Pearmama

Sex Ed from the 70's

2012-01-28T00:22:00.000-08:00

It used to be much easier to answer my son's questions about life, women and sex. I guess in my mind, we were years away from the realities of it all. Our conversations were in theory.

That is no longer the case.

I've now got two teenage boys in my house. I also have a preteen who is full of stank attitude and he thinks he knows everything. Their voices are growing into a deep bass, their feet have grown to yeti size and they're now taller than me. They beat their chests and ooze testosterone. My InStyle magazines have disappeared on several occasions. Every other girl they see is "hot"--especially Jessica Alba and Megan Fox (according to the YouTube history). They are not shy about vocalizing their maleness.

When I am confronted with their hairy armpits, their widening chests and the fuzz on their upper lip, I realize that the physical changes we once talked about are now manifesting themselves. That sex talk we had a few years ago? It needs to be revised. Having the sex talk with an 8 year old, a 10 year old and an 11 year old is much much different than having the sex talk with an 11 year old, 13 year old and a 14 year old. I have to add my youngest boy Cyan into the equation, since he'll turn 10 in April. He hasn't been enlightened like his older brothers were.

You can see it on their faces. They know exactly what I'm talking about. And this creeps me out. These days, I'm referring them to their father more and more. It's just too much for my delicate feminine sensibilities. I don't want to think about my sons having urges. Or spending long periods of time (wink wink) in the bathroom with the door locked.

When I saw the following video, I knew I would have to find a way to emulate this mother. She had that clinical, informative tone to her voice. She was calm, sympathetic and she didn't make her son feel like a cochino, as I probably would have done.

Sigh.

I've bookmarked this video, for future reference. But I can't even front--if I ever walked into this scenario I would pray to God in Heaven that a giant hole open up in the ground and I would gladly jump right in. Gladly.

An ode to fat thighs

2012-01-18T11:49:00.000-08:00

It's late and we finally make it to bed.

"Come here and put those ham hocks over me. " Michael whispers.

Obediently, I slide my legs over his and he is cozily tucked away underneath half of my body. I've become this warm flesh blanket.

I listen to my husband sigh contentedly and then drift off into quiet snores, if one can even describe his snoring as quiet. I lay in the darkness, very awake, contemplating how many times people have called my thighs "ham hocks" or "thunder thighs" and it has always held a negative connotation. Ever since I was baby/toddler/preschooler/kindergartener/grade schooler/middle schooler/high schooler/college student/wife/mother--you get it. I've always had these big thighs.

As a baby girl in East L.A.

Me and my little brother, enjoying the sprinkler on a hot, sunny day. Peep the yellow bikini. Thanks, Mom.

Rocking the Stray Cats tee and yellow shorts that I couldn't get to button. I was eleven years old.

It really used to bother me. The names. The big thighs.

When you are a young girl with womanly curves that you have no idea what to do with, it's uncomfortable. Everyone else had slim, girlish thighs. They could easily sit down and cross them, with minimal effort. They could get away with wearing shorts (that would button all the way!) without it looking too provocative. When they sat Indian-style--or, as my girls call it, criss cross apple sauce--they didn't have the occasional dimple or cellulite.

But I'm not a little girl anymore, I'm a grown woman. And these big thighs have planted me solidly on the ground for almost forty years (yes, forty is right around the corner--like next month--eeeeek!). Ham hocks and thunder thighs no longer hold a negative connotation. Yes, I still have a hard time squeezing these behemoths into leggings and tights but listen.

These thighs right here.
They are really warm to cuddle with.
They hold up the rest of my generous frame.
They are adored.

New art: cross paper collage

2012-01-17T02:59:00.000-08:00

One of my dream was to be an illustrator. I loved books and I loved drawing and painting so it just seemed like a logical arrangement. I studied design and illustration in college but soon after I graduated, the only thing I illustrated was a dirty diaper, nap time and Elmo's World. Not that I'm complaining--I love being a mother.

But this art thing is equally important because it's the fire that burns inside me. Without that fire I would be...a vessel that is cold to the touch.

Ever since I was in college, I've had a love for collage. I've done quite a few collages over at Modern Art 4 Kids. Knowing that you can create and manipulate something completely unique from things that are already "made" is so intriguing to me. I had this idea to add another cross to my collection for my kitchen, which I had just painted a nice orange sherbet. But as usual, my art has a mind of it's own and at the end of it all, it found it's way to another home. Sigh.

