An Angry American Woman Married to a Mexican

had to move

I had to move this blog due to technical difficulties- www.angryamericanwoman.blogspot.com sorry folks.

hammock and breast/face milk

I made my new baby a new hammock today.  The one I made for our first son was a bit too American-huge.  I thought that he needed something small like they have at daycare.  Both the boys will go to Helio’s family’s house for daycare in a few weeks.  The woman who takes care of all the kids is Helio’s second cousin but all the kids call her “tia”. (auntie)  When we had our first baby I saw this little contraption all sewed by hand and strung up with coated cable I thought, wow, so simple, yet so smart.  I immediately ran home to make one bigger and better.  The reality is, they like the little ones better.  It makes them feel more enclosed and comforted.  This will be the fourth kid to use that hammock at daycare.  In our tiny 800+ sq. ft. house, we have hooks strategically placed throughout so that no matter where we are, we can string up a hammock.

When we were in Mexico a couple Christmas’s ago, I saw people use the real deal hammocks.  They just put a mat in the bottom and tied up the top to prevent the little ones from falling out.  It’s true, you don’t need all that baby equipment to have a baby, but I insist- a hammock is the way to go.  Without one, I don’t know how to soothe a crying baby.

This new little sport has developed a bad case of face acne that has spread all over his ears and down onto his chest.  Once, I was at a graduation party and saw a young Mexican mother put breast milk into her then pink eye suffering little girl.  That image is still burned in my memory.  Her eyes were all pussy and her mom was man handling her in a kinda rough way to get her to sit still while she dumped milk in her eyes from a bottle nipple.  I still feel queasy when I think of that moment.  Little Dante looked like he was in pain from his break out so I finally broke down and squeezed milk from my body onto a washcloth to smear on his face.  Amazingly, it is working.  His face looks like it is calming down yet he smells.

Helio’s family started sharing their “knowledge” of caring for babies as soon as I announced I was pregnant with our first.  Some things insane- like rubbing a wet red string in a circle on the baby’s forehead to cure hiccups, other things helpful- use egg white for a minor burn to soothe the pain.  I guess I am blessed to take information from both worlds- the US of A and Mexico.  You implement some methods; you bring up others at cocktail parties to shock your friends.

A couple lists

All weekend I thought of things that I like; things that would be very easy for Helio to tune into on special occasions.  Here is the beginning of my list that Helio can refer to in a crisis situation, I think it is a good place to start.

Things I like:

1. Someone who talks to me, not bombards me with questions but has a conversation
2. Nice, interesting bookmarks
3. Alone Time
4. Honey
5. Lipstick (make up in general, especially with shimmer but lipstick is #1)
6. Tunes- i.e. an Itunes prepaid card
7. Coffee- i.e. a coffee shop prepaid card/ Coffee in bed in the morning
8. Contemporary Fiction- used books via Amazon
9. Earrings- hooker-style, sorta trashy Latina  
10. Heels- refer to style in item #9
11. Sassy undergarments- sometimes in a good mood a combination of 9 & 10
12. Bath accoutrements/potions- and the time ALONE in the bathtub to enjoy them
13. Good smelly body creams
14. Pedicures
15. A good hunk of cheese and bread
16. Cash for garage sales (to look for contemporary fiction)
17. CAKE
18. Beer/Wine/Mojitos
19. Ipod accessories
20. Running gear
21. Handbags
22. Technology advances- i.e. add-on for laptop/a new apple laptop (ha)
23. Crème Brule
24. Crisp/tart apples
25. Men with accents (he’s got that covered)
26. White teeth
27. Bedding/Linens- i.e. sheets, quilts, comforters, duvets, pillows, etc.
28. A full bottle of water in the car for any and all car rides
29. Lots of picture taking
30. Reisen candies (once I start, I just can’t stop)
31. A pretty set table
32. Fresh moving air (you wouldn’t think it but this is something we fight about all the time)
33. The sound of the big tree outside my bedroom window in early fall
34. Quiet time at night to read and be still i.e.- now is not the time to start the day’s questions

Things that I don’t like:

1. Being forgotten on a special occasion
2. My shrubs cut down to 2’ off the ground with a sawzall
3. Tacos every night
4. Being called “gorda” or “gordita” even if it is a Mexican kindness
5. Half done projects
6. Sweaty smelly dirty socks left on the floor in my walking path
7. Capers
8. The hose not being hung back up after use
9. Waking up to a sink of dirty dishes
10. A stove/counter not wiped off
11. Seeds in grapes
12. Garlic
13. Yelling on the phone- use inside voices (very typical Mexican)
14. The garbage can left outside after being emptied
15. A dirty floor
16. Wet cake- i.e. tres leches, mil ojas
17. A dirty car
18. Making dinner just for one’s self and not their other half
19. Arrogance

how quickly it runs out

I have just one more paycheck coming to me while I am on my maternity leave.  I lied and told my husband that I just received my last check on the 30th to put a little fire under his ass.  I am so anxious about it that I have been obsessing over it all night.  I will be out of work for another 8 weeks so I’m not quite sure how we are going to pay the bills.  I have to give Helio some credit though.  He is working two jobs. 

