EverAfterLand

My Deep Dark Secret: I Have........A Housekeeper!

Hubster told me excitedly before we had even begun packing, "Housekeepers are very affordable
there, and it's very common for people to have full-time housekeepers.  You could even have a nanny!"

His excitement was palpable. 

Now, I could understand his enthusiasm for a housekeeper, after all, it wasn't like I would win any Good Housekeeping Awards for, well, my good housekeeping.  Lord knows he didn't marry me for my ability to weild a mop.

But the nanny thing was going too far.

"Hold your horses, there, buckaroo," I responded, "I am lazy by nature, so you might want to think twice about starting something that you can't continue to pay for when we return to The States!"

I learned when we went house-hunting just how prevailent housekeepers are, here in Tegucigalpa.  Every house (every single one!) had an "empleada" room ("empleada" is the Spanish word for "female employee" and what many people refer to their housekeepers as).  These rooms were typically located off of the kitchen or laundry room and were about the size of a walk-in closet, with just enough space for a twin size bed and maybe a small bookcase.  These rooms do not have closets, but normally contain their own small bathrooms.  I mean really, really small.  A stand-up shower with just enough room to turn around, a toilet and a tiny sink basin.  And, yes, many people here have live-in empleadas who regularly sleep and live in this space. 

Pay-rate, work schedule and living arrangements are different depending on what the household wants and what the empleada wants.  Some housekeepers prefer to live-in, they are usually older or younger.  Older women have adult children that they live with and an absent or deceased spouse, so they don't mind living in someone else's home.  The younger ones don't have a husband or family of their own yet and live with their parents, so they also don't mind living in the boss's home.  Many housekeepers are in that in-between, with kids or husband at home, and prefer to live-out so they can be with their own families in the evenings.

And the hours can vary greatly from home to home.  Awaking the girls at 5:30 in the morning for school, I frequently see from their window the empleada across the street sweeping the rooftop patio.  I assume she is a live-in, but I can't say for sure.  Some homes want their housekeeper there to make breakfast in the morning and get the kids ready for school.  Others may prefer she be there to cook dinner, bathe the kids and do the dishes.  Many prefer to have everything done by their empleada, and these are the homes that hire a live-in. 

I was resistent to having any sort of housekeeper.  After all, how do you know what sort of person you are inviting into your home?  And we're not even THAT dirty, what would a housekeeper DO five days a week?

But as we toured all those homes trying to decide which one to choose, there was one thing you couldn't help but notice.

Tile.

Tiled floors in every room of every house.  Tile, tile, tile.  Even the most luxurious of homes featured tile from top to bottom. 

And I hate mopping.

Like, no, really, I HATE hate it. 

Suddenly, I was beginning to warm up to the idea of a housekeeper.

As I met and spoke with more and more Embassy families and found out that they ALL had housekeepers (and nannies as well, for some) in one capacity or another, I gave in and agreed that we would hire one as well.

But only for three days a week.

And then along came Mary.

Two of my new friends, both Embassy wives, raved about Mary.  "She's so wonderful!  She's so fantastic!  I would've hired her myself, but we inherited a housekeeper from the family before us!"

When I first met Mary, I was struck by how young she was.  Her petite frame and model-high Indian cheekbones belied her actual age.  What I thought was a girl in her 20's was, in reality, a woman in her mid-thirties - the same age as me.

Through a translator, we spoke for a bit, then got down to business.  Mary was firm about what she wanted from her next job.  Because she still has a child at home, she would live-out.  She wanted full-time employment, which for her meant five days a week, eight hours a day.  And she wanted insurance.

"But she prefers to hire someone for only three days of the week," the translator explained to her.

Without hesitation, the answer was no.  It was either full-time or nothing.

I decided to move forward and see how much full-time would actually cost. 

When it turned out to be not-much-more than what I was planning to pay for part-time, that was it.

"You're hired!  When can you start?  How do I say that in Spanish?"

It's been seven months now since Mary came into our home, and as it turns out, we are THAT dirty!  I am thankful she was here during burning season, when particules of dust and ash would pile onto shelves and cover the floors on a daily basis.  I am thankful she is here now during rainy season, cleaning up soaked towels from our leaky roof and working with the contractors to repair it.  Through our daily conversations she is helping me learn Spanish.  And, when I ask, she teaches me how to cook Honduran dishes and explains to me about Honduran life.

Her life. 

Which is vastly different than this walled-up world that I live behind.

