Unknown Mami

Blog is a Four Letter Word

2010-03-09T17:19:00.000-08:00

I have a potty mouth. On occasion I've also been know to use curse words on this blog. Sure there are more eloquent ways to express myself, but sometimes the only thing that will satisfy is a four letter word.

Awhile back, I was inspired by Mrs. Blogalot's coinage of the word "bloghole" to come up with my own blog inspired curse words. Here's what I came up with: blog for brains, blogface, bloglicker, blogina (rhymes with vagina), blogf@*ker, blogsucker, motherblogger, go blog yourself, blog right off, you piece of blog.

I then asked you if you had any contributions.

Gregory J was a little put off at first because he does not consider blog to be a bad word. Here's what he had to say:

Now, is blog a dirty word? How can all those be insults unless blog is a dirt word. And I don't think it is.
They are not insults. You are a motherblogger. blogface could be like one's identity on their blog. go blog yourself is semi positive - do it on your blog. blog right off - sound off on your blog. The others, well......
I'm sorry Mami. I have to disagree. By using these things as insults, you are insulting all bloggers. I suppose you'll call me a bloghead for saying these things. No hard feelings?

Now, I did not mean to insult all bloggers, I was just having some fun so I wrote back:

You are right, there is nothing wrong with the word blog and I am indeed a motherblogger. With that in mind, have a great week and go blog yourself ☺!

Fortunately, he has a sense of humor and responded:

ahahahahahahahahaha
hearty laugh, thank you.

How about
fanblogtastic,
gawdbloggit,
'blog this, buddy',
eat my blog,
kiss my blog,
you bite blog,
go sit on a blog,
either blog or get off the computer,
'you're a blog - no, you're a blog',
'man, this sucks blog',
look at the blog on her.
he's really got blog. '
sure, I'd blog him/her',
I wouldn't throw him/her out of my blog'

Not bad for someone that resisted the initial concept.

Then I got more contributions.

Mrs. Blogalot gave me: blog forbid, Oh my blog!, blogasm

Helen wrote: Blogjob. Bloggard. Blogfud.

Sophia's Mom wrote: how about... Son of a blog!

From Matty I got: blogiot.....a blogging idiot.

Eva wrote: My Hubby says I'm a blogaholic; I respond, Kiss my blog!

SubMom enjoys the term: Blogho.

My Little Miracles loved all these "blogsults"

Do you see what we can accomplish when we pool our energies? I say we petition to get some of these in the dictionary. If Beyoncé could unwittingly expand the English language to include the term bootylicious then surely we can get Oxford to include at least one bloggy bad word.

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I Comment Therefore I Am

2010-03-08T06:00:00.000-08:00

I Am Blogger
(sung to the tune of I Am Woman by Helen Reddy)

Read my comments, they won't bore
Your posts are too good to ignore
So I spread my loving words across your blogs
Then on Mondays, don't you know
I have a post ready to go
It's called I Comment, Therefore I Am

Yes, I am ~~NOT~~ wise
But it's wisdom born of eye-strain
Yes, I paid the price
But look how many followers I've gained
If I have to
I can write anything
I am strong
I am invincible
I am BLOGGER!

This edition of I Comment Therefore I Am is dedicated to International Women's Day. Women rule the blogoshpere!!! (No disrespect to the wonderful men of blogging. I'll celebrate you on International Men's Day. Wait, isn't that every other day?)

Here are the comments I left on some wonderful posts:

Nancy at Away We Go wrote something so beautiful about Sundays In My City that I had to choke back tears because she gets me and it's good to be gotten...

I started doing Sundays In My City because I really wanted to see the beauty that surrounds me every day. Yesterday, I was walking and I saw an ornament on a gate and thought about how beautiful it was and how lucky I am that I finally look at things instead of always being in my head.

I can not tell you how much I laughed when Think Tank Momma showed me a picture of handerpants, underwear for your hands...

I'm sorry, but handerpants is one of the funniest things I have ever seen. Perhaps they are designed for people who are embarrassed to masturbate with their naked hand. Makes it more demure that way.

Melissa wrote that by the time I read her post she would not be around, but that I should peruse her blog and make myself at home. Oh, I did...

I just ran around your blog naked because I knew you weren't around and then I banged my head on one of your side columns because you moved it around since the last time I was here. Now I'm naked and have a big bump on my head. At least you are not here to see, that would be embarrassing.

At Today's Parent, I was asked if I knew how to get rid of ants...

We are having huge issues with ants. My husband says they are ants from Argentina. It really bothers me that foreign ants are coming here and taking jobs away from local ants. I'm kidding.

Anali's First Amendment made me think of perceptions of being American in relation to food. She brought up chocolate chip cookies as a cultural cookie. I am first and foremost an American, but because I am the daughter of a Mexican mother...

My experience of being American is quite different because I am first generation born here. I didn't grow up with chocolate chip cookies baking in the kitchen. I remember I used to go to friend's houses and their mothers would make them Kraft Mac n Cheese. I thought it must be really hard to make because we never had any at my house. When I moved out I bought some and kept looking at the box thinking something must be missing because it was not hard at all.

At Fumbling Towards Normalcy, I was reminded that happiness is all around us...

I am becoming much better at finding happiness everyday. Maybe, it’s not even finding it, it’s more like noticing it. These moments infuse my day, but sometimes I fail to notice. Lately, I’ve been noticing.

I do not want to share the following comments because the subject matter alone makes me ill, but a post at Bloggin2Noggin about the abuse perpetrated by Dr. Bradley really affected me so much so that I commented twice. (If you do not agree with me and want to comment, please be respectful; I find it extremely difficult to discuss this subject.)

Just thinking about this makes me want to throw up. I never feel that the punishment for these kinds of heinous acts is enough. There is no excuse for this kind of behavior.

I am wary of blaming the parents because I do not know the specific details. Yes parents are absolutely responsible for protecting their children, but as someone that was molested as a child, I would not blame my mother.

I kept thinking about it, so I had to go back and add:

I'm back. I can't stop thinking about this post.

Please understand that I am not taking issue with you. I appreciate that you wrote this and it has obviously struck a chord with me. I just wanted to share what I've been thinking.

Other reasons why blaming the parents bothers me:

It takes focus away from the actual perpetrators.

It smacks of "blame the victim". For example when a woman gets raped and people ask questions like, "What was she wearing?", "Was she alone?", blah, blah, blah. Those questions are beside the point. There is nothing that would make the woman responsible for the criminal act perpetrated against her.

