Its o.k. if you don’t know what to do, its best to make a decision when you do know than when you are not sure.. Its o.k. to love somebody so so so much but always love yourself even MORE. Give time time – Dale tiempo al tiempo.. Things that are meant to be will happen naturally, not when they are forced.. Remember what you are worth and how wonderful you are; the person that will be yours will never need to be convinced NOR reminded. Always look everything and everyone at face value, almost everything is EXACTLY as you see it, then thereafter ACCEPT it if you want it without expectations of change. Faith and prayers DO work even while all else fails. Don’t allow failures of the heart to change it, allow each fracture or tear or broken piece to heal and grow stronger. And choose wisely when giving your heart again, the next person should care for it as if it were their own. Give yourself time with everything, there is no harm in thinking things through. Enjoy yourself and your time and the things you do, create a little world of your own. Don’t be afraid to let someone new in and trusting them just a little. They just might be what you were looking for and have the courage to hold on and not let them go. If you were wrong, again, its o.k., as my mom says, ‘there are more people up ahead‘. The right Love will come along.
That passage along with the entire definition of Love can be found in the Bible..
The answer to all conundrums can be found in the Bible..
It’s just that ALL gets lost in translation..
Or conveniently avoided or ignored
But I never ignored that – ‘Love doesn’t keep score’
So how does a single gal decide in today’s world..
Old school gal in the digital age where it seems as if you can ‘order a tailor-made guy’ online.. Not really but ‘soñar no Cuesta nada‘..
At least it offers you a chance to narrow your choices down and avoid what you don’t want.
Black, White, Latino, Asian, 30’s-40’s.. Blue Collar, White Collar, college grad, college drop-out, thinker, do-er, works with his hands, Gets paid to think, limited vocabulary, Shakespearean speaker, single, divorced, with or without children, just starting or starting over.. They are ALL out there but..
Boys will be boys and men will continue to say what they must, in order to get what they want.. And some of us gals too..
Don’t get me wrong, I’m one of those that recognize our faults and maybe because I don’t ‘play dumb’ is because I’m still single..
That need to feel that ‘God-forsaken’ ring on that finger doesn’t rule my every move when it comes to men and never will, so maybe I will remain single..
But now as I have been frequenting a younger than moi, White Collar, Irish American, Single, College Grad that dabbles in the Arts, the literary kind of course (cause God Loves to have a laugh or two at my expense) I have found him to be emotionally unavailable. So I have been what I am NOT.. Patient..
And if you know and love me, you know that that one quality is Not one that I possess, but I have been practicing it out of Love..
As we get older Time becomes more and more valuable.. And for me it’s just become even More valuable so the little, unaccounted, indefinite, not promised, precious moments that I have, I invest them well or at least try to, and so he has become a part of my Time…
Even if I sometimes didn’t feel the same in return..
And then there was yesterday..
Blue Collar, older than moi, Irish American, Works with his hands and Loves it, Single and dabbles in the visual arts (cause God still wants to crack up) I have found him to be ready.. But then again, I pity a man that isn’t at 40..
He spoke of many things that scared and delighted me. All the things girls secretly think of.. and would never admit..
And I felt ‘rushed’ in so many ways.. But the thrilling kind that races through you when you’re on the down slope of a roller coaster.. But I feared it as well..
Cause I’ve always been ‘that’ in a pair, the ‘hurry hurry, let’s go’ and I’ve been secretly craving someone to slow me down.. And that’s what the young one does.. His ways has instilled patience and even if it is something I don’t want, it is something I need..
God tends to give you what you need.. Even if it isn’t what you want.. Great Father isn’t he?
So now what?
What do I do?
Those who know me.. And judging by what you have read, what would you suggest?
Even if you know I will do as I please in the end..
What’s the score?
‘Meet me at Cafe Reggio at 3 pm tomorrow‘
A man that can tell me when and where to be with absolution is a man I can adore, respect and fear
and so I did – meet him
and so I do – adore him
and so I will – fear what started last night
The snow began around 11 and I stared in amazement at its downpour from my window
small white shadows flurried down and as the minutes went by turned into giant flakes
What a day? Out of all days… why today?
