baby reunion

After over 7 months, we reunited with our pre-natal class friends to show off our babies. And it was a serious cute-a-palooza.



Felicia was the oldest out of the group. After spending a half hour with the other kids, she decided that she didn't particularly like it when one of the babes would loudly yell "wasssssup!" (or what sounded like it). The "wassup" baby was a super cute banana, at 21 lbs. and just 5 days younger than Feli, he was a solid kid who was pretty vocal. Chubby babies sure are cute.

Aria, Feli's good friend was also there and they were equally annoyed by the constant "wassup". Instead, they preferred to hang out on the floor together after taking the party "back to my place":


It's pretty evident that Feli is already pretty choosy in the company she keeps. Too loud? Forget you. Share toys (meaning: dirty old cup) with me? Love you.

And so, the reunion day (June 6th) was the first day that monkey started waving "hi" to people. I had been practicing with her for a few days and she finally decided to try it out on people at the reunion. I was beaming.

Here she is practicing the wave:



Oh and just one more mom thing -- she is now saying "Mama". She first said it two weeks ago, while my mom tried to feed her and she protested, lifted her arms up and looked directly at me and said "mama!". And now she can't get enough of it. I think my heart skips a beat every time she says it. Which is all day...I wonder how I get anything done around here?

crazytown

For those of you who don't know me in real life, my older brother is institutionalized. Yes, like in the crazy house. Yeah, it's sad and whatever, but my family has been living with it for over 15 years now so it's kind of just eh. Life happens, we deal with it.

Today was visiting day. And I have to say, it's always good times. I went up to the fourth floor and thank gawd, did not have to share the elevator with anyone. I was able to walk right into his ward without having to be buzzed in which was a pleasant surprise. Once in, I was able to spot him from a mile away. Backpack on, talking on the phone. More than likely calling me to make sure I was coming. When he saw me, he walked over and said "it looks like you're wearing a wig"...I had flat ironed my hair which he doesn't ever approve of. Then, as usual, he had a list of things for me to buy for him. A burger, chips, socks. He didn't want me to stay and told me to leave, in fact. I left with my list in hand and a promise to return next week not empty handed. Funny...he never beats around the bush and always says what he thinks.

As I left the ward, a lady walked up to me and said "nice jacket". And then as I walked out to my car, a guy sitting out on the lawn surrounded by fellow patients on a smoke pass, yelled out "Hey....you're good lookin'!". I couldn't help but smile. I laughed out loud actually. Imagine having no filter, no barrier to what you're thinking. Nothing stopping you from blurting out your thoughts. Imagine that this is exactly the difference between the mentally ill and the rest of us. I'm fully aware that there's much more to it than that but on the surface, it seems as though honesty is an indication of insanity. Wow...can I get any deeper than that?

I can. I avoid taking my brother out places because of his candor. He will tell you you're fat, too skinny, ugly, have bad hair. He'll tell you to leave if he thinks the conversation is boring. He's even been known to shout out racial slurs. It's hard to handle, this extreme honesty. Even I can't take it because in the world that I live in, honesty has its place. In his world, it's the only thing he knows. And I wonder where it came from? We were born of the same mother, raised by the same two parents with the same values and morals. We both went to peace marches as children, holding signs up written by our parents saying "US get out of Central America" or "social justice for the masses". We were both taught to say "please" and "thank you" and to use the right fork and knife. And now all of this is lost on him. He's in a world of his own where the barrier from brain to tongue is non-existent.

Yet, it's funny. Not the racial slurs ofcourse...but the outrageous things he says. He may frustrate me to no end, but when he pulls on my hair and says "take that wig off", I laugh. And when he blurts out "are you gay?" to Victor, I laugh. I just wonder how Felicia will handle him. Will she be better at dealing with him in the outside world? Will she find his ridiculous comments as funny as I do? I hope so. Because even though unintentional, he's a closet comedian. And he's my brother. And in typical brother/sister fashion, I love him and I hate him all at once.

we are the children

Once upon a time, I did a school project on BP oil. In front of my class, teaming with fellow left-leaning compadres, I represented the oil giant in a debate. I spent hours researching their environmental policy and their lobby for drilling and pumping oil through the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. I even wore a hard hat for that "log it, mine it, pave it" effect.

As I read through company propaganda, I began to convert a little. A smidge. I thought "these guys may not be so bad". I guess in true essence of debate, I really started to believe my argument. Millions poured into protecting the environment, research backing their claims of drilling and pumping safely, bla bla bla di bla. I sang the corporate song of "we are the world, we are the children". I thought, we are an oil based world...better a company aware of their effect, and a devotion to cleaning up their act than the alternative. I was fully aware of biased research, of "all talk and no action". Yet, I still marvelled at the fact that they had such an air tight policy and company values that valued preservation and conservation.

And now this, a blunder, a catastrophy. And now it's all gone to pot. A cast iron pot. A skillet in fact. Yet, I sit here and hope. I hope that all those years invested in developing their enviro policy and all those environmental geniuses hired by the company can fix this. Tragic...the marine death. The ripple effect. And I hope it doesn't get any worse. For our sake, for their sake:


I know, I'm fully aware of the gratuitous image insert...but don't they look concerned for this good green earth in this pic? I thought so too.

more festivities, vaccinations and baby weight

Here I sit eating M&M's, reflecting...it's Victor's 31st birthday today and he's asleep on the couch at 9:41pm. And I'm this close to crashing but have to finish watching RHOC (a re-run, how pathetic). We didn't even have wine with dinner.

We woke up to breakfast in bed, made by my sister-in-law Michelle, and delivered by V's brother Manuel. We then spent some time chillaxin' with Felicia then went for sushi. Then decided to get even fatter and went to Samba's for dinner. And now I'm eating M&M's...overdoing it? Maybe but I'm celebrating. Celebrating my husband's 31st year of being around.

