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Easy as pie

Nov15

“A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.” – Tenneva Jordan
I have given up pie recently.  I don’t mean the holiday variety; I’m quite sure I will indulge in a slice or two.  In the last few months, I have passed on activities and events that I would not have missed in recent years. It’s not the blues or penance. It simply is a choice, one made for family.
The most striking example was opting out of a reading and book signing by my idol, Sandra Cisneros. I bought my ticket and her new book in advance.  I began planning what I might wear, what I might say.  Would I be brave and ask for a photo?  Would I make it on time on a Tuesday after work?  Tuesday happens to be our busiest weekday. M has cheer practice and competitive dance team practice.  I had made arrangements for her transportation with my folks; Rambo would handle homework and bedtime.  The Monday before the event, I was chatting with the attendance clerk at work. We got to talking about kids. While her children are in their twenties, we could definitely relate to one another on the frustrations of being working mothers. Then she made a comment about bathtime, how she had read that it and other everyday routines were the best times to be family.  I thought about that conversation many times. On the drive home from work the following day, I called my mom and said I would make it to get M from practice and that I would be driving her to dance. I was home with M for bathtime. I don’t remember what I discussed with M but I know I smiled the rest of the night. Mija has that effect on me. 

I have chosen family outings and gatherings over samba class on Sundays for the last 12 weeks. I have made only one Sunday tea dance in the City since it debuted three months ago. This weekend I would have been on retreat but my godson played in his first soccer tournament and we are honoring my Tio’s death anniversary at Mass today. I have always taken pride in how much I do for myself.  Now I am doing for my family fully and willingly. It is a change I embrace. After all, I am a mujer ever evolving.  

Confessions of a domestic goddess

Dec21

I hate housework. Once in a while, I’ll take initiative to scrub a floor or wash windows but usually that happens because I want to punch someone. I’m no fighter. I may fantasize about throwing a hook; there’s a 99.9% chance I will scour toilet bowls instead.  But these moments don’t happen on a daily or weekly basis. 

My mother and my suegra disapprove, sometimes out loud.  This does little to motivate me. I visit friends’ homes and feel slightly embarrassed when I think of my own house.  I take note but I don’t take notes. I could allow Rambo to hire a housekeeper. I could keep a calendar, make a chore chart, or set up reminders on my phone.
We’re not headed for an intervention on Hoarders. We team up to take care of the basics. We make an extra effort for visitors and parties. But I never hesitate to postpone housework. In my mother’s house, chores were a weekly Saturday routine. The majority of the day was spent on vacuuming, cleaning floors, dusting, doing laundry. In our house, exercise and outings are the usual Saturday plan. There’s a dicho in Spanish, “Como es la mujer, asi es la casa.” Why should I, as a mother and a woman, be defined by how clean my house is? I  have so much more to offer my daughter. 

I chose sanity and happiness over duty a long time ago. M is happy, healthy, and thriving. I am, too.  If housekeeping is my weakness, I accept it.

La leyenda de SuperMama -Or- the blessing of a busy schedule

Sep16

Recently, I posted a Facebook status update about a typical hectic Saturday which included a multiple-mile training run, a Dance Party appearance, and packing up favor bags for mija’s birthday party.  A friend commented “So it was a slow day?”  I laughed and then probably went back to my multi-tasking. 
There was a time in my life, specifically a decade ago, when, because I was a committed girlfriend (aka pendeja) in a long-distance relationship (aka estupidez to the tenth degree), I did not do much.  My club kid days/phase had ended; there were no more early Wednesday morning (house music at 2am!) trips to San Francisco or any more Sunday afternoon tea-dances followed by Thai dinners.  If my girlfriends were busy, I often spent Friday nights and Saturdays at home, reading or doing housework. Once the relationship fizzled, I spent lots of time blogging. Within five years, my life went from boring to outright loca(there’s a reason I relate to Mariah, Britney, and Demi and it’s not because I’m a pop star diva)and I had to re-evaluate how I lived.  Being busy in a positive, productive way saved my sanity. 
Time is not my great enemy.  My schedule may seem overwhelming to folks.  For me, it is purposeful.  I make time for family, exercise, learning, and dance.  Those are the priorities.  They help me regulate my emotions, tolerate distress, and improve my relationships.  Then there is work and housework.  During all of my activities, I work on mindfulness, on appreciating every moment in all its complexity and simplicity.  I hope that my daughter learns that a strong woman can do and be many things.  I hope she sees that taking care of myself helps me take care of her, her father, and others in my life. 
Let’s get one thing clear.  I cannot do it all. I may do my leisure reading while my daughter enjoys ballet and tap lessons.  Learning a dance routine for a flash mob means the laundry may not be folded for a few days. The freezer may come to the rescue for a meal or two a week (you best believe I store leftovers and bring out family favorites when I’m too busy to cook.) My mom sometimes scolds me for making too much time for fun and not enough time for household chores.  I have been embarrassed when my suegra visits during a particularly busy time and sees a messy house. So I would rather make happy memories than make the bed. I can make a game of putting away laundry or doing the dishes.  The whole familia pitches in when the clutter gets too out of control.
Then there are those events which are not on the schedule.  Bedtime story time.  Family dinner at the kitchen table.  Best of all, we have what our daughter calls happy family, sweet little moments when the three of us share a group bear hug.  These are the times that truly matter.