As parents, we leave our children with trusted individuals all the time, whether it be at school or church or with relatives. Yes it's odd to leave a child alone with a doctor, but again...I do not know the circumstances and I'm sure that if those parents had any inkling that their child was in danger they would not have done it. Most people truly trust their child's doctor or they would choose another.

There is so much stigma and pain associated with admitting that a child was molested. These parents are now tasked with helping their children heal. They need our support, not our judgment or derision. I would hate for them to have to deal with public backlash in addition to all the tremendous guilt that I know they will carry around for the rest of their lives.

Let's stigmatize the perpetrators, not the survivors. Let's not make this another taboo that people want to ignore or hide from.

Alyssa, the author of the post responded:

Unknown Mami, You are right. The blame absolutely beyond a shadow of a doubt belongs to that vile doctor. What he did is inexcusable and in no way are children responsible...EVER.

I hope that as parents we make wise decisions regarding our children. In too many cases (perhaps such as yours) abuse was unforseeable, unavoidable. I am truly truly sorry. Believe me, that saddens me.

It also saddens me, though, that parents would take a potential risk and expose children to AVOIDABLE harm. I'd love to see this not happen again.

Seeing as it's International Women's Day, I would like to end with the followung:

At Boys and Girls I read," Everything is like a mystery when it comes to women……WHY?" My response....

Women are magic and magic can not be explained.

That's it for this edition of I Comment Therefore I Am.

Do you give good comment? Wanna play along? Go forth, spread the comment love, and turn it into a post (I keep a draft post open while I read blogs throughout the week). Recycle, reuse, and reduce my friends; it's the wave of the future.

Oh and feel free to comment on my comments otherwise how will I know that you exist.

If you play along please link back and/or post the button below. Spread the love, spread the love!

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Sundays In My City

2010-03-06T22:00:00.000-08:00

Mosaics

San Francisco, CA

I showed you mine, now show me yours.

Share your city/town/suburb/you name it! If you link up, please link back or post the Sundays In My City button either in your post or sidebar to let people know that other bloggers are sharing their communities too. Happy trails!

Let's travel the world together!

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Find out more about Sundays In My City here.

When linking up please add the URL to your actual post NOT your homepage. Do this by clicking the title of your post after you hit publish, an extended URL will come up in the address bar, paste that URL into the MckLinky form.

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Fragmented Fridays

2010-03-04T21:06:00.000-08:00

I am feeling unbelievable grouchy. Part of that is coming from thinking that I need to write something witty and I am not feeling very witty. When I write, I am aware that there is an audience and can not help but want to please that audience. I am throwing caution to the wind and writing about things that I don't think anyone except myself will care about. Screw it.

I got all worked up because I had to go to the psychiatrist. I take medication for anxiety. I am grateful for this medicine and do not feel ready to stop. Even though I am grateful for this medication, I am having issues with my weight and I believe the medication is contributing to my girth and inability to degirthify. What to do?

I wanted to ask the psychiatrist to try a different medication, but I was sure he would dismiss my concerns. I had this imaginary argument with him in my head. I walked into the appointment all stressed out and his response was that my concerns were reasonable and that of course we could try something else. He also suggested I get my thyroid checked. Yup, he was totally cooperative and responsive. I had a fight in my head with him for no good reason and based on nothing other than my own issues. And this is me on anxiety medication, can you imagine me not on it?

I friggin' hate being over-weight. I hate it!!! I am totally uncomfortable at this weight. I do not mind having to work to lose weight. I actually enjoy exercise. It's something that I do just for me and it feels good to do something just for me. What doesn't feel good is exercising and knowing that I am getting more fit, but still feeling uncomfortable in my body. My body is just not reacting the way that I am used to and I find it very frustrating. I hope that this change in medication helps.

I am very behind on blog reading and it is stressing me out! Why am I getting stressed out by something that is supposed to be fun?

Word verification is at it again! That B!t@h insulted me. She asked me to type in "crakho". I'm not stupid, I know she was calling me a "crack ho"! I hate her!!!

And that's all she wrote!

Have a great weekend!

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I Comment Therefore I Am

2010-03-01T06:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to another edition of I Comment Therefore I Am, where I put together a post from comments I've left on other blogs. Normally, I take pride in my commenting abilities and have quite a bit to share with you, but this week it's slim pickings. I'm only going to share a couple and vow to do better next time.

At WaystationOne I pondered the question, "Sometimes I wonder is it more important to be right all the time?"...

I am an obstinate fool, pushing with all my might for victory because, "Damn it, I'm right!".

Unfortunately, winning that way always makes me wrong. Will I ever learn?

At The Absence of Alternatives I read a post that asked, "Do you know what you are reading to your children?" As in you are reading them something, but what are they taking away from it. Their interpretation might surprise you. I was not read bedtime stories. My family was more into oral tradition. These are a couple of the stories I used to get:

I used to get put to bed with stories of La Llorona, who drowned her children and cried for them at night or La Mano Peluda (The Hairy Hand) that lived under the bed. I’ve never had an easy time falling asleep. I wonder why?

I'd like to end with a couple of comments left on my Fragmented Fridays post.

From the Philosophy of KLo:

The thing is, I'd like to hope that in the year 2010, we could all just look at people as "people". Everyone hurts, laughs, defecates, breathes, has a heart that pumps blood ... to dismiss people because of the color of their skin, or where they live, or what their family history is ... it just seems to me like we should be so OVER this by now ... :(

And from Pieces of Me:

...ignorance pisses me off, ugh, why can't we just take each individual as just that AN INDIVIDUAL? My husband is Latino- Puerto Rican and I am Italian-Irish American, I get looks all the time, sometimes I see women grab their purse when he stands next to them and I wanna slap the stupid out of them, but I don't care mostly because I was raised to believe we are all just people, love doesn't know colors or shapes and sizes or class, it is just love...I was taught to love not to judge and that is how all children should be taught, period!

WORD!!!

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Sundays In My City

2010-02-27T22:00:00.000-08:00

A little color.

San Francisco, CA

I showed you mine, now show me yours.

Let's travel the world together!

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Fragmented Fridays

2010-02-25T20:18:00.000-08:00

My husband is taking a ceramics class and I told him he should make an incense holder shaped like poo for the bathroom. He thought it was hilarious, but is too embarrassed too make poo in front of his classmates.