Thank You, Tiny Prints! (I'm glad SOMEBODY appreciates me around here....)

This past Mother's Day came and went much like most Mother's Days do. 

The girls gave me adorable cards.  Miss Priss, in particular, is getting good at manipulating my heartstrings with her adorably misspelled missives.  (I can't ever imagine where she got THAT from!)

Hubster cooked up a delectable breakfast and even ran out to Dunkin' Donuts to procure my favorite chocolate creme-filled treat.

I'm not the type to expect lavish gifts on my Mother's Days, I just enjoy my family lavishing love on me all day long! 

Well, and food.  Cause, you know, calories don't count on Mother's Day!

So what a wonderful surprise it was that afternoon, when I finally got around to checking my email and found this buried in all the promotions....

What's that?  Twenty bucks??  There must be a catch.

I scanned all the fine print.... coupon could not be used on photo books, calendars, one brand of planner, shipping or taxes.  But there was no minimum, which meant I could get twenty dollars worth of free (just about) anything!

Delightfully, I headed over to Tiny Prints, already knowing exactly what I had in mind.

Now, I have been a customer of Tiny Prints since that time, many years ago, when I won a giveaway on a fellow bloggers site and received a $50 gift card, just in time for ordering Christmas cards.  I've been ordering my holiday cards from them ever since.  And with their new Treat line, I've also been sending photo cards directly to grandmas and grandpas for birthdays, Easters and, actually, this past Mother's Day, too!

On the Tiny Prints website, I clicked over to the photo mugs.  Hubster hates (HATES!) my mug collection, but he couldn't complain about this one.  It is a Mother's Day gift, after all.  And it's FREE!!!

I wanted a mug to represent our time here in Honduras, and I already knew which photo I wanted to use.  Unfortunately, Tiny Prints does not have a completely blank template for mugs (at least not one that I could find) but I found something very close.  I was able to put my single photo across the entire mug, with just some text to one side.

My order came to a grand total of $5 for the shipping.  I was ecstatic! 

It took two looong, sloooow weeks for my mug to finally arrive (and that's not too bad, considering how far it had to go!) but it finally showed up (despite what looked to be a perilous journey, judging by the box) last week.

And here it is!

This photo was taken in a little town just outside Tegucigalpa called Valle de Angeles.  We are sitting on the outside window sill of a shop that had this bright, beautiful mural painted all along the wall.  The Honduran flag is hanging inside the store behind us, and that white t-shirt in the mural to the right of the window says "I heart Honduras."

I love it!!!!  And what did I choose for that little bit of text I had to include?

JenEverAfter!  My online alter-ego, and possible super hero name if I ever contract amazing super-human powers or give-in to the urge to wear underwear outside my leggings, whichever comes first.

(And everybody say 'hi' to Eddie!  He decided to photo bomb my pic, and he was too cute to crop out.)

So thank you, Tiny Prints, for my free personalized mug!  Not only did you make this girl feel marvelous on Mother's Day, you delightfully tortured my husband in the process!!!!

(This might sound crazy, but I did not receive any sort of compensation for this post.  I don't even think Tiny Prints knows I have a blog!  I wrote this of my own volition as a special Thank You to Tiny Prints and to needle my husband just a wee bit more!)

The 31 Day Blogging Challenge - Day 31: The Finish Line

That's it!  31 days.  31 topics.  31 times I hit "Publish" on my compose page.

31 posts.

Some were great.  Some were not-so-great.  But they are all there.

This whole month of May saw more writing than I have done in a long, long time.  And in the course of all that writing, I made a lot of realizations and discoveries about myself and what I am doing than I have in the last several years of pondering and journaling and reflecting.

First off, I did the one thing that I had most hoped to do through this challenge - I turned on the faucet.  The more time I spend writing, the easier it is for the words to come to me.  That flow has been missing for a while now, due to all of my inconsistency.  It's back.  And I love that feeling of sitting at the keyboard and have things just COME OUT.  If I were a runner, I would imagine this is what a "runner's high" feels like.  The "Writer's High."  It's amazing.

A side-effect of my endless blogging was a head-first dive back into social media.  Blogging and social media really do go hand-in-hand.  After all, there's no point publishing all of these thoughts, pictures and memories out into the world if nobody but your mom (Hi, Mom!) is reading it.  Bloggers blog in the hopes that somebody out there will take notice of what they do.  And after they take notice, they'll come back and read more.  But social media can be a time-suck and a life-suck.  I dove in, and then I burned out, and that's fine.  It's all part of the process.  I will continue twittering and pinning and graming and plusing, but I will have to put time limits on these activities.  Online life is fun, but I prefer living in my real-world life with my real-life family.

