Miguelina

A Plumbing Mystery

I was in the shower the other morning trying to wake myself up enough to make some coffee when I heard what I thought was the hum of a ride-on lawnmower. Then I realized it was Sunday -- the one day out of the week that the landscaping trucks don't descend on our street so it couldn't possibly be that -- but it was early and all I could come up with was "huh?"

(Aside: Why don't the neighbors agree to have all yard work done on the same day? Must every outdoor activity be marred with the sound of landscaping crews? We have like 3 weeks of summer left - or rather, summer is already over, if the abundance of scarecrows and pumpkins at the Christmas Tree Shop is any indication - so perhaps this is a project for another day.)

Anyways, the mysterious noise. It was a rhythmic sound, tinny and persistent, not really the kind of thing that should cause any alarm, but it was so out of place that I actually turned off the water to get a better listen.

That's when I freaked the hell out, because once the water stopped I realized that the vibrating sound was coming from the pipes. The shower head and pipes, to be exact. The pipes were shaking, even after the water was turned off.

Visions of possible electrocution danced through my head. A plumbing disaster was surely imminent, and here I was soaking wet with a head full of soap.

"HOOOOONEEEEEEY!"

"What?"

"Come! Take a look at the shower!"

"Why?"

"JUST COME!"

My husband came in, stopped for a minute, and asked me if I heard that strange noise.

"Of course I hear it and I don't know what it is...OMG, we need to call a plumber..it's Sunday morning the bill is going to be huge!"

A plumbing mystery is a fantastic way to start a relaxing Sunday morning, in case you can't tell.

We could only stand at the shower door for so long. We had to do something. My husband unscrewed the shower head but the mysterious noise raged on.

"Should I call a plumber?"

"Not yet."

"What if the pipes are about to explode?"

(I'm nothing if not good under pressure.)

"No."

"OK, let me take out the shower caddy so you can play around, but I'm going downstairs and calling a plumber. This is too serious to mess around with."

"We don't even know what 'this' is. How do you know it's serious?"

I ignored him and slipped the shower caddy from the pipe..thing..you know, that thing that comes out of the wall and connects to the shower? And that's when the mystery noise stopped.

Awesome -- until I realized that the shower caddy in my hands was vibrating.

"Oh. Ooooh!"

Apparently, I had accidentally turned a vibrating object on (it's not what you think)* when I put a bottle of conditioner on top of it.

Oops.

*People! It was this. I TOLD YOU it's not what you think.

(Perverts.)

Things People Have Said to Me This Pregnancy, In Order of Decreasing Awesomeness

"This is your third pregnancy? You don't look like you're old enough to vote!" (Thank you butcher man. Thank you very much.)

"Do you think the baby can feel my kisses? I like kissing the baby." (From big brother, say it with me: Awww...)

"Call the baby Winnie...Winnie the Pooh-pooh head! HA HA HA!" (From big brother as well. He's taking it well, obviously.)

Grocery store manager as he calls for an employee: "Open a lane for this lady, we don't want her to have this baby here!" Then he winked at me. (The wink? It didn't help. But I got to skip the line, suckers!)

"Oh my God. You look like you're just ready to pop! When are you due? Any minute, huh?"
"October."
"Um, well, you look woooonderful!" (Too many strangers to count. Why would you ask a stranger her due date?)

Random lady: "I'm a little psychic. Your fourth child will be a girl."
Me: "Ha ha haaaa! Fourth child! That's funny!"
Random lady (looking hurt): "But I can feel your daughter! She's waiting for you in heaven right now."
Me: "FOURTH child! Haaaa...good one."

"You're having ANOTHER boy? Poor you." (Rot in hell, asshole.)

"I guess you were trying for a girl and failed!" (Seriously: What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. People?)

And my favorite comment of all, because I like to end on a positive note:

"You can't have enough men loving you! Well done!"

Ain't that the truth.

Peonies Watch

So, this year's Spring garden left a lot to be desired -- no special post went up because I was too damned sick with allergies and whatnot to actually enjoy the flowers. So here, all you get is a shot of some potted gardenias I've plopped next to the garage:

We're pretty much overcome with weeds at this point, and since I have a very difficult time bending over to reach them I've told myself I'm pretty much over the glamour of gardening.  But then I noticed a curious thing:

My peonies! They're coming to life!

I planted this peony bush two years ago, and it has never flowered. In fact, last summer it "died" because I never watered it. I read somewhere that it takes up to five years for a peony to take root, and since they're my favorite flowers I was willing to take the chance.  So imagine my surprise to see the emerging blooms on my plucky little shrub. I'm not going to lie, I was excited.