At the park playground I overheard something that really bothered me. There was a group of three teenage girls and one of the girls said to the others:

I'm not attracted to black guys, so I would have no way of knowing if he was good looking or not.

Really?!,You can't recognize beauty in an entire group of people. Who are you? John Mayer's penis...

“My dick is sort of like a white supremacist. I’ve got a Benetton heart and a fuckin’ David Duke cock. I’m going to start dating separately from my dick.”-John Mayer

Hearing that girl say that really made me want to cry. I know she's young and dumb and will hopefully grown out of it, but sometimes I just feel so exasperated. My husband is black, my daughter is part black. It would bother me to hear someone make that comment about any group of people. I would not want to hear, "I'm not attracted to Asians, Latinos, Native Americans, Caucasians, garbage men, exterminators, IRS employees, you name it." I guess I have always been an equal opportunity lover.

My husband does not speak Spanish, but he knows a few words here and there that manage to get him into trouble. Once we had a group of children over, I'd tell you who they were, but my extended family is so large, I'm not exactly sure who they were. They were hanging out in the kitchen with my husband playing UNO and I was in the living room with the "grown ups" until I heard the kids laughing hysterically. I went to the kitchen to see what was so funny and my husband had a confused look on his face and the kids were obviously laughing at him.

When I asked what happened I was told that the kids wanted to know how my husband was so good at UNO. I turned to look at my husband and asked, "What did you say?" He looked at me sheepishly and said (while pointing at his head), "I told them I use my nalga." We all started laughing at him again. Nalga means ass cheek.

Another time we were driving and a chubby Latino man decided to jay walk on a very busy street right in front of us and he was taking he sweet time. My husband rolled down the window and yelled, "Move it Guapo!" I almost choked on my laughter. My husband realized he must not have said what he meant to say and looked embarrassed. He was even more embarrassed when I explained his error. What he meant to say was, "Move it Gordo", which means chubby/fat, what he said translates to, "Move it, Handsome!" I still laugh every time I remember.

Guess what? My bloggy life crossed over into my real life! This week I had the pleasure of speaking to two wonderful bloggers on the phone. The first was the lovely Mrs. 4444 and the second was The Green-Eyed Momster! These ladies are awesome and it was a treat to hear what they sound like. Neither one of them sounded at all like my brain had imagined. They both give great phone-voice, in case you were wondering. I'm sure I sounded different to them too. Mrs. 4444 thought I would have an accent, I don't unless you count former "valley girlisms" as an accent. It's a trip how our imaginations work. I guess I created my preconceptions of what they would sound like based on pictures I've seen of them and their writing styles. They've only ever seen me with a paper bag over my head. I wonder if they thought I would sound muffled and crinkly because of the paper bag?

And that's all she wrote!

Have a great weekend!

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I Forgot Who I Was

2010-02-23T14:35:00.000-08:00

I woke up, flat on my back in a dimly lit room I didn't recognize. Curled up against me, in a bed that was far too small for two grown people was a man I did not know, but for some reason I was not afraid of him; he seemed safe, familiar, and strange at the same time.

I woke him up and asked, "Where are we?"
"In the hospital", he said.
"Why?"
"For Put Pie."
"Put Pie? Is that a dog?"
"No....Where are you going?", he said as I got up and made my way out of bed.
"I'm leaving."

Then it all got foggy. I could hear him speaking, but couldn't absorb what he was saying. I wanted to leave, but I didn't know where I was going. Going? I didn't even know who I was. I didn't know my name. I was standing and trying to walk, but everything was so difficult. I moved and felt a tug on my left arm. I looked and I was being trailed by a pole on wheels with IV drips that were attached to my arm. What the hell was going on?

The man in the bed had turned on the overhead light and I could see that right in front of me was some kind of medical table with a clear tub on top. I looked at it and there was a baby inside of it. A baby! Why is there a baby here, I thought. Then I got dizzy and felt my legs go wobbly, I sat back down on the bed next to the familiar stranger and started sobbing.

As I cried, slowly the memories started coming back to me. I remembered the pregnancy. I remembered the difficulties, painful hips, swollen feet, sleepless nights. I remembered the anticipation, the fear, the joy. I remembered the induced labor that seemed interminable, the delivery, the pushing which ended up being the easiest part, the baby, my baby... and I kept crying. What was happening to me?! How could I forget?

I reached for a button and pressed it. A voice responded over a speaker and I said, "I need help. Please help me." Almost immediately, a nurse with a kind face came in and even before she asked I said, " I forgot where I was, I forgot who I was, I forgot I had a baby. How could I forget I had a baby? I thought my baby was a dog. How could I think my baby was a dog?"

"It's the magnesium", she said.

The magnesium?...the magnesium. Then I remembered. I was given magnesium after giving birth because I had developed preeclampsia. The magnesium was to prevent seizures. I remembered the parade of nurses that had come by and marveled at how well I was doing considering the magnesium. It had never occurred to me to ask what they meant. I was too busy getting used to having a baby outside of my body.

It wasn't me, I wasn't crazy; it was the magnesium.

I reached for the baby in front of me and brought her to my heart; I looked at the man on the bed, my husband, my wonderful supportive husband; and said, "I'm okay. I'm going to be okay."

And I was and I am.

Hyundai and Glamour Magazine, along with JuiceBoxJungle, are sponsoring me to write about a poignant parenting moment with hopes that a big A-List Hollywood star will direct it on the big screen, like this short film http://glamalert.com/reelmoments/ ! Kate Hudson did with Glamour Reel Moments. You can enter too at

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I Comment Therefore I Am

2010-02-22T08:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to another edition of I Comment Therefore I Am, where I put together a post from comments I've left on other blogs. Below are some of my favorite posts from the previous week and what they inspired me to say.

"Almost nothing is more beautiful than a tree", I read at My Secrets for Happiness, which made me write:

There is a tree in my backyard that has been my friend for many years. This tree brings me joy and provides comfort. Every time I look at it, I am amazed by its beauty. I love that tree and I feel like that tree loves me back.

I was at Our 6 Ring Circus and she was talking about how it wouldn't be such a bad thing to have some sister wives to share the work load as inspired by Big Love.Hmmm...

I'm not so good at sharing although I wouldn't mind a few spare husbands.

Aunt of 14 has a doppelganger and so do I...

