Her ponytail

Being a parent has to be hands down the hardest job in the world.  I mean, think about it:  you can do work that requires physical activity, work that requires emotional involvement, work that requires brain engaging, and work that is repetitive and monotonous...  but the only job I know of that requires all of someone's entire being is being a parent, as it requires the involvement of all activities mentioned above. 

But never before today did I realize exactly to what extent emotions can get involved.  While moving back to the L.A. area was something I've wanted for a long time, I have taken my kids away from their "best friends".  Specifically, I took Clara away from Veronnie.

Clara and Veronnie became friends because their mothers are best friends.  In time, while growing through toddlerdom into little girls, they developed a great friendship and a love for one another I never witnessed in girls their age.  I could watch either one look at the other with amazing tenderness...  always taking each other's side, Veronnie looking out for Clara at their school, Clara admiring all the new things the older Veronnie could teach her. 

When time came for Veronnie to move onto the 1st grade, Clara was put into a younger class.  The transition was easier for Clara, as she was staying in the same preschool, but Veronnie was venturing into uncharted waters. 

On Veronnie's first day of school her mom called me overcome by emotion:  Veronnie told her she had heard Clara calling her at her new school.  She turned back one way, then the other, but didn't see her...  Later on the same thing happened again, but this time when she turned back to see where Clara was she said she smelled her... convinced her friend was somehwere nearby.

At that moment I realized the value of their friendship.  I've also noticed that in my daughter's golden, bouncing wave tied up in a ponytail much of its luster is gone...  most likely because of the winter... 

...yet I can't help but think that along with Veronnie in Indiana she left half of her sunshine...

Fuk Yo and The Happy Hookers

I must admit that after moving from a place where the "Bad Ass Coffee" shop had to close down because of people picketing and protesting its name, I'm happy to report that where I live now one can find both the "Fuk Yo" japanese restaurant and "The Happy Hookers" needlepoint/knitting shop.

At first I felt sympathy for the Japanese restaurant, thinking they probably didn't know the language well enough (there's always room for the benefit of doubt in my head), but as we walked in, the first thing we saw was a life-size plastic ET toy with his lit-up finger pointing straight up, palm facing in.  And given that he does not have all five fingers, well...  that's exactly what it was, welcoming all through the door:  ET proudly sitting on a couch and wearing a t-shirt that displayed "FUK YO".

Yes yes yes.  And the sushi is excellent.

Knowing better than before, I didn't even bother to try figure out if the owners of The Happy Hookers spoke English or not.  I'm sure I know the answer.

Giddly going to look for more,

Gabriela

Ahoy, Matey!!

I AM THE CAPTAIN!!!

Of my own boat, that is...  Every morning I wake up and I have to regulate the intake of anything that goes into my body.  If I take my meds early enough I have plenty of energy, especially if I drink a coffee.  But if I overdo the caffeine, then I get the shakes, which means I must take something to counteract those...  Sometimes I forget to take the meds early enough, so I have to lay down until they kick in, which sometimes they don't.  Then I have to take major caffeine or an energy drink (Red Bull) to see if I can get back on track. 

The rest of the day, I spend watching how I feel and making decisions like caffeine or not, strong (again Red Bull) or slow (Diet Pepsi) or something in between like coffe again and so the day goes.

I am getting very frustrated and worn out having to pretty much live for my brain as it was some kind of special needs child...  I believe this is the time when my only worries should be my children...

For example, at the moment I had to take something to stop the shakes and I can't really type anymore...  Am I feeling a bit of self-pity right now?? 

Yes I am.  And right now I think I deserve to.

In an off-color mood,

Gabriela

Honey contains Play-Doh

According to some of us, that is the case. 

It happened a couple of years ago, when our son was only about 3 years old.  He was going through that phase of wanting to eat the strangest of things.  His delicacy of choice:  brand new (fortunately not used) play-doh. 

I had tried and tried to get him to stop, but he's as sneaky as he is smart, so unbeknownst to me one day in the month of May (gratuitous, it just rhymed) he entertained his palate with a few bites of the (I imagine) very chewey stuff.  Was this his version of poor man's bubble gum?  Or did my rule of "no bubble gum because you swallow it" make him so desperate that he, not unlike a junkie, found anything to satisfy that cheap thrill???

Play-doh Junkie decided to cap off his meal with some honey.  He had been so good and quiet (I still didn't know anything) that I told him yes, he could have a little spoon of honey while he sat watching TV.

Then it came: "Mommy!!!  I don't feel good!!!!"  and he promptly started throwing up.  As I held him while he puked trying to help him through what I think is one of the worst feelings in the world, I started to see chunks of green blob seeping out of his little mouth.  "WHAT the...???" 