But if I don’t go? Will he take it as a sign that I wasn’t that interested… when words couldn’t express how interested I was
And if I do go and he doesn’t?…
and so I did
at least it will be memorable because of the snow in October
arriving early I sat to wait and expected him not to show up
bzzzz-bzzzz – ‘Where are you?’ – ‘I’m waiting for my date’ – ‘oh o.k., I forgot’ – ‘Well, I’ll give him half an hour to show up, if not I’m out.’
‘Oh stop! He’ll show’ – ‘oh you know guys, they can be assholes! Oh wait! Here he comes! Gotta go!’
He stood tall and all I saw was his blues eyes
He was covered in small white flakes that quickly disappeared with the warmth of the room
He looked around and I wondered if he remembered what I looked like but then his eyes met mine and the search was over
My heart wants to go deeper
Every woman’s heart wants to believe that the first encounter will be magical and that as soon as your eyes meet his, he will realize that you are what hes been searching for, this unique phenomenon like snow in October… (sarcastically) unbelievable!
The thing was, the ‘thing’ is, that this wasn’t our first encounter
We had met a while ago with our words..
The honest unassuming exchange of words happened between us and that was when I first met him..
That was when my heart began to beat faster
when I read his words..
therefore to have him before me was just the added stimuli that made my heart race
because he turned out to be all his words were
I just maintained this prayer within me that afternoon and evening that he continue to be just that
and that his colors not turn after the sun went down or rose again
that he not be this amazing crazy event that happens once every 50 years, like snow in October
I’m cautious, I’m back on American soil and I’ve chucked that hard learned Italian lesson about ‘Passione‘
and I’m so scared and I’m not scared of the aftermath either
Habit is kind of a miraculous thing like snow in October
if I treat this
like snow in October
this can be this eyeopening
that can leave me breathless
doubtful yet wanting to leave the safety of my four walls
looking for needful things to keep warm
wanting to know if anyone else is feeling this enjoyment
because it has been so long
and even if those flakes will never fall again in October
I will savor every second till they hit the ground
and evaporate – beginning the cycle
It’s as if I am writing about a sentence served..
Sometimes living can feel like that… a sentence and you wonder what did you do to deserve such a sentence and sometimes it’s exhilarating and you don’t want it to stop..
That is how I have been feeling lately and it takes me back to the first twenty years of my life.
I had my weekly therapy phone session and I recounted my weekends events.. it was a long list of ‘things accomplished’
Me: ‘I feel great. I really do. I had so much to do and I got it done. I had my Teacher Leaders project, DONE. I had my students grades to complete, DONE. I had my blogs updated, DONE.. well my non profit one is still lacking, but I will get to it. My grandmother is doing better..’
Therapist: ‘That’s good.’
I find myself talking more about what’s going on at home for obvious reasons.. I am feeling like a prisoner yet I don’t want to leave.. A mix between complacency and fear and lethargy..
‘I want to let you know that in the last slide of my Teacher’s Leaders presentation, I thanked my family, my friends, my partner John and you’
She laughed softly.
‘Yes, I want to tell you that I appreciate our sessions. I have learned or have unlearned the many things I was obligated to believe in the first 20 years of my life. To be strong and to only count on myself because I can’t count on anyone else.’
The truth is that believing that, allowed me to be the exception to the rule and not the ‘normal’ outcome. Believing that I had to be strong and do it all on my own allowed me to escape all statistics related to young Black and Brown girls. I didn’t end up pregnant as a teen, but I was molested; I didn’t end up an addict, but I did eat my way into morbid obesity; I didn’t end up in jail, but I did my share of dirt; I didn’t drop out of high school, because that was never an option; I didn’t commit suicide even if I did attempt it.. ‘I even fail at that!’ I remember saying afterwards.. my self esteem didn’t exist.. yet I was one of the lucky ones.. I survived it all.
‘My teenage years were not the best years of my life.‘ My voice cracked.
