Thing 1 and Thing 2!

I love using a theme when dressing up the chil'rens for Halloween. It just makes them look cuter somehow. Their school allowed them to dress up as literary characters, so I begin to think about their favorite books for inspiration.

Are You My Mother? got tossed around but in the end, I didn't want to dress them up as birds.

Velveteen Rabbit was a cute idea, until I killed it by telling Maya she had the perfect little bunny rabbit teeth for the costume.

She cried.

So, scratch the bunny costume.

Then I got it. Cat in the Hat! Thing 1 and Thing 2!
I originally had the costume in mind for Cyan and Maya, since they are very much like Thing 1 and Thing 2. And they look so much alike people often ask me if they are twinsies.

Which made Maya cry again.

Poor Maya.

I prayed that I would find everything I'd need at one store. I found the red sweat-suits in the boys department because apparently, little girls only wear sweat-suits in pink, black, purple and grey. The blue wigs were sitting there like a gift from Heaven while everyone was clamoring over the witch hats, Lady Gaga costumes and dried blood makeup. So I snatched those up right away. The red gloves were easy to find. Thankfully I already had some white felt squares leftover from other projects. And of course, I have a handy dandy husband who can airbrush lettering in his sleep.

Which meant we were in business.

The girls got so many compliments on their costumes. Even though the wigs were "super itchy" and they could barely stand to keep them on their heads for longer than twenty minutes.

At our church's Trunk 'N Treat, Xixi spotted another family with a Mom as Cat in the Hat and two little girls as Thing 1 and Thing 2. Xixi stood there with her hands on her hips.

Xixi: Oooh no they didn't!
Me: Relax, Xixi. They look cute.
Xixi: I'm sooo gonna get them!

We met up with them later on, in the fun zone. Xixi was looking them up and down. She is so funny. I decided to take pics for posterity. Hmmmmm, I kinda like my Thing 1 and Thing 2 a little better. They are awfully adorable.

But then again, I'm biased.


I want them, I need them.

I've been a four-eyes since I was in kindergarten. That was in the 70's so, you didn't see too many children wearing eyeglasses. My mom gave me the rules which, interestingly enough, I gave my own four-eyed son practically verbatim.

Don't let anyone touch your glasses. If they ask to try them on, tell them to go out and buy their own.

Never put your glasses down just anywhere. Always put them in their case.

After years and years of wearing eyeglasses, I've got it down to a science, but I've come a long way. I know what looks good on me and I know what doesn't. The old pictures of me wearing giant brown frames and black Clark Kent frames are proof of that.

I've never been interested in wearing contacts because I don't like the idea of something sitting on my eyeball. And Lasik? Psshaw. Unless you are going to knock me flat out with some really good drugs while you slice and dice my eyeball like a sushi roll, forget it. It just ain't happening.

So eyeglasses it is.

For a few years now, I've been jonesing for a pink pair. Well, I finally got them. Not the exact pair, not the Prada ones. Shoooot. My pair is Baby Phat. Thank you, Kimora, for not being such a greedy ass and making cute glasses accessible to the less wealthy but equally fabulous in society.

It took me a while to get used to them, but I'm really digging the pop of pink. The pink looks really cute and fresh.

But what I really, really really want is a green pair of glasses. Green is only my favorite color in the whole wide world.

Then I found these and what can I say?

I wants.


Thanks to Corazones Rojos who led me to our.city.lights who led me to Warby Parker. Funny how it happens that way.


It's tricky

This is how you know you are being raised by a Daddy who is a total old school new school underground all day every day Hip Hop and Rap music lover.

As I was making breakfast this morning, I turned on the stove. It makes a clicking sound whenever the gas burners are getting fired up. Sol was sitting at the counter watching me.

"Mom, every time I hear the stove make that sound, I feel like rapping this Run D.M.C song."

Heh. Too funny.

Being happy with what God gave me.

Normally, I can't wait until the cooler weather begins so I can revert back to wearing my normally curly hair straight. It usually happens around this time, after months of having nappy hair in the summer.

