A Facebook friend of mine, who is always extremely positive, posted this morning,”Good things are going to happen to you today!’

As I “liked” her post with genuine hope in my heart that she would be right, it dawned on me that being positive is very powerful.

My days are filled with what seems like a hundred and one mundane tasks. They sneakily eat away at the seemingly plentiful hours we are afforded every day.

Speech therapy, the supermarket, trips to pick up this, and drop off that. Squeezing in time with the adaptive P.E. teacher, the regular school teacher, and driving the after school carpool. Doing laundry, cleaning bathrooms, making sure the people that live with me don’t starve to death, and trying to crank out orders for my teeny home accessories business.

When Oscar asks me, “What did you do today?” I usually answer, “Not much,” but it is much. It really is. It’s a lot of little things that equal the successful running our home.

Just like what YOU do every day. It is important. We are important.

I have to say, lots of good things happened to me today, but nothing is ever as good as knowing you are loved, and appreciated.

You are! Really….and you deserve a cupcake, a really big one.




Para los Ninos


Translation: For the Kids!

Coming out of the “Land of Vague” for a moment, allow me to explain.

I used to make kids clothes. Dresses, skirts, outfits, embellished tees.

Then I made a kitchen towel, and found a new love.

Being the “think ahead” kind of gal that I am, I continued buying “blank” tees and tanks, “just In case” I needed them. Well it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that home decor and a mountain of t-shirts needing to be turned into something else, are not exactly a match made in heaven.

My work space, if you want to call it that, is ridiculously tiny.

T.E.E.N.Y  T.I.N.Y.

So I vowed to stop buying “blank” shirts, and turn the ones I already had into something.

I am working on it, and hope to be done this week.

They are here:


Buy something for your baby or your toddler or your niece or your granddaughter.

Sizes range from 3-6 months to 4T. Everything is one of a kind. This is just the first wave. More to come throughout the week.

Just picture me standing at the edge of a vast canyon calling out to you.

Hey! Here I am…and there you are…maybe.

There have been many times over the last few months I’ve wanted to sit down and blog.

Funny stories, embarrassing anecdotes, a recipe or two. Too many times to count, but I never seemed to find my way to the computer. I’ve missed it though, really.

Sabrina is almost a teenager, only a few few more months of being twelve. Chloe will be nine soon, which seems insane. I was just on maternity leave, wasn’t I? Lamenting my hugely pregnant state, and counting the days until my baby girl would enter the world. Then POOF!  Thirteen years gone, as though someone has his finger on the fast forward button. I feel old, and it sucks. That’s the way it goes though. Time passes no matter what. I can hang on tightly, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping it will slow down, or simply relax and embrace it. Hopeful that I will be able to remember, well everything.

For now, I choose the latter. Image

I love my daughters, really. Very much.

They are twelve and eight.

One has “special needs,” the eight year old, and one is twelve, which is almost like having special needs.

I jest, I jest, calm down.

Sometimes it feels that way.

Tween speak.

Or should I say tween text? Type? Communication? Whatever you want to call it, is seriously bizarre.

Case in point, tweens and texting/posting on social networking websites.

I am not a big fan of texting, and do not encourage it, however, Sabrina has a cell phone,

and it’s strictly for emergencies….uh-huh…right.

Okay, so she constantly occasionally texts her friends.

The rule here is that since said cell phone is really mine, I reserve the right to seize and check

that there are no shenanigans going on with regard to texting…ie: non-twelve year old topics.

In one of my recent cell phone inspections,

I was dizzied with the crazy bad grammar and spelling these kids use when communicating with each other.

Seriously, I can barely understand what they’re saying.

Here are a few random examples:

“Watz up?”

“Wat u gunna do?

“Skool iz haaard”

“I’m cunfused”

“She duznt like mehh”

The list could literally be a mile long, and to be fair my daughter is a bright girl who writes well, has a lovely vocabulary and is a great speller.

All of  which, are summarily tossed out the window,

when the cell phone comes out, and the text’s start flowin’.

It drives me freaking crazy.

When I finally asked why she and her friends don’t at least spell the words correctly,

she looked at me as if I had a third eye, and sighed, “Oh Mom, my way is faster!”


ADM, we in trubl.

Sometimes I feel really overwhelmed with the enormity of tasks I perform throughout the day. The thing is, when Oscar gets home from work, and asks, “What did you do today?” I find myself replying the same way, “Oh, not too much.”

Whaaat? Only this morning I was desperate for a “mental health” day, and seriously considered spending the entire morning and afternoon watching “House Hunters.”

The problem is my  daily “To-do” list consists of the following items (give or take a few) each day:

1) Finish Laundry ~ The chore that never ends. And I mean never. There is nothing I despise more than doing the laundry. Yuck and yuck.

2) Collect the trash ~ Pretty boring, but one of the grodiest jobs on the list.

3) Vacuum rug ~ It’s wool and though I love it, at the rate it sheds, I could collect the wool, and have a pair of new socks every couple of weeks.

4) Sweep floor ~ See number three. Also, I have long dark hair , and both my daughters do as well. Let’s just say, if I don’t sweep on a regular basis, my house could easily be mistaken for a barber shop.