I overcame many of the fears that had been plaguing me and my writing for so long.  My perfectionist tendencies (I posted without photos, for crimeny sake.  More than once!!) and the fear that if I write about all of my "good ideas," I won't have any good stuff left.  But that's what's so amazing about turning on that faucet - it's not just the words that flow, when the tap is off, ideas are still dripping out. 

The only fear I have now is that I have reached the end.  Now that my challenge is over, my focus has to be shared with more than just what the post for today will be, I have a fear that I will return to my old, inconsistent habits.  That our upcoming month of summer vacation will undo all of the work I've done, or when things get hectic during the Christmas season, or next year when it is time to pack up and move our whole lives either back to The States or another new country, my faucet will dry up.  This is not a fear that is at the forefront of my mind, though.  Just a little shadow of a thing in the back of my thoughts. 

For now, I am proud and even exuberant that I gave myself a goal and I succeeded in making that goal a reality.  It's something that I hadn't done in a long, long time.  And my plan is to keep at it for as long as the words will continue to come to me.  I still have quite a lot of work to do in the realm of time management, but my new goal is to keep this blog active AND spend time with my family.  I am determined.

And when I'm determined, it's pretty neat to see what I can accomplish!

Hecho En Honduras - A Day At The Bazaar

It had been a loooong week, highlighted with power outages, late nights, spotty internet connections, and a call into the principal's office.

(It had to do with a butter knife, a detention, everybody learning from their mistakes, and no need to discuss it any further!)

Oh, yeah, it was quite the week!

And when you've had a week like that, there's even more appreciation for the bi-annual bazaar held in the garden of the U.S. Embassy.

Not only do us Embassy people have a chance to purchase crafts and handiwork from all over Honduras, it is another event that allows all of us to socialize for the afternoon.

Truthfully, you could not ask to be lumped into a better group of people than the folks that are stuck with right now.  We are truly blessed with all the new friends we have found here!

But enough about me! This week, we interrupt our regular Mercado Programming to bring you a Special Presentation of Hecho En Honduras: At The Bazaar....

Nothing can make you feel as great as chocolate! (Or maybe that's just me.) That large yellow fruit at the top of the photo contains the seeds/beans that cacao is derived from. Quite a lot of the cacao produced here is actually exported to chocolate factories in other countries. Although there is chocolate in the grocery stores here, it's the same M&M's and Hershey's Bars that you'd find in The States. The brightly colored bags in this photo that are holding little Honduran-made chocolate bars are created from fabric produced by the Lenca Indians, one of several types of native Indian peoples that many Hondurans can find their lineage with.

Ok, so a nice glass of this would be a good substitute if the chocolate is all gone. (Not that I'm the one who ate it all....I plead the fifth!) This is wine made from fruits that are commonly found in this country. There's ones that most of you are familiar with, like strawberry (fresa) and blackberry (mora). Other varieties I was not familiar with before moving here. The bottle to the left is made from maracuya, the middle one is a fruit called Jamaica, and the one on the right is a maranon.  A maranon grows on trees and looks like a kid molded a little red sweet pepper out of playdoh.  It also contains something we are very familiar with in The States - cashews.

And, of course, there had to be coffee. This is Honduras, after all!  I'm sure you remember our trip to Marcala, a major coffee growing region, located in the department of La Paz.  A "department" here is similar to a "state" in the U.S.  The coffee in this photo is from Intibuca, a department just west of La Paz.  I am attempting to taste-test coffees from as many Honduran regions as I can while we are here.  We'll see how far I get!

A bazaar is not a bazaar without jewelry! I don't believe any of these materials came from this country, from what I've been told, they mined all the silver out of the mountains years ago.  But these colorful orbs for the ears were handcrafted here.

What looks like rope strung together is actually pine needles lashed together with thread and then fashioned into baskets, trivets, napkin holders and more. I'm told these cheerful items were crafted by women in the Southern part of Honduras.

Paintings here are colorful and vibrant. This is a work by cubist artist Maury Flores.  Born in Tegucigalpa, who is a popular artist in Honduras and is internationally recognized.

Some beautiful pottery. I was told these are crafted by the Pech Indians, but I am having a hard time varifying that online.  Either way, these little treasures are hand-crafted and striking!