I mean, a girl can only wear her hair the same curly way for so long. With waves and curls, there is not much in the way of variety. And curly hair is very temperamental. Sometimes it curls in all the right places and looks fab. Other times it's frizzy, flat on top and crunchy at the bottom. It's always a gamble.

I got my hair trimmed last week, by my beautiful hair stylist/homie Christina. I asked her to blow out my curls and make it shiny and straight. But for once, I just wasn't feeling the straightness. For one thing, my bangs haven't fully grown out yet.

The cute, heavy fringe of bangs in my blog header up there, well...they are a mother to grow out.

Right now they are about bottom lip length. Long enough to tuck behind my ear but short enough to completely showcase my big forehead. And they make this weird hair flip.


My goal is to grow out my bangs for next summer so that I can have long curls around my face. Not for anything particularly special, but just for my own amusement. My curly hair looks better that way. For the past three years, I've been making do with pinning the bangs back or to the side because I am constantly cutting my bangs in the winter and it is super annoying.

Long story short, after my trip to the salon, I washed it and went back to curly. This is a major feat for me. Accepting what God gave you is never easy, especially in the beauty-obsessed culture that we live in today. This is not to say that I won't straighten my hair from time to time. I know I will.

But I am happy with the fact that for once I don't hate my hair in its natural state.

I can't very well walk around with a chunk of hair in my eyes, now can I?

Last Saturday night, the curls made me happy.


Blogging, or lack thereof.

I was really hoping that by having two writing gigs, my own joint wouldn't suffer but so far this hasn't been the case. After homeschooling, teaching an art class, writing for Babycenter, doing my own side projects, my art blog, my wifey gig and raising a tribe of six chil'rens, I'm sad to say that Pearmama's World has been seriously lacking in posts.

I have my best ideas at night, while I'm drifting off to sleep. But then I wake up in the morning and I totally forget all my fantabulous ideas.

But hang around, my people, because life tends to move with the seasons. This means it may be days without new posts and then I might have a night of binge posting.

Until then, how you doin'?


A new adventure for Xixi

After she begged me and assured me that she was really ready for school, and that she would have sooo much fun learning in a new class and she promised she would always be with her sister and brother during lunch and at recess....I went ahead and enrolled her at school with Cyan and Maya.

For the first week, I would grab her arm and cry, "Don't leave me!" and she would squirm and try to get away, "Maaammmmaaaa, I have to go to school and be big girl."

Only it sounded something like, "I have to go to stool and be a big doyl!"

Oh, my Xixi love.

I took her to class the week before her first day so she could meet her new classmates. There was a very cute, very petite little girl named Dominique. She had cornrows, caramel-colored skin and braids in her hair. I stared at Xixi wide-eyed, as she touched the beads lightly, using mental telepathy to get her to watch her words.

"Ooooh, I like your beads. They're so pweety." She told Dominique. Then Xixi looked at me like, duh.

Then on the way home, Xixi asked me if The Karate Kid had a little sister....and was it Dominique?

Oh, I about died with laughter. Because Dominique is totally adorable and she looks just like Jaden Smith. I found out later that Xixi questioned Dominique later on in the week. Turns out no, she wasn't the Karate Kid's sister.

I'm sure this will be the first of many Xixi adventures in school. Can't wait.


A Day in L.A.

My husband Michael often credits many of the good things he learned growing up to one place, St. Elmo Village. Growing up in the inner city with a young single mother without a father figure to help reign him, smack dab in the middle of gang territory was tough. The negative often trumped the positive.

St. Elmo Village was the place that helped shape and mold him into the creative individual that he is today. But it's so much more than the creative aspect. Its the way Michael reaches out to people, the way he tries to make the best of every situation. Especially, the way he is accepting of people who are totally different than he is. He can trace all of that back to St. Elmo Village.

