. etc.”

“Are you a teacher?”
“No, I am a mother.”

She then put Miss C to jump, go up stairs and other meaningless things.

The therapist, poor gal, wasn’t bad, or mean. She was young and very nice. But one thing doesn’t have to do with the other. When she finished her evaluation she sits and says:

“Her hands are very weak and her scapulas are very pronounced”.

(This scapula thing, another therapist that saw Miss C, commented could be a sign of poor muscular tone)

“I also see she has difficulty staying still in a chair (another hint of poor muscular tone), she has poor posture, but I don’t think she needs physical therapy. She jumps, pedals, goes up and down stairs. I can’t recommend her for therapy only for these factors. Her posture can be corrected at home and in school. Her scapulas can be worked on in the summer, taking her to the beach and doing various physical activities”.

She then gave me a list of things to do.

Insert my silence here.

“Now, if you see that in 6 months she gets worse, you can ask for a second evaluation”.

“Oh, so we have to wait until she is in a condition, where maybe the damage is irreversible to qualify for therapy?”

“I just don’t think she needs it. I can’t recommend it”.

“You think I like the idea of therapy? Of taking her out of her school on a bus? You think I wanna charge up her already packed therapy filled agenda? I cannot accept your conclusions and I don’t think that in 45 minutes you can appreciate the problem of my daughter and I surely don’t think that just because she can jump and throw a ball, is a sign that she is perfect”

“Well, you can talk to her Occupational Therapist to work on her hand muscles, and you can take her to the beach and park this summer”.

“Her O.T. has already a work plan for her, which is not exclusively based on hand muscles, and what are we going to do when summer is over and I can’t keep taking her to the beach or park?”


“Well, what I can do is recommend her for therapy for a period of 6 months only and then have another revaluation with an note recommending her release since I do not agree she should be in therapy to begin with”.

“Then you do that. You approve her therapy for 6 months and after that I’ll take over”.

And that’s how it went.

If I would’ve stayed shut I would have lost my morning and I would have left out of there without therapies for my kid. These people think I enjoy being there losing out on work hours, because I’m a maniac of some sort.

Parents, get your facts straight and don’t keep your pie holes shut if you think that something is incorrect and you don’t agree with what ‘specialists’ say. You are an important part of the evaluations and the services you kids get, and it’s in your right to beg to differ.

"Oh yeah?"

I got in the shower, checked out the movie times decided I was going to treat myself to a movie.

::ignore ringing phone::
::ignore ringing phone::

repeat this 15x

After 10 minutes of trying to look some kind of decent and not like some Maniac woman just fresh out of the mental ward, I decided to get in my car.

Who cares if the car had just left me minutes ago, stranded in front of the bakery (like I had EXACTLY dreamed of the night before...just pray I don't dream my death), I was going out.

Rage, Rage, Rage.
Popped in my Fionna Apple CD. The one that rages about how unrecognizable you are and drove off.

I thought about church that morning. How I had an urge to step up when everyone was doing it and pour my lil' heart out. How I wanted too, some sort of redemption, but the other side of me was a lil' bit louder..."stay don't go up there...what redemption?" How I sang praying no one would notice how robotic I was, praying no one would want to chit chat with me about the marvels of God.

I thought about how dry up I was. How for the past 4 days I had not slept a wink.
I thought about "not being in first place" and how enraged I was when True sly commented back "well, that's too bad for you".

I was craving a drink.
I was craving for the first time in years a bottle of Bailey's or a Midori Sour or a Malibu with Pineapple.

I was craving going out to smoke some pot.
That's why I was headed out for the movies.
Anything to keep my ass outta of trouble.

The phone kept on ringing.
I kept hitting the ignore button.

As I pulled up to the theater, the parking was going through renovations and the entrance had changed. I kept driving. Even keeping out of trouble was complicated.

I picked up the ringing phone. I couldn't spare to turn it off, because Miss C was chilling with her dad that afternoon.

It was a conversation with static, like when your inbetween stations and you get all these people mixed up in a jumble.