‘I did everything on my own and I had no choice but to be strong because in order to get out that’s what I had to be. I wanted better for me. But after being alone for so long, I had to accept that I couldn’t preach one thing in the classroom and not LIVE the message. It felt so false.. like I wasn’t being genuine with them.. I tell my student’s over and over to seek help when they are down, when they feel like breaking down talk to someone they trust. An adult you know has your back and wants the best for you. And SURPRISE! Sometimes that adult isn’t always your mom or your dad.. I know because that was me… and that’s o.k. And so you look for others and make them your family.. I had to test adults.. to see if they cared..
I had two teachers in high school that SHOWED me they loved me. They didn’t have sappy words for me. They were real and honest, and they demonstrated they cared through their actions.. aside from them, I can’t say anyone else was memorable.. my guards were always up.. but I don’t want that for my students. I may have grown up that way but they shouldn’t have to.. Children shouldn’t have to grow up with that weight on their shoulders. They should believe it is o.k. to need someone, to need help.. and look for it, and ask.’
My voice cracked because I was thinking of my students as I recounted my teenage years. I am long past those years and can appreciate today all of the pain experienced but to think that any of my students could be in those same shoes.. hurts.
‘I can only imagine what some of our students may be experiencing at this time. In today’s meeting I told them, ‘I know what it’s like to be a teenager in a home you don’t want to be in. Not having a safe space to go to. Having your own room can be a luxury!’ I didn’t grow up with my own room.. I always had to share space.. sleep with my aunt or grandmother. We were always on top of each other.’ The same apartment I am in now, was shared with tenants, strangers while 5 of us were packed in 1 of its four bedrooms. That could be their reality.’
For the first twenty years I had no external support system, Rosa did it all on her own.
I have entered the belief that although it saved me, it doesn’t save everyone else. So many adults that are lost were children once and so they’re just children that somehow weren’t strong enough. So when I see my students, my children, some may not be as strong as I once was and so I try to be a part of that support system for them.
I am comfortable telling my students that I see a therapist, because I want them to have an example. I know I am a hard-ass for a teacher, with the ‘crazy’ standards, relentless, lives in the classroom because she loves what she does, but hopefully they see ‘she can’t do it alone’ or better yet, ‘she doesn’t HAVE to do it alone’.
‘I am grateful for all of the obstacles and challenges in my life. They have contributed to who I am but I know now that many of them didn’t have to happen. I didn’t have to do it all alone. I am learning to let go and allow people in. And that’s the lesson I have learned through therapy. Expecting children to be strong and do things on their own has been the normal for way too long in our culture and it has to stop.’
This was a diary entry written 9 years ago in July when I returned to Florence for the summer in 2011 It’s about someone that I was with, when I lived in Florence. His name was Mauro. I saw him again that summer. I was in a relationship with someone else in NYC.
July 23, 2011 at 5:39 PM
per definizione ci sto con uno…. mi sa che per starci.. e non voglio sentirmi cosi
mi vuole bene, ed anch’io gli voglio bene ma sapiamo molto bene che non sono innamorata, e credo lo stesso di lui
‘sono stato bene da solo, ma la verità e che sto meglio con te’… ho letto
è vero che le donne si innamorano con l’udite e gl’uomini con la vista.. perche una bella donna farà qualsiasi uomo bavare
ma se dici la cosa sbagliata qualsiasi donna può dimenticare tutto il bello che ce stato..
quindi ‘sei stato bene da solo’ può dire anche che non hai bisogno di me…
e che stai meglio non è e non sarà mai abbastanza per una come me..
quindi ‘icché fo?’ (bella roba)
ho visto quello che nel pasato potevo fare qualsiasi cosa per il suo amore, e c’ho provato nei miei limiti
lo trovo bene ed una grande amicizia è rimasta
ho sentito quello che assieme ho fatto delle belle cose, incluso il amore.. e la verità è che lo voglio ancora
si… si, lo voglio ancora
ma sono in un incroccio nella mia vita che sto scoprendo cose di me stessa..
il vivere sotto le regola d’oro – comportati di la maniera in cui vorresti che gl’altri si comportarebbero con te..
quindi non mentire e non tradire, la sincerità per me va altrove della devolezza de la pelle
perche i momenti goduti sono solo momenti che passerano
ma il dolore che rimane può distrugiere tanto..
