The Voices in My House

So, like everyone else this weekend, we've been watching the Olympics. I missed the Opening Ceremonies on Friday, but spent a good chunk of yesterday watching and again this morning.

I was able to catch the end of the USA v. China basketball game. I was actually excited because I got to hear all kinds of commentary from my dad, who is amazed when the players slam dunk (Look at THAT! Tremendous!).

Anyway, I showed Yao Ming to my dad. I told him he's super tall and he plays for the NBA here, but he goes back to China to represent his country for the Olympics.

Over and over I heard my dad repeat: Yao Ming, Yao Ming, Yao Ming.

A little while later, I heard my mother talking to Patrick: Patrick, do you like basketball? Do you like the basketball players? Do you like Chow Mein?

Ay yay yay.

Oh, Rats!

Happy new year to all!

Boy do I have news to share!

A few weeks ago, we noticed there were rats in my neighbor's backyard. We mentioned it to them and they were surprised with the news (yeah, right!). However, when mentioning using some kind of bait to get rid of the rats, my neighbor said there was no way he could use it since he had a dog.

Last week, we noticed a rat running across my backyard. Yikes! And since I don't have dogs or any pet that spends time in the yard, my dear ole dad planted bait along the back fence.

After planting the bait, he watched intently to see if the bait had been moved or worse, to see if there were any victims of the bait.

Yesterday, my mom and dad went back to Miami, leaving me to fend with the rat situation. There wasn't a trace of a rat in the yard yesterday.

Today, as I was looking out the kitchen window I saw - A DEAD RAT!!! AHHHHH! YIKES!

I immediately called Mike at work: THERE'S. A. DEAD. RAT. IN. THE. YARD. DO. I. HAVE. TO. GET. RID. OF. IT?

He assured me that we would get rid of it when he got home. He's obviously not home yet and all I have are visions of the dead multiplying into hundreds of them.

I would have taken a picture of it and posted it, but it is so DISGUSTING. I should, however, take a picture and send it to my dad.

Ick.

(Tomorrow: photos of Patrick and I on our first walk together. It was unseasonably warm here today, so we went out. So did the rats - tee hee hee.).

My Mom Rocks

She's only been here a few days and already, Mike and I are spoiled.

Dinner is awesome and plentiful.

Tonight: chicken cooked with garlic and onions, served atop fried potatoes. Alongside, white rice (yes, even with potatoes, we still had rice). Also, a side lettuce salad. And empanadas.

Dad is also helping. He's become the official garbage remover in the house. :)

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth

Okay, folks, I promised details. Here is a chronicle of the last few weeks:

Wednesday, February 21 – Period is due.

Friday, February 23 – Take pregnancy test. Negative. Fly to Miami for Heather’s wedding.

Wednesday, February 28 – Still no period. Decide to take another pregnancy test and have Mike read it. Conversation goes like this:

Me: Take a look at this. What do you see?
Mike: What am I supposed to see?
Me: I’m not telling you. Just tell me what you see.
Mike: It looks like a line. And then another light line next to it.
Me: A. Light.Line. Next. To.It?
Mike: Yes.
Me: Holy shit. I’m pregnant.

Mike begins to strut around the house and begins calling himself “Macho Man.” He begins to talk about his virility. The strutting and talking continue for days.

Thursday, March 1 – Have blood drawn to confirm pregnancy.

Saturday, March 3 - Call Miami and let the Abuelos know what's going on. Abuela is happy. Abuelo is beyond happy. Drive down to see Grandma. She dances an Irish jig.

Sunday, March 4 - Have a birthday dinner with Mike's side of the family. Am secretly jealous that I cannot partake in the Sake Bomber drinking escapade. But really not that jealous.

Monday, March 5 – Hear from my OB/GYN. She congratulates me on being pregnant and sends me to a perinatalogist to have me checked out. She also sends me for more bloodwork.

Wednesday, March 7 - Feeling paranoid because I don't feel any different. Take another pregnancy test. It becomes positive in about 3 seconds. Just to make sure the tests are functioning properly, I have Mike take one too. His result (thankfully): negative.