And, lastly, hand-carved wooden pieces, which can readily be found all over Honduras. Mahogany trees grow here, as well as pine and cedar, just to name a few.  Here, we have boxes of various sizes, wall plaques, and even a cup of coffee!  It is also commplace to find large trunks with ornate carvings of flowers or pueblos, tables and chairs adorned with floral motifs, and large, smooth bowls perfect for salads or paella.  And it is unbelievably cheap for the amount of work put into a piece!

I left the bazaar loaded down with new items for our home and tasty things eat and drink.  It was an amazing day, and I am looking forward to the next, sometime in late fall, when I'll be scouring the tables for the perfect (not-too-heavy!) Christmas presents to send back home!

 

 

Lifestyles of the Fancy Schmancy

Hubster and I went out on the town last weekend.

Ditching the kids and teetering in sky-high heels, we headed out to an adult's only dinner in Tegucigalpa. 

Yay!

I would show you a photo of how handsome we were, but I don't want anyone getting jealous.

(Or maybe the pics turned out super fuzzy and bad because of the low-lighting, whatever!)

The restuarant served Peruvian food.

And while Hubster has a great working knowledge of the Spanish language, he has a total of zero knowledge of a Peruvian menu.

Neither did the hondurenos or norteamericanos sitting with us.

What to do, what to do....

GOOGLE IT!

Did I mention how CLASSY we all were?  No?  Anyway....

I ordered myself a starter that I did NOT have to google, a rum & coke, referred to here in Honduras as a Cuba Libre.

Around here, Cuba Libres are served Do-It-Yourself Style.

(Just ignore all that water back there, that's for somebody else!)

Why don't they mix it all together for you? 

I'm not really sure.

But I'm guessing it is because, by serving it this way, nobody can claim that the bar stiffed you on your liquor.

And yes, I was THAT woman in a restuarant so fancy they made us sit in the dark, taking a photo of her drink with the flash on.

CL-LASS-AY!

(Maybe I would have better manners if Hubster took me to nice restuarants more often.)

After that, Hubby made me put my phone down.  Then the Air Force guy across the table (and former Marine) put a heavy glass candleholder on top of it.

So that was the end of my picture-taking.

Which is too bad, because the ceviche and garlic shrimp we ordered looked almost as delicious as they tasted!

But, then again, you can just google it.

Kayaking With Kids: Cacao Lagoon - La Ceiba, Honduras

Traveling with kids is always tough, what with the whining and crying and constant proclamations of "Are we there yet?" and "I'm huuuungry!"

And that's just me.

Add in all of the whining from Miss Priss and Lil' Miss Sunshine, and you've got quite a cacaphony!

Parents traveling with kids usually try to accomplish what they would normally do if they were unaccompanied by those kids, just in smaller increments of time, loaded down with snacks and armed with maps to every public bathroom.

And most things can be done with kids in tow, maybe not for as long as you'd like, maybe accompanied by a constant chorus about being bored, but with a pair of trusty earplugs, it's practically the same thing!

There are, however, a few tours that are a bit dicey when you've got kids.  And one of those is water.

Because the last thing you want to do is trust some stranger selling you a tour on "gentle rapids," only to wind up fishing your kids out of a river like wet rats. 

That wouldn't exactly be "happy memories" for a 4 and 7 year old, now would it.

However, we were visiting La Ceiba just before Christmas, and Hubs and I really had the water bug.  At check-in we were handed a pamphlet listing local tours, and one in particular caught our eye. 

Kayaking.  In a lagoon!

Well, that sounds gentle.  This could work!

Hubster scheduled a trip for the very next day, making sure that they had two kayaks that could each hold two people, so each of us parents could paddle each one of them kids.

The tour guide and his assistant picked us up bright and early that morning.  What we quickly discovered was that they did not have the two kayaks we had requested.  What they had was a three person inflatable kayak and a regular, single-person, plastic one. 

Well, it was just going to have to work.  We didn't have any other day that we could do this excursion before we had to head back to Tegucigalpa.

The tour guide drove us east of town on the main highway, then took a left down an unsuspecting dirt road.  The Jeep was slow, working through the potholes and rivets in the path.  The people living in small concrete houses, some with no doors or windows and hammocks for beds, would wander outside to see who was coming through.  They stared and smiled and waved and wondered at these curiousities meandering through their street.

It felt a little bit like being in the Homecoming Parade, and we smiled and waved back at these welcoming people.