There was a girl in college that looked very familiar to me. I couldn't place her, but I knew she reminded me of someone. My boyfriend at the time took a class with her and they worked on a project together. One day they were talking and I saw her laugh and all of a sudden it clicked. When she walked away, I said, "Do you know who she looks like?" He answered, "You!" Freaky!!!

TechnoBabe wrote a lovely ode to the classic cast iron frying pan, which brought back memories...

My nana would on occasion sleep with a cast iron pan and salt next to her. She said she would blind intruders with the salt and then hit them over the head with a frying pan.

Our Ring 6 Circus shared some car games they play and asked what kind of games we play in the car. I really believe in taking every possible opportunity to become more learnED...

We read Renaissance poetry and memorize the verses. The first person to learn an entire poem and recite it verbatim, gets to pick the next poem.

You know I'm kidding, right?

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Sundays In My City

2010-02-20T22:00:00.000-08:00

Random Cuteness

San Francisco, CA

I showed you mine, now show me yours.

Let's travel the world together!

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Fragmented Fridays

2010-02-18T20:33:00.000-08:00

It is no secret that I love my iPhone, so much so that I've even been caught in bed with it (and no I am not being sponsored to love it, I love it for free). When I bought it, I got it relatively cheap because they had just come out with the new model that included video. Sure I would have liked to have video, but I'd rather pay double digits than triple digits. Well, guess what? My phone now takes video because there's an app for that and it only cost me 99 cents. Woo hoo!

This all got me to thinking about all the apps that are out there and some that should be out there. Here are the apps that I would like to see developed (I haven't done any research so if there apps already exist -my bad):

Does my Butt Look Big in these Pants? App. Instead of asking your significant other if your butt looks big you can take a pic of your butt in the pants in question and the app will honestly tell you if your butt looks big. Think of all the arguments and hurt feelings that could be averted.
Parking Space App. I live in San Francisco where finding street parking is nearly impossible. This app would be voice activated so that you can use it hands free while you drive. It will tell you were the nearest parking space is and if your car will fit in the spot.
Drunk Dialing Eliminator App. You know when you're drunk and shouldn't call a certain someone, but you do because you're drunk? This app comes with a breathalizer and if you are drunk it will not dial any of your exes. Catastrophe averted.
Do I Stink? App. I am paranoid about B.O. Sometimes when I'm in a public space and someone stinks, I become convinced that it's me. This app would be able to tell you if you stink or not.
Can I Get Away with It? App. Speaking of stinking...let's say you need to fart, but you are amongst others. This app will let you know if you can get away with it. It will categorize your future fart as "silent and odorless", "silent and deadly", or "loud, proud, and stink abound". You can then decide whether to let it rip, hold it in, or make your way to a more private location.

This Wednesday was my SITs Day and I was inundated with comment love. I want to say thank you to everyone that took the time to make me feel special. Your kind words, encouragement, and presence really touched me. I am visiting everyone that showed me love. It may take me a while (I got over 400 comments), but I will get to everyone.

I've always spent a lot of time commenting and even more now that I want to visit everyone that left a comment on Wednesday and can I just say that I HATE WORD VERIFICATION!!! It slows the whole process down and sometimes I don't type the word in right, other times word verification mocks me by giving me words like "LOSER" or "FARTFACE" or "SPERMECULON". I understand that spam is an issue, but I just needed to take a moment and vent my frustration.

Alright, I best get back to making my bloggy rounds. That's all she wrote folks!!!

Have a great weekend!

Hosted by Mrs. 4444

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The Most Interesting Woman in the World

2010-02-16T20:30:00.000-08:00

Today, the world seems a little friendlier and if I fall I just know someone will catch me! Why? Because it's my SITs day and my SITStahs are nothing if not friendly and supportive. If you do not know about SITs please take the time to click on the button below, you will not be sorry and you will make lots of new friends.

Allow me to introduce myself:

I am Unknown Mami, the most interesting woman in the world! My cleavage alone has experienced more than a lesser woman's entire body. My sweat smells like gardenias. I am THE most interesting woman in the world.

I hope you know I'm kidding!!!

I may not be the most interesting woman in the world, but I am a Latina mother, wife, and actor-on-hiatus raising a bilingual, multicultural child in the beautiful city of San Francisco. On Sundays I share that city via Sundays In My City and in turn my bloggy buddies share their cities, towns, suburbs... you name it. It's a cheap and eco-friendly way to travel. My motto is: I showed you mine, now show me yours!

We all have our gifts, one of mine is I give good comment. It's true! I take this commenting on other blogs business seriously. I'm not saying my self worth is wrapped up in it or anything, but I will tell you this: I Comment Therefore I Am and on Mondays I turn my comments into a post. See for yourself:

And just in case you have nothing but time on your hands, here are a few of my favorite posts:

Thank you so much for stopping by! One of my favorite things about blogging is the interaction with other bloggers. Please make sure that you leave the url to your blog, so that I can visit and give you some comment love. You know I love to give good comment. I promise to stop by, but you have to leave your web address or else I'll get lost on the way because I have Mami brain. And remember: Mi blogo es su blogo! (That means: my blog is your blog, for those of you that don't speak Spanish.) Stop by whenever you are in the bloggerhood!

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I Comment Therefore I Am

2010-02-15T06:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to another edition of I Comment Therefore I Am, where I put together a post from comments I've left on other blogs. Below are some of my favorite posts from the previous week and what they inspired me to say.

Meeko wrote a great post about the term Latino vs. Hispanic and also about ethno-centric clubs in school. Here's what I think:

Oh Meeko, why didn't we go to school together? I'm probably way older than you, but still.

I call myself Latina and don't like the term Hispanic, but I won't cut off anyone's head for using it. I just don't believe that I am his panic or anyone's panic for that matter. Hispanic is a term coined by the U.S. government for the Census in the 70's and referencing Hispania (Spain). As far as I'm concerned, it focuses too much on the Iberian peninsula. I do however understand that most people do not know the history of the word so no harm, no foul.

I never felt comfortable joining what I consider to be "centric" clubs. I'm all about being proud of your background and origins, but I am uncomfortable with isolation. Perhaps, if there were clubs that celebrated heritage and were open to people of all ethnic backgrounds I would be more comfortable.

The Peach Tart stole an e card from Green-Eyed Momster that reads, "Don't forget that a blow jobs are like flowers for men", which made me think...

