Boys and penis jokes

My boys are growing.

They are growing day by day. A couple of them have already exceeded my shoe size and are about the same height as I am. So, physically they are taking off like a rocket.

Maturity-wise, not so much.

I just never thought I would see the day that they would make fun of each others genitalia, but that day has come.

We've been repairing the plumbing in the kids bathroom, so every night they try to get into my shower first so they can hog up all the hot water. Believe me, you don't want to be the sixth (or the seventh!) (or the eighth!) person in line for the shower. You can best believe it won't be a warm, steamy event.

Two of my boys took off for bathroom, stripping off their clothes as they charged down the hallway. The one who got there last was pissed, and being a bad sport about it. So then they started hurling penis insults.

Can you believe that? Penis insults, already?

You're just standing there with your little Tic Tac penis! Omigosh! Ahahahahahahahahaha!

Shut up, you baby walrus!

Mutant fur! You have mutant fur "down there".

What are you talking about?? Your penis is so crooked it leans like a cholo!! It looks like someone broke it!
Get out of here with that! Bwahhahahahahahaaa!

Really, boys?

All this, as I was trying to eat my yummy tortilla soup in peace. They stood there with towels around their waists and their mutant fur under their armpits and it was really difficult for me not to picture them as babies. I loved them so, adored their chubby little legs and double chins. They used to love it when I let them lay on their tummies naked, to let their junk get some fresh air.

And now this?
Telling each other their penis is so small it looks resembles a Tic Tac?


I'm so not prepared. I'll take nekkid babies on towels anyday.

These guys are...


"I could eat you up, I love you so."

I love my family. They are my life.

Even though its rough living with seven other people. Sometimes I find myself near tears because I crave a small space to call my own, where I can have privacy, quiet, neatness and order--a place untouched by seven other people.

~They always steal my brush.
~They always steal my toothpaste.
~My room seems to be the place where everyone kicks off their shoes to watch cartoons and when I kick them out, they leave their shoes behind.
~My girls love to read my Instyle mags and rip open and smell all of the perfume samples.
~My husband has about a billion things he carries in his pockets, and he dumps every single one of them on his dresser. If he runs out of room, he puts some on mine.
~They write on the walls with marker.
~Whenever my phone rings, they automatically pick it up, answer it, and then hand it to me.
~My girls love to remove every last washcloth from the bathroom and use them as Barbie blankets.
~When everyone is talking at once and vying for position, the noise level is ridiculous. I go to my happy place.

I mean, those are just some of the little things that drive me nuts. On the flipside...

~My daughter's hair always smells so good, and I love to bury my nose in it and inhale deeply.
~My sons email me sweet and funny messages just like this one: "Mom without you in my life I'd be fat, dumb, and hairy, so take care of me."
~I love when I walk into the kitchen and Michael is whipping up one of his "gourmet meals". I swear, he can get the chil'rens to eat anything, and all with a smile on their face. They never do that with me.
~At night, I have such a peace knowing they are all in bed safely, they are warm and happy and they are all still young enough to be living at home.
~I love to torture my kids by kissing their daddy and hearing them groan in horror when they catch him giving me a squeeze here and there.
~I love that they aren't afraid to talk to us about anything and everything (and I do mean anything and everything).
~I love that throughout the day, I usually have extricate someone from my side, my butt, my arms, my lap because no matter how old they are, they love to cuddle. And by cuddle I mean, drape themselves all over me.

Such is my life.

Me and the chil'rens, the providers of such good material. From the left: Diego (12), Noah (13), Me (ageless), Sol (10), Cyan (8). In front, Maya (almost 7), Xixi (5)

My family, January 2011.


Miss Stank Attitude

There is no way to sugar-coat this fact. My little girl has a stank attitude. I mean, yes, she is adorable and sweet and quiet and giggly and girly and completely lovable. But on the flip side she is whiney. A complainer. Crybaby crybaby suck your thumb. And when she is pissed, she'll try to pull this pouty routine which is sort of comical because it never seems to work out for her. We just end up brushing it off and within a few minutes she is happy and smiling again.