Finally, we parked and headed through a thick tangle of mangrove trees, down a long, looooooong pier, until the trees fell away and the Cacao Lagoon lay before us.

It took a little bit of work to get everybody into their kayaks and ready to go.  Hubby volunteered to take the first shift, paddling the princesses around, each of whom were given their own little paddle to "help." 

It went about as well as could be expected.

First, our guide took us into a narrow area overgrown with mangrove trees, skinny roots reaching down into the water like a mass of spider's legs.

We were on the hunt for monkeys, but found a lot of birds instead.  In particular, a variety of pelican that's a bit different than ones I would see glidding over the ocean back in The States.

The mangrove was still, quiet, peaceful.  The only sounds coming from bird calls and our paddles methodically dipping in and out of the water....

....and the constant stream of whining coming from our children, of course.  What the heck!  Were these kids raised at a zoo?

No wonder the monkeys were avoiding us. 

But it was still peaceful and amazing!  After some time, we made our way over to the beach for lunch.  If you didn't already know, a lagoon is kind of like a lake that has an outlet to the ocean.  In the case of Cacao Lagoon, ocean water was able to breach a natural damn during high tide, otherwise, the water stayed put.

The girls were ecstatic to be released from their watery prison.  We had gone well past their limit for staying still, and were eeking toward the danger zone, a good run/lunch/seashell hunt was exactly what they needed!

After a leisurely lunch, filled with lots of enormous bugs (thank the Good Lord for inventing bug repellant!) we were off again for the remainder of our tour.

This time, we went down a different little inlet, closer to the ocean side of the lagoon.  There, we saw storks (don't get any ideas, Mom!) and tiny bats sleeping on a stick.  Except we didn't know they were bats, our guide was trying to explain what these black markings on the stick were, when we moved a little too suddenly and they all flew away - scaring the bejeezus out of us! 

After a bit, the guide shushed us, and pointed out the sound of monkeys overhead.  He and the assistant began scanning the trees, telling us that this was the sound of only one, "Security Guard" monkey, warning the rest of the family of our presence.  Finally, they spotted one, lounging way up high, arms and legs dangling off the sides of the branch, a baby crawling on her back.

Can you see her?  She's that black mass to the right.  Sorry for the poor photo.  I had to use my iPhone, safely encased in a ziploc bag, that I would gingerly pull out for each and every photo, then quickly return to it's clear plastic shield.  So this was the best photo I could get, then I photoshopped the heck out of it!

And, of course, I had to take my turn being the Kaptain of the Krazy Kid Kayak.

It really wasn't as horrible as it looks!

It was much, much worse.

That little one would stick her paddle in the water and just leave it there, dragging behind us.  Of course, she was behind me, so I didn't see her.  I couldn't figure out why the boat kept pulling to the left.  And then, when I would go to correct it, the big one up front would start furiously paddling on the wrong side.

If we ever got ourselves stranded on a desert island, and a boat washed ashore, I think we'll just make a house out of it, because attempting to use a watercraft with these two would just have us going in circles!

Thank you for coming along with us on our trip to the Cacao Lagoon in La Ceiba.  I hope you'll come back and join us for our next adventure!

And Then Came The Rain{baby}....

If you recall my post from last week, I was lamenting about Honduras and their slash & burn technique of clearing the fields for farming.

Well, and weed control.

Oh, and trash disposal.  Don't forget about all that trash.

If it was unused, unloved, or unmaintained, it was getting burned up!

But things were beginning to turn around.  And it all started with a Rainbaby.

A friend of mine had posted a link to a new Etsy store, a sweet little shop called Scarlet Elfcup. 

Scarlet Elfcup features handmade natural dolls and toys.  Being newly opened, the shop carries a limited number of items.  But what really peaked my interest were the bright, tear-drop shaped Rainbabies.

Young, the owner and creator of the shop and its little creatures, is a California resident and, like most Californians, was concerned about the severe droughts the state has suffered over the last few years.  She surmised that the Rainbabies must still be in hibernation.  Hundreds and thousands of them (no one can really say how many!) have found it difficult to awaken from their slumber. 

We were in our dry season as well!  And with the burning taking hostage of our air, skies and lungs, I was desperate for some relief.

Could a wish on a Rainbaby be our salvation?

Before I knew it, a Rainbaby had showed up on our doorstep!

(Or, well, more accurately, at the post office inside the Embassy, but you get the idea!)

