Urban Mama

Monopoly Memories

I didn't grow up with my cousins near by. The four of us have six first cousins -- three on our mother's side and three on our father's side. They ALL live in South America, so we didn't see them on a regular basis (well, two of our Venezuelan cousins lived with us for a bit after they each graduated from high school while they learned English). So it's with immense pleasure that I see how my children interact with their cousins (all on my side).

In this picture, my son (right) plays Monopoly with his 12- and 13-year-old cousins over Thanksgiving holiday. My son had never played before (I know, I'm a horrible mother), but my nephews patiently explained the rules, and they even tried to explain the complicated machinations of "real estate deals" with him. When my son's Times Square hotel bankrupted his 12-year-old cousin, it no longer mattered that his 13-year-old cousin was still going to win; my son was so, so excited. It was a hilarious and heart-warming sight to behold.

I adore my nieces and nephews. With the exception of my brother Jorge's three-year-old daughter, all four of my kids' cousins were born before I was even married. They are very different from each other, but they all get on, and they are all loving and sweet toward their younger cousins. I hope they stay that way, even as they mature into fully pubescent teens (they're 11, 12, 13, and 14). I don't think they realize how much my children hero-worship them. It's adorable, really. Just another reason I'm thankful my siblings and I continue to uphold our promise to Mami to remain close.

Since November 12, my second child, my only daughter, has been five years old. She was still four in this picture, but I love it and wanted to share. I adore my daughter, but man can she push my buttons. Most of the time I'm in awe of how much she reminds me of my mother. She's tiny but fierce. She's sweet and funny and a true Daddy's girl. She's so beautiful, I wonder how the heck she's my daughter. But then I remember, she's Mami's granddaughter. I can't wait to see what this new year brings for my little firecracker. Happy Birthday, Delia.

On Birthdays and Best Friends

November 7th is one of those days that has been imprinted on my memory since 1989. It is the birthday of one of my oldest and dearest friends. I'd say she's my best friend, but really that term is loaded and imprecise. She's not my oldest friend either, because we met when she was almost 12 and I was newly 13, and we both have friends we've known far longer.

She's the friend who held me as I sobbed at age 16 when I had my heart broken.

She's the friend who, weeks later, held my hand as my mother left the house in a hurry -- breakfast half-made on the stove -- for the emergency room, where we later learned, my beloved aunt had just died.

She's the friend I called first when I received my college acceptance letters, started dating my future husband, was proposed to, and found out I was pregnant five weeks after returning from my honeymoon.

She's the only person who could lure me to visit Alabama, because I'd never had a desire to visit the state before she lived there.

She's the friend who nearly always votes a different way, but it never comes between us.

She's the friend -- the only friend -- who never, ever forgets my birthday.

So, Ruth Ann, on your 32nd birthday, I thank you for being that kind of friend. -- the kind of friend a dozen women would ask to stand up for them at their wedding. You're an amazing woman, wife, mother, sister and friend.

Blogalicious 2009: Highlights of an Inspiring Conference

It has taken me a week to find the time to write about my trip down to Atlanta for the very first Blogalicious conference for women bloggers (most of whom were of color). I've decided to break it down into several posts, because there's just so much to say.

1. Blogalicious Helped Me Face My Fears

The trip started when I took off in a loaner Equinox at 3:AM to pick up my very pregnant fellow DC-blogger Kim, who was my carpool partner for a Chevy-sponsored road-trip to the conference. For those of you who don't know this about me, let me express what a HUGE deal this was, because I DO NOT like to drive on highways. I am NOT a great driver. I was in two car accidents as a permit driver during my junior year in high school (one of which was my fault, the other of which I still have scars from as the wounded passenger), and then right before the school-year ended, my beloved aunt was killed in a car accident. I never took drivers' ed (it wasn't required, I knew I wasn't going to get a car, and I was too busy to care), and I didn't even bother to test for my license until the summer after my freshman year in college. Living in New York City for 13 years, I rarely drove, and whenever I did, it was at most, for one hour to relieve my husband, who has always done 98% of the long-distance driving.