But the road is always fun, regardless.

This collage is different because I decided to use Mod Podge as the binder. Normally, I get a happy buzz from the rubber cement fumes but this time around, I wanted the collage to have the appearance of tile and I knew that the high gloss Mod Podge would give it that exact affect. And the fumes were equally enjoyable.

So I began to cut out shapes and lay them down on a piece of wood. I used scrapbooking paper, painted paper and tissue paper. I didn't use a sketch for this piece. I am the anti-sketch queen. Drives my husband crazy.

When I work on a collage, I experience this really focused, really calm peaceful feeling. I am working in a very detailed manner, yet I am highly attuned to my surroundings. This is when I really listen to what is going on in my home and I meditate on things.

The Mod Podge stays sticky enough where I still have the opportunity to move things around if I want to. And I usually want to. What does this mean? I complete this entire collage with sticky fingers. It's one of those projects where I start and keep working until I finish.

Almost finished, just adding a few last minute touches. At this point I have to stop myself or else I can just keep going and going. And eventually go insane.

Vibrant and true. I like it.

DIY: lace insert tee

2012-01-06T01:33:00.000-08:00

I love the fact that our society is experiencing a surge of hand-made creativity. A craft renaissance, if you will. People are beginning to realize that manufactured items doesn't necessarily mean better. Thanks to sites like Etsy and Pinterest and the legion of DIY blogs, it's cool to "make your own stuff".

It's about freaking time.

With this is mind, I wanted to share this simple DIY top I made for my daughter Maya. Miss Maya is quite the fashionista--she loves the idea of putting an outfit together, playing dress up and going shopping. I love to have my little ladies looking cute and stylish as much as the next mama but the numbers on the price tag often make me want to weep. So it's time to get creative.

I saw this young girl wearing the cutest top--a sweatshirt style top with lace cut-outs in it--at Forever 21 a couple of months ago, and I immediately began to figure out how I could recreate it on my own. I found something similar on Pinterest, but without any kind of source or tutorial, so I just used my noggin and figured out how to do it myself. I loved the idea of a basic heart shape for the cut-out, since it was for Maya.

I bought this basic long-sleeved tee from Old Navy for $6 in heather grey.

Find the spot where you want your heart to go. I chose the back, right in the middle. Now, looking back I realize I made the rookie mistake of not turning the tee inside out before I traced the heart on it but oopsies.

My heart was looking kind of funky so I folded the tee in half and used that old snow flake technique so I could have an even-shaped heart. Make sure you have sharp scissors and you aren't using a dull pair of craft scissors like I was.

See how off my heart was! I bought a yard of white lace for $2/yd. Next time I will buy black lace. Oooh la la. I traced around the heart cut out and used it as a template. Make sure you give yourself a couple of extra inches around the edges.

Since the top is for my daughter who is eight years old, I doubled up on the lace. I felt better about the extra coverage. If you are making a top for yourself, by all means hoochie it up and give yourself one layer of lace. You little minx!

Here is where I used my smarts and turned the shirt inside out. I then glued two panels of lace onto the t-shirt with fabric glue and let it dry for 24 hours. Yes, fabric glue. What? I'm lazy and sewing machine-challenged. Don't judge me.

That's it. I know, mind-blowingly easy, right?

After the glue was dry, I turned the shirt right side out. It looked super cute! The white lace looked cute and age-appropriate, and the double paneling was perfect--you could tell that it was lace but you couldn't necessarily see through it, either.

Close up. You probably can't see it, but there is a tiny bit of ball point pen on the t-shirt from me tracing on the outside of the shirt like a numbnut. No worries, it washed out.


Work, Miss Maya!

I really wanted to cut additional panels from the front of the shirt right by the neck so it could be visually interesting from the front but meh, I'll save that for the next one. Oh, before I forget it, when I washed the shirt, one of the lace panels came loose. Stoopid fabric glue. So, I will be hand-sewing the panels soon.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy (as Maya likes to say).

This tee is cute, comfortable and offers a little somethin' somethin' from your average Old Navy tee.

Hey, you're fat! Tell us something we don't already know.