I cannot explain what I felt at that point.  I knew he had only eaten that little bit of honey, and earlier on he'd only had cereal, which did NOT look anything like green blob...   So while racing through the mommy filing cabinet in my brain, searching for the answer to what this could be all these thoughts came up: 

"Did I give him too much honey?", "Did he sneak more honey and gulp it down suddenly so he wouldn't be caught?", "Was there some kind of odd chemical reaction to honey mixed with Honey Bunches of Oats?", "Do the 2 honeys produce green blobby offspring?", "DOES HONEY CONTAIN GREEN BLOBBY MOLECULES THAT COME TOGETHER IN ONE'S STOMACH IF YOU INGEST TOO MUCH???"

The laboratory assistant in me took over and I grabbed one of the slippery suckers.  It felt like slimy play-doh, it had the consistency of play-doh, it was the color of the play-doh I'd recently boug...  DANG IT!!! 

So last night and two years later, little one wanted mini waffles for desert.  He wanted syrup with them which I did not have.  So I gently suggested he try them with honey, "You'll like it, it's really good with waffles" I said.  "NOOOOO, MOMMY!!!!!!!" he screamed, terrifying fear in his voice, "HONEY HAS PLAY-DOH IN IT!!!!!!"

Did you know that?

Confessions from the pit stand...

There was a time when he drove cars that to me seemed way more dangerous than the ones he drives now...  and there was a time when the fatal accidents seemed more frequent.

I've been asked as often as my husband has been asked what it's like to drive in the 500, what I feel when he races.  What I feel??  Let's see... a medley of feelings that would deserve a whole new name as a single feeling which I cannot explain...  I usually try to hold up until he gives me that last kiss "goodbye/I love you" before he puts on his helmet.  Then I know he does not see me anymore, so I let it go, but I don't get to exhale. 

During the scarier times I used to have difficulty breathing, which normally led to me crying on my way back to the pit area.  I was painfully aware that others thought I was just too much, but it was too important to me and I became the only one living in my own little world.  The world where until I met him, I was alone with my dog.  It was my dog and I with no one to really call my own or be anyone's claim.  My mom had her husband, all my siblings with their own families and I just floated around from one guy's arms into another, seemingly always looking away from the arms that held me.

So once this very precious soul got inside a machine that would go faster than my eyes could follow it, I was ridden with anxiety.  I'm not a drama queen, or maybe I am,  but I had just been a witness to too many accidents and the horrible feeling that comes with that territory.  I never assumed the worst, but any kind of injury is always a problem.  Even for those who didn't have fatal accidents, many times what was left in the aftermath was a faint reminder of the driver that used to be...  and of course, as my glass-half-empty outlook dominated, I always figured something really bad would happen and the love of my life would be sucked into this, our family curse I once believed in.

Outside of worrying about your own man, there is also the worry about the others, your friends' husbands or boyfriends...  It was a crapshoot, a roulette wheel spin every race weekend that would decide who would be the chosen one to lose, crash, get hurt, get seriously hurt, lose a ride, or lose a lot more.

I never understood the whole racing concept.  I don't think I ever will, because everytime I heard the awful news of a fatal accident, all I could do was cry with utmost anger while wondering WHY ON EARTH these men choose racing as a career.  However my thoughts, I've already told my husband many times that I will always support and encourage him in what he likes to do and what makes him happy. 

I'm just glad he's already 48 years old... and he can't race forever...!  :-)

Go, Speed Racer, GO!!!

Our son found his Speed Racer movie again, so he immediately popped it into the player and all of us benefitted from his taste in entertainment.

Today I celebrated (haha) the 1 week mark of our phones not working.  I called SBC and complained because they were supposed to be here yesterday, their website said the problem was fixed on the 1st and one of their phone guys noted on our records he was here yesterday morning (he wasn't) and couldn't fix anything because our garden equipment was in the way...  funny, but we don't have ANY garden equipment.  Since we don't have as much land as in Indy, we have someone else care for the yard now... hence no equipment...

I was fine while on the phone w/SBC until I was told no one could come again to fix things until tomorrow...  I then realized that husband was racing tomorrow and God forbid anything happens I won't be able to call out or get calls coming in.  I mean, I can on my cell, but 90% of the calls and the conversations get cut off (except, of course, that one conversation I had with my friend Patti about God and by pure miracle we had a perfect conversation for about 45 minutes...)  Desperate measures kicking in prompted me to:  forward my cell phone to the fax line, disable the automatic fax answer and plug in a regular phone to the fax, so I can receive calls that way, to my cell...  I feel much better now..!

SO, when we talked yesterday, my very own Speed Racer couldn't wait to tell me that he'd been the quickest during practice.  Unfortunately, things changed from then to qualifying because his teammate (who was qualifying the car) ran off so they are starting 35th...  As usual in racing one can go from hero to zero faster than one can drive, and so it goes...  I wish he drove the Mach 5, but I can do without the monkey.  And Trixie.  I would never want to be called Trixie...