Per me, ritornare ai posti dove ci siamo stati è stato bello..
è come se stare li, lo avevo ancora.. eravamo ancora
parlavamo ancora.. lo respiravo ancora
ma lui non lo ha voluto
aveva le sue condizzione
come vorrei poter dire di si.. mi fa pensarlo tanto
ma mi sa che continuerò a ritornare ai posti dove ci siamo stati.. il fresco di Viareggio
quella pasticceria a Montecatini.. il bar a Pescia
mi va bene
Translation by definition I’m with someone …. I guess it’s just to be with someone .. and I don’t want to feel like this he cares for me, and I him, but we know very well that I am not in love, and I believe the same of him ‘I was fine alone, but the truth is that I’m better with you’ … he wrote it is true that women fall in love with what we hear and men with what they see .. because a beautiful woman will make any man drool but if you say the wrong thing, any woman can forget all the beauty that there was .. so your ‘fine alone’ can also mean that you don’t need me … and your ‘better’ is not and will never be enough for someone like me .. so ‘icché fo?’ (trans. ‘what do I do’) In the past, I could do anything for his love, and I tried within my limits I find him well and a great friendship has remained
I felt what we did together was beautiful, including the love we made .. and the truth is that I still want it yes … yes, I still want him but I’m at a crossroads in my life that I’m discovering things about myself .. living under the golden rule – behave the way you would like others to behave with you .. therefore do not lie and do not betray, sincerity for me goes beyond of the weakness of the flesh because the moments enjoyed are only moments that pass but the pain that remains can destroy so much ..
Piazza in Montecatini
For me, returning to the places where we have been has been nice .. it’s like being there, I had him still… we were together still we talked still… I breathed him still but he didn’t want it he had his conditions how I wish I could say yes .. makes me think so much but I know that I will continue to return to the places where we have been .. the coolness of Viareggio that pastry shop in Montecatini .. the bar in Pescia that’s fine with me
I remember the sleepless nights I had over six years ago when I first met you..
words on a screen that connected me to you, while I was with someone else.. and so were you.. your words kept me awake, awake regardless of the body laying next to me.. and all my thoughts were of you..
You made love to me in the most penetrable of ways, with your words, with the intellect of you..
no hand, fingers, lip, moist tongue and wet intimate contact could ever compare or obtain what you have of me..
I imagined you..
Used every verb to design you in my mind..
and it did you no justice..
I remember the night I first saw you over five years ago and how we drank to ease the nervousness and even if the love made that night was not what great romances are made of, I kept it tender in my heart and never forgot you.. because you never let me
You surfaced every chance You wanted.. you called the shots and I yielded every time and still do and even if it will end because it Will..
I want it to end me loving you tender and not enraged
remember a woman’s rage, it is never what you want..
yet I wanted you and still do..
thought of you as I lived in a foreign home, your home for years and learned your tongue because English words thrown together thoughtlessly were no longer enough to express what emerged in me when I thought of you, and still does, damn you..
for having that ability
but I will soon act upon the conviction that that Ability you have is because I gave it to you, and I will take it away..
just as soon as I learn how or just as soon as the effect wears off..
its only been about 2,000 days since our paths crossed
even if they decidedly do not run parallel, I can only pray they continue to progress
away from each other,
i have named her my enemy from the second i announced my birth..
from the moment i made use of my lungs
and screamed my existence to the world..
when i am suppose to acknowledge her existence
i become undone
i have learned to accept her
because i have realized
that i cannot make it without her
because without her i would have ended my days in an asylum
ingesting small round pills that would
force her into my being
and when anything good
enters my life these days
i ask for her company..
to never leave my side
but i still hate her
because i can never be her
because she can never be a part of who i am and because i need her to succeed..