This is all to say that driving to Blogalicious and back meant overcoming a phobia. It helped that we had a fully-equipped, brand-new car, OnStar, a leisurely stop at a  Sonic drive in for shakes and burgers, and an iPod hookup to make the drive that much easier -- not to mention that Kim and I both love musical theater, so we spent the majority of the time listening to XM On Broadway singing along to showtunes. When we finally arrived at the W Hotel in Atlanta, I called my husband and said "I did it!," and he was quite proud (I think he was also massively . Of course, he also joked that I'll have to drive to the City the next time we go, but hey, now I know I can!

I'm sure it sounds a bit ridiculous to those who've driven cross-country since they were teenagers, but my fear of driving has been a very real issue. I have turned down countless invitation because I couldn't fathom driving a long way (as in more than 20 miles) by myself. I have caused my husband a great deal of aggravation, because I would snort and sniffle every time he suggested we switch off, so he could rest or work. So among the reasons I'll always remember this first Blogalicious weekend is that it's the first time I fully participated in a road-trip without depending on someone else to do all the driving. It's a big deal, and I'm grateful to Kim, Blogalicious, and Chevy, for helping me get past my fear and unleash my (timid) road warrior.

Oh, and after 22 hours in a car together, Kim and I learned that oversharing is a good way to keep a tired driver from getting too sleepy. Let's just say we'd each know exactly what to say to make the other drink in a friendly game of "I Never."

Pistachio Dreams

Last night I went to Top Chef contestant Eli Kirshtein's restaurant Eno in Atlanta, where I am attending the Blogalicious conference with about 150 other women of color and women interested in diversity. The dinner was amazing, and the very best part was having pistachio cake for dessert, because I never get to have them, since my husband is allergic. I had forgotten how much I love pistachios, and I could finally indulge without worrying that I couldn't kiss my husband later.

As mothers we need to have alone time to remind ourselves that we are our own women in addition to being wives and mothers. I can eat pistachios. I can sleep without a baby or preschooler attached to my body. I can focus on myself, and that's a rare and a beautiful thing.

A Motherless Year

Mami died one year ago today. It feels surreal. 365 days have passed.

Mami was one of a kind, and a year later, the pain of losing her is still fresh, still raw, still difficult to process. There's not a day that passes when I don't miss her voice or wish she could've been here to witness something or other. I don't cry every day any more, but at the slightest, unexpected trigger, I still feel the grief encompassing me. And that's what grieving is -- an ache that usually stays on simmer but can boil up to the surface without any warning.

I want to honor my mother's memory today by wholeheartedly thanking the people who got me through what was the most difficult day of my life.

My siblings. I can't imagine having survived my mother's death without my brothers and sister to accompany me through the grief journey we've each experienced this past year. Louis, Diana, Jorge, I know Mami would be proud of how connected we are, and how much we genuinely enjoy being together. I count among my siblings my loving (former but forever) stepsister Patty, whom Mami helped raise (especially through adolescence), my brother-in-law Larry, and sisters-in-law Roe and Sinyee, who've been part of my family for so many years.

My husband. How many husbands love their mothers in law? Mine did. They were great friends. They could laugh endlessly at a joke and even bicker like the oldest of friends. I know my husband can still hear my mother's voice say "Ay, Hans!" in his mind on a regular basis. My husband has had to put up with a lot this year, and I can only say it's a testament to our marriage that we've managed to rise above all of my mood swings, disregard for domestic duties and my moping and lounging around the house.

My friends Jen, Madeleine, and Lourdes, who dropped everything to rush by my side, make me lunch, get in bed with me and cry, and show me that it's possible to . My countless dear friends from around the country who called me right away upon hearing the news, especially my life-long friend Ruth Ann, who spent many a night in my house and actually knew Mami.

My three children, who hugged, nursed, cried, and cuddled with me after learning they had lost their Abuela.

My mother's best friends Cacha and Tully, who had known Mami since birth, for reminding us that Mami was an amazing, unconditional friend.

My friend Chris, who brought Delia home safely, so I wouldn't have to get in a car to pick her up from preschool.

My close community of online friends, particularly those on LiveJournal, many of whom I've corresponded with since 2001, who sent me the sweetest of emails and comments after I posted about Mami's death.

And all of you Urban Mama readers, lurkers and commenters alike, who've read my cathartic ramblings this past year. Thank you for providing me an outlet to share my grief.

33

I turn 33 today. It's not a particularly special birthday, but my husband has been extraordinarily sweet this week, presenting me with daily gifts (flowers, a CD, a book, chocolate) since Monday. He knows that it while 33 isn't a big deal, this birthday is a milestone for me. It's my first birthday without Mami.

I've received dozens of emails and texts and calls, but the call I want the most will never come again.

Despite that sad fact, I feel blessed. I feel grateful. I feel content. I dreamed of Mami this week, and it was the best gift of all. I can hear her cheery voice in my head, joking about all the weight she gained with my pregnancy, and how I was such a beautiful, black-haired baby. I hear her voice in my head, and I smile.

What to Watch: Patrick Swayze's Best

I was going to start a weekly tradition of recommending movies, since new DVDs are released on Tuesdays, but after reading about Patrick Swayze's sad-but-unsurprising death at the age of 57, I decided to write a little tribute to him instead.

Patrick Swayze was my very first girlhood celebrity crush. I didn't hang a poster of him in my room or anything (I was definitely not the Tiger Beat sort), but I loved his '80s movies The Outsiders, Red Dawn and Dirty Dancing. In the first two movies, he played a protective, loyal older brother who could kick ass when he needed to, and then in Dancing my pre-teen heart went a thump-thump-thump at the sight of him dancing and wooing a smart, bookish, not-particularly-attractive young woman with curly hair. It doesn't take a shrink to figure out why his Johnny Castle appealed to a young, smart, bookish, not-particularly-attractive tween.

While Ghost remains an Oscar-winning film most people aren't embarrassed to admit they like, Dirty Dancing is still a guilty pleasure. I am completely unashamed to admit that I adored the movie from the moment my stepsister Patty and her first boyfriend took me to see it when I was 11. It was total wish fulfillment, of course, with Baby being the perfect stand-in for sensitive, obedient girls everywhere.

When I hear Twilight-obsessed girls quoting Bella, I instantly think of my 6th-grade self, reciting Baby's Big Moment -- in my head, naturally, because it's not exactly something I would've said in front of Mami. You know the one...

"I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I'm scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you." 

If you want to make me blush, just play Solomon Burke's Cry to Me, which accompanies the scene in question, and I'll still, 21 years later, turn as beet-red as a Weasley.

Thank you, Patrick Swayze, for being one of my personal emblems of the '80s, for being the first man to give me goose pimples, for being such a lovely dancer, for being such a memorable romantic lead.

What to Watch: A Patrick Swayze  Marathon (in chronological order)
1. The Outsiders
2. Red Dawn
3. Dirty Dancing
4. Ghost
5. SNL Chippendales sketch

Ask Me Thursdays

I'm going to start a few new regular features that will hopefully add some levity to this blog. On Thursdays I'm going to answer questions -- about grief, motherhood, movies, life. Anything goes. Here are this week's, based on a couple of emails I received recently:

Where are your movie reviews? I don't see them on the blog.
Easy enough. I DO write movie reviews, but for a living, not as a movie blogger. I occasionally write about movies here, and maybe I'll do that more often in the future, but my official reviews are located at Common Sense Media; it's a wonderful nonpartisan, nonprofit resource for parents and kids to make informed decisions about media consumption (movies, DVDs, books, music, TV shows, and video games). My reviews are also syndicated to the "Parents" tab at Netflix and other CSM partner sites.