Thursday, March 8 - My birthday. I work all day. Then I go home and fall asleep at 8:30 p.m.

Friday, March 9 – Mike takes me to the Melting Pot to celebrate my birthday. On the drive there, I get nauseous and Mike threatens to take me home and celebrate another time. I refuse to go home because dammit - it's my birthday dinner. And it's damn delicious.

Monday, March 12 – Hear from my OB/GYN again. My bloodwork is back and my hcg and progesterone levels are even higher. I ask the nurse if I am ‘really knocked up.’ She laughs and confirms that I am.

Tuesday, March 13 - Visit the perinatalogist. My blood sugars* have been wonderful for the past few years. Not too much concern over that. But, my blood pressure is elevated. Am referred to a cardiologist (WTH?) for treatment. But, thankfully, I am cleared for treatment and sent back to my regular OB/GYN. Before I leave, they do an ultrasound and we see the blob that is FeeNo. We can see the heart beating! Holy smokes. Mike and I share a moment. We are having a baby! Baby is due November 1. It's all very cheesey.

Everyday - I'm tired. I'm sleepy. I can't keep my eyes open. I fall asleep during my favorite television shows. Did I mention I'm tired?

Saturday, March 24 - I stay indoors all day. I finally take a shower at 9 pm. I put on fresh pajamas.

Sunday, March 25 - I get morning sickness. It lasts all day long. Stay in pajamas all day again. Make Mike go out and buy me plantains. And a skirt steak. And white rice. I love that man.

Monday, March 26 - Mike cleans the entire house because I was 'resting' the entire weekend and didn't do a damn thing.

Friday, March 30 - Have a regular OB/GYN appointment. Everything is fine with FeeNo. On my way out of the doctor's office, I experience a hypoglycemic episode. My blood sugar drops too low, they have to call the paramedics. I am given glucose through a vein in my hand and 'revived' me. They sent me to the ER for observation. While there, my new doctor came down to see me - a perinatalogist. I am now back to being a 'high-risk pregnancy.' I asked him, "So, you are going to delivery my baby?" and he responded by saying, " I am going to deliver your healthy baby." That's all Mike and I needed to hear. The doc sent me home to rest. Told me to take it easy.

Saturday, March 31 and Sunday, April 1 - Spent time at home, taking it easy. On Sunday night, Mike begins to explain the ins and outs of baseball statistics to my stomach. I fall asleep immediately.

Monday, April 2 - The Gators are playing for the National Championship for the second year in a row. I watch 5 minutes of the game before I fall asleep from exhaustion. When will this fatigue end?

Tuesday, April 3 - Wake up to the news that the Gators won AGAIN. The day is a good one. Except for the morning sickness. Ugh.

Friday, April 6 - The anticipation of telling everyone about the pregnancy is making me very anxious. I just want it to be Easter already!

Sunday, April 8 - We finally spill the beans to people. There is an excess of merriment and joy. Who knew that FeeNo would make everyone so thrilled?

More reports to come as the weeks and months pass, I promise.

* I have never written anything in my blog about my blood sugars and the type 1 diabetes I was diagnosed with when I was 18. It's never been an issue for me and over the years, I have learned to control it, live with it, and even embrace it as a part of my life. But I have never let it define who I am. There are many other things in my life that define me. However, having diabetes is going to play a significant part in the development of FeeNo and I will be writing more about it and how it affects my pregnancy. Please be patient with all the terminology and most importantly, send us good thoughts and prayers. They are greatly appreciated.

It Just Keeps on Getting Better

I don't normally miss Miami.

But it's March. And that means one thing - one very important thing - is going on right now.

The Dade County Youth Fair.

How I miss the Fair.

The Concessions. Oh. My. God. Elephant ears, cotton candy, corn on the cob. I can close my eyes and remember it all now.

Yesterday, when I was on the phone with my mother, she mentioned the Fair.

I think I am going to have to plan a trip to Miami next year in March.

Weekend in Pictures

I think I've used that post title before as a copout to writing something lengthy and meaningful. Guess what? I'm doing it again.