That is Miss Maya. She is 6 going on 16. Lord help us.

This is what I call her pretzel maneuver.

She wants to smile.

But she's trying soooo hard to keep the pout going.

Awww, forget it! It's so much easier to be happy and smiling!

And she's off. Until the next pout...



"A diva is a female version of a hustler..."

Yeh, I think I'm in trouble.


The author of "Wheezy and Cheesy" turns 12 today

That would be Diego. He is twelve years old today.


I wish I could say that my son and I have lots of warm and fuzzy moments but that's just not the case. We bump heads multiple times a day. And its not because we have clashing personalities, its because of the ADHD.


Diego has always been a highly imaginative child, with tons of energy and personality that oozed from his pores. I used to call him a demented elf. He still is, but now that he is growing older, there are certain things/behaviors that I wish he would 1. start to do and 2. stop doing.

Does that even make sense?

I guess what I mean is this: when he was a small child, childish/obnoxious/hyperactive behavior was somewhat expected and accepted. But now that he is on the cusp of the teen years and hair is sprouting up in places, I look at him and expect him to act a bit more mature. But it seems that his mind hasn't caught up with his body.

So I find myself exasperated by him often. And I don't like it. I want it to be the way it was when he was younger. When I didn't have to nag him to death about everything--from finishing a task to staying off the computer to putting deodorant on (PLEASE!), to stop making all those weird noises when he is playing with an action figure.

I know the ADHD has everything to do with it. And although it continually frustrates me, I give him grace and love on him. It saddens me to think, how much of what bugs me stems from the ADHD....and how much of it is just his personality?

'Cause I love the boy desperately. And I don't like to think I'm contributing to a bruised self-esteem, which many ADHD people suffer from. I am his mother, I should be a continual source of love and support.

With that, I'm so thankful that he gets to spend his days at home learning and growing at his own pace.

But some days, I'm not so thankful and I feel awful about it.

But today...today, I have a son who has reached the milestone of twelve years old, and I couldn't love the boy any more. In no particular order, Diego is:
  • handsome
  • a bookworm
  • caring and gentle
  • creative
  • has a beautiful singing voice
  • draws awesome super heroes
  • loves Michael Jackson, as we've seen here
  • loves to tell jokes
  • aspires to be a writer someday, and for the past year he has worked on stories called, "Wheezy and Cheesy"--everything is saved on our computer so he can publish it and make the big bucks one day soon
  • obsessed with rice, Cheez-its and juice
  • has suffered from chronic asthma, but this is the first winter season we've managed to keep it under control, with no visits to the emergency room
  • the first to wake up in our house
  • talks in his sleep like he's having a full-on conversation
  • loves to spend time with his family
Life with Diego has been an adventure, to be sure.

I love you, son. Happy birthday, Dego-dog!


Things to love: Xochico's plush pan dulce

The night I went with my family to celebrate Dia de los Muertos here in downtown Riverside, I was flabbergasted by how much this event grew. I do believe it doubled in size this year. Which is fabulous for all of us Mexican folk art lovers and sugar skull fanatics. They were a ton of vendors, selling the wares I've come to expect from this type of event. But then, there were a few really cool and unique things offered that night.

Xochico was one of them.

I discovered this dude who was selling the cutest, most adorable little coin purses, pillows and backpacks. Shaped just like pan dulce. In pink pastry boxes.


I fell out and died right there on Dia de los Muertos. They had to revive me with a carne asada taco and a cup of champurrado. The Mexican version of smelling salts, if you will.

What is pan dulce? You might be asking yourself.

Sweet bread. As in, Mexican sweet bread.

Americans have their apple pie. The Sicilians have their cannolis. The Greek have their baklava. The Chinese have their almond cookies.

The Mexicans have their pan dulce. With your little cup of cafecito, mmmmm.

I so feel like a little old Mexican lady just for saying that. Seriously.

When I lived in East L.A., there was a tiny panaderia right off of Eastern Ave. They had the most delicious pan dulce I ever tasted. I would walk in there and the smell alone would make you swoon. When I first moved back out to Riverside, I had to settle for tough, crumbly pan dulce.

