My Dirty Laundry

I never thought I'd be writing a post about my literal dirty laundry, but here goes.

As much as I appear to have my life together at work and in other aspects of my life, I struggle with staying organized and having a clean home. There are times when I dread having people over because I know that even having them stop by means hours of cleaning that has to be done first so that I can feel comfortable showing them our home.

For the past year or so, I've had a pile of clothes mounting in the corner of our bedroom. Within the pile were bags of clean clothes, a large plastic container filled with shoes, mostly clean clothes, and a laundry basket full of clean clothes from (get ready to be shocked) two weeks after Alexia was born. Yes, I said a laundry basket full of clean clothes from approximately 13 months ago.

This mess has been a weight on me. Instead of our bedroom being a calming place to rest, it was a constant reminder of just how inadequate I am. It became the monkey on my back and left me feeling like there was no point in tackling it because it was just too big. I remember two times when I was looking for something in the pile, throwing things left and right, and I felt like the pile was closing in on me and I started feeling really anxious.

Once, my sister was taking pictures of me and Alexia in my bedroom. She ended up blurring the background so that the mess wasn't as noticeable. We laughed about it, but I felt awful, not to mention embarrassed.

The pile and Alexia in their infancy

I attacked the pile last weekend. I went through it fiercely. For eight hours, I sorted everything into small piles to hang, throw in the laundry, or donate. I came out with 4 (!!) bags of clothes to donate to Goodwill, 2 bags of garbage, and a really clean room.

But those aren't the only things I came out with. I came out with pride and a sense of accomplishment. I came out with a huge feeling of relief. A half hour after I was done, I had a couple of tears rolling down my face because the weight had finally been lifted.

The pile wasn't just a pile of clothes for me. It was something that took on a life of its own. It was overwhelming, it was painful, and it was persistent. Every time I looked at it, I heard it mocking me, telling me that I couldn't even manage to keep my room clean. I must be a horrible wife. I must be a horrible mom. 

As moms, and as humans in general, we all have things like this in our lives. A pile of clothes, a degree that remains unfinished, a project that lies half done, a choice we have to make. We can't let these things define us, but they are worth taking on if it means that there will be a sense of relief.

In my first year as a mom, I've struggled to find a good balance between spending time with Alexia, spending time with my family, taking care of LoLo, taking care of Bronx, taking care of the house, and somehow taking care of myself too. Over this year though, I've learned a lot about celebrating small victories. A clean bedroom, the moment Alexia puts her toys in the bucket when asked to clean up, LoLo thanking me for being a good wife. Those little victories are what life is all about.

Why Caliente just isn't enough

This week on the Today Show, they have a special segment called "VivaToday" where they feature Latino culture, food, and music. The segment is in partnership with Telemundo (who is also owned by NBC).

This morning when they were introducing the segment and one of Telemundo's most famous anchors, Maria Celeste, one of the Today Show anchors Natalie Morales introduced Maria Celeste as another "caliente Puertoriquena" since she herself is also Puerto Rican (and Brazilian). Throughout the introduction, she managed to called Maria Celeste "caliente" several times, yet made no mention of her work as a journalist, host, and actress. All this after the Emmy's put Sofia Vergara on a pedestal and spun her around while the crowd applauded her body (also on NBC).

The show then proceeded to show a story about how Latinos will soon make up the largest ethnic group in the US while faces of dark haired and dark eyed people ran across the screen. There were no dark skinned Latinos shown and there were absolutely no light-featured Latinos shown.

The whole thing felt like propaganda to me. It felt like "Look at us, we are going to acknowledge Hispanics...but in the safest way possible." By turning Maria Celeste into just a "caliente Latina" and showing faces on the screen of only the people who you'd "assume" were Latino, people aren't forced to think beyond the stereotypes they already have.

And for those of us watching thinking "where am I on that screen?", what message is that sending us? What message does that send my light skinned, green-eyed daughter who looked nothing like the people shown on the screen? What does it tell her about her dark skinned father?

And for those of us who don't look like Sofia Vergara or Maria Celeste, what message does this send us? That we aren't important because as Latinas, all we can hope to achieve is "hotness"? And if you are good looking, all that is important, despite a long career as a journalist/host, is that you are caliente?


As a Latina mother, I want my daughter to know her accomplishments are important. I want her to be able to celebrate both her heritage and her accomplishments rather than having to choose one or the other. I want her to be able to identify with the people in the media and feel like she has role models who came from where she's come from. In the "changing face of America", to use the Today Show's words, I want her to see herself.