I turned around. My attempt of going to the movies alone was pathetic.
I drove on the solitary streets for what it seemed like an eternity.

I had hung up the phone in an attempt of not completely cutting off the only people left lingering around in my life.


I thought about bombs and the end of the world, and Spongebob and wars, and death, and life and Wall-e and money and crap. Like a broken record.

repeat 10x
All random nonsense

This is why I wasn't sleeping.
My head and body had completely disconnected themselves from me.
I was trying to sleep in a body and head that wasn't mine.

It's like staying over at someone's house and sleeping on a different bed.
It just isn't the same.
The familarity is gone.

I've gotta get my head back.
And scew it back on.
and try to salvage whatever's left.

Where the caterpillars eat my neighbor's tree. The tree is called "Ramo de Novia" (Bride's bouquet). It's not really a tree tree, it's more like a few stems with plenty of flowers...

Those suckers were all over the tree yesterday and one even made its way onto our gate.


Even bro's dog, to which up to this point thought was a mute, barked.

Ain't nothing like

I have discovered prehistoric comment on my commnet section of my blog. For some strange reason they were not arriving at my inbox in my email. I apologize for those who think I might have been not publishing them.

In other nice news...I will now officially present my babies. I don't have a lot of money to spend, but I do know how to hunt for hot internet bargains...and they don't call me shoegirl for nothing:


So I had to suck it up. Miss C wanted to play "dolls".

::rolls eyes::

Ya' see I had to suck it up, because just like her mom, Miss C showed no interest in dolls whatsoever. Give her some clothespins and some toothbrushes and your play date is set.

So seeing her enthusiasm for a doll that has been lying in her toybox for two years, I decided to play along.

But alas, I was hoping the afternoon would be cut short. I mean, dolls, yuck.

The only dolls I liked were Barbies, as in my era Barbie. When Barbie was running for President and not sticking up 7-11's due to hooker dolls like The Brats who have stolen Barbie's thunder.

See Exhibit A and B.

So I'm sitting trying to pretend I'm having a gay ol' time...

"Yeah, wah wah wah, the babies are crying".

"Here mom, you can be a grandmom and give them food while I go out to work"

She gets on her tricycle and whips out her Elmo Cell Phone.

"I'm gonna make a call. What's that number again?"
"What number?"
"The animal number"
"What animal?"
She rolls her eyes.
"You know, my friend. The talking animal. The talking animal cat".

Ok kid, delusional games, now you're talking.

hoggin it all.

"Are you listening to me?"

Really I'm not. The doe eyed, zombie look I'm wearing, isn't a facade, and I'm not trying to look cool. I am frankly, sincerly, out of it. It's not that I don't love you anymore, it's that I feel like a wild animal that's been picked off the road and forced to live in some retirement home called: "Villa Placid".

Sometimes, I don't wanna a "we", sometimes I wanna "me". Yesterday you mentioned how sad you were that we weren't going to see each other. A part of me was also dismayed, but the part of me that "jumped for joy and almost cried of happiness" won me over.

What gives?
You are the best man that has come into our lives. You have invested your time and more into us. I am more than fortunate. You do have your flaws, some of which in these days have been magnified, but it isn't your fault. I do it on purpose. I push myself away when something becomes too intense, when I feel my space is being invaded. And frankly it's really not invaded, it's just that after almost 2 years, it's perfectly rational and normal that we become more closer, especially with a long awaited ring on my finger.

Sometimes the thought of two people under one roof, makes me wanna snap.
Yesterday as we had lunch, the guy behind the counter was so happy, so cheerful, so blissful.

"That is the kind of happiness that makes me wanna jump over the counter and kill a few".

You looked at me and remained silent.
You didn't get it.

The other days I was at my grandma's house and my cousin was over. The perfect cousin, the one with the baby and another on the way, with the perfect husband, house and gas sucking SUV. And for the first time I felt a slight ping of envy.

I could probably have it if I wanted it. But did I want it?
I want it, but am I willing to pay the cost of it?
Am I willing to be civil?
Am I willing to give a layoff to the tyrant, dark side of me?