Boooo. Hissssss.

The pan dulce predicament has gotten better over the years. Or maybe I've grown desensitized. Who knows. My point is, I shared all that so you could know how us beaners feel about our pan dulce.

So when I stumbled upon Xochico selling pan dulce-shaped purses, pillows, fuzzies (to hang from the rearview mirror in your lowrider), keychains and backpacks, I found myself swooning again. They were so cute. My girlies saw them and started squealing. There was no explanation necessary. They knew exactly what they were.

The cultural reference was unmistakable.

Xochico, if you read this, hook an hermana up. I wanted a backpack for each of my two girls but you only had one in stock that night. Heh.

I love it when brown people come up with such original, creative ideas. You go, Xochico.


Wii like MJ

My kids are obsessed huge Michael Jackson fans.

They learned to love him through my little bro, who has spent the last year or two kinda obsessed himself because he's been performing Michael Jackson routines and meeting several of MJ's choreographers and dancers.

I have to say, Diego is the biggest fan. Evert single time he decides to turn on the iPod, his go-to choice is Michael Jackson.


I like MJ as much as the next person, but dang.

My kids biggest Christmas wish was to get the Michael Jackson The Experience video game for the Wii.

Which would be a bit challenging considering we didn't even own a Wii.

But guess what? They got their Christmas wish and a Wii game was sitting underneath Grandma-mama and Papa's Christmas tree.

They were pretty excited, to say the least.

Then it was Diego's turn to open up the next gift and that's when I heard this blood-curdling shriek. It was Diego, right after he opened up his new Michael Jackson The Experience video game. He was so overwhelmed and excited, his body didn't know what else to do but cry/laugh/drool.

Oh, he's only slightly dramatic.

The Michael Jackson drawing above was created by JRocka and colored in by Diego.


A few good things about 2010

As always, I am eager to say good riddance to 2010 and how you doin' to 2011. 2010 brought lots of new opportunities for me, but it was also very stressful and fast-paced. I lived and died by my daily planner. We had lots of schooling happening, lots of sports, camping trips, writing/blogging, art shows and concerts.

The one good thing about 2010? It was a good year for concerts.

Sublime with Rome back in April. Although it was one of the most laid-back shows I've ever seen, it was good to hear all their old classics.

Rage Against the Machine in July, which still gives me goosebumps when I think about it. It was the best show I ever saw. The air raid sirens, my nervous stomach, the Escalade we saw with RATMFAN vanity plates, Zach's swagger, the music pulsing in time with my heartbeat, those memories will be with me forever.

Then there were the B-52's we saw in October. It was a local, inexpensive show that I got to take Noah to. Yeh, they were as old as dirt but it was fun. Cindy was rockin' a muumuu like it was nobody's business. Fred was strutting around looking like someones gay grandpa and Kate....well, Kate blew me away when I discovered she was 62 flippin years old.

62! I'd like to see you rock a bouffant and heels and sing Rock Lobster at 62 years old. Hats off to you, Kate. At 62, I know for a fact that I would be at home in my robe watching Benny Hill reruns, with my teeth in a jar. Seriously.

Then there was Mary J. Blige in October. I've never had the opportunity to see the Queen of Hip Hop Soul perform live in concert. It was such a fun concert! Miguel had us all on our feet dancing. Jazmine Sullivan had me thinking about busting your windows. And El Debarge brought light-skinned brothas back in style.

I've always loved me some Mary J. Blige, ever since I heard What's the 411. She sang all my old favorites, and her new ones, too. You could tell she was a very down-to-Earth person and that she was having fun. She danced a lot and she even let the crowd sing half of Sweet Thing. You know I was up on my feet, singing my heart out to that one.

Amid financial woes, health/mental issues, church and family drama, I gotta say, the concerts were most definitely a highlight.

The New Year's hat photo magic was courtesy of my son, Sol, who is becoming quite efficient with photoshop. Now I can have him liquify the double chins for me.
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