We went to the beach a few days ago for the first time since we’ve moved back to Vancouver. Baby D was just turning one last summer, not really walking yet, so I skipped all that but this year – woo hoo, we are having so much fun! D made his first ever collection of beach treasures, and he was very proud of himself after he laid out all the goods “just so”!
The girls were loving their summer hats… the kinds that are so whimsical and over-the-top but only seem to last a summer before getting all squished and misshapen from too many playgrounds, heavy cooler bags, leaky sunblock containers, dripping popsicle sticks and souvenir sand, shells and rocks.
How do you know your kids are happy?
When they say, “Mami, take a picture of us jumping!!”, and start jumping and giggling, just because.
I used to sing this song as a lullabye when my girls were wee little yellow chirping birds who hopped along behind their Mama Black Bird, waiting for the essentials of life (food, fun, and lullabyes)….
You’re a human thing
Who yah think that you’re foolin”
You’re not foolin”, not foolin’ me
You’re a human thing
You’re so busy frontin’
Confusin” courage and acting
Move me
Move me
Could it really be so wrong
To let somebody, somebody see.
Move me
Move me
A girl can keep it together
Come on now, you know you we’ll take the weather
Come on now, you know we love your weather
You got roots cannot be torn from under
Won’t you shake it like you’ve never done before
You’ve got roots cannot be torn from under
Won’t you shake it like you’ve never done before
You’re a human thing
I wrote my midterm for my writing course last night. Not sure how I did but isn’t it a great feeling when it’s done?! Now the sun is out and the kids have their last day of school tomorrow. It feels like summer and it feels good. I’ve spent the last few months running around, worrying too much, studying late at night, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning, taking the kids to their recitals and tournaments, but I feel a big sigh of relief coming. There’s still studying to do, but it is going to be a nice break not having to rush around in the morning or afternoon, or take the kids to any classes. A couple of months without the clock. A dream.
I’ve rewarded myself with a new novel (bought not borrowed!) – Michael Ondaatje’s Divisadero. I think I like books better than diamonds… yes, definitely more than diamonds. More than most things, I think. Just started it this morning and I am already cozied into the story. Some stories have this way of drawing you in right away. His writing has a laziness about it but the imagery and dream-like quality… well, for me, it’s like watching The English Patient. I just want to sit down with some little nibbly snacks and watch the story unfold all the way to the end.
Have I mentioned how much I love being with my girls? They are really coming into their own these days. There’s that point when kids don’t have to try so hard because they’ve pretty much learned the basics of life – to walk, to go to bed, to eat without running off, to write, to respect others (ok most of the time on this last one)… and so they start to develop their own unique personalities, refine themselves, to write funny or sweet stories, to love horror movies or hide under the covers, and to dream of their future. It’s pretty neat.
Hm, that’s funny. I used the word “dream” in every paragraph.
I’ve been reading some great journals/blogs lately. Inspiring me with their beauty, art and faith, giving me a sense of kinship, reminding me of songs stored in some dusty corner of my mind or introducing me to great new bands, allowing for some excited glimpses into the life of adoption, sharing their experiences of traveling or changing that seem so familiar to me…. I’ve also been reading way, way too much news, I think. Children suffering. Too much suffering. How do these things happen while I go about my day? Can’t get past that duality still.
Maybe I am storing up too many words. Beautiful, heartbreaking, sad, lost, messed up, angry, wise, lyrical words words words. When I was a kid, I would sometimes like to hide away in my room and read books all day and night. Not the leisurely kind of reading where you enjoy every adjective or beautifully crafted phrase, but just gorging on story after story. One can get lost even in a world of circles, lines, and dots. Maybe I need to re-focus on being still and quiet with my own small voice. I’ve been feeling panicky today, reminding myself to breathe but somehow not being able to completely exhale. This panic – it isn’t about words, but sometimes I think I look to things in print for comfort – I absorb them, I devour them, and I forget to speak, to smile, and to relate when I step out the door. The shy in me sets in.
Maya has the funniest habit of waking up with odd requests. This morning I was taking little elastics out of Chabela’s hair (they wanted curls today so they slept with 6 little buns portruding from their heads – oh the vanity!), and, out of that defining silence between sleepiness and wakefulness, Maya declared from her bed, “I’m going to change my name. Can I change my name?”. “Um… ok honey..”, I responded. What does this kid dream about?!
She explained that there are way too many Mayas in Canada (it’s an odd name in Mexico) so she will now, hereby, from henceforth, solemnly swear to only answer to her middle name “Lucy” (this is actually the English version of her real middle name “Lucia”). Apparently, the soccer coach called her to play yesterday but another Maya ran onto the field instead. Oh the horror. Of course, I forgot all morning, and, wow, sure enough, she was quick to remind me every single time I said “Maya” that her name is now “Lucy”. She always was my Lucy in the Sky anyways….