I'm also reflecting on the little bean machine. Today was Felicia's third round of vaccinations and rather than cry, she smiled a ton, flirted with everyone in the waiting room, laughed really hysterically at this goth family with long hair and trenchcoats (to which they in turn laughed), and just generally was an awesome kid. She has such a funky personality, it makes me beam with pride.

Oh and we're still waiting for teeth, see grandma gums:


We found out that she's on the small side compared to babies her age...she's not growing as fast as she should be apparently. She's only 15 lbs...which means nothing to someone not in baby land...but it's like 7 - 10th percentile kind of small. Weird though because she eats like a maniac...tonight at Samba's, she had a guacamole and bean fiesta. I know it's got to be attributed to all the rolling around and general antics she gets into throughout the day. So no need to worry -- she's got it all in the bag and will be growing at a good pace. I mean 15 lbs, that's a good weight for bicep curls hey?

we made it!

Today marks one year of marriage to Mr. Hubster. One year of marriage and four years of good ol' cohabitation (or three years of full-on cohabitation and one year of "maybe we should...maybe we shouldn't" cohabitation).

We met five and a half years ago, on New Year's Eve of all eve's. I had weak plans for the evening...the plan was to spend the night at a niteclub with champagne, a close friend and a few acquaintainces. Yet my friend found out at the last minute that her boyfriend had tickets to some Portuguese New Year's party somewhere out at a hall in Richmond. So I thought, "sucks but I'll go ahead to the niteclub on my own". But said friend was adamant that I go with her and tried to score me a ticket to this "exclusive" event (note: the quotes denote sarcasm). Strangely, my friend, who happened to be dating Victor's younger brother, could not get a ticket because apparently it was too late. Low and behold, it was Victor who refused to get an extra ticket for me (this is ofcourse before we ever met) and said I shouldn't even bother coming. Apparently he was not too keen on his brother showing up with two chicas. Don't ask me why...I mean, he's male isn't he? And I was female?

Anyways, Victor's brother convinced me to go despite the fact that I didn't have a ticket. We drove out to Richmond to this hall along the river's edge, walked right into the hall without so much as a receiving table stopping us from entering. We didn't even need tickets apparently because dinner was over. I thought "jerk!" about Victor (again, still hadn't met him). But then I saw him as I walked up to his table...sitting there with his grandma by his side and his parents on the other...all suited up with a tie and everything. His eyes lit up as we were introduced. And that was it...it was over for me.

And even though it was already done, it got better. The Portuguese love their seafood so at midnight, out came huge mountains of prawns placed in the middle of the room. Prawns with heads and hair...or legs and eyes and everything gross. Victor put a plate of them right in front of me and I had no idea what to do. I attempted to pull off the head and peel all awkwardly with a "yuck" face. Victor's grandpa joked in Portuguese that I didn't know how to peel prawns...so Victor, so gallant, would peel them for me, one after the other. And he continued to do so for years until I finally got the hang of it and felt less grossed out by the eyeballs staring at me. And then...really, then, it was over. He had my heart at the prawn peel.

And so, today marked the day that we solidified our love for each other. And you know what we did to celebrate the day? We ate prawns and crab and clams and mussels. Yep, crustaceans and shellfish. And you know what? He peeled my prawns and even cracked my crab for me today, because it's a special day.

It may make me sound like a helpless female...but no, I'm just a sentimental one :)

And I need to get this t-shirt:

don't ask, don't tell

So apparently today the US House voted to repeal the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy in the US military. It's about time! Canada has "allowed" GAL's in the military for almost 20 years now. I really don't understand what the big issue is here. I was reading various news articles on the subject and read comments written by soldiers saying that they did not want to sleep in the same barracks or shower with someone that was sexually attracted to them. Funny, I've never met a guy who didn't want to shower with someone who was sexually attracted to them...little joke there, but in all seriousness, how conceited? They're assuming that every gay person lives life as though they are at a niteclub. And really, would I hit on a gay guy when I know he's not attracted to me/my sex? Nuh uh, therefore, highly unlikely that a gay guy will hit on someone that he knows is not oriented that way.

It just infuriates me to read that someone has "nothing against gays" and then go onto say something like "I just don't want them hitting on me". It's such a contradiction to say you have nothing against someone yet you think they are out to convert you into their boyfriend/girlfriend against your will.

And so, that's my rant. I may not have a sophisticated argument here but ARGH! That's right, argh. And the change in law still has a long way to go but hey, it's a move in the right direction.

world cup fever

Well, the World Cup is coming up in a few weeks and I'm geared up to jump on the bandwagon again. I used to be an avid soccer fan and even played on a team throughout elementary and junior high. I loved watching soccer games even when the World Cup wasn't on. But in between the last World and Euro Cup, I've lost interest during those "in-between" years. Now that the World Cup is here, I can feel the fury again and am excited to dress Felicia (and me) up in team memorabilia.

And so for the first time EVER, Honduras has made the World Cup. My mother's home country. It makes me wish I was back in Honduras, sitting with my close-knit extended family in front of a small tv, listening to my uncles curse the players and yelling "GOL!" when they finally score. I think back to two years ago when I was attached to an IV in a Honduran hospital, vomiting my uterus out (I know, too much?), while a crowd of my family sat around the room watching the game on my microscopic hospital tv. True fans, I tell ya.

Victor, being a rabid Portuguese, will ofcourse be cheering on Portugal. Yet he also has a fondness for Honduras and quietly hopes that they make it through their group (highly unlikely with Spain, Switzerland and Chile to beat).

So after all that, I have to say that this World Cup will be extra special because it's Felicia's first...and not one, but two of her countries of heritage are fighting for the Cup. Oh and the best part of soccer? This: