One day old

Yesterday Natey and I met my girlfriend for lunch and after a very delicious lunch we headed back home in traffic for 40 minutes of mommy singing (nonstop!) You are my Sunshine (it soothes Nathan in any situation), I rushed inside to put my baby to bed as soon as we arrived. While nursing him my eyes watered as I relaxed and caressed him, kissed him, and gently ran my fingers up and down his arms. Never had I imagined how much I was going to be able to love a little person that makes me work harder than I ever have around the clock, smiles when I’m upset (he is getting his bottom teeth and thinks it’s funny to bite my nipple), and purposely throws toys so he can watch me pick them up.

Nursing is such a touchy subject with a lot of moms, they either love it or hate it. I’ve only met a handful of moms that don’t feel one way or another. First of all, it’s quite difficult when you think about it. If you’re exclusively nursing, you can’t go far without your baby (you gotta feed him) or your pump (you gotta keep your freezer nice and full). You can’t wear any of your nice clothes because you will surely leak and stain it (I’ve done it a dozen times!) and or worse, you’ll get weird stares when your boobs go off like faucets and all you can do is put your finger on your nipple, apply pressure and hope it stops (I’ve also been a victim of this). Yes, there are products you can use like reusable organic bamboo pads, or  throw away pads, but one day you’ll be so tired you forget to put them on and BAMM! it happens. It’s all pretty funny now, and kinda sad it still happens to me, but I love it.

Not surprising, I’ve become way more relaxed as Natey and I spend more and more time together. I no longer panic at his first cough, I don’t stay up looking at the monitor to make sure he is still breathing at night, and I don’t run at the first sound of his cry. He knows I’ll come when he really needs me and I’m more than happy to supply milk, hugs and kisses as I know one day he will probably be too ‘old’ to kiss his momma. I love nursing. It’s the time I allot to Natey and no one else. Our one on one time. And although he thinks he is getting mommy time, I’m actually the lucky one that gets to nourish my baby all day and all night 🙂

Good night.

Follow me at confessionsofawmc! Xo

These are a few of the words that come to mind when I think of my mother but two of them stand out more than most, STRONG and FAITH. My mother is the only woman I know that can make me angry with her brutal honesty one second and lift my spirits the next by adding two words. She has an incredible way of making you believe in something that you very well may think will never take place, and then to your surprise it happens. Her response, of course, is to look at you as if you were crazy ever to doubt.

I have so many wonderful memories of my childhood with my mother and I have always considered myself one of her best friends. Our relationship has not been perfect but who has a best friend they never fight with! She has been there for every major happening and for every disaster I have gotten myself into, and in most cases she even predicted some of them but allowed me the space to make my own discoveries.

I have always known my mother was a strong woman but recently, her strength has left me speechless.

My mother was detected with breast cancer in 2002, right around the time I was packing my bags, heading to Berkeley. I was devastated. I couldn’t breath. My whole world was turned upside down. But my mother made it through with God as her primary physician. Since then she changed her diet and limits herself to organic healthy eating 99% of the time. She made a change that most people couldn’t do and she made it over night.

Today we experienced a moment of strength. She needed me as much as I needed her and although all I wanted to do was take her by her hand and say ‘ mom, we don’t have to do this’, I looked at her in reassurance that we would be done soon and we were both going to be fine. I felt hollow inside and if I could’ve ran out, I would have ran and ran and ran until I collapsed in exhaustion but when she looked at me, she saw nothing but a strong facial expression that said lets move forward.

Today my mother gave me a gift. A gift of faith. I don’t know how spiritual you are but the bible has a reference to a mustard seed. It says if only our faith was the size of a mustard seed, we could move mountains! I don’t know if you have ever seen a mustard seed, but it’s incredibly small. When my mom talks to me about things that seem nearly impossible, I believe otherwise because her faith does not waver. My mother has favor and I can’t wait to see what the exciting new plans are for her life.

I love you Mami! 

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 😉