5) Vacuum up hair in the bathrooms ~ See number four…one word H-A-I-R. Another word…G-R-O-S-S.

6) Wash the dishes  ~ these are usually left over from dinner the previous evening. What can I say? I also hate doing the dishes.

I can continue, but any other task I add to the list, would be equally mundane. What I don’t put on my list, but I should, is stuff like, take a shower, pick up Sabrina from school, make dinner, make sure I’m on schedule with Chloe’s feedings, and breathing treatments, and anything thing else she may need. Which today included a game of Monopoly Junior, I really didn’t want to play. A game that I lost, because I stink at Monopoly, and Chloe is a “take no prisoners” kind of player. She also informed me before we started playing, that she was going to “beat the pants off me.” Mission Accomplished.

I guess, even the mundane is something though, so when Oscar asks me tonight, “What did you do today?” I’ll refer him to this post.

Most people with children have funny anecdotes to share about things their kids have said or done, and as a mother of two interesting little girls, I’m also guilty as charged in that respect.

The thing is, I’m a terrible storyteller, so usually the good part of  whatever anecdote I happen to be relating,  is lost in translation, creating one of those “I guess you had to be there” moments.

Chloe, my youngest daughter, can be classified as a “special needs” kid. I’ve always thought of that term as generic, but for all intents and purposes, the “special needs” label is easier than explaining her exact condition. Her “special needs” have caused her to be delayed in various areas of development, namely speech, but over the last year and half, she has really blossomed, and her speech has improved significantly.

Which brings me back to my lame storytelling skills. Chloe is really funny. As she’s learned to speak, she’s added tons of words to her vocabulary.  English is a tricky language to learn, and mastery of it, well, let’s be honest, there aren’t too many of us who can claim to be true”masters.” Chloe has a pretty decent vocabulary, and she’s able to pick up new words fairly quickly. She mostly uses them in their correct context too…mostly, but sometimes, I catch her saying things that are worthy of a chuckle or two.

A few of my favorite Chloe-isms:

1. “We have naaa to do.” ~ Translation: We have nothing to do.  Okay, that one’s pretty tame, and really uh, I guess you had to be there, but since she first started saying it, she learned how to say the word “nothing” which made me kinda sad, so I still ask her to say “naaa” instead. She does not comply with my request. I’m a kook, I know.

2. “That’s my peep-hole.” ~ Probably no translation needed there, but let me explain. Chloe, though she is eight, wears diapers, again refer back to the “special needs” thing. So, I change her when she has pee-pee or number two. When I change her diaper, I need to well, wipe her private areas. She calls her pee-pee, her “peep-hole” which I find really amusing.

3. “Don’t talk ’bout it.” ~ I’m home all day with her, so I relish when Oscar gets home from work for adult talk. I’m a fan of re-telling Chloe antics that have happened during the day. She hates that, so as soon as she hears me start to talk about her, she busts out “Don’t talk ’bout it.” I still do though, I know, I’m mean.

It seems like there are so many more things Chloe says that I can classify as Chloe-isms, but of course I can’t think of any more. My memory is crap most of the time.

I promised Oscar, I’d clean out the hall bathroom because he’s going to demo it tomorrow.

Hallelujah. A small bathroom makeover is in my future, which is enough to make me say “yay!” any day of the week.


When I was *ahem* young I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. Ironic, since you would think blogging would be a great way to exercise that ‘ol writing muscle (my brain).

I haven’t written anything to speak of, no books, short stories, poems, articles, nothing of great significance. Just a few anecdotes here and there on this blog (not very consistently, I might add).

Despite my shortcomings, I still dream of being a published author one day.

I love sweets. Mostly carb laden sweets. Oh and gummy bears. And Aussie-style green apple licorice. I have no idea why, but I can rarely walk by the candy aisle at Target without popping a bag of licorice into my cart. Weird huh?  I have a half eaten bag of gummy bears in my purse right now.

I have an obsession with eggs. Whenever I go to the grocery store, Target, Walmart, anywhere they sell food, I always buy at least one dozen eggs. I just don’t want to run out of eggs. I know…cuhrrrazzzyy!

I also have a secret desire to be a really good dancer. Not like a “Dancing with the Stars” dancer, but more like a “kicking my eleven year old  daughter’s butt on Just Dance 2” kind of dancer. The problem is, I have no rhythm. It’s almost as bad as watching Elaine on Seinfeld dance to “Shining Star.”  Okay maybe not that bad, but pretty close. I still do it though. I have to coerce Sabrina into doing “dance battles” with me, and once she agrees, I dance until I’m sweaty…which sadly doesn’t take  very much effort at all. One day I’ll get all the moves right.

I love old music. Mostly standards from the forties, fifties and sixties. I also love Neil Diamond. Oscar and I saw him in concert a couple of years ago, and it was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.

I have a TON of gray hair. I am not exaggerating at. all. I am only thirty-five, and I probably have more gray hair than my eighty-six year old Abuelita. I blame my Dad. It’s all his fault, darn genetics.

I could confess all day and night, but I think I’ll leave some for later.