The next day, I was rewarded with this:

I can't believe I planted this thing. I watered it (sometimes), and let's face it, neglected it, for two years -- and finally, FINALLY, my patience is being rewarded.

I love peonies, and not only because their name lends itself to bad puns.  I love how big and extravagant they are, I love their fragrance, I love them in centerpieces, and I love that they only bloom in June. They're the perfect middle-of-the-year pick-me up.

To Understand Takes Time and Effort, Something that Not All People Are Willing To Give

I'm not even going to pretend that this a political blog (or I should more accurately say, a judicial watch blog) but the constant exposure to Sonia Sotomayor's "wise Latina" quote, taken out of context is -- to put it mildly -- disappointing to me.

Dirty GOP politics is nothing new, but that the mainstream media keeps repeating the quote out of context thus doing the GOP's dirty work for them is pretty scary.

Sigh.

Why such a sophomoric smear campaign? In Sotomayor's own words,

To understand takes time and effort, something that not all people are willing to give.

You could argue that those words are proven right by the storm brewing around her right now, but I'll let you decide on your own. I trust that my fellow Americans are capable to form an opinion based on facts, something that talk radio seems to think is impossible.

Anyways.

Here is the offending statement:

First, as Professor Martha Minnow has noted, there can never be a universal definition of wise. Second, I would hope that a wise Latina woman with the richness of her experiences would more often than not reach a better conclusion than a white male who hasn't lived that life.

Let us not forget that wise men like Oliver Wendell Holmes and Justice Cardozo voted on cases which upheld both sex and race discrimination in our society. Until 1972, no Supreme Court case ever upheld the claim of a woman in a gender discrimination case. I, like Professor Carter, believe that we should not be so myopic as to believe that others of different experiences or backgrounds are incapable of understanding the values and needs of people from a different group. Many are so capable. As Judge Cedarbaum pointed out to me, nine white men on the Supreme Court in the past have done so on many occasions and on many issues including Brown.

However, to understand takes time and effort, something that not all people are willing to give.

Does this sound like a racist to you? I get that "racist" is a charge that is guaranteed to get you press, but it also makes you look desperate when it is thrown about so cheaply.

(And yes, Hispanic is not a race, but the concept is clearly too difficult for people to understand right now. Let's keep things simple.)

Read the complete speech here and make up your own mind.

(Cross-posted at MOMOCRATS)

Hugging is Hip

This article made me laugh out loud. And yet, the sight of teenagers protesting for their right to hug gave me the warm fuzzies. The kids, they are all right, after all.

I mean, really? Are people really concerned about this newfangled hugging craze? Maybe it's a cultural thing, but to me, a hug is really no big deal. Then again, in Miami you kiss everyone hello when you enter a room. And no, I'm not talking the infamous Hollywood air-kiss, and no, it's not a soulful peck on the cheek either. It's hard to explain, but it's perfectly appropriate and slobber-free. It's a good thing, because acknowledging the existence and humanity of everyone you meet is always good. Yes, it is. Don't even try to argue with me on this, or I'll hug you.

I know, I know. What about the kids who don't want to hug? They don't have to. So what if they're known as non-huggers? It's what they are -- and a way to express their individuality. If you don't like it, don't do it - and own up to it. There are people who don't like to shake hands -- because of germs, or religious reasons or whatever. They have to figure out how to be outside the norm. That's not a bad thing either. It's good practice for the rest of your life. 

I say let the kids hug. It sure beats the alternative.

Fragile

It doesn't make sense.

The loss of a child never makes sense, even if that baby isn't your own.

I know that being a parent is full of risks - that despite all the joy it brings, you never get to relax. I know that a mother's heart gets broken many times. Your heart becomes stronger and more fragile all at once. Every time one of my children gets hurt, I hurt. Every disappointment they experience becomes my own. I hold my breath at every OB visit, because I know that life - even the one growing so fiercely in my womb - is precious and fragile and there is only so much we can control.

And that's only my children. There are so many children in the world, so many mothers who are as strong and fragile as I am. Their pain becomes my own too.

This week two beautiful babies passed away. I never met them, but I know they were loved because I read their mother's words. And now they are gone.

It doesn't make sense.

Please, share a thought or a prayer with the families left behind. And if you can, consider donating to the fund Thalon's friends have set up.

There's Something I've Been Dying to Tell You...

I'm pregnant!

I've been dying to write those two words for weeks now, but as sick as I've been it just didn't seem real until we went for an ultrasound this week. Baby #3 is on his/her way, and as happy as we are, I just wish I wasn't so sick all the time. You'd think I'd have the hang of this pregnancy thing by now, but no. It's the hardest one so far. By FAR.