It’s been a year since I wrote that entry. The one with the same date that spoke about my adventure with my little cousin Andrew.. At the time I was on route with the planning of my Life, having just moved back from Italy not so long before then.. so much has changed.. And tonight I sit in a comfortable bed in Buenos Aires, Argentina.. and it’s like I can’t and can believe it, my being in foreign countries is becoming commonplace but I don’t want to feel like it is, I want to reserve that feeling of wonder when you experience something new..
I was granted the opportunity to go to Buenos Aires, thanks to a friend I met and kept from studying and living in Florence, Geraldine Cunto.
Geraldine is Argentinian and amazingly talented and comes from a tight knit family that love and support her.. her mother Beatriz, I believe is the force behind that.. My safe introduction to Italy was thanks to her Dad Rolando.. but that’s another post I promise to write..
I stayed in Buenos Aires for one month in August and it was winter, their winter. I was given the opportunity to intern at La Martina and needless to say I had a blast.
Here are some pictures taken while in Buenos Aires..
Of the people, at work, on the bus.. of the market, the gardens, the streets, of their churches, their cemeteries, their architecture, their art, all that speaks volumes about them…
It hasn’t been a year since I came back from Italy..
June 3rd will make a year and certain things have fallen into place..
As soon as I returned I took the exams I needed to become a certified teacher and a driver..
I am now a certified high school teacher but have yet to sit behind the wheel..
Work is fine.. I am always fine when it comes to that department.. work, work and more work..
I even have an offer to return to Milan, nice huh? but I don’t want to go back..
I am ready to start in the classroom. I am ready to take on a room of hopeful and helpless teenagers. I am convinced that my calling is Now..
Not bad when it comes to things that can be controlled..
But then there is the ‘matters of the heart’
I have been on and off a ludicrous string of bad encounters with guys..
One was a teacher, David, close to my age with a little girl, she is twelve and even if it was a nice date, five feet away from Scarlet Johansson on a Broadway stage, he never called back..
We had a pseudo love affair in writing.. we wrote and wrote almost every day before meeting and it turned out to be just that.. words
Couple of emails from another guy, Richard, an Eastern European, works in a logistics company in Long Island.. and just as brief was his entrance into my life, so was his exit..
There was Brandon, young Jewish musician, played the guitar.. the most beautiful grey eyes.. but his age became a factor that broke the deal..
and through this entire roller coaster ride there was a familiar face.. actually two familiar faces.. hey when it rains it pours.. but that didn’t work either.. they didn’t work either..
it is as if the five years I spent abroad never passed by, its as if I’m still 29, the age I was when I left because the guys I kept meeting were younger than me.. and sometimes it wasn’t so bad, but then it was.. for me..
I am the oldest in my family.. for all of the siblings that are the oldest, they know what I mean.. I am the responsible one, the dependable one, the strong one.. and I’m tired.. I don’t want this job anymore..
I want someone to be those things for me.. even if I know I will do ALL of those things and more for them..
So along comes this older guy.. lucky number seven years older than me.. Its like my Heavenly Father has always known what I wanted and He placed him down here to meet me.. and he did.. We met three days ago, and I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge with him and walked it back..
We communicated very little before.. I wanted to write more, feel him out with words but I gathered he was the right to the point kinda guy.. so instead of giving in and give him my number, I invented a riddle for my number.. and he solved it and he called
So the Brooklyn Bridge it was, and there was where we met
He’s six feet tall, Irish-Italian and the oldest of four..
I loved, a little too much, that he’s tall.. I loved that when looking straight ahead I saw his shoulders, and the sun beating down on his neck.. We talked and talked of everything and nothing, the best kind of conversations.. till we arrived to Old Fulton Ave. where he wanted to sit and have pizza at Grimaldi’s.. a little pizza place with a looong line, any other day, it would have been inviting, but the sun was merciless and I really wasn’t looking forward to standing in the sun.. but I did, because he wanted to go there..
We ate and talked some more and moved our conversation to the pier one park, right on the water..