I also write fairly regularly for Variety's features section, and these pieces are usually TV and movie related, since I'm a big TV person as well. My articles for Variety are mostly aimed at industry insiders and pop-culture junkies obsessed with award nominees and the like.

I miss hearing about your kids. What are they up to?
I know I spent a lot of time writing about my grief, because that's just where I am right now, but I'm hoping to write more about lighter topics as well. My three kids are doing well. My eldest son just started second grade, my 4-year-old daughter is in pre-K at a cooperative preschool, and the baby is closing in on 18-months-old, which means he's officially a toddler. Since he's most likely (or definitely, if you ask my husband) our final child, he'll always be my baby.

Any new movies or TV shows you're into?
Yes! I love, love, love the FOX show Glee, and I had to hit pause on the DVR remote a couple of times last night, because the husband and I kept laughing so hard in a few bits. I've yet to meet someone who doesn't love the show, so if you haven't seen it yet, definitely give it a try. I believe episodes are available on Hulu.

As for movies, I thought the animated fantasy 9 was visually amazing, and worth a trip to the multiplex if you're into stylized, mature animated movies. It's the kind of film that plays better on a big screen (as opposed to, say, a romantic comedy), so if you have any inclination, don't wait for the DVD to come out. And despite the deviations from the novel, I'm a big fan of the Harry Potter movies, and Half-Blood Prince did not disappoint. It was refreshing break from the darkness that Order of the Phoenix was steeped in, and that is sure to loom over the two Deathly Hallows films. Between Won-Won and Lav's hilariously shallow romance, Ron's love-potion antics, Hermione's heartbreak, and Harry's turn at humor under the influence of liquid luck, HBP was a funny and touching installment in the series.

I haven't gotten around to District 9, Inglorious Basterds or The Hurt Locker, all of which I'd love to see, but they weren't assigned to me this summer.

Have a question for me? Send me an email!

You Know What I Did Last Summer

Last year, my immediate family didn't go on a summer vacation. Instead, faithful readers of this blog know my husband and I crazily drove from D.C. to Tampa with a four-month-old, 3.5-year-old and 6-year-old, so I could spend three weeks visitingMami at my sister's house. My siblings and I knew the end was near, so my sister Diana and brother-in-law Larry generously allowed all of us to crash at their house for 20 days.

This exact weekend marks the penultimate visit I had with my mother, and the final time my husband and older two children ever saw her. I'm so thankful, looking back, that my sister and I have the kind of relationship that made that trip a possibility. Even though it was difficult to be away from my husband for 15 days (he drove us down, took a flight back to DC, and then flew down to drive us back home), those three weeks provided me with some beautiful final memories ofMami with my children and me.

It was, after all, an Olympic summer, so Michael Phelps' glorious gold streak shall forever be strangely linked with my last summer withMami. It was a summer of buying her Pollo Tropical and Colombian take out, because neither my sister nor I could adequately prepare a proper a Latin-flavored meal -- at least not toMami 's rigorous standards. It was a heartbreaking summer, when I began to do my anticipatory grief work, preparing my heart as best I could for the eventuality ofMami's death.

But it was also a joyful summer, with young cousins flapping in the pool, camping out every night in the playroom, making mini-movies on my Flip camera, and playing Rock Band over and over again. Every day, the kids spent time with theirAbuela -- bringing her ice in the Bubba Keg, talking to her briefly, and giving her hugs, kisses, and coos. The kids would have a decade of more traditional family vacations, but last summer, that trip toAbuela's was absolutely the best thing we could've done.

This year, we are going on a summer trip. We're headed to Ocracoke Island in the Outer Banks for a week, and we're all looking forward to unplugging (a bit) and relaxing on the beach. As we make our way down, I can't help but remember, with tears and a smile, how last summer's vacation began with a similar road trip. And I wish, more than anything, that we could take that trip again -- just to seeMami one more summer.