He just left to work at the airport tonight.  Its so ironic that he is working there.  For years it was the ultimate place to avoid for fear of being deported.  Now because he is legal, he is very proud of his airport worker’s badge.  Anytime he prepares himself to work on a job there he shows me his badge again. I grin and nod.  He is proud of it like Levi is proud of doing a painting in school.  It is something to be proud of though.  He worked hard to become legal.  Or should I say, I worked hard for him to become legal.  I filled out the 5 inches thick of paper work, paid the mortgage (sometimes barely) alone for months, and endured the first few months of a second pregnancy with a three year old pretending to throw up beside me.  It was me who had to call daily for that last month to beg officials to please resend his lost file.  He just had to show up with all the paperwork that myself and our lawyer assembled. 

He’s been talking to me which makes a huge difference.  The house is calm and pleasant when he does.  I haven’t had that feeling like I am dragging him through basic daily tasks lately.  Maybe I have mellowed or I am too distracted to care.  Maybe its because Rafa showed up a month or so ago and is now working with Helio so he has a friend to talk to.  As a result, I feel I have no one to blame for my anxiety about money.  He is working two jobs, is at one right now, he is helpful, chatty, and keeps telling me how he loves me.  He has been taking the noisey-tense moments with kids all in stride and I haven’t had to yell at him.  I don’t know where to go with my fear of losing it all because I am not bringing home a paycheck. I usually just take it out on him because I am not mature enough to find a pleasant outlet for my fears.  I guess it serves me right, I will just have to learn how to sit in my fear and allow him to work out some of the details.

I have no desire to read Jodi Picoult

Once I was into “my feelings”, now I try to ignore them until they go away.  I don’t know if something permanently was shut off when my brother Zach died but since then, I am not interested in touchy lovey stuff.  Often I wonder what kinda girl I would be today if he hadn’t died nearly 10 years ago.  (can’t believe that this October it will be a landmark 10 years)  For a long time I had fantasized that he had “accidentally” had a baby with some young girl and magically his offspring would come to be raised by me.  What kind of weirdness is that?  Well, no 9 year old has shown up at my doorstep, I think it is pretty safe to assume that this fantasy is officially dead for me. (no pun intended)

We went to the quince anos last night.  It was a balls-out celebration complete with mariachis, a coreographed dance routine, a power point presentation of the young girl’s life, and enough meat to have left overs for a good week.  I have been saved the pressure of having to hold one of these parties, there are no girl children in this household.  The first time I ever went to one of these parties I cried and I didn’t even know the girl or her family.  I thought it was a moving experience to see a ceremonious coming of age.  Last night, I leaned over repeatedly to a friend and found myself saying “now that’s mildly creepy” when all I could see was a elbow length white glove shoot up above all the heads of those in front of me, pointer finger extended to the ceiling while she was carried on the shoulders of ”los chambelanes” during the waltz. 

I might just be bitter and it may have been bound to happen regardless of life circumstance.  I have to say, it does make life easier and therefore I think better when the tears and broken-ness ended.  Today, I just want everyone to buck up and quit snivelling.

back to the dirty bathroom

I am waiting for half of my family to get their clothes on so we can leave for this quince anos party.  This has been a year in the making and I can’t wait for it to be over.  I thought it would be a fantastic experience to be part of being that we are so close to the virgin sacrifice (just kidding, that doesn’t actually take place for those of you who are in the dark on these sorts of events) but it has prevented many people from being part of normal life activities for all of the preparations that needed to be done.  Multi-tasking is not a Mexican strong suit.  Helio had to work so we missed the “misa” (church ceremony much like a wedding), now because a couple Mexican dudes showed up in our driveway about an hour ago to fix our truck we are officially late to the reception by 30 minutes.  We will not be there for an hour still.  You know, I don’t care anymore.  This used to spawn big fights, now, I just let it go, it’s his family. 

These parties go on until very late into the night, I won’t miss a thing except a clean bathroom.  Yes, you can take Mexicans out of Mexico but you can’t take Mexico out of Mexicans.  You would think that in Mexico there would be large billboards that would read something like “transplant to the Ol’ U.S of A. and you can flush your toilet paper down the facilities!”  That would be enough to get me to swim across rivers, sleep in deserts, and hide in trees for hours.  I have a very strong sensitivity to proper disposal of bathroom nastiness.  Every one of these parties that I go to the people who attend them still throw their used toilet paper into large masses on the floor beside, behind, and around the toilet.  By the time the sun goes down in the summer months I can no longer enter the bathrooms for fear of touching something I shouldn’t.  The bummer is now I have a new born, there is no way I am getting around using those bathrooms. 

Wish me luck, I am going to corral the troops.  I have kept my hair down today to allow for a quick hand dryer in a pinch after washing my hands in the lavatory sinks.  (there’s never a hand towel or paper to dry with)  Hopefully, I won’t be there all night.