One unforgettable moment was when we were sitting together, I was looking in one direction, while he was looking at a couple with a baby.. I glanced over at the couple a few times but continued to look straight ahead at the Manhattan skyline.. he asks ‘Boy or Girl?’.. I swear my heart skipped a beat and I didn’t know what to answer.. he sensed my hesitation and responded, ‘I mean about the couple over there, you’re probably thinking ‘wow, he’s fast!”.. and I laughed, because yes, it was a question that took me completely off-guard.. I looked at the baby and said, ‘its a girl’..and he says, ‘well how did you know that?’, ‘she has pink socks’..
We commenced our walk back to Manhattan, stopped to get water and talked some more..
He spoke of his brothers and of his job and of his past, briefly
Asked me politely if I wouldn’t mind a ride back home and I accepted..
We walked to the garage on Reade St. and I treated him to Starbucks -‘my brother calls it Fourbucks, cause there is nothing less than four bucks’ he says.. ‘Not true’ I said, there’s the cafe Americano.. listen to me defending an entity that has commercialized one of the last legal drugs on the planet to the point of no return.. I got an iced coffee, he laughed at the fact that I had a Starbucks card.
We get on his Pickup truck and drive smoothly to the Westside highway and we spoke some more..
He spoke of his parents.. they met in college and his father was an English major (I secretly loved that) and he told me how his dad corrected his mother’s love letters, I outwardly loved that, I laughed so hard.. That was amazing.. I imagined these people by the way he spoke of them, and the love in his words made me want to meet them..
He left me a block away from home, because I didn’t want to take him off track on his way home.. He would have to continue North towards Westchester..
We briefly kissed goodbye and our lips were a bit closer this time.. The date was over and I rated it a success.. and a success it was, he called the next night..
I want to see him again and I believe he wants the same..
If it were up to me, I would be on the New Haven line as I type away.. but this time around, I want to do things right..
I want what I have never had, that thing that happens to undeserving women and the women of yester-year, I am liking him..
The hours I passed with him on Sunday seemed like minutes, that now seem like seconds.. and I want to experience that again, with him..
Talk again, talk some more, get to know him and him, me..
it’s all new, this is all new to me.. but this time around I wont ask,
so what now?..
This time around, even this will fall into place
Saturday 9:07 p.m.
Woke up at about 5 a.m. realizing Jorge never came back to sleep, just to return my keys.. I guess he found his ride back to New Jersey.. I guess it’s a bitch getting on public transportation from the Heights to Jersey after midnight..
Being my mother’s daughter, I left the bed empty JUST for HIM, Jorge, my cousins’ pseudo brother and Friday night occupant of the empty bed. The empty bed is in Andrews’s room and last night I was on Andrew duty, this meant sleeping near Andrew in case he woke up in the middle of the night.
But knowing he is the Friday night occupant, I slept on the couch and renounced the A.C. cooled room just for HIM. And he didn’t return to sleep in it.
Pissed cause I could have FALLEN ASLEEP in the cold instead of the HOT sofa, I got up and waddled my fat ass to the room. I made sure Andrew was ok, and threw myself in the cold bed… Ahhhhhh – I just LOVE the person that came up with refrigeration.
Woke up again at 9 a.m. This time thanks to Andrew. Went to his crib and attempted to fool him into falling asleep, just for another half hour… please please… yeah right!
So I take him in my arms and take him to the bed, where he asks me for the famous ‘strawberry baba’ which is a bottle of whole milk with strawberry flavored Quik.
I go to the kitchen and prepare his Majesty’s request.
Its wondrous how when a family goes a couple of good years childless, they become a bit frigid and scattered. But when a child is born, it changes everything, the new additions are like Royalty, because everything and anything is done for them. Every want and every need, no matter how frivolous, is a met command. Little fuckers.. you should see this kid, my cousins jump at every little cry.. Before he came, we hardly saw each other. Couple of phone calls here and there to set up missed meetings. Now we are here every weekend to take HIM to the park or the zoo or the museum… Shit!!
But I love it..