2012-01-05T13:03:00.000-08:00

I have been reading about fat activism for a few years now. It feels good to be aware--to have your eyes opened on things. When I read Spilt Milk's words on the fat body in the post I am not your cautionary tale, I was ready to wave my white church gloves in the air and dance down the aisles.

In some ways fat bodies are our current culture’s dumping ground for fear and loathing: we are the go-to places for thrashing out anxiety about consumption and excess, death and disease, work ethic and individual responsibility, boundaries and restraint, ugliness and beauty. Fat bodies are politicised — even politicians literally use fat as short-hand for bad, wrong, excessive. Fat bodies are ridiculed, dehumanised, demonised and charged with meaning.

Can I get an amen?

Today, I am blogging about Georgia's Anti-Obesity ads and pure and unadulterated fat-shaming over at Babycenter MOMformation: Fat-shaming children (and their parents). Please go and check it out!

Custom-painted TOMS shoes: Psalm 23

2012-01-03T11:58:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year and all that good stuff.

If the Mayans were wrong and the world doesn't self-destruct in 2012, I suspect that I'll be painting lots more TOMS shoes. I can see it now, the apocalypse brewing in the center of the Earth, and I'm sitting at my desk, taping off the soles of the shoes so paint doesn't get on them. Meteors crashing onto the Earth's surface and I'll be sketching letters. Tsunamis and earthquakes terrorizing the people and I'll be painting Bible verses on shoes.

All la-di-dah and whatnot.

Heh.

December came and went and with it was my virtual TOMS shoe sweatshop. Michael and I were cranking out TOMS shoes left and right. Right up until Christmas Eve. I'm happy to say everyone got their shoes before Christmas. Whew. Alongside all of the Philippians 4:13 shoes, we also created a different design that turned out quite nicely, if I do say so myself.

When the client asked for Psalm 23 (his wife's favorite scripture), I thought hmmm, this might get a little tricky.

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.

You feel me? Thankfully, they were happy to have only the first verse. It was nice to do something different. They came out really cute in grey script and pink highlights. I know, so modest.

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.

Anyhow, if you are interested in getting a pair of TOMS painted, be creative. You can choose whatever color shoe you want, your favorite color combination and your favorite verse. See, it's all about you. They are on your feet so they should express something about the wearer, right?

Once again, you can email me at pearmama@gmail.com if you're interested in getting a pair of shoes hand-painted.

Three things

2011-12-28T01:01:00.001-08:00

I agonized over the fact that I couldn't shower my lovely babies with a ton of gifts for Christmas this year. I felt discouraged, angry, sad and then resolute: we will not fall apart because we can't buy our kids a ton of gifts.

In the past, friends have passed the name of our family to our church, who have never failed to take care of us. We've also been sponsored by organizations, and it's always a blessing to see your children's faces light up when they see presents under a tree that has been....well, sort of empty for the entire month of December. And my family never fails to remember my children, even though I know it is a challenge for them to shop for six additional kids.

But I didn't put my family's name on any list this year. I figured there are lots of other people in our community that need this more than we do. We would have a very humble Christmas and I knew that my children would adapt because deep down, they are very simple creatures. I love love love that about them. What they adore most in the world: mama, daddy, grandma-mama, Papa, aunties, uncles, cousins, friends, brothers, sisters, laughter, food, dance parties--they would have in abundance.

Three things.

That is how many gifts they each got from Michael and I. And they weren't three extravagant things, either. Three very humble, very simple gifts. One thing they need (like socks, gloves or underwear), one thing cheesy thing that Michael and Maya picked out from the dollar store and the third gift would be something that they could pick out for themselves, like a set of headphones (Noah), a book (Diego), a necklace (Maya), a new Wii game (Solomon), a new Lego set (Cyan) and a Barbie refrigerator complete with tiny food for the girls' repurposed doll playhouse (Xixi).

Their constant question of Mom, when are you going to buy us Christmas presents so we can put them under the tree? was really starting to wear on me. I couldn't be angry with them, judging from the pitiful pile of gift bags under the tree. I kept praying. Not that God would send me a bunch of money so that I could buy the chil'rens everything they wanted. I have seen firsthand the craziness, the greed, the ungrateful attitudes my children can display after a gift opening frenzy has occurred.

No.