"I don't know yet, but we are gonna make it!"
You too, feel the thickness in the air, you too know the rocky bridge we tread upon, but you are so happy and optimistic, that I stand in delight. Almost in envy, wishing some of that would rub off of me in a way I could still recognize myself in the mirror in the morning.

What have you put away to make something work?


I'm on day number three of Insomnia.

I'm starting to feel like Christian Bale's character in The Machinist

I toss and turn all night. I have nightmares, short very real nightmares. I lay in bed awake all night.

I wake up with huge headaches but amazingly enough very fresh faced.

Thing is I don't know how much longer my body is gonna take it, at this pace.

I'm not overly stressed or preocupied, so I don't have a legit reason to not sleep.

Hopefully I won't fall asleep and chop anyone's arm off like Bale.

I'll keep ya posted.

Summer 08


"Some women are like the Amazons from Greek mythology. Powerful no hold barred I can squash men with my feet kind of women. Women who feel they need no men in their lives. Women who don't like being put under the authority of men because they feel inferior. They are the women who don't think twice to open their mouths and offend and yell, among other things. Men, if you are in a relationship with an Amazon, evaluate if this relationship is worth pursuing."

-Something I heard yesterday, while True was sitting right next to me.

Part of me wanted to scream with joy and pride and raise my hand "Ooh ooh ooh that's me!! that's me!!, lookey there True, you're dating an Amazon!"

Part of me wanted to head for the hills.
Part of me wanted to quote Carrie Bradshaw in the latest installment of Sex & the City, "You said a mouthful there sister!"

Yet part of me was thrown into a "swirling vortex of terror" (taken from Finding Nemo)

I was an Amazon.

A warrior, a no holds barred woman.
But really, was there something wrong with that?
I mean, yes I understood the point behind the yelling and screaming and yes I know I can at times, be a total bitch to True.

I am not gonna defend myself on that point.

At Miss C's party I wanted to hold up the piñata and Empress pointed out that why doesn't the man of the house do it, to which True replied:

"Because she doesn't let me be the man".

Is there any truth to that?
Am I taking True's manliness?

Part of me still longs for days of solitude, days where I can roam the empire that is my flat and prance around in my underwear and hog the remote and stereo.
Another part of me enjoys the weekends we spend together.

But I think all of me wants to be the boss.
It's hard not being.

I still feel certain higher rankings over my pad. I still feel I am the one in charge, of everything.

I've even become a little touchy on the Miss C issue.
I sometimes don't want his two cents.
Sometimes I feel like yanking the kid and saying "ya' know what? there is only room for one ringmaster, comprende?".

What is wrong with wanting to be the boss? of your house? where you pay the bills?

Yes, True has offered to help. He has helped in some areas. Maybe he would help more if I let him. But I feel that if I let him help out more, I'm giving him more turf to boss, make decisions and be partner.

I sort of like the Lone Ranger. A lot.

What do you mean it's wrong for a woman to be free? What do you mean that women need to have some male authority figure above them? What do you mean that women can 'help' out with the finances of the house, but that it's technically a man's job?

What do you mean that I can do all this and still retain my female power?

Give me the secret please.

In the era of female empowerment, why is there a need to feel we have to make our selves less in order to be loved more?

Would True love me more if I was less controlling, demanding, if I were more like our moms (not mine) who did everything the men suggested.

"Men do the big picture, women are good at details"

Whey can't we be good at both without being judged as control freaks or feminist "amazons".

Why can't female empowerment be viewed as a good thing.

I am not saying we don't need men. I am not saying Men are Scum. I am saying that we can be equal. We can do what the men do. It doesn't have to do anything with proving ourselves, it has to do with how times are.

If I didn't take on a man role in my house, fixing stuff, taking the car for repairs, who would've done it for me???

The invisible Man sitting on my couch?

Now I have a man, and it's hard asking for help, it's hard being the damsel in distress...

"Oh please prince, please rescue me from the pitfalls of darkness and screw in this 50 watt light bulb in my room!!"