The first year

August 17th marked one year of Alexia. 365 days of firsts, tears (both hers and mine), laughs, smiles, pictures, outfits, diapers, milk, and other joys. For her birthday, I bought her a picture book called "Forever" and wrote her a note inside of it. I will write her a letter here as well to mark her first year.

All pics by my sister

My dearest Alexia, 

There are so many memories from this first year. The first time I saw you and thought "That beautiful baby can't be mine!" The first couple of weeks when I dreaded feeding you because it hurt too much. Using a small syringe to get some milk into your tiny body. Falling asleep by mistake with you laying on my chest. Using a football hold to feed you because that was the only hold they taught me in the hospital. Flying on the plane with you when you were only 12 weeks old. You sleeping 20 hours a day and eating at least 12 times a day. The little bassinet that you used to sleep in next to our bed so that I could just lay you down after you ate at night. Missing you when you finally moved into your crib in your own room. The fact that you used to nap in your snowsuit.

It feels like within just the last month you've grown so much and I just wasn't prepared. A week and a half before your birthday, you started really walking. You had taken a couple of steps before that, but on Wednesday, August 6th, you started consistently walking. You still stumble here and there and when you get tired, it's like you're drunk. You fall and crash into things and wobble like a drunk person.

You love to pretend you're on the phone. You take my phone or Grampa's phone or the baby monitor and put it on your shoulder and say "hiiiiiii". You love to wave to anyone and everyone. In the morning, you love to wave to Bronx in his cage.

I love the moment when you first see me in the morning when I go into your room to get you. Your face lights up and you get so happy. How can I be in a bad mood when your smiling face greets me?
 You are smiley and happy and love to laugh. Even when you don't feel good you are laughing and smiling and playing. You love to sing and dance. When we play mambo music, you dance almost immediately. It's clear you've got a lot of Latin blood running through your veins.

Right now you have your two bottom teeth and your two top teeth are coming in. It's been a rough time getting those two top teeth and we had a very hard weekend when we went to Vermont for the family reunion. You stayed up almost all night and then you cried almost the whole way home, to the point where I started to get really scared because you were hyperventilating.We did, however, get some amazing family photos at Aunt Theresa's beautiful lake house.

You bring so much joy to everyone who knows you. People are constantly stopping me and telling me what a beautiful baby you are and how well behaved you are. During your baptism, when the priest said your name, you waved to him and had the whole church laughing. Then, when we got up on the altar for the actual ceremony, you were pointing and waving at everyone. You have such a sweet personality and such a magnetic smile.

I can't wait to see the little person you become. It's already pretty clear that you are full of personality and that you're pretty stubborn. You are so smart and you love books. Your dad and I are constantly surprised by how much you know and how quickly you learn.

We love you, baby girl. You are our light when everything else is dark. You are the smile in the crowd. You are my favorite person. You have my favorite face. One year later, I still can't believe you're ours.

Love you forever my girl,

Your mama

All the things I don't want to forget

About 3 months ago, I had to make a trip to San Diego for work. On the flight home, I felt the urge to write a blog post about all of the things I didn't want to forget about life with Alexia at 7.5 months. Well, I wrote the post, but I never transferred it to blogger.

So, here it is. All of the things I don't want to forget about 7.5 month old Alexia. Now that she's 10.5 months.

There are so many things I don’t want to forget about these first 7.5 months of Alexia’s life. The way her sleepy little head rests on my shoulder with her chubby little cheek against mine when she wakes up in the middle of the night to eat. The way her little hands grab at my shirt when I’m feeding her as if she wants it pulled down for some privacy. The way she looks at me when she first wakes up with that huge smile. The way she blows raspberries in the morning when she wakes up in her crib and I hear it over the monitor. The way she completely cracks up when we throw a ball to the dogs and they jump up to catch it. The way she gets so excited for her oatmeal. The way she sips water from a cup that LoLo holds to her lips.

Alexia, 7 months

 It’s funny because seven and a half months seems like such a short amount of time, but there are already things from her first few weeks and months that I totally forget. I forget what it was like to hold that tiny little body on my shoulder while I burped her because now her feet touch my legs when I hold her like that. I forget what it was like to put her down and have her not move from where she is. I forget what it was like to be in a complete haze of sleeplessness and new love. I forget what it was like to have a baby who slept 20 hours a day and who had to nap every 1.5 hours or else she’d get overtired.