Am I supposed to give him 12 long stemmed blow jobs? My jaw is aching at the thought of it.

I was reading a post at Olive Me that I can not summarize because I would not do it justice. I recommend that you take the time to read it. It is long, but sooo worth the effort. Here is the comment I left:

I know it's not the same, but a lot of what you have written here and in other posts resonates with me because of my ethnic background. I happen to be Mexican, but many people can't tell by looking at me and say things that are idiotic. Most of the time I can tell when someone just goofed but is really not a racist. To the people that just goofed I take the time to explain that you should not call all Latino people Mexican because they are not all from Mexico. But there are those that say such horrid things and then add phrases like, "not you, of course" or "I'm just kidding". That just makes my skin crawl. I very often get accused of reading into things or being hypersensitive and not just about race issues. The thing is it's about perspective. I am not being hypersensitive, this is my reality. I see it because it affects me. Many people don't see it because it does not negatively impact them, that does not make it any less real or important. I'm babbling and I don't know if I am getting my point across.

Mama-face had me in tears as she recalled a difficult pregnancy.

Thank you for telling this story. My heart aches for any woman that goes through a similar situation.

I had a horrible pregnancy, the stuff of nightmares, worse than anything I could have imagined. I thought I was going crazy, losing my mind. I felt so alone in my terror. Fortunately, I got help. It took a long time to feel better, but eventually I was not in a constant state of panic and sometimes I was able to sleep or smile.

...In many ways I feel like I was robbed of the joy of being pregnant and the joy of giving birth. Thankfully, I have not been robbed of the joy of my daughter. I am also a kinder, more empathetic person because of what I went through.

Frau was talking about the brilliant things that run through her mind in the middle of the night when she should be sleeping, but then go poof in the morning. I wanted her to know that she is not alone in her nighttime brilliance.

I have solved some major world problems in the middle of the night. The weird thing is that in the morning I can't remember the solutions I came up with, but I know they were brilliant and simple.

Heather from the Extraordinary Ordinary times herself while doing certain tasks. I do too!!!

I hate cleaning, it sucks. I bribe myself into doing it by setting time limits. I turn on the timer on the stove for 20 minutes and then clean whatever I can in that amount of time. When the timer goes off I'm done. It turns out I can get a lot of cleaning done in 20 minute.

Eva believes that you need to laugh with your significant other at least once a day. I couldn't agree more.

I'm with you on the laughter at least once a day, that's why I point at my husband whenever he's changing and laugh heartily at him. I feel so much better and loving afterward. I don't like it when he does it to me though. When he does it, it's not funny, it's just rude.

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Sundays In My City

2010-02-13T22:00:00.000-08:00

Love from San Francisco, CA

Roses are red
violets are blue
Every Sunday I share
my city with you!

I showed you mine, now show me yours.

Let's travel the world together!

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Fragmented Fridays

2010-02-11T21:39:00.000-08:00

My husband sent me a sweet text in Spanish, but he doesn't really speak or write Spanish. Here's out text exchange:

Unknown Papi: Te quedo

Unknown Mami: Thank u! I think u mean "quiero". Quedo sounds like a combo of quiero & pedo, which I guess would mean u want to fart me. I'm not into that if ur wondering.

Update on my Big Beautiful Brown Eyes:

It appears that after two months of treatment the iritis in my left eye has abated. Unfortunately, the medicine I was using to treat the iritis has elevated the pressure in my eye to an alarming level. I am now taking what seems like a bucket-load of glaucoma medication to try and control it.

I just started the medication and I am having a bad reaction. I have panic disorder and when I was putting my daughter to sleep I started feeling a tightness in my chest and what felt like the beginning of a panic attack. I had a feeling it had something to do with the new medication. I checked the side-effects and one of the rare ones is agitation or anxiety. Great! If it doesn't go away soon, I'm going to have to stop taking it.

This post is brief because I'm feeling uninspired.

My wish:

I would like to stay in bed for a whole day and be taken care of, but that's not going to happen.

And that's all she wrote!

Have a great weekend!

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Anemic and Drunk

2010-02-11T12:40:00.000-08:00

In my relatively short incarnation as a mother I have been blessed with a very healthy daughter. She's only suffered from a cold and runny nose. Excuse me while I go and knock on as many wooden surfaces as possible...

...okay, I'm back.

I would give just about anything to keep my daughter from ever getting sick, but I know that is not possible. Someday, probably before a much anticipated vacation or family reunion, she will get sick., I will be terrified and do my best to nurse her back to health.

When I was a child, my mother operated as a walking pharmacy. At the slightest sign of illness, she would pull out some jar of pills and tell me to take one. I'd look at her skeptically and ask, "What are they for?" She would shake her head at me for questioning her and answer, "Yust take eat! Eat make dyou feel good." (Just take it! It'll make you feel good.)

Well, I took them and sometimes they helped and sometimes they did more damage than good. One of the pills that my mother routinely gave me caused iron-deficiency and a vitamin tonic that she insisted I take every morning was pretty much just a shoot of alcohol. My mother meant well, but unbeknownst to her at the time she was sending me out into the world anemic and drunk.

I believe in better living through science, but my mother's methodology was ridiculous and I'd rather follow the example of my grandmother. My nana knew all sorts of natural remedies that truly worked. Unfortunately, my nana has long since passed and taken most of her knowledge with her. I will do my best to research homeopathic remedies for my daughter and my family.

I understand that many times traditional medicine is unavoidable, necessary, and a blessing, but I feel strongly about using homeopathic remedies whenever possible because I know from experience that sometimes the cure is worse than the affliction. (As I write this, I am dealing with very sever complications that have developed as a reaction to medication I've had to take for iritis.) My goal is to keep my family healthy with as little toxicity as possible. Wish me luck.

Similasan and JuiceBoxJungle sponsored me to write this post, and talk about being nurse to my child during illness, and to mention this sweet contest: ENTER YOUR PICS TO WIN A $500 GIFT CARD!

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I'm Dumb, but my Phone is Smart

2010-02-09T12:00:00.000-08:00

I'm not really a phone person. If the phone rings at home, I almost always let the machine pick up. I don't like being interrupted and I figure if it's important they'll leave a message. If my cellphone rings I can see who it is and sometimes I answer, but most of the time I let it go to voice-mail.