Please check out this video of one of Michael's friend, Mark7 interviewing the director of the Village, Roderick Sykes. And if you are ever in L.A., driving down La Brea Ave. and you want to find a jewel in a pile of dusty rocks, please go there and visit. You will be amazed.

Oh, Michael gets a plug around 4:06. He was a resident at St. Elmo Village for several years, right up until we got married in 1997.


Big baller status on The Price is Right

A couple of months ago, a large group of my family went to a taping of The Price is Right. Growing up, my Nana used to watch this game show religiously. Every time I hear the sound effects from the Price is Right, I am nine years old again, sitting on the floor of my little brown Nana's house in East L.A. while she chain-smokes her Pall Malls. Afterwards, we always watched The Young and the Restless.

This morning, me and the chil'rens sat around the TV to watch the show. We had fun picking out family from the audience. I know why they chose my cousin Tiffy--she is game show comedy gold. She climbed the stairs on her hands and knees, she clutched her chest, she yodeled, she gave a super long shout-out, she jumped and screamed and bounced around and she all but mauled poor Drew Carey.

It was good times.

She ended up being the double showcase winner. She is on big baller status now.

But that face. The face she made after she won is priceless.

"And the daytime Emmy award goes to...."

You go, cousin!


Is this what they mean about socialization?

Can I just say that day to day living with a teenager is just fabulous and fun? That I can totally envision my fine youth of tomorrow, succeeding in all of their endeavors? That it is an absolute joy to sacrifice a second income so that I may stay home and homeschool the chil'rens?

Can you see the sarcasm dripping down the computer screen?

Today, we were working on writing. As usual, this is no easy feat. All of the behavioral kinks and attitude adjustments have to be dealt with before we get down to business. Once they get settled in, they're fine. Well, Noah was extra spicy today. As he was taking some time out to make himself a sandwich, he was cursing the heavens for having to be home with his brothers alllll daaaay.

"MOM! I can't take this anymore!! I need to get out of this house for a little while! I'm beginning to feel like a HERMAN!"

I had to stifle a laugh because he was totally serious and overflowing with teenage conviction.

"Umm, Noah. Don't you mean, hermit?"
"Mom! Seriously??"

Then he looked up raised his hands dramatically and wailed, "Just strike me down already! I can't take this!"

And I can't help but laugh at the dude, even though he was being totally serious. I hear this is only the beginning of teenage good times.

Oh, joy.


Oops, I did it again.

I'm pretty confident that we have broached several topics with good humor here at this old blog. But there are three things you won't be reading about here at Pearmama's World.

Religion. None of that my religion is better than yours and you are going to a very hot place! and all that sort of business.

Politics. Zzzzzzzzz. Can I get a witness?

. This last topic is so emotionally charged that I haven't really felt the need--in four years of blogging--to broadcast my views. Not too many people share my opinion and even fewer people care to admit it.

However, someone brought up the topic of vaccines and autism over at Babycenter and it appeared everyone was in agreement that vaccines are perfectly harmless and those parents who chose to opt out of vaccines are endangering the lives of their children and other children and are basically heading toward the end of civilization as we know it and very soon the cemeteries would be filled with babies who have died of preventable diseases. Whew.


So I felt led to share my views on the subject. Not to argue about it or be a controversy ho or to throw my opinion in someones face, but to let people know that there are many families who choose not to vaccinate. We are one of these families. And it's not because we are uneducated or lazy or negligent or we believe everything we read online.

To put it simply, I do not believe the benefits outweigh the risks. After we had an outbreak of whooping cough in my home, I have a new found confidence in what I have believed for ten years.

So go and read the posts. Yeh, I get ripped a new one and I need some seriously tough skin to deal with all of the comments. But we all know I'm perfectly fine with that.

Having six chil'rens have toughened up my skin like a mofo.


A History of rap

I've always loved Justin Timberlake. That boy can sang. And he just seems like a cool dude to kick it with. But after watching this video on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, I realized something. I have a whole new level of respect for Jimmy. He got some skills. My favorite parts were The Beastie Boys and Eminem.

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