Alexia, 8 months at the Children's Museum in Chicago

But what I am loving right now is watching her become this little person with a bright, sunny personality. I know I always say this, but she is such a good baby. She really is just so sweet. Sometimes I wonder how LoLo and I got this lucky. We are both moody people who can have really crappy attitudes, yet here we are with the sweetest little girl who adapts to every situation and smiles and laughs and just generally brings joy to everyone she encounters. To me, it feels like she was meant for us. She makes me a better person because I can’t help but be happy around her.

Worry

Being a mom is hard.... And not just in the I never sleep, someone relies on me to live kind of way. In the I am now bound to a life of worry and second guessing kind of way. There are tiny moments where I forget I'm a mom. And when I say tiny, I mean tiny. Most times when I "forget", there's a tiny baby sock on the floor or on the couch or on the ottoman (seriously...I find baby socks everywhere!!) to remind me.

The other night as I came up to bed, I saw the clothes Alexia had worn that day on our bed and I immediately thought about how much I love her. And how I can't believe we are keeping her forever. Almost ten months in and I still can't believe she's ours to keep.

Another amazing pic my sister took

I would be lying if I said I don't think about life before the baby. Not because she is a bad baby or because I don't love her, because neither of those things are true, but because the things I worried about before Alexia seem so trivial now. I have developed a minor anxious feeling (I definitely wouldn't call it anxiety right now) because I worry about my little girl. Apparently this is what parenthood really is. Worrying about this tiny person who keeps growing and facing new challenges and presenting me with new challenges. I worry if I'm feeding her the right things, if I'm stimulating her mind enough, if I'm reading enough books to her, if she should be walking, if she should be writing novels by now and earning her PhD.

I would categorize myself as a pretty laid back mom. I like to expose Alexia to lots of new situations and people so that she is comfortable. She has already been to at least five baseball games in her short lifetime. She's already flown four times. She's been to a zoo and a children's museum and parties and dinners and on walks around town. I'm not overly worried about dirt and germs.

via

 But still, I find myself worrying about the night that she'll get the flu and be up all night. I worry that my heart will break, wishing it could be me that was sick instead of her. I worry that some boy (or girl) will break her heart someday and I won't be able to help. I worry that she won't feel beautiful or smart or loved.

One more time

 These are the things I worry about. The things that for me, make being a mom tough. The things that won't get any easier with time and that I will always worry about. Sometimes I think back to those days before I had her and think of the silly things I worried about. They weren't silly then, but this new little life has made me realize what's actually worth worrying about.

The last day

I've been meaning to write and I've got posts already drafted, but tonight something happened that I felt I just had to blog about. And Dad, this one might be TMI. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Tonight I cried because tomorrow will be the last time I pump at work. (well, until we have our next kid... so the last time for a reallllly long time.) Like, legitimate tears came out of my eyes and down my face. About pumping. About something I've complained about for the past 8 months. About something I've dreaded doing every three hours during work and sometimes at home. About something I stressed over for months (do I have enough milk for when I go away? can I go away and find time to pump during the conference? will there be a private bathroom in the airport? when I find that private bathroom will people leave me alone long enough to actually pump?). The struggle is real, y'all.

At first, I ran to the sun room to tell Danny that tomorrow would be the last time I pump! Then it turned into tomorrow will be the....last...time...I...p....(sniffle)ump....

When I first started crying I was kind of laughing, saying, "can you believe I'm crying about pumping?" But then after about 30 seconds, I realized it was real.

I wasn't crying because I wouldn't get to be hooked up to a machine (one that failed me 3 times nonetheless) three times a day. It's not about the machine. It's about the fact that three times a day, I got to stop and really think about my little girl even though she wasn't there with me. Three times a day I got to do something just for her, something I knew would help her grow. Three times a day I got to think about just how incredible my body was for being able to nourish her little body.

On top of that, I got to create a really special bond with some other mothers who just seemed to get it. They understood what it meant to be in that tiny room without windows three times a day, sometimes for 40 minutes at a time, no matter what else was going on at work. They knew what it felt like to be late for meetings or to miss parts of meetings or to drop everything and run downstairs because even when you're at work, your baby is your number one priority. They understood how significant being down even one ounce a day was. They understood how hard it was for me to stock up enough milk to feed my baby for an entire week while I was at a conference. They understood what it meant to miss your baby on those Monday mornings when you just had an amazing weekend of cuddling and complete bliss.

I'm sad that I won't have that daily check in with my mom friends. Having that support has meant so much to me as a new mom. I know the support won't go away, but it obviously won't be the same.

Today as I was getting ready to leave the lactation room, there was a new mom who I had never seen in there before. She asked me a few questions and I happily answered, but I also gave her something that some of the other moms there had given me months ago: it gets easier. Leaving your baby at daycare gets easier, pumping gets easier, finding a balance gets easier, figuring out who you are as a mom gets easier. It all gets easier.