So if I'm not really a phone person, why is it that I go into a cold sweat every time I misplace my cellphone? Because my cellphone is so much more than a phone. The fact that I can use it to make and receive calls is just incidental and quite frankly sometimes obtrusive. I'm embarrassed to admit how attached I am to my cellphone. You see my cellphone does just about everything except laundry, but I bet you there is an app for that.

Before I became a mother I was smart, I had a social life that involved adults, I remembered everything without writing it down, and I had countless hours to do whatever I wanted. Now I have mush for brains (commonly referred to as Mommy Brain, I prefer Mami Brain), very little time to myself, and most of my adult interaction happens online. My phone has become a sort of lifeline a little, oasis I can go to throughout my day. Sad, I know, but I'm just being honest.

While I'm being honest, why don't I tell you why I'm so attached to my ~~iPhone~~ smart phone.

As a blogger I am a comment junkie. I love giving and getting them. I need to feed my habit throughout the day, but my 17 month old daughter gets visibly upset when I use the computer. Guess what? She doesn't mind when I use my phone to give and get comments.
Now that I have mush for brains I get lost all the time, even going to my friends house that I've been to 100 times. My phone doesn't make fun of me when I ask it for directions (my friend did make fun of me when I asked her).
I no longer have a memory and need to make lists, but I never remember to bring the list with me. Well, if I put the list in my phone I never forget it because I always remember to bring my phone.

I may need an intervention. My husband caught me in bed with my phone and was none too pleased. I have to say I did feel like I was getting "caught" with a lover of sorts. It's true, I'm in love with my friggin' phone.

This post was sponsored by Verizon and JuiceBoxJungle; they wanted to know if I had a smart phone and if so how it has affected my life as a mami.

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I Comment Therefore I Am

2010-02-08T06:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to another edition of I Comment Therefore I Am, where I put together a post from comments I've left on other blogs. Odd I know, but I find that when I comment on great posts I am inspired to write about things that I would not normally.

Let's get started, shall we?

Matty from Matty Thoughts wants to know where all the missing socks go. Don't we all. I have a theory about it that I want to turn into a children's book...

I think there is an underground railroad for socks. Unfortunately, only one in the pair ever gets to make it to freedom. On the other side of the dryer mismatched pairs get together and live a life free of stinky feet.

The more I think about it, the more I think this theory is right. I mean socks are forced to be with their mate; it's like an arranged marriage and sometimes it works, but sometimes it doesn't. On the other side of the dryer socks are free to mate with argyles, stripes, or solids as long as they are willing and no one ever judges them for dating a sock that is different than them.

Recently, The Wannabe WAHM asked, "Will I spend my whole life trying to be successful or will I be one of the few that 'make it'?" My answer:

There is no point in wondering whether you will make it or not. You are the kind of person that will strive for her dreams so keep striving. What is the alternative? To give up. You would never be happy just giving up. You are not a quitter. Your dream may evolve or come true in a way you never envisioned, but something will inevitably come of your efforts.

Brainella asked if I celebrate Valentine's Day...

I'm not big on VD, the day or the disease. I don't mind treats and making out, but it doesn't have to be a big deal unless it is the disease and then I don't want to have anything to do with it any day of the year.

At Stir-Fry Awesomeness I was asked, "Is your life a romantic comedy, tragedy, horror story, or something else? Who would portray you in this masterpiece?" My answer...

My life is a Romantic Dramedy...since I am an actor I would portray me in this masterpiece, it would be the role of a lifetime. It is the role of my lifetime.

Mrs. Blogalot used the word bloghole and I fell in love with it, then I came up with my own bloggy curse word:

Bloghole might be my new favorite word. Ooo, I think I like blogwad, too!

Other bloggy insults I've thought of since then: blog for brains, blogface, bloglicker, blogina (rhymes with vagina), blogf@*ker, motherblogger, go blog yourself, blog right off, you piece of blog....Do you have any?

That's it for this edition of I Comment Therefore I Am.

Do you give good comment? Wanna play along? Go forth, spread the comment love, and turn it into a post (I keep a draft post open while I read blogs throughout the week). Recycle, reuse, and reduce my friends; it's the wave of the future.

Oh and feel free to comment on my comments otherwise how will I know that you exist.

If you play along please link back and/or post the button below. Spread the love, spread the love!

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Sundays In My City

2010-02-06T22:00:00.000-08:00

San Francisco, CA

I showed you mine, now show me yours.

Let's travel the world together!

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Fragmented Fridays

2010-02-04T20:54:00.000-08:00

On Tuesday, I was playing around with my blog, rearranging things and then when I went to look at the results ALL MY POSTS WERE GONE! Everything else was still there, but there were no posts. My body reacted like it had been dunked in ice-cold water. I felt numb and tingly all over! I walked into the kitchen where my husband was doing dishes and I said, "I need you to hold me because I seem to have lost all the posts on my blog."

He turned around and hugged me. I swear I had to really focus on my breathing so that I wouldn't have a panic attack. I have never considered myself to be a writer, but I have poured my heart and soul into this blog and the thought of it just disappearing devastated me.

I calmed myself down and reminded myself that for a while now I've been receiving my posts via email and saving them and in early December I downloaded the content of my blog and I also backed up my template. I kept fiddling around and realized that all my posts were still on Blogger; they just wouldn't display so it had to be something I did to the HTML.

Eventually, I got everything back to normal. Why am I telling you this? Because if you have a blog, I want to make sure that you have backed up everything. If I hadn't backed up my template I would have been seriously screwed. Back it up people, back it up!

This is how you back up a Blogger blog:
Go to "Settings", make sure you are on the "Basic" part, at the top of that page you will see "Blog Tools", click on "Export Blog", you will then be able to download your blog. This will not remove it from Blogger; it will just download an XML file onto your computer.

Do you know that Blogger now lets you have up to 10 static pages (i.e. Home, About, BlogRoll, etc.) and it will set up the navbar on your blog without you having to do much? If you are on the posting page you will see an "edit pages" options. Wordpress, we're gainin' on ya!

Speaking of Wordpress, lately whenever I visit a Wordpress blog the load time has been really slow. Has anyone else noticed this?

Also, when you go to change layouts in Blogger it used to be that you would lose your widgets, now you get the option of keeping them. Nice.

Apparently, this post is going to be entirely about blogging. So while I'm at it...I love blogging and the camaraderie with other bloggers, but as with all things in my life I like diversity. What I would truly love is for people other than bloggers to read blogs. I think it would be good for us as bloggers to have a larger audience.

