The other day I went to the social security office to begin the process of changing my name. It entails quite a bit, especially when you get to the part where you have to go to the bank, human error being the worse. It’s been almost a year since my name was legally changed but I couldn’t officially change it. I remember filling out the marriage license form with Z. I wasn’t able to click on the submit button for days. I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to change my name. Everyone thought I should, especially my mother and Z but I couldn’t do it quite yet. So I sat on the application and without meaning to do so, we ended up getting legally married April 20th.

In the end I changed my last name but it doesn’t take effect until you make all the necessary changes.

1. Get a new social security card with your new name
2. Take that new card to the DMV along with your marriage license and get a new ID
3. Go to your banking institution and change your name on your account (s)
4. Call all your credit card companies, insurance, etc., and hope they will make the changes without asking for too much (copies of forms…)
5. OPTIONAL but very important let your voting center know about the change, update passport  (will cost you the same price as if you were renewing)…and you get the point. 

So here I am beginning the process (I’m on step one, waiting for my new card in the mail) after much affliction. I’ve always loved my last name. It was my fathers gift to me, given to him by his French rooted father who settled in Guatemala. I never had a close relationship with my grandfather but I did with my father. My father had a big role in making me the savvy businesswoman I became and teaching me the importance of being a parent to a child as apposed to a friend. My father was a black belt and although he didn’t send me to karate school he gave me and my sisters self defense lessons and he never let us “win”. If you didn’t try with all your little girl might, you would end up on the floor, and if you were me, you would end up in tears knowing that you weren’t able to beat your opponent.

My father taught me to love as passionately as I could, to look for the good in people but always be cautious, to look people in the eye when speaking, to give a good hand shake and to speak clearly when presenting to others but most importantly, to be a good listener. Everything, he said, will come from listening, learning, growth, opportunity and personal development and thus far, my father has been right. When I think of Dubon, I think of my father and all the lessons he taught me while I thought he was just trying to drive me insane. I think of my siblings, being little and going on scavenger hunts in our huge back yard. I think of the nights we spent camping in Lake Perris telling stories we knew would give us nightmares. I think of the summer nights we all spent in the pool. I think of all the pets my father allowed us to own so much so it felt like a zoo that drove my mother crazy. I think of all the instruments and extracurricular activities my father encouraged us to learn and never let us quit.

Dubon is deep rooted within me but I’m ready to add to the great base my parents molded and can only hope to do the same with Natey.

Ok, so I may be exaggerating just a tad bit, but I definitely felt like Alexander felt the whole day of his happenings; nothing could go right. It was Saturday night and Z and I were going to the Tiesto concert at the Staples Center. We had suite tickets as it was also a work event. The suite was just as expected and I was having a good time for the whole first five minutes before I decided I wanted to leave. So let me back track a bit.

We were supposed to have dinner with some clients prior to the event which started at 7 but were running late so decided to go straight to the Staples Center only to find out that the concert went on until midnight (we thought it ended at 10)! I was starving and really wasn’t looking forward to nachos (although on most days they’re my favorite) and chicken tenders. House music, which is what this sounded like to me, was entertaining for a while before we all came to the conclusion that it sounded like the same song being played over and over again with flashing lights going around the stadium (no glow sticks allowed)! Having little to entertain ourselves with, I proceeded to talk to our guests who began to feel like they were too old for the concert (they are in their late twenties!) as the only appropriate thing to do was to fist pump and move your hands around with your imaginary glow sticks. I hung out a couple hours before I let Z know I was ready to go, to which he responded ” stop being such a mommy”…in his defense he was joking but I was a bit irritated and still hungry. I composed myself and politely asked we go home again.

As I’m sitting down having a conversation with our guests, a full glass of cold contents spill all over me. I dry myself off, and ask Z if we can go home. To his defense, again, he missed the whole drink spilling scene. I continue my conversation and down goes another drink. This time it’s not cranberry juice, its a clients whiskey glass. I hate the smell of whiskey. I had witnesses both times and none of us could understand what was going on. This time however Z saw the entire thing, helped me clean myself off and said his goodbyes so we could start heading home.

On our way out I remind him I’m till hungry so we proceed to go to a local diner that’s supposed to be very good. As we are walking towards the diner, Z changes my name to Patricia to which my friends respond with confusion…I quickly clarify to all that my name is indeed Karla and not to worry, Z is not going crazy he has simply gone back in time.
 
                                                 

We would have shared a meal in silence had it not been for my amazing friends who cleared the air. We finally get home and we go to bed in silence. I wake up at 3:00 am running towards the toilet with an intense urge to throw up. Z is in the other restroom. Our friends are also not feeling too good (I find out the next morning). Yes, you guessed it, food poisoning from the only thing we shared that evening, my favorite, pancakes.

P.S. I forgot to mention I woke up the next morning with a sore throat. 

It was March 5th, 1990 when my mother’s water broke. I had no idea what was going on. Everyone was running from one side to another and I stood in a kitchen corner crying, wanting my mother to cuddle me. My father came over and told me that my little sister was coming and that my mother wasn’t going to be able to take me to school. I could see my mothers facial expressions and I knew she was in pain as she kneeled down in front of me, told me she loved me, not to worry and that she would be back soon. I knew this day would come, I had had 9 months to prep mentally, knowing very well I would no longer be the baby and I was devastated. Little did I know that the coming of my little sister would be the best gift my parents would ever give me. 

The first vivid memory of DeeDee was when she came home. They placed her on the couch so everyone could see. I couldn’t see. There were so many people over and I was so little. By the time I made it up close I wanted nothing more than all the attention this little bundle of joy was getting. I was sad. But as DeeDee started to reach different milestones I fell in love with her more and more. She was the baby that fit perfectly in my baby stroller, she had the softest little hands that fit perfectly in mine, she had the perfect toothless smile that cheered me up every time I had tears running down my cheeks (which was very often!), she was the little sister everyone dreams of and I was blessed to receive.

DeeDee is now an adult. She is studying child development and has worked in so many children ministries and centers, impacting children by simply being around them. Some call her the baby whisperer because there has never been a baby that she hasn’t been able to console and have them fall in love with her. She is passionate about children, ensuring that they are instructed and disciplined in a loving environment.

DeeDee your are so incredibly special to me, Z and Natey. If it wasn’t for my milk factory that Natey can smell a mile away, he’d probably would never even look back at me 😉 Thank you for being an AMAZING sister, always being there for us, being the super positive and calm voice in the delivery room and for the endless love you shower Natey with every day of the week.

Cho Cho 😉