I loved her from the moment I saw her.  Her little rouge body, made from repurposed 100% cashmere, was the emodiment of a soft summer shower.  The sleepy little face, hand-embroidered with cotton thread onto cotton fabric, was nothing less than angelic. 

I rubbed the belly of my little Rainbaby and whispered in her ear my wish.

It didn't happen right away.  But sure enough, a month or so later, the darkening skies above informed me that my Rainbaby had indeed delivered on my heart's desire!

But be forwarned - when a Rainbaby wakes up, she doesn't wake up half-way!

The blue-gray nebulosity clambered and boomed with thunder, then burst open with a downpour that pounded the rooftops and created a river in the streets.  Quickly, all the windows were shuttered. 

After a bit, I headed upstairs to grab something from the girls' bedroom.  Two steps inside their doorway, and I realized that with every footfall my feet were smacking down into a puddle of water.

I raced downstairs to retrieve the beach towels, yelling at Mary, our housekeeper, "Lluvia en la casa!"

The water was dripping down from a myriad of spots in the ceiling, across the room it was seeping in from the window.  We raced to empty the small, white particle board bookcase situated just below the window, saving it from certain ruin.

Can you find the scared puppy in the picture?

A couple of days later, the landlord sent someone over to make repairs to the roof.  Hopefully that will be the worst of the leakage issues during the remainder of our stay here in Honduras!

And the leaks were certainly not the Rainbabies fault.  Rainbabies just bring on the rain, they don't poke holes in your roof.  (At least, I don't think so.)

Head on over to the Scarlet Elfcup's Etsy store and learn more about them on the blog.  Be sure to check out the whimsical little characters that Young has crafted.  (I've already got my eye on the Gardiens.  Who can't love that hair?!?) 

But remember, use caution when placing a wish with your Rainbaby.

Thank goodness, I had only made a wish on one!

Observations on Memorial Day

This is a photo of Miss Priss I had taken when she was a bitty three-year-old at a Fourth of July parade in Bristol, Rhode Island. 

I had pretty much forgotten about the photo altogether.  But the other day, as Memorial Day was looming, the image popped back into my head and I knew I had to post it. 

Memorial Day is all about remembrance.  Remembering soldiers who sacrificed everything they had to give to help our country maintain freedom and equality and the pursuit of happiness.

I don't think anyone can measure what those things truly mean until you have lived in a world where they barely exist. 

Our home is in Tegucigalpa, Honduras.  A place that is still learning what it means to be good to its own people.  Where every parking lot has an armed security guard, and a truckload of rifle-bearing soldiers driving down the street is commonplace, and the noises we hear at night could be either fireworks or gunshots. 

We do not dare walk down the city streets here.  And we have our car windows (as do most vehicles in the city) tinted as dark as our eyes can stand it.  Not because we look like gringos, but because, in looking like gringos, we also look like money. 

The pursuit of happiness in this place is something that is much too far out of reach for most of the people here. 

But it is something they continue to dream for their children and their grandchildren.

(Because, thank God, dreams are still free.)

I heard some chatter up in the States, as Memorial Day Weekend was approaching, that the holiday had become synonymous with "party" and is celebrated for having a day off of work.

Not enough people, they said, were using it as a time of solemn remembrance.

(Shoot, even my husband, just now, got on my case for almost titling this post "Happy Memorial Day!"  "It's an observance," he said to me sternly.)

But I beg to differ.  Relish in your extra day off, walk down the street with your family, knowing that you are safe.  Maybe not safe from everything awful in the world, but safe from most. 

Because the people we are remembering, those brave soldiers who came before, who won't make it to barbeque's and family picnics, did what they did so you can do what you do.  So you have the opportunity to be happy.

And free.

I hope all of you had a very happy, blessed and safe Memorial Day.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

What did I WANT to do today? 

Well, I WANTED to do the laundry.  I wanted to mindlessly fold hampers of clothes while catching up on episodes of Grimm and Castle.  I wanted to check and recheck my email, visit and comment on other blogs, work on my Twitter and FaceBook accounts. 

Sure, I had written a list that included clearing off the top of the office desk (finally!), clearing off the floor of the office/crafty room (finally!), and putting the last few items away in the playroom (finally!!!)

But those have been on my list every week for the last month or so.  They were list staples at this point.  Nothing more than Bench Warmers - they were never going to see any actual play. 

Although....

It had bothered me all week that I hadn't found time to finish off these organizational projects.   All my time had been twittered and instagrammed away.  Writing, too.  Oh, and, you know, those kids (every once in a while).  I was frustrated with myself, sure that if I could just finish off these few projects, I could reduce my stress and be free to accomplish more!