But it's OK, because look! Baby legs!

(Those of you who know me in real life - the mystery of why I've been completely blowing everyone off, not returning calls, or why my face is a lovely shade of green is finally solved.)

(I also want to thank my editors for not firing me. I haven't been able to write anything that didn't say "OMG!! I'm pregnant!" and they've been extremely patient with me. Thanks!)

So this will be baby #3.  Wow. We can't even wrap our heads around that: Three kids. My husband and I will be outnumbered. We'll have to buy another chair for the kitchen table.

Oh, let's face it: We're doomed.

Things will change around here, that's for sure. The hardest thing to accept? I had a dream that I bought a minivan, and I liked it.

Stereotypically Speaking

It just occurred to me as I was trying to come up with something to write for work (what? You try writing about Marc Jacobs when your mind is elsewhere) that I haven't talked about my kids in quite a while. In fact, I haven't said much of anything here in a while.

(What? You try blogging about nothing when your mind is elsewhere.)

Anyways: The boys.

You might remember that we want our children to speak both Spanish and German (English is a given) to reflect our heritage. It's going pretty well if I do say so myself. (When I say "pretty well" I don't want you to think that our house is some sort of multilingual wonderland where we flow in and out of languages seamlessly. No. It's actually pretty messy and chaotic and I forget which language I'm using with whom mid-sentence more times than I'd care to admit but, hey! At least we're trying!) Both boys can say and understand a few things in both languages, but most importantly, they know that there is such a thing as different languages and they know that it's natural to speak more than one.

(SCORE!)

I find it incredibly interesting that each child seems to be more fluent in one language over the other, and that each one of their personalities seem to match the stereotype of the culture usually associated with the language. Isn't that interesting?

My preschooler is neat, logical, and never forgets anything. I can give him a sharpie and leave him alone in a room safe in the knowledge that he will not stain the walls or the white couch. He prefers German.

My toddler is charismatic, talkative, and is generous with affection. He loves being around new people and finds the rhythm in anything. He prefers Spanish.

I wish I was making this up. *I* don't fit the Spanish-speaker stereotype half the time, and my husband doesn't fit the "German" stereotype either...but it seems like our children do. I guess things will change as their personalities become more complex, but for now, it just makes me laugh.

Today

I spent the morning at my son's preschool - we were busy celebrating both Valentine's day and his birthday (which is actually next week, but next week is February vacation - so he will never have school on his actual birthday for as long as we live in Boston. You're welcome, son.)

Seeing the children's delight at exchanging little paper hearts managed to melt my own frosty little heart, and the fact that I brought chocolate cupcakes for the kids to decorate with colored frosting and that then we all sang Happy Birthday to my boy, and he got to blow out the big candle shaped like a "4" on his own cupcake - well, that made my day.

My needs are simpler than I ever imagined.

Next week: 20+ kids take over my house for the real birthday party. I'm  not going to lie: I was in a panic at the thought of all those kids in my house. That is, until today.

Playing Ketchup

You guys, being snowed in has seriously put a crimp on things to tell you. I've run out of things to do with the kids (my newly NON-napping kids) so you can just imagine how happy I've been lately.

However, here are three things that make me smile - because if I think too much about the weather I'll cry:

1. This episode of 30 Rock cracks me up because it's true. Anyone that shows up at a Hispanic family event will be handed an overdressed baby and a plate of food. It's just the way it is. Also? "It's OK, you were not being rude, you were just being stupid," is my new favorite way to accept apologies from jerks. HA!

2. My new spring dress. Isn't it lovely? I know shopping's not the thing right now, but I needed something to give me hope that I'll be able to wear flip flops again ... someday! I'm hoping that by buying something so hopelessly out of season I'll give Mother Nature a nudge in the right direction. And it's convertible! It's like buying two dresses and a skirt for the price of one! I know that I'm totally being virtuous and delusional all at once. Let me be.

3. My 21 month-old has discarded his beloved Ernie doll:

Instead, he has made an empty Prosecco bottle his lovey of choice. I'm not even kidding - he dug it out of the recycling bin one day and will not let go, which is slightly alarming and, well, not surprising knowing our habits.

This sounds weird I know, but it's all very age appropriate and adorable - he calls it Papa and hugs it in a meaningful way. The fact that he sits on the couch and pretends to drink from it - he puts it to his lips and tilts his head back giggling the entire time, like a miniature drunken aristocrat - could give some people pause I'm sure, but I can assure you it's not like you think. The bottle's completely empty, this I know for sure. In this house, adult beverage bottles don't go into the recycling bin until they've been sucked dry. Do we look like the kind of people who would waste perfectly good bubbly? That would be shameful.