Sometimes I worry… she’s seven and wants pink hair, skull-patterned clothing, sleep-overs at friends’ homes, and, now, name changes. Hopefully, she won’t run off to Mexico when she’s older. Or maybe hopefully she will?? Pretty wild the push and pull of parenting. I’m always in between wanting them to live life fully and pulling them close to me, safe from the crazy world.
The skies cleared up this afternoon so the kids and I spent a few hours after school in the park. It was refreshing to be outside and enjoy being with them. Baby D had so much fun climbing and sliding and letting out his inner goofball. We had some good belly laughs. Nothing like listening to kids laughing so full and free/unrestrained. It’s sad to say that days and sometimes a week will pass before I let out a big laugh. I need to work on that. Laugh daily. It’s a must, I think. Because tonight, I felt good. Seeing the beauty, being content, smiling, laughing – I need to tend to those things daily. I’m sure everyone else already knows this. Sometimes it gets dark and I forget.
I met my mom yesterday for lunch to celebrate her birthday. Lunch went fine but when we walked to her car, she started to get teary eyed. Thinking about the past. It’s hard to see her so sad and nostalgic and still wishing her parents had been there for her. Still a kid waiting to be hugged or fed or loved, a kid in the body of a woman getting another year older. I wished I could make it better, make her feel good about the world even though that’s not what was tattooed, branded into her little heart and soul when she was young and vulnerable. Now she is a cactus heart, and even though she is sad and lonely, all of her actions serve only to push people away. She reaches out, I try to pull her up, and she pushes back until she falls. People run from her, and I don’t blame them.
Today I was watching the Canadian government’s official apology to the Aboriginal people, and I started to imagine all these kids so lost and mistreated like my mom and her brothers. I saw them get teary eyed as the leaders read out their apologies. Thinking about the past. I understand their pain and their agony and their need for an apology. I understand that it hurts even for the generation that didn’t directly experience the horrors of residential schools. Saying I’m sorry means “No, you are not a piece of trash even though you were treated like one sometimes. You are worthy, I see it”. It takes generations to heal. I hope their time, her time, my time has come. I know it never comes so easily. We can only forgive, hang on to hope, and move forward. And breathe, always remember to breathe.
the thing about having lived in two places or more is that your heart will always be longing for another homeland. mexico is a bit like taiwan for me. i’m the outsider who doesn’t want to be an outsider, and i love those places even though i don’t feel entitled to. and when we are living here in canada, i sometimes look at chucho and feel guilty because he becomes a bit of a ghost here. over there he is loud and, well, a bit macho i have to say, and rambunctious… and here he is just kind of empty sometimes.
i suppose the only place we fit in together is where we met – in san miguel de allende. that beautiful little colonial town… i have heard and read so many sweet snippets about its culture and architecture but don’t let it fool any of you, the most accurate way to describe san miguel is to say that it’s “the largest open-air mental asylum in the world”. i know, that sounds most absurd, but if you mention it to anyone who has lived there year round for at least a couple of years, your comment will surely be received with a chuckle and a nod. the thing about this little town is that you can go and hang out with a lawyer from washington, a painter and his dog, a very flamboyant gallery owner wearing a flowing patterned dress -his hair cut just like cleopatra, a dread-locked hippie, a renowned photographer, and a fifteen year old student on summer holiday… and that’d be the scene from an everyday just-drop-by gathering. now that we’re in the “real” world, it’s harder for us to find those places where we feel we belong. outside of the asylum, that is.
i make fun… but, really, honestly, i think we were all a bunch of searching pilgrims, looking for kinship and kindness. i met so many beautiful people and so many lost souls – and i felt at home with them.
not sure where i’m going with this except that i think i will buy chucho a canvas so he can start a new painting… somehow that feels like the right thing to do… he’s been re-working one of his paintings for a while now, but maybe it’s time for a new one.
So yesterday I was thinking it’d be so great to have time to work out and stuff like that, and then today, baby D and I went to the library and he decided he didn’t want to get into the stroller or walk but wanted me to “ug” him, so then I caved in and carried him home with one arm while trying to push the stroller with the other arm because a couple of days ago he fell and bit himself almost completely through his lower lip which made it all puffy and thus I was an emotional marshmallow who couldn’t say no to my puffy-lipped, furrowy-browed one year old. Don’t you just love when you ask for something and then you get it in a completely whacked way, and as you get older, instead of getting irritated, you actually start to laugh at the hilarity of it all?!