Here, in no particular order, photos from our weekend in South Florida:

Turtles at Bal Harbour. My mother thought they were fake, so she threw pennies at them. They weren't fake afterall.

A glimpse of Emeril at his restaurant on South Beach. I'd like to think he cooked my dinner that night. He probably didn't.

The obligatory visit to the tios' house: Dad, Mike and Tio. We watched Scarface.

Leaving... on a jet plane

My long-awaited trip to Miami is finally here! And while I really don't like Miami, I am looking forward to getting out of the freezing temperatures and gusty winds.

As far as I'm concerned, the stress of traveling began last night. It was nearly midnight when we finished packing, something I blame on myself due to a long week at work. But anyhow, as I was saying, the stress began last night.

Me: Have you taken out all the things you need for the weekend?

Mike: Like what? I have jeans and t-shirts out already.

Me: How about your suit, a shirt, and a tie that doesn't make you look like the biggest Republican in the place? And your square-toed shoes and dress socks?

Mike: Oh yeah, a suit.

Me: I can't wait to see Little Owen. I'm so excited.

Mike: We're going to see Owen and family? I didn't know that.

Me: Duh? Didn't I mention that we were going to a wedding? The wedding of a former college roommate? A roommate that I had when I was a student at the University of Florida and was a bleeding orange and blue gator? A roommate that was also roommates with my bff?

Mike: Oh, I must have not been listening.

Ugh.

The stress continued when I mentioned that we would be bringing my parents presents. Two carry on suitcases! That I got for free! Because if I actually went to Miami and bought my parents two suitcases, they wouldn't like them. But, since I told them I got them for nothing (FREE! GRATIS!), they are excited to receive them. Actually, I told them I had one, but with my excellent packing and organizational skills I was able to pack one into our regular suitcase and use the other one as a carry on for us.

Let me explain this: the thrill of getting a good quality anything is a success to Cubans, namely my parents. It helps even more if the good quality anything was free (FREE! GRATIS! NO TAX!). The other thing is that both my mother and I feel that the gifts we bring eachother are the greatest, most ingenius gifts ever known to man. We never stop to think that the pajamas my mom brought me could easily have been bought in my neighborhood mall or that the shampoo gift basket that I brought her could have been bought in Miami. We've been doing this for years, including the time I regifted my father a Waterford crystal eagle that I received at some charity dinner (I carried that baby on the plane with me, folks!).

But I digress... what was I talking about? Yes, stress. I am sure it will continue through the weekend. I have already heard word of my father cooking for us and packing his home cooking up in containers for us to bring back to Jersey (we can't get food up here, apparently). And there's no arguing with him, so we'll be eating his specialty dish for a few days after we get back.

I suppose I should just enjoy the attention from the family. Afterall, I'm their baby. And Mike, well, he's the greatest gringo they've ever met. I can't wait for my aunt to hug him and kiss him all over.

More on our adventures next week. And photos of us sweating in the hot south Florida sun and doing the white man's overbite to the Electric Slide!

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Not My Words Today

I just read this and had to post it.

I am crying.

Crying because this is a perfect summary of what it's like to have a wonderful example in your life and appreciating it. And I only wish I knew how to express it to my own father. Actually, I think I will.

My best wishes and prayers go out to Val, his immediate family, and the entire Babalu family.

The Year Santa Claus Brought Me a Box of Dirt and a Stick

I'm not sure when I learned there was no Santa Claus - it could have been when I saw pictures of my uncle dressed in a Santa suit, minus the hat and beard or when my two cousins sat me down and told me that Santa was really my mom. Both of those event may have come the same year, but I honestly can't remember.

All I know is that I knew the real truth about Santa at a very very young age.

However, since I was a really smart kid, I knew that I could never let my parents know because that would just ruin all chances of getting really good stuff. So, I never let on that I knew the truth.

In the years that proceeded 'the discovery of no Santa', I managed to figure out where my mom had hidden all my presents. Granted, all the presents were wrapped, but I could always count on finding them under her bed or deep in a closet. One year, I even found presents in the trunk of the car!