I guess if I want people other than bloggers to read my blog I would have to write about politics or something more relevant than whether or not I took a shower. Or I could write about celebrities. People other than bloggers read Perez Hilton.

I wrote a post recently that I thought sucked. I won't tell you which one because I don't want you to read it and agree with me. As I was going to bed, I even told my husband that I wrote a really sucky post. Apparently, I am an idiot because said post seems to have resonated with people and I received wonderful feedback. I've written other posts that I thought were spectacular (yeah I'm tooting my own horn) and have gotten lukewarm responses. Just goes to show that you never know what will strike a chord - accord.

And that's all she wrote!

Have a great weekend!

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Worry Much?

2010-02-02T08:00:00.000-08:00

I believe that "Worry" is a wasted emotion. I guess it's not really an emotion, maybe it's a state of being. Whatever it is I have spent far too much of my life worrying about things that may never happen, things that I can not change, things that are out of my control. Why?! Why do I do this to myself? Worrying about something has never actually made my life better, but still I worry. My favorite time to worry is late at night when I am laying next to my gently snoring husband. I mean why rest when I can worry about things I can't solve in the middle of the night?

When I became a mother I was worried that my worries would increase, but oddly enough they have decreased or shall I say, they have become more focused. I've let go of much of my frivolous worrying. So what do I worry about now? Oh the list is still long, but here are the top three.

Finances. Who doesn't worry about this right? I've learned that I can do with out a lot as long as I know I am providing what my daughter needs.
My family. I worry about our safety, our health, our happiness. I want us to like and love each other.
Me. Yup, I worry about me. I worry that I will sabotage our happiness. I've had a rocky life and although I've had moments of peace and joy they have not been the norm. I tend to look for problems. I just can't seem to trust that things can run smoothly. I'm working on it, but I worry that I am too flawed to be a good wife and a good mother. (I am not fishing for reassurance. I realize that I am not a bad person, I'm just being honest about these particular insecurities and the worry they cause me.)

Those are the biggies that I worry about on a regular basis, but I am happy to say that I've let go of so many other worries that used to occupy my thoughts and I do think it has something to do with becoming a mother. Here are the top three things I no longer cause me worry:

Looking like a fool. I don't worry about this anymore because it is inevitable. I've left the house thinking I look good only to realize I have a big schmeer of poop on my pants. Whatever, I shrugged my shoulders and pretended it was mustard.
Being perfect. I used to be big on perfectionism, which meant I spent a lot of time feeling like a failure. Not anymore! I'm too tired to try and be perfect and I just don't care anymore, I'd rather be happy.
Comparing myself to others. I know some very successful people and it is easy to feel like I don't measure up, but I finally understand that success looks different for everyone.

I'm not alone right? You worry, too...right? What do you worry about late at night and what have you finally stopped worrying about?

This post was sponsored by Kodak and JuiceBoxJungle (see widget on my sidebar); they asked me to write about the top and bottom 3 things I worry about as a Mami.

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I Comment Therefore I Am

2010-02-01T06:00:00.000-08:00

It's Monday, which means I get to prove that I exist because I know you are not sure if there is really a woman under the paper bag. Well, I may not show you my face, but I will reveal bits and pieces of me that I have left littered around the blogosphere. Littering is so tacky that I've picked up some of my comments and turned them into a post. You need not doubt my existence because I comment, therefore I am.

Here are a few of the comments I left on wonderful blogs:

The (Un)Experienced Mom answeredWhat’s the best excuse you ever used to get out of an obligation like work, school, or chores…And did you get away with it? and then asked her readers to respond as well. Well, I'm not saying I've used this excuse, but I'm sure I'd get away with it because no one in their right mind would check:

My mom always says to tell people that you have explosive diarrhea because that will get you out of anything.

Pumpkin Delight has been thinking about the power of collective thought and ended her post by asking, "What do you think?" Well,...

I believe in the power of collective thought. I am not a religious person, but I believe that prayer can work because it is a form of collective thought. Why not? Stranger things have happened.

Do you know what it's like to love an addict? Unfortunately, some of you probably do. I read a post by ck that fills my whole self with pain...

The first time I ever remember falling in love was when I met my baby brother. He is 8 years younger. He was the most beautiful baby I have ever seen and that is saying a lot because I have since had a baby of my own.

He filled my days with joy and made my life better in every way. Then he disappeared not in body, but in mind and spirit. He became an addict and I lost my brother. One of the most difficult days for both of us was when he looked me in the eyes and said, "I am an addict". I looked back and said, "I know". He responded with tears rolling down his face, "I know, but I have never told you. I have never admitted it to you."

I spent years loving the memory of him, not what was left, but what used to be. I wondered if I had made him up. Maybe he was never truly as wonderful as what I remembered.

Addicts are liars and manipulators; they break your heart over and over. One day I just couldn't take it anymore and I let myself mourn for the loss. I let myself accept that the probable outcome of his addiction would be death. I don't know what changed in me, but something did, something made it bearable.

He's okay now. He has a family and a job, but I will never feel like he is not in eminent danger. Every now and again I see and hear the brother I remember and I am certain I didn't make him up. I understand that I love him because he is wonderful, but I realize that I could lose him at any moment and I am guarded.

I am sorry that you love an addict. No, I am sorry that the person you love has become an addict. I wish we could make it better just by loving them, but we can't.

I read a great post at Stir-Fry Awesomeness called, Get a Blog. The way it was written prompted me to comment:

This would make an excellent infomercial. It could have testimonials like:

"My friends' eyes used to to glaze over with boredom as I told them every detail of my life, but then I GOT A BLOG!"

"My husband wouldn't listen to me, but I showed him. I GOT A BLOG!"

"I used to have no friends, but now I have all the friends I could ever want in my computer because I GOT A BLOG!"

"I couldn't just walk up to strangers and force them to look at all my kids cute baby pictures, but now I can for Wordless Wednesdays or Wordful Wednesdays if I'm feeling chatty because I GOT A BLOG."

"I was in danger of losing all my IRL friends because all I wanted to do was talk about myself and share my poetry, but now I can give them a break because I GOT A BLOG!"

I'd like to end with a comment that was left on my previous I Comment Therefore I Am post by Naomi from Organic Motherhood with Cool Whip in response to my response about TMI:

...I have made my husband drink my breastmilk in a dark movie theatre parking lot one time cuz my pump wasn't working right and I thought I might spontaneously combust otherwise. TMI?

