Thank You. He's 6.

I'm not real sure when exactly it happened. I'm pretty sure it was a gradual slope and not just a giant fall, but we've reached the destination that I always knew we would: The day when people just don't constantly tell me how cute J is.

For the first few years, no matter where we went we were always getting compliments, looks, and smiles of admiration for our little guy. Every single time we took him somewhere we heard it several times during the outing. I know that we're not alone; every parent hears the same. After all, babies are just cute. There is something about them that lures people into their little spell. They're soft, they're chubby, they're cuddly.

As he morphed into a toddler, he was still adorable. A little roley poley man wobbling around, trying to keep his balance while getting from here to there all with a huge, one-tooth smile full of slobber on his face.

( J @ six months )

I am not exaggerating when I say that he thought Cute was his middle name. At the mention of the word in his presence he would look over to the person speaking it and expect some sort of acknowledgement.

At his two-year checkup his pediatrician told me to prepare myself for the day that he stopped looking like a toddler and more like a little man. then one day about a year later we were walking through the airport. He was in front of me in his little Jordan sweatsuit holding Bunkey on our way to the gate. People just stopped to see him. They smiled, waved, and uttered several adjectives to describe his appearance all of which are synonyms of precious. I wondered how much longer that would last.

It's inevitable. Every parent stops hearing it eventually, or at least on a daily basis.

We're now three years removed from that day at the airport. He turned six on Saturday. Something about this age really had him excited. He woke up that morning shouting, "I'm Six, I'm Six." Throughout the day he told anybody that would listen -- and that was a lot of people -- that he was six. That evening when my bro, his kids, and my mom called to wish him a Happy Birthday they all got the same response: "Thank You. I'm 6." When my Tia Nena called a few moments after, "Thank You. I'm 6."

These days, the compliments are much more spread out and they usually come in the form of the more age-appropriate, "What a handsome boy." We can't walk by an older Asian woman without hearing something along those lines. Apparently they have a bias for half-breed little boys with radiant skin and beautiful brown eyes. No longer taking it for granted, I feel humbled and thankful for what really seem like genuine words.

Let me make this clear, to me he's as adorable as he was on Day 1; as he is to his Dad and both of his grandmothers. You can't tell me otherwise. Try as you might, I'm not listening.

While the rolls, slobbers, and coos of the little baby may be gone, a little man has emerged. A little man that along with the occasional compliments about his physical appearance hears a lot about his demeanor. "He's so smart. He's so well-spoken. He's so polite." We will never get tired of sucking up the comments about his cuteness, but the others are the ones that really matter. It's a testament to the work we, as parents, put into the rearing of our kids. The fruits of our labors are emerging as well.

I usually don't know how to respond to that. Next time, however, I'll sum it up with,

"Thank You. He's 6 ."

(and on the day he turned six years)

Girl Gone Wild

Get out of the womb --let the great baby race begin.

It starts about five minutes after they're born: the questions, the numbers, the comparisons, the charts. Is he/she latching on? How many wet diapers do you get a day? What about poopy ones? It goes on and on. Sleeping through the night yet? Talking? Walking?

Quit Stalking!!!

I don't fall into the trap easily, but people that do are really annoying, and although I don't usually have the nerve to say it, I have the perfect response: "The day they start issuing scholarships to Harvard for being the first to (insert milestone here), then that's the day I'll start worrying, until then, I'll let my kid be a kid for as long as necessary. In the end they'll all be (insert milestone here) and (insert milestone here) and if they don't, then we'll have bigger problems to concern ourselves with."

Both of my kids are talkers, not walkers. M has been babbling about for months. She met her quota for 18 months long ago. J was the same way. By two years one could have a pretty good little conversation going. But the steps didn't come easily or early. J was about 14 months when he started his upright journey through life.

At M's 12 month appointment, the doc told me that if she wasn't walking by 15 months to give her a call. Fifteen months came and went without any significant mileage clocked and so I called. "Give her one more month," she said, "if she's not walking by then we may have to send her to physical therapy just to be sure it's all okay."

Even that didn't concern me. I knew M would walk and I didn't care if she had to go to PT before she did. She stood, balanced, and took a few steps here and there, it just wasn't her primary means of transporting herself around yet.

And then on January 22 it was.

The girl went to Charlie's Safari and checked her inhibitions at the door. She let loose and hasn't slowed down. Today at BabyGym she was climbing up the steps on the slide where last week I still had to sit her on top of it.

We now have a walker and a talker in the house, but who's keeping score anyway?

Random Things

About a year ago this was going around on Facebook. It seemed dumb at first, but then I started to read some of them and they were fun, so I fell for it and authored one myself. It described me in a nutshell at that time in my life.

I don't know that my kids will ever have access to my FB page and for that reason I decided to make it an entry so they could see what their mom was thinking in January 2009.