Eventually, my mother figured out what I was doing and mentioned it to my father. The following Christmas, I couldn't find a single gift. I searched everywhere - the garage, the basement, the cars, the closets. Nothing.

On Christmas Eve, two presents magically appeared under the Christmas tree. Naturally, I was excited that I hadn't been 'discovered' and that 'Santa' would be making a grand delivery as usual.

Imagine my surprise on Christmas morning when I opened the presents and found a two by four stick and a shoe box filled with dirt. I was devasted. What a terrible thing to do to a kid, right? But no, my parents were all proud of themselves; my father casually mentioned how children should never try to trick their parents, because parents will always find out.

When my tears had subsided, they presented me with loads of gifts, just like all other Christmases (as an aside, the reason I never found the presents is because my mother gave them to my godmother to hide - very clever!). I guess that's why to this day, more than 25 years later, I don't try to keep things from either one of my parents. I definitely learned my lesson.

My Mom Used to Call Santa Claus

Apparently, when I was a little girl, I used to misbehave. A lot.

And I apparently knew it too because on December 1st I would start asking, "Am I being good? I am being, right?" And my mother would humor me and say, "Oh yes, you are being a very good girl."

At times during December, I would act out and my mother, not knowing how to handle my tantrums, would call Santa Claus. She would pick up the phone, pretend to dial, and proceed to have a conversation with Santa Claus.

"Santa? Santa? It's Annie's mother. She is very very very bad. Very bad girl!"

I would completely freak out and beg her hang up the phone. Then I would try to hang up the phone myself. Then I would get a beating. And it would always end with a promise from me to behave so Santa Claus would leave me presents like he did all the good boys and girls.

This repeated itself throughout the month of December. But in the end, Santa Claus always brought me some cool presents.

Well, except for the year that he left me a box filled with dirt and a stick. But that's a post for another day.

Scenes from Thanksgiving Dinner

OMG - two posts in one day! But I couldn't resist, since I got these pictures from my sis-in-law.

Here, in no particular order favorites, scenes from a Very Diverse Thanksgiving...

My Dad and my faithful Indian companion, Patel

Baby Tommy, great nephew and godson

Dinner among family and friends in my living room. See me in the purple? My profile is 20 pounds lighter!

The Irish side: Mikey, ma-in-law, sis-in-law, and bro-in-law from Flah-rida.

Now, where is my mother? She's sitting next to me, to my right. But shortly after, she got up and made her way into the kitchen. You know why? Probably to wash a dirty pot. Or to invent a makeshift mop with an old broom and towel.

Cuban Guilt

For those Cubans that read this blog, you will understand what I am referring to when I mention the Cuban mop. It's basically a stick shaped like a T, where you hang a towel on the lower end and mop. Then you take the towel off, rinse it off, ring it out, place it back on the stick, and continue mopping. Then you can easily wash the towel when you are finished. Usually, you use the oldest towel you own to do this type of cleaning.

Cubans beware: I don't own a Cuban mop (the horror! someone call the cops!).

My parents arrived in New Jersey last week for a 12-day visit that included their first visit to my new home and Thanksgiving hosted by their wonderful daughter.

A conversation began the morning after they arrived:

mom: do you have a mop?
me: no. i use the swiffer.

an hour later:
mom: do you have a mop?
me: no mom. i use the swiffer to clean the kitchen.

three hours later:
mom: do you have a bucket?
me: no.
mom: then what do you use when you mop?
me: nothing. i use a swiffer to mop the kitchen floor.

the next day:
mom: do you have a mop? i need a mop.
me: mom, i don't have a mop. i don't have a bucket either. i use a swiffer to clean the floor.
mom: why don't you have a bucket? where do you put the dirty water when you mop?

Now, I cleaned the house right before my parents arrived. Everything was spotless. Yet, my mother felt it just wasn't clean enough. Thus began the cleaning. Everyday, sweeping. Then the mop conversation. Everyday, people. Everyday. I hate the mop conversation already.

But if I say, 'listen ma, just stop it with the mop. just sit down and relax. there's no need to clean. please stop!,' I'm sure I'll get scolded.