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Sundays In My City

2010-01-30T22:00:00.000-08:00

Mural located at John Adams Campus of City College

San Francisco, CA

I showed you mine, now show me yours.

Let's travel the world together!

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Fragmented Fridays

2010-01-28T20:24:00.000-08:00

Last night I dreamt I was cast in a musical (I can't sing) and I was playing the part of John Lennon (I'm a woman), but in this production there were 14 members in the Beatles so there was more than one John Lennon.At first I was asked if I could play Ringo and I refused.

We were all dressed in white and before I knew it the curtain went up and the show started. We'd never rehearsed and we didn't have a script. I thought I was supposed to sing, but then another John Lennon started singing and I thought great I'll just do an interpretive dance. And then I danced interpretively. I was pretty good.

Did I tell you I got to vote for the SAG Awards? I'd rather be nominated for one, but until then voting for them is still pretty exciting plus I get to watch movies for free. It doesn't suck.

My BIL had been unemployed for months and recently had become one of the under-employed. He's been looking for work, but times are tough. Fortunately this week, he got hired for a temporary full-time job. It's only for a month, but it's better than nothing and I can only imagine how rough it must be to continually look for work and get nothing. Hopefully this is a sign of better things to come.

I found a dead ant in my cleavage. Hey, it's better than finding a dead aunt in my cleavage. I wonder what else I might find in there?

The following story is totally unrelated to finding a dead ant in my cleavage (or is it?):

My daughter is about 17 months old and although she is a genius she can only say a few words. Even though she has not mastered spoken language yet she finds ways of communicating. The other day we were hanging out in the living room and she took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom where she started pointing at the shower/bath. I asked her if she wanted to take a bath and she shook her head no. I asked her if she wanted to take bath with me and she shook her head no. I asked her if she wanted me to take a shower and she vigorously nodded YES! I said, "Okay, Mami will take a shower now", which made her jump up and down and clap her hands gleefully. Okay kid calm down, I can take a hint.

Update on the state of my BEAUTIFUL BIG BROWN EYES:

I have been treating the iritis in my left eye for over a month and a half. I have been diligent about the medication even when it meant applying it every hour. Last Friday, I went to get it checked and to my utter dismay the iritis is not gone, there is some improvement, BUT I am having a reaction to the steroid drops. The pressure in my left eye is very high because of the steroid drops, my vision is affected by it, and I will have to continue treatment.

I'm so tired of it. I want to be better and I don't want to be worrying about it anymore. I asked if there were any alternate treatments, but my doctor considers the alternative treatments too harsh and believes we should not try them until we have exhausted this milder treatment. I go back in 3 weeks.

The winner of the Tungsten Ring Giveaway I hosted is Court from Kaiya's Laughter Heals (and CJ rocks too)! I've been following Court since early on in my life as a blogger. Love her!

And that's all she wrote!

P.S. Disqus seems to be having issues today so you may or may not be able to leave a comment. Sorry! I'm having one of those days. I just found out our rent got raised, blah, blah, blah...

Have a great weekend!

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The Day I Almost Met George Clooney

2010-01-26T22:21:00.000-08:00

When I first graduated from high school I was lost. I wasn't going to college right away, I didn't have a job, and I didn't really want to look for one. My mother however insisted that I get a job. I slacked and since my mother worked all the time she didn't really now what I did all day, but soon enough she told me that I better get a job or my life would not be pleasant.

I looked in the want ads and came across an ad that read something like this:

Management Trainee Position
Work in an office with a Rock N Roll environment
Train to become a manager
Decorate your own office!

Well sign me up! I called the number and had what I guess was a phone interview. I was told to dress nicely and show up on the following Monday. That's right I had gotten myself a job! Management Trainee no less.

Monday came around and I got up bright and early. I went to the address I was given, I walked in and saw a bunch of other "Management Trainees". I was nervous and didn't ask any questions. I took a seat in a large conference type room. I could hear cheering coming from another room in the back.

All of a sudden a bunch of amped up weirdos came running out of the back and started cheerfully yelling and handing out shots of whipped cream. Someone told us that the trainees would be teamed up with trainers and we would be sent "out into the field".

My trainer was a diminutive man with an Australian accent. I can't remember much of what he said, but I do remember he was very enthusiastic and not in a nice way. He led me to his car and we were off. I still had no idea what I would be doing. The next thing I know we pull over, he tells me to get out of the car, and he pulls a cardboard box out of the trunk. We start walking up the street and we see these two Latino guys sitting outside of garage; they are speaking Spanish. My trainer asks me if I speak Spanish, which I do, reaches into the cardboard box, hands me a box of cheap perfume that mimics the smell of something expensive and tells me to go sell it to the men for $20. WTF! I stand there paralyzed until my trainer says, "GO ON DO IT!" I walk over to the men and even though I feel like vomitting I end up selling them each a bottle of $20 Faux-session.

For the next couple of hours, my trainer gets us into office buildings and we try to sell perfume until we get kicked out. Whenever there were men around he would get me to go up to them and you'd be surprised how many men are willing to buy anything from an 18 year old girl (or maybe you wouldn't be). One of the buildings that we went into had casting agents, most of the doors were closed, but one door was open and I could see an actor going over sides. My trainer insisted I go up to the actor. Ugh, I didn't want to, but I was sort of stuck with my trainer because we had come in his car and he was so damn pushy. I tentatively walk up to the actor and I realize it's GEORGE CLOONEY! FUCK! Now I know what you're thinking, your thinking, "Oh Wow, George Clooney!" and maybe picturing something like this:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jwjensen/ / CC BY-SA 2.0

But no! This was the late 80's. What I saw was something more like this:

I was thinking, "Oh, SHIT! It's the guy from Facts of Life." I was not excited about seeing George Clooney because he was not the George Clooney of today. To me he was some dorky actor with a bad haircut. But still! He was an actor and I'm an actor and he was pursuing his dream and I was selling awful smellling-IMPOSTORS-wannabe perfume to random people.

So George Clooney sort of glances up from the script he's reading and I'm standing there with a stupid box of smelly crap, I look at the ground and mumble, "Excuse me" and walk away as quickly as I can. I hand the perfume back to my trainer and hightail it out of the building. I make it to the street and keep walking as fast as I can until I find a payphone to call someone to pick me up.

That was the day I almost met George Clooney.

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