25 Random Things About Me

I received this a couple of times and I wasn't going to do it, but after reading some of the others, it was a really fun way to learn more about my friends especially since many of you I just met in the last year or so. Even those of you that have known me for years will probably learn a thing or two about me and I hope to do the same once I read your entries.

1) I was born in East Los Angeles and was surrounded by Spanish-speaking people. No matter where we went and what race they were, they spoke Spanish. It wasn't until I was about five that I realized the whole world didn't speak Spanish in addition to English. My parents didn't get out much I guess. :)

2) When I was 10, we moved to Sacramento, CA. Probably because we were always in the little bubble that is East LA and the fact that it's a mostly Catholic population, I had never known anybody that was divorced before that move. I was baffled by the number of kids whose parents were no longer together.

3) Because of my time in Los Angeles, I've been to Disneyland tons of times. The last time I counted (many years ago) it was almost 30 -- I'm sure by now I've probably reached that point. I loved it then, and I love it now, and I can't wait to take J and M.

4) When I was little, we went to Mexico two times a year to visit my maternal grandparents. Even when I was in school, my mom would pull us out for two weeks to go. It probably didn't do me any good academically, but it did wonders for my childhood. I have great memories of hanging out on the farm with my grandfather. He taught me how to milk a cow and ride a horse. My grandmother taught me how to break a chicken's neck and make chicken soup. They both died when I was way too young. I'm thankful for those times together and the awesome stories left to tell.

5) I never met my paternal grandmother, she died when I was about a month old. Many years later, when I was an adult, I went to the cemetery in the little town where she died and found her burial site. I sat at her grave and let the tears flow. I never thought I could cry so much for a woman I had seen only in pictures. It made me aware of how deep the bonds of family are rooted within us and I'm grateful to my parents for instilling that in me at a very young age.

6) On a much lighter note, I'm a sucker for lip glosses, animal prints, and Law & Order reruns.

7) I love to read. My two favorite books are 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Star by Danielle Steele. The spectrum is wide. I eagerly wait for a new James Patterson book to hit the shelves so I can go out and get it.

8) I've been in seven car accidents (none of which I was the driver) where there have been serious injuries, and by the grace of God I've walked away with only a few scrapes and bruises.

9) I've been lucky enough to do some pretty cool things in my life, among them: watched the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain and slept outdoors alongside thousands and thousands of people; watched the space shuttle launch; got lost in Paris -- three nights in a row -- rode the train from Rome to Amsterdam with a handsome Italian boy and engaged in hours of pasted conversation in Italian (which I don't speak), Spanish, and English (which he didn't speak.)

10) I may be the only person in the world who doesn't think the Grand Canyon is that cool.

11) One of my biggest regrets is not getting my BA.

12) I never longed for children of my own. Of course, now that I have them, it goes without saying that I wouldn't trade them for anything; however, I am not one of those moms that say, "I don't remember what I did before them." I DO remember, and I miss it sometimes. :)

13) Even once I had children, I never thought I'd be a stay-at-home mom. This "job" just fell onto my lap when we moved to WA and I didn't pass the court-reporter examination. I know that it is the hardest and most important job that I will ever do. And while there's still the occasional day when 7-Eleven is looking pretty appealing, I think I'm finally getting this mommy thing down. I'll eventually take the exam again, pass, and venture back into the working world. I feel very lucky to have that option.

14) I have moved three times in the last seven years: Sacramento to Phoenix; Phoenix to Germantown, Maryland; Maryland to Olympia. I love the Pacific Northwest.

15) I am obsessed about keeping the house clean...doesn't always happen, but the obsession is there. I like to joke that there's medicine for my condition.

16) I love the "idea" of scrapbooking. I have a closet full of scrapbooking supplies. When I do make a page, I love it... Okay, I'll say it: I think I'm pretty good at it, but I hardly ever do it. I am so behind...at this point I may never get caught up.

17) I have no athletic abilities. I hate to exercise but feel really good after I do. I don't have the best of eating habits. I drink very little water. I have about 20 pounds to go before getting back to pre-baby weight and have no doubt that I'll lose them but please don't ask me how because I have no idea. :0

18) I like old school rap music. I nixed having a band at our wedding because I didn't think they'd get the rap songs down. I had a DJ instead. My wedding was so fun. The dance floor was packed all night. I have no regrets.

19) Speaking of weddings, I refused to let Dennis see me before walking down the aisle. I didn't care that the photographer always took pictures of the couple beforehand. I will never forget the look on his face when I walked in. To this day it brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it.

20) I believe that nothing lasts forever-- good or bad. Enjoy the good times and ride out the bad ones any way you know how. One of my favorite sayings: When you are down to nothing, God is up to something.

21) I was petrified to have a girl. I felt like the weight of the world was on me to show her the way. Now that she's here, the fears have been replaced by inspiration. She inspires me in a way that no one ever has. Her smile melts my heart.

22) I am very proud of the two men in my life: D for his work ethic and for being a great dad, and J for the little man he's becoming. He makes me smile every single day. It's an honor to hold the titles of wife and mommy to those two.