Because in Cuban households, you never tell your parents what to do. Not even if it's your own house.

Ahhhhhh, here it comes. Can you feel it?

The Cuban guilt has arrived.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving is really my favorite holiday. I suppose I could thank my father for this, since he has always been an advocate for the United States and thanking the country that did so many things to enhance his life.

I love Thanksgiving because it's a holiday where families get together, eat all day long, watch tv, gossip, fight, and eat some more.

This year, I have taken the task of hosting Thanksgiving at my house. I hope I don't let anyone down with my lack of knowledge on Thanksgiving hosting, or any type of hosting, for that matter. But do know that I'm trying my best.

Since I have offered to host Thanksgiving, it's something I have been thinking about for many weeks now (menu planning, distributing jobs, buying groceries). But I have also been thinking about the things I am most thankful for in my life.

I don't know if I am going to be able to post this on the actual day of Thanksgiving, since my parents are arriving tonight and the rest of the week is full of activities.

And so, I present some things I am thankful for:

• My husband - before him, I really didn't know how happy I could really be. In all it's cheesiness, he is a great addition to my life. And I really don't know how I would function in this world without him.
• My family, both blood and in-law - despite the craziness of both sets of families, I am grateful that I have them. My side: for teaching me values, for giving me everything they never had, for allowing me to be independent, for supporting me, and for sticking by me always (or, eventually coming around) whenever I made decisions that they didn't necessarily agree with. My in-laws: for accepting me as one of their own, for learning with me, and for making me feel the warmth of family when my own is miles away.
• My good friends - for sticking by me through the best and worst. It's a blessing to have friends that will drop everything if you need them. It's also a blessing to have friends that you can drop everything if they need you.

I could be thankful for the material things in my life: my car, house, clothes, etc, but that's not really what this is about, is it?

Happy Thanksgiving to all - I hope you find things in your life that you are thankful for.

The Commencement of Thanksgiving Week

It's a short week at work - I'm in my office intermittently today and tomorrow and off for the rest of the week.

The parental units arrive from Miami tomorrow, complete with sweaters, gloves, and hats, I'm sure. This morning, it was 35 degrees out with the high only going up to 48. Tomorrow, it's predicted to be at freezing temperature the entire day.

I spent all day Saturday shopping and cleaning. I am happy to report there is an 18 pound turkey defrosting my fridge (nevermind there is no room for anything else) and that my house is spotless. I wonder how long it will stay that way?

And since it's the beginning of the holiday season, Mike and I celebrated by going to see the new 007 movie yesterday afternoon. I think I like Daniel Craig as the new Bond. He's not terribly handsome, but he sort of has that rugged look to him. And his body? To. Die. For.

Darnit All to Hell

So I tried to post on Saturday. And then again on Sunday.

Obviously, I had no luck.

And so I post the first chance I get on a Monday morning.

It's officially the week before Thanksgiving. Am I nervous about almost 20 guests in my house for dinner? No way! Am I nervous about a visit from my parents? No way! Am I nervous that I haven't even started Christmas shopping? No way!

It's all good.

Until Wednesday night of next week. Then there's a slight possibility that I might freak out. Slight. Freak. Out.

And I have to get the computer at home fixed. Pronto!

But hey - how 'bout them Gators?

On Being a Model - Or Maybe Not

Last night, I called my folks for my daily dose of them.

During the phone conversation, my mother asked how my weight loss was going. I told her I was down another pound this week.

To that, my father replied on the extension: Don't go crazy with the dieting, ok? If you lose that's fine. If you don't that's okay too. I don't want you to get obsessed.

I assured my dear ole dad that I wasn't obsessed and that I was eating healthy and that I felt great.

He continued: I just saw on the news that in Spain, they rejected models for being too skinny. They said the girls had that disease... what's it called again?

I replied: Anorexia?

He said: Yes! That's it. Anorexia. Don't get it, okay?

Here's the breakdown:

One month membership at Weight Watchers: $39.99
One Diet Coke to go with salad at lunch: $1.29
Dad asking me - no, begging me - not to become anorexic: Priceless