So he’s sipping on his bottle, me hoping his eyelids are closing, him becoming more and more awake.. DAMN that was COLD MILK!!… after half of the bottle, he leaps off the bed – Let the requesting continue
Andrew: – I wanna play
Me: – Ok go play
Andrew: – Andwoo and Wousie play
Meaning ‘Get up and play with me’ – so I think for half a second ‘do I let him wander off to the living room and torment my mom or do i get up and start my Saturday at 9 A.M.’ …. tick tock tick tock… ok it was more than half a second.. long enough for him to repeat – Andwoo and Wousie PLAY!!!
I got up
I brushed my teeth and washed my face knowing he would follow me and watch me.. love how little things can entertain little ones of two..
I placed him in front of the idiot box while I made him breakfast for him and I.. mashed a potato for him and toasted bread for me..
Sat him down and hoped he wouldn’t refuse his breakfast as he usually does. Eating is NOT his favorite thing to do, something that makes me doubt he belongs to THIS family.. and so it was.. – No, I don wang potatoes, I wang bread – (Little Dick!! thats MY breakfast, IM ON A DIET!! I WISH I could have potatoes and YOU want my whole wheat toast?!!) I break off a little piece, small enough for him to chew and use the rest to bribe him into eating his mash potatoes… No Good, he eats my bread and the potatoes go to the garbage..
Time for Sponge Bob, but my mom puts some Spanish Cartoons, hating how we speak too much English to him. The lifelong argument ‘Ustedes hablan Español’.. ‘Hablenle Español‘.. well more like commands than arguments..
I fall asleep on the couch and when I wake up (12:30), I have this desire of just Getting out.. GO OUT!!
and Andrew reads my thoughts
‘I wanna go out!!’
so I clean his face and change his diaper and GO OUT!!
All the way to the elevator – my mother – ‘Agarrale la mano, no lo sueltes!!’ and I’m like – ‘NO! Yo lo voy a dejar ir, y que se lo lleve un carro!!!’… Lady I am the oldest Grandchild in this family, I have changed diapers, fed, babysat, helped with the homework, have gone to PARENT-TEACHER NIGHTS in my TEENS!!! are you kidding?!!
so we are outside… I take him to McD’s and I get my iced coffee and nuggets for him.. and then to the 148th street kiddie playground. Now at this moment I’m realizing how DAMN HOT it is, and how maybe it wasn’t such a great idea coming high noon to a playground to let loose this little demon..
He’ll have a Blast and I’ll get sunstroke!!
I’m on him like a tick on a street dog, realizing that his favorite thing in the playground could actually hurt him – the slide! – at high noon?!! that metal slab could cook his little thighs to the touch!! so i explain to him – ‘It’s hot.. you can’t sit on it..’ I touch it with a finger and mimic getting burned so he can understand its dangerous.. He touches it with his little finger and quickly removes it and repeats – ‘It’s Hot!’
So I receive a call from my cousin Tiesha, his surrogate mom, asking where were we..
‘At the park’.. She responds ‘This early?’ Obviously she has done this before… stupid me..
So I take him home… and figured I had all afternoon OFF, with NOTHING to do.. a.k.a Go Insane Time.. so I buy some eggplants and decide to make eggplant lasagna or Eggplant Parmigiana.
Now THIS dish right here, although simple, very few ingredients, takes a DAMN long time to do..
its all in the PREPARATION, slice and egg and bread and fry the eggplants..
and I ALWAYS make too Much, I thought 4 eggplants would be just right, YEAH right!! more like, too much, enough for two trays… but of course NOTHING goes to waste in our family, thanks to our grandma..
My cousin Ralphy was home, Thank Goodness!! Someone else on Andrew Duty..
I clean, slice, soak in water and prepare the eggs for the batter..
I prepare the sauce..
Little by little they all start appearing. Tiesha arrives with her husband and friend of the family, German.