When I can just stand on a freaking chair and put it there myself.

I will never be such damsel, to my dismay or to my sucess.

I will never limit myself to things just because I am a woman.
And frankly I don't know if I can submit myself to the authority of a man.

Especially if I'm doing my share of work.
What I do believe is in partnerships, in equal shares. In letting the other person be.

I may not be there yet.
Hell, I ain't there yet.
I am a Full Fledged Amazon. I may yell and scream and wanna do things my way, all the time (but that's a whole 'nother post). But I cook dinner, fix electronics, screw in the lightbulbs, wash the car and have tools.

And I ain't apologizing for that.

Happy 6th!

Yesterday was Miss C's 6th birthday. How times flies!

We didn't have anything grand planned, since what she really wants (Wall-E the movie) can't be done until the 27th. We decided to fill up the pool and invite our closest friends: Vader, Vietnam, Bro, V, Empress & Husband...for an afternoon of food and presents.

But just before that could take place, you know there had to be some drama. Vietnam knowing we were gonna fill up her pool and have the festivities outside, decided that 4pm (estimated guest arrival hour) would be a great time to clean the front of the house (where we were going to put up the pool), hose down the gate and have our cars removed outside of the garage so he could clean it up.

Needless to say I put my two cents in, in forms of utter screams of anger and promises of complete vengeance and he caved in and let us get on with the show.

I mean, sweet Lord, out of all the days!


After a close knit pool party and some hotdogs, we made our way upstairs to get ready for our guests. The guests arrived while Miss C was still the shower but she made sure to make her entrance with sunglasses and all. She quickly prompted where were her gifts and was delighted with all the stuff she got.

I suggested this year that instead of Littlest Pet Shop toys (which she got anyway), she'd get arts & crafts stuff (since I was gonna get her an Arts & Crafts station) and clothes. Only thing was that everyone was in sync with gifts and there were a few repeats.

Empress who always loves to take the title of "Kick ass" present of the year, was ludacris at the fact that V got Miss C the same exact gift. I, on the other hand was dismayed at the fact that V got Miss C the same exact Littlest Pet Shop toy I got her as a second gift.

V must be stopped. ::snicker:: Empress and I plotted our revenge during dinner, but a kidnapping over a box of Crayola Crafts sounded harsh. All jokes aside, V and everyone else were VERY generous with their gifts. Especially Empress who is making way for a new family addition...a baby girl named Kamila...but that's a whole nother' post...

Miss C was delighted with all her stuff including her PAINT which she immediately wanted to use.


Miss C wanted a piñata although there weren't any other kids, so I made one, which came out pretty darn cute (post pics later). We decided to make our way to the piñata session, which Miss C insisted should be broken with a stick, but with a baby on board (Empress) I didn't think it would be a good idea, so we just pulled the strings on the end of the sucker. Thing is, I made such a sturdy piñata, the sucker wouldn't break, so I "helped" it out a bit. Miss C was delighted with the toys and goodies.

Especially the Littlest Pet Shop toy I snuck inside.

Vader fixed up a nice dinner and we played some Pin the Tail on the Donkey (another request by Miss C). She was the first to go and pinned it right on the dot, which made us squeal in delight on how bright she was. Everyone but me that is. I had this kid, I know she is sly, so I made her go again. I placed the blindfold and sure enough, she positions it in a way that she can see. Either that or she is really gifted on knowing that there was another tail in her way and removed it in order to place hers.

The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree.

We cut the cake and around 10pm everyone was gone.

I lay in bed with her as she smiled in delight.

"Mom I had fun. I had fun with my new family. I loved all my presents. Thank you mom".

No kiddo, Thank U.

The Ship

When are you guys finally getting married?
How I loathe this question. I've posted about loathing it before. I'll post about loathing it again in the near future perhaps.

Because I loathe it.

We'll get married, when we get married.

Do I have an expiration date on the back of my hiney??

Truth is, marriage sounds nice. But there are so many buts/butts.