So while I didn't really enjoy the actual act of pumping, I'm glad for what it has given me. New friends, a special bond with my daughter, and a sense of accomplishment for making it almost 8 complete months at work (and traveling) while breastfeeding.

The little red overalls

Almost exactly a year ago, I posted a picture of some little red overalls on my Facebook page and told the story of those little red overalls here on my blog.

Today, my little girl wore those overalls. It was so hard to believe that a year ago, I couldn't even imagine who would be wearing those overalls and today, I can't imagine life without her.

Sitting in her mama's old high chair

"Come on Mama, quit playing and give me my pears!"

Becoming Human

This morning as I watched my baby girl play with her little ladybug toy, I couldn't help but notice how much she has changed since she was born. On Monday, she will be 6 months old. The time has just flown, but when I think back to August, it seems like it was such a long time ago. It seems like that was a different baby I held back then while I struggled to feed her and functioned off of several 3 hour chunks of sleep a day.

She wasn't really Alexia yet. And she probably isn't really Alexia now.

But watching her this morning, I realized that every day, I am watching her become human. Her little personality is forming. Her excitement is obvious now. We can tell when she likes something (oatmeal is very high on that list) and we can tell when she really doesn't (carrots are very high on that one).

So serious...

She's this tiny little person discovering the world and I get to watch. I get to experience the pride she feels when she realizes that her little feet hitting those keys on her piano are what is causing the sound. I get to watch while she stares at herself in her tiny little mirror and smiles at the cute baby she sees.

And someday, I'll be the one she calls Mama and the one she says I love you to and of course the one she fights with and the one she's embarrassed by.

As Alexia gets bigger and stronger and becomes her own little person, I am watching in awe. She's reaching for what she wants. She's starting to really be able to roll around and move. Tonight for the first time, LoLo and I saw Alexia get upset when we took something away from her.

Last week I was talking to my friends at work about how time is such a crazy concept. As an adult, a week seems like such an insignificant amount of time but for a baby, it can mean the difference between having to be propped up and being able to sit up by yourself.

I'm learning to slow down a little bit and take life one week at a time. As Alexia grows more and more, I just want to take my time to experience all of the little changes that are happening before those changes pass me by.

I thought pregnancy was an amazing thing because of the little life growing inside me, but honestly, I'm more in awe of the little life growing outside of me.

Mom, married

A few weeks (months?) ago, I wrote about being a mom and working. I don't like to say a working mom because honestly, what mom isn't working? Moms who stay at home definitely work... just maybe not in the traditional sense one might think of.

This week, I've thought a lot about being a mom and being married. I had heard that marriage can get really difficult after you have a child (but let's be real, marriage is hard even without kids). I didn't doubt that LoLo and I would have our arguments and fights.

The first two weeks after Alexia was born, we rode the wave of sleeplessness and the high of having our beautiful little girl in our arms. We barely fought at all. He took care of every little thing I needed. He let me sleep in the mornings while he took the baby downstairs. He loved our little girl so much that I couldn't help but feel extreme love for him too.

But that wave slowly calmed and we came down from our high and our marriage took a back seat. Everything we did was for Alexia. I struggled through breastfeeding, going back to work, and trying to find enough time (and sleep) in the day to take care of Alexia, LoLo, and even Bronx. LoLo struggled through finding his role as a father, figuring out our little girl each week when he had one day alone with her while I worked.

obligatory cute baby pic. taken by my sister of course.

On our trip to New York to visit LoLo's family a few weeks ago, there was one day where I needed to run a few errands around the neighborhood in Queens. LoLo's mom offered to watch Alexia so that he could come with me. As we walked around the neighborhood, doing basic things that we had done a million times before, LoLo said to me, "I feel how I felt when we were first dating. I miss this."

This was me and LoLo as husband and wife rather than as Alexia's mom and dad. This was us, the basis of our relationship, laughing and joking through such menial tasks as going to the supermarket and stopping at the pharmacy.

She's lost some hair, but she's still adorable!

Being a mother is difficult. So is being a father. There are times that I feel resentful that LoLo doesn't have to wake up in the middle of the night when the baby is hungry. And I know LoLo doesn't always love having to take out the trash or cook dinner. But this past week, after an argument over something really stupid, we looked at each other and said that we need to be the best married couple we can be. We have to set the best possible example for our daughter. Because being the best married couple we can be allows us to be the best parents we can be.