And I cook and fry eggplants and stir the sauce… My grandfather arrives… and I cook…
Tiesha grates the cheese.. Polly O! is more like – Polly Oh Shit that’s gotten expensive!! 6.50$ for mozzarella?!! Whatever!! it’s not even real mozzarella!! so of course get the no frills…
My other cousin Steve arrives, a.k.a. the human vacuum cleaner, and eats some of the fried eggplant slices and this one time I’m grateful, because it was too much..
The ingredients are ready and comes time to make the actual dish that has to go in the oven…
Layer and layer of fried eggplants and sauce and cheese.. one tray… two trays.. and a broken OVEN!! ARGHHHH… so Thank Goodness, I have access to the oven next door.. Next door, another nightmare.. but not bad enough to NOT use the oven…
I go back downstairs, I need diet pepsi..
I run into my aunt Carmen and automatically wish I had my cell on me so I could call upstairs and warn them she was coming up.. she can’t stand my grandfather, her father… long story…
no luck, but oh well..
So the Lasagnas are done, and diets are broken.. they liked it… They BETTER had liked it!!! SHIT!!
I love cooking, aside from it being something to do, I like the end result. It feeds my loved ones.. a good that lately has become a bad, food=love..
Tiesha and German tells us of their nights adventure of drunken women in the heights coming on to their friends, and amongst them JORGE!! Oh so THAT’S where he was!!!
”Morenito, Tu Ta Bueno Morenito!!!’ Yeah I use to think that too, and I too was drunk..
So my aunt and cousins sit in the living room, watching the MJ top ten videos.. Again…
and little by little every one retires to their lives and I remain with Andrew and Fisher Price on the computer.
He KNOWS!!! Every time I sit down in that same spot on the table, HE KNOWS I’m gonna get on the computer and starts..
‘I wanna seeeee.. I wanna seeeee’ translation ‘ Stop what you thought you were gonna do and pay attention to ME’… He’s two.. if he were three I would have shoved his little ass and told him to fuck off.. or maybe its that I’m 34 and my patience has changed or matured or WHATEVER!!
Or is it that maternal thing they speak of.. so I give in and up on my lap he comes and we print out coloring pages and go over our A,B,C’s and play the animal match game… DAMN! My Leg is falling asleep!!
Grandma: – ‘Toma! Dale de comer’
YIPEE!! Feeding time for the little one and FREE time for me.. my aunt Carmen proceeds to feed him and I’m finally on and after checking some emails realize it wasn’t much that I HAD to do, and I would love for him to bug me again..
I wanna seeeee, I wanna seeeeee…
my cousin Tiesha starts cleaning and cleaning and the cleaning extends to the fridge.. wow, the fridge..
now the fridge in our house is not just the household appliance used to store food… it has become the appliance that stores food that then becomes scientific experiments that can evaluate the length of time foods can be stored WITHOUT going BAD.. You CANT throw food away in this house.. The only acceptable way food can be discarded in this house, is through a mouth. Willing or not, food will be reheated, rehashed, reused and/or recooked to be ‘re’served without us knowing. It is RIDICULOUS!! Fine, my grandma has lived through wartimes but COME ON!! Are you willing to food poison your family cause you don’t want to throw away last month’s half eaten birthday cake?!! I can see it now – 78 year old grandmother of Thirteen taken away in handcuffs for poisoning her family by serving two year old frozen beef steaks!! IM TOTALLY SERIOUS!! That was the last thing my cousin threw in the garbage – meat dated 2003!!
Now guys, don’t get me wrong, it is safe to eat in my house.. i do make sure all ingredients are freshly bought, its just be cautious of anything left to be defrosted!! KIDDING!!
My cousin’s wife and friend, Nancy texts me – ‘The lasagna was great, my mom Loved it’… SEEEE, it’s safe to dine at the Carvajal’s..
Time for Andrews’s bath and the last strawberry baba of the day…
He’s out on the sofa like a meth addict after his dose.. eyelids closing, head wobbly and arms fallen over, not wanting to let go of the bottle… OFF you GO MY MAN!! To bed it is… and I sit finally free of him, able to get back on the computer…
and tell about my August FIRST, Two thousand and 9