There are days that I long for silence.
Let me stand back and let all the hopeless romantics clobber me.

Don't get me wrong, I love True.
God Bless his little heart and huge stomach (that's a whole 'nother post), but there are some things that sometimes bug me the fudge out and I long for single people days with SSB (Single Social Behavior), like sitting in my undies on my sofa, like not brushing my teeth immediately when I wake up, like not wearing a bra, like not doing my hair, like having Coke for breakfast.

But when you are trying to have a relationship it sometimes goes shot to Hell.

For instance, this Saturday, I shut off my phone (because Lord, some people have nothing to do but call you up on your only day off at 8am) and decided to sleep in.

Woke up around 11:30, decided to clean the house and True called he was on his way to help.

He was on his way until about 2:30pm, when I had already finished the whole house and decided to sit in a comfy chair and enjoy the fresh smell of a clean floor, John Mayer, The Puppini Sisters (gotta check them out if you haven't) and a lil' Ella Fitzgerald. He's restless. He's bored. Starts walking around the freshly mopped floor.

"We ain't doing anything? going anywhere?"
I ignore him.

He gets up and turns on his turntables and starts scratching away...

And it went something like this...

"Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but....::scratch scratch:: 'OH YEAH OH OH OH OH YEA'...me...anyone else but me...::scratch scratch:: 'OH OH OH OH YEAH' ::scratch scratch::

The Puppini Sisters on Crack.

"Do you mind?"
He looks back, totally unaware that he's now made The Puppini Sisters sound like they need to be on "Sucka Free Sundays" on MTV.
"Oh...I'm bored".
"Well I'm listening to some music."

He sits down, with put and all.

"Are you going to take a shower to go out? are we going out?"

"Jeeeeeezeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee I'm trying to RELAX..."

Although at this point, my tone of voice was far away from it's relaxing point.

"Can't ya just chill, sit, do nothing. RELAX".

I leave the music on and decide to take a shower and enjoy some Norah Jones.

He turns on the TV. Loud.

And it went something like this:

"It's the NBA Finals tomorrow night....Lakers Vs. Celtics....::Norah Jones sings in the background::

"We're gonna be
Sinkin' soon,
We're gonna be
Sinkin' soon,
Everybody hold your breath and,
Down and down we go."

They don't call it a "ship" (relationship) for nothing.

We are Family

I have no ideas what my plans are this weekend, but they somehow revolve around meeting up with the Ex who happens to be on the island, so he can spend some time with Miss C. All together, since he is here on military orders and doesn't have a car to move around in.

As weird as it may sound to some, well, it's isn't weird for me and it's in my daughter's best interest.

True has become more aware of the fact that this isn't going to change and that I have a good relationship with my Ex and that Miss C loves her dad.

So that comes first.

But it doesn't make it eerily strange having all 5 of us bond over dinner or a playdate.

So pray for me.

The Yankees are sucking. Sucking so bad that the other days, ESPN was giving a game (which is very rare) and I prefered watching "American Beauty" which I've watched before like 3 times.

Joba made his debut as starting pitcher last night, and poor ol' Joba sucked. Poor Kid. 22 and sucked at his first game.

Put your head on my shoulder I'll make you some hot chocolate. That is, after I beat your hands with a stick to see if we can get some circulation goin'.

As for us, I'm still on a working hiatus, Miss C is counting down the days until her birthday (next Wednesday) and I'm trying new ways to stretch out my savings, like living in a dark home to reduce the ridiculously priced energy bill.

"Momma I need a light for the bathroom".
"No you don't sweetie just feel yourself around and squat".

I also have some new 'fans'. I'm having people talk behind my back.

Saying I'm a waste of talent, that I'm a fake Christian and that I dance with the Devil.

It's all very funny to me until I feel the urge to rip someone's head off.
The funny part, the 'fans' doing the talking are men.
Men who don' t have the balls to tell it to my face.

I've taken action on the matter and stirred up some people with some commentary.

I too can play hardball, without losing my class.

As far as dancing with the Devil, Jesus does a much better tango.

what's up witchu?

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