We made it through breakfast, this bright and early Sunday morning. 

And before we could even clear the dishes from the table, las luces se fue.

Er, I mean, the power went out.  (Sorry, my Spanish gets mixed up with my English sometimes!)

Oh crap!

I hoped that those luces were se fue'd for a short amount of time and would return within an hour or so. 

I tweetered and grammed and facebooked using 3G on my iPhone for a little bit.

But that was sucking up my battery, and I wasn't sure when I'd be able to recharge again.

What to do, what to do???

Somehow, I found myself upstairs in the playroom.  Before I knew it, I was piling every doll-sized comb and brush from every pony, Barbie, and Monster Chic that my girls own into a little baggie and finding a space for that baggie to live.  The little suitcases that had sat there for the last few weeks since we returned from our trip to The States were relieved of the few books and toys that remained and then whisked off to the guest room.

What was happening????

With every last bit of paper placed in the trash, the tiniest of the tiny doll shoes returned to it's mate, and anything else that didn't fit a specified category shoved into a bin, I had finally, FINALLY!, finished off that dang playroom!!!!

But what happened next was truly astonishing.

After a short break, and continuing to have power that seemed to have se fue'd for good, I found myself up in the office.

Clearing. off. the FLOOR!!!!

Halfway through that adventure, with nary a sound except the hum of my neighbors generators and the occasional car horn, I realized that I was singing this song to myself...

"I'm cleanin' up the house today, hurrah, hurrah!

I'm cleanin' up the house today, hurrah, hurrah!

I lost my mind this mornin' cause the power's been long gone

and now I'm stuck cleanin' the house to-day!"

Sometimes, you don't get the day you want.  But you do get the day you need.

From The Heart

When I was asked to give the eulogy at my grandmother's funeral service exactly one year ago, my first question was, "Why me?"

My grandmother had borne 15 children, had countless grandchildren and great-grandchildren, not to mention other extended family.  What made them think I was the right person - an important enough person - for the job?

"Well, we already asked a couple of other people to do it, but they didn't want to.  They didn't think they could make it all the way through without having a breakdown."

"OK," I said, still feeling honored that I was at least in the Top 5.  "But if anyone else steps forward and really wants to do it, that's alright with me."

My Aunt Gloria had given me a first draft of a eulogy she had worked on.  It had been a difficult task for her, trying to sum up, not only the high points of a woman who had spent 97 years on this great earth, but also the love and sadness that we all felt for her passing.

I took this first draft and set to work.  Initially, my head swirled with ideas that came from seemingly nowhere.  When I finally sat down to write, everything came spilling out onto the page, and this project turned into something else entirely.

It went from something I was uncertain I had any right to do, to something that I knew had to be me.

And, fortunately, nobody else asked!

On a bright, sunny, spring day only one year ago, I stood up in front of a packed church.  I can still remember the mariachi band playing in the choir loft, the faces of my cousins, weeping while smiling, from the first several rows of pews.  Willing myself to slow down as I spoke, and hearing my voice tremble, working harder than I ever had to fight back tears.  When it was all over, I rushed down from the podium, knowing if I stayed one second longer the floodgates were going to burst open.

I told one of my cousins later, during the reception, how honored I was to have been the one to deliver this message for my grandma. 

The sentiment is as true today as it was a year ago.

In all my life, this one thing that I did, to stand up and speak these words in front of all the people that mean so much to me, in honor of a woman who meant the world to all of us, stands as one of the pinnacles of my life.

These are those words, written by both my Aunt Gloria and me.....

 

Mary Louise was born in June of 1915 in a small Mexican town, one of five children in her family. The story of her life has become something of a legend in our family. One of the most retold stories is that of her father, an excellent clarinet player in Mexico, and how Pancho Villa’s troops took him away from his family during the Revolutionary War. It was thought that Pancho Villa wanted him to entertain his troops, sadly, though, the family never saw him again.

Alone, raising five children, my Great-Grandmother brought her family to America when Grandma was 3 years old. They lived in a small apartment over a pool hall in an Iowa city, an area at that time known as Holy City. Grandma used to reminisce about how her mother made meals and did laundry for the railroad workers who lived nearby to make ends meet. Mary lived with her mother until she was a young teenager. At that time, her mother died suddenly and her sister, Felicia, took her in at her house where she lived with her family.