23) I've been blessed with a wonderful life. I try to remind myself of that every day.

24) I admire my mom more than anyone. She is one of the smartest people I know. She is selfless, strong and beautiful. She is my rock.

25) This was pretty fun. I can keep going and write another 25 things if anyone is interested. :)

As I read it now, I think that maybe learning that not everyone spoke Spanish at five was a bit of an exaggeration. I may have been about three or four....but seriously, there was some Chinese folks who owned the corner store down the street from my house and they spoke great Spanish.

And sadly, I have to add another accident to the seven that I wrote about, Both J and M were with me when we were rear-ended, but we walked away okay, albeit, with some lingering backache. I'll survive. Once again, thank God.

Other than that, it's right on.

The Dinosaur is Loose, Part II

Let's try this again. In what is par for the course today the first post that I had started somehow got deleted.

I was saying how sometimes I feel like such a bad mommy. Jacob got a game for his Leapster called "Digging for Dinosaurs." Tonight after dinner he decided that he was going to dig for dinosaurs in our living room. All of this was music to my ears; I could finally sit down for a moment and watch the news, because unless you're living in the dinosaur era, you know there was a horrible earthquake in Haiti and I wanted to see what was going on.

D has been gone since Tuesday and this was my third night flying solo with the kids. Dinner, entertainment of some sort, baths and/or shower, teeth brushing, and on and on....all of these tasks get added to my already long list of things to do. Tonight dinner was especially challenging. For some reason J spilled his milk, dropped his sauce-smothered penne on the floor, and spilled his milk again all within the span of five minutes. I'm done!

Just as I sat down to relax for a minute, guess what? J found a dinosaur egg and like any good anthropologist would be, he was very excited about showing off his wares. By sheer coincidence, it was his favorite kind. "Guess what kind it is, Mema?" For the life of me I couldn't remember the particular species that he fancies so much so I told him to just tell me. It was a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Of course it was. How could I forget?

And that's where I stopped....I stopped right there and took M to bed. At the same time, D came walking through the door and we took a few minutes to talk about his trip and other matters of housekeeping. The talk soon turned to -- what else -- dinosaurs.

And all of a sudden the story changes. This is going from bad to worse and my position on the My-Mommy-is-the-Greatest Meter just dropped even more. Apparently I got a couple of the details wrong:

First, there was no digging for dinosaurs. He went to the Dinosaur Museum. And second, he found a baby stuffed animal of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Don't ask me where the eggs came from.

He is completely oblivious to all of these developments and it will stay that way until he's old enough to understand that his constant rantings about dinosaurs, insects, cats, bunnies or whatever the flavor of the day may be, are enough to drive someone to drink.

He's such a sweet little boy. The mistake-ridden story was going to continue by saying that at one point he came to say something to me and I stopped him dead in his tracks and told him not now. He went back to what we now know was the museum and continued exploring. I felt bad, so I called him back, told him to ask his question, and all he had to say was that in addition to the baby T-Rex he got for himself, he found a T-Rex for Daddy as well. "Because that's Daddy's favorite dinosaur too." Then he said, "And guess what? I got you one." With his hand hidden behind his back he told me that he got me my favorite: A Triceratop. We had this conversation one day and I, myself, had almost forgotten what my favorite was, but he didn't.

I could be the dinosaur in this story. I'm too old for kids this age. They're energetic, curious, exhausting. I'm selfish, impatient....

...and a little insecure. I make mistakes. I'm out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best. ~Marilyn Monroe

And the same goes for them, dinosaurs and all.

A Dozen Years

Today is the 12th anniversary of my dad's death. I'm putting it down because it is not because I have anything noteworthy to say about it, yet I feel it should be commemorated somehow and today this is the best I can do.

The first year after his passing we had a big shindig at my mom's house. Padre Ramos who is a priest and a good friend of my mom's, came over and held a mass. There was food, family, and remembrances of him. The next year we had an early-morning mass that my mom and I attended along with a couple of other family members that could get away from the office on a weekday. Since then, I don't recall any other reunion, not even two years ago when he hit the decade mark. My mom always holds a mass in his honor and goes to the grave site to put some flowers down.

This time of year has in past years been difficult for me. Subconsciously I know that the day is approaching and I start to feel blue a couple of days before and on the actual day there's tears that flow throughout. I have none of that today or in days past. While I refuse to read too much into it or try to get to the root of the problem, if that's what it is, I do find it strange.

The day is still vivid in my mind, like it was yesterday. But today I feel like an outsider standing in front of a window looking in. I feel removed, not unlike the way I felt that day and the days that followed. I was busy, tired, and numb. I remember sitting at his funeral mass and thinking that I should be crying but my eyes were dry and my heart felt empty. It wasn't until he was laid to rest and the house that was filled with people just a couple of days before also became empty, that I deflated like a balloon and was able to finally cry.

The tears came for many, many days after that, as I suspect will be the case this time.

Descansa en Paz, Papi.