And this is the story that I think everyone in this room knows by heart – the torrid love affair of my grandma and grandpa. (Well, torrid by 1930’s standards, at least!) Grandma enjoyed life with her sister’s family, however, she had caught the eye of one of their friends, a very handsome young man. He came and visited the family frequently, ostensibly to play cards with his friends. But at every visit, when grandma would take his coat and old black hat, she would find a note tucked inside. After passing many notes in that old black hat, she fell in love with his big heart and bigger smile, and when the notes couldn’t cut it anymore, they eloped.

Grandma was a wonderful wife to her husband, an amazing mother to her 15 children, and a kind and loving grandmother to her 138 (and counting!) grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren. As if that wasn’t enough, through the years she took care of several orphans until the Catholic charities could find them homes. When people asked “How can you handle so many children?” she replied, “The big kids help with the little ones.” She would then smile and say, “And the little babies just keep on coming! The Lord keeps sending them to me and I always feel blessed.”

Over the years, Grandma worked hard to meet the needs of her family. She was a smart business woman, at one time running a second-hand store in a large room at the front of their house. It had a huge picture window, making it the ideal place for a small business. In fact, when they moved to a different house, her daughter, my Aunt Marian, turned the shop into a dance studio - which meant Grandma got free dance lessons for all of her kids! She was also the landlady of several apartment houses and wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or full of paint. One minute she would be wearing her painter’s hat, the next minute she would be wearing her Sunday hat, the kind with netting attached to the top. As soon as she entered church with her brood, the veil got pulled snuggly over her face…so she could keep a close eye on her children without anyone knowing. I am told that all of her kids knew they had better behave until the veil gets flipped back over her head, otherwise they’d be in big trouble!

To say Grandma was thrifty is an understatement! She never met a morsel of food too small to wrap in a napkin and bring home in her purse, or a yard sale she couldn’t haggle. And if she couldn’t get the price of that garage sale item down to a dime or a nickel, then she was walking away! I think it’s safe to say that the majority of Grandma’s daughters and granddaughters loved to go shopping with her (I know I did). She didn’t have much money, but I swear she could smell a bargain a mile away!

She loved Mexican music and dancing to the band of Los Mocambos. She knew how to dance, and she knew how to shuffle, and when she played the maracas with the band, she had the time of her life! She always had a great time with family and friends…she could outlast anyone on the dance floor, and at the end of the night she would stroll gracefully through the door, dancing into the shimmering moonlight, with a great big smile.

Grandma would freely come to the aid of all her children and grandchildren over the years: by her knowledge of Mexican cuisine, resulting in Rudy’s Tacos recipes, helping with financial problems, or giving simple words of encouragement. If I could, quickly, see a show of hands. Please raise your hand if you ever lived in one of Grandma’s houses, lived with Grandma herself, or spent much of your childhood being babysat by Grandma..... It was always about family for her. She led by example, sharing her talent, money, time or wisdom with us all. And showing us, every day of her life, how a real family looks out for each other and sticks together.

Despite having nearly 200 people in her family and extended family, Grandma had an amazing ability to make you feel like you mattered to her. She remembered everyone’s names and details of their current events. She genuinely wanted to know how each and every one of us was doing. And you didn’t dare come into town without going to visit with Grandma first! I think my cousin, Casey, had said it best, “Even though I am just one of 48 grandchildren, my grandma always made me feel like I was the only one.”

She has been our guide, our beacon, our rock and our resting place for all of our lives. And it was difficult for us, these last several years, losing our beloved Mother and Grandmother to a memory-robbing disease like dementia. But I like to think that it was also her way of bringing this family together. She knew she couldn’t be our rock forever. And as difficult as it was to care for her and watch her slowly slip away, it also forced us to work together as a family, to care for one another, to cover for each other, to communicate. And it also gave us the opportunity to show the youngest in our family, the great and great-greats, how a real family sticks together and works selflessly for one another. Lead by example. Family was everything to her. And that legacy now continues with each and every one of us.

Well, I have probably gone over my allotted time. But in my defense, 97 years is a lot to get through! And I could go on for days. But I will go ahead and wrap this up. My grandma was a friend or relative to everyone in this church and possibly the entire Quad Cities. She loved every one of you and all her friends and family that could not be present today. We can be thankful that she has been greeted by her sisters and brothers, children and grandchildren that have already joined God in Heaven. Rest assured, she will have a wonderful time. She will make sure there is good food, great people and lots of singing and dancing, and of course, a big Mexican band!