I prayed for a humble spirit. A thankful spirit. I meditated on a few of my favorite words in the Bible:

Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven...for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

My treasures are my husband, my children and my family. Are you waiting to read that we woke up on Christmas morning to discover a huge box full of amazing gifts on the front porch, from some mysterious and generous gift giver? Nope. But God is still good and the chil'rens were still generously provided for. And I have a house full of contented children, pleased with the small things they received.

Content children= a very happy, peaceful mama.

Image source: A "love" ornament that I hand-painted for our Christmas tree.

I'll be home for Christmas

2011-12-24T21:28:00.000-08:00

My little brother Joshua has been traveling through Europe for the whole month of December. Lucky dog.

I can't stop referring to my brother in Europe...in Barcelona....oh, today he is in Germany....the Bavarian Alps...yesterday he was walking through the Champs Élysées and so on and so forth.

What can I say? I'm living vicariously through him and his travels.

He excitedly planned this trip for an entire year and we all knew that Christmas would be the hardest for him.

For us.
He's the baby of the family.
The crown jewel of our collection, if you will.

He's 21 years old and this is the first time away he's been away from the family during the holidays. For weeks now, he's been posting envy-inducing pictures on his Instagram. But today....today was rough. For me and my sister....for his nieces...the boys....my mom, of course.

He sent us this video of him singing a Christmas message to us from the Eiffel Tower.

Waaaaaah.

But they are happy tears. Happy that he is experiencing the world and living life. But what I wouldn't give to see his mop of curls bouncing around, his sparkly bow tie and combat boots and his skinny bear hugs.

♥

Homeschooling: the good and the bad days

2011-12-16T13:30:00.000-08:00

Now that I've been practicing this homeschooling lifestyle for the past ten years, I'm beginning to realize something. Homeschooling families should have a very strong conviction that this is the road they are meant to be on. Developing a thick skin as chief executor of your child's education wouldn't hurt either. You need to or else you'll crumble at the end of a really rough day trying to teach your children.

And believe me, there will be some rough days. It's reality.

Some days homeschooling is so amazing it makes me want to cry because we are so blessed that we have the freedom to educate ourselves in any way we choose.

Recently, we hosted a history group in our home. We're studying Story of the World, volume two. My boys are really loving this book and they often read ahead of the chapter we are studying. Since we were studying Ancient China and Japan, we thought we would do some fun activities that correlated with the topic. We drank hot green tea, studied the map of Asia and looked up photos of the Grand Canal (which I never knew was man made, did you?). Then we took our little group outside to sit on the front lawn and enjoy nature so they would be inspired to write their own Haiku poetry.

Red leaf, spider veins

spread along the fallen leaf

crunches in my hand
--Diego

Once our poetry session was over, we sat in the kitchen and started to make our own sushi rolls, using thin sheets of nori (dried seaweed), rice and thinly sliced fresh vegetables, which we ate with soy sauce and pickled ginger. We also had spicy tuna rolls (I ordered some already made), sauteed tofu wedges (yum) and some delicious miso soup. Once their tummies were full, we finished off the lesson by carving stamps into sweet potatoes (of all things) and using them to block print onto small squares of paper, just like during the Golden Age of China. We capped off the day chatting in the driveway while our children tossed the football around.

Sigh. It was one of those perfect homeschooling days where the learning just happened organically.

Diego, enjoying his vegetable nori wrap.

Xixi and Natalie, smiling and spreading their sticky brown rice.

Happy kids learning.

Wasn't that lovely? Doesn't it make you want to stay home and homeschool your little Einsteins?

Then there was last Tuesday.

I've decided to call this homeschool character development day. This is when very little schoolwork gets done because we're too busy striving against sibling rivalry, squabbles and drama and I am exhausted from the effort. Those are the days I wish I could pack them all off to a boarding school and not have to worry about educating a pack of savages.

So you see, you have to take the good with the bad in this homeschooling adventure. And thankfully, there are many more good days than bad. Thankfully.

Have you had a great homeschooling experience lately? Do share. I need all the encouragement I can get.

It's National Cupcake Day--wanna bite?

2011-12-15T12:36:00.000-08:00

Since today is National Cupcake Day I thought I'd share these tasty little morsels I just had. The funny thing is, I'm not a big sweet fiend. I prefer that my poison be salty and crunchy. If you locked me in a room with a bunch of baked goods or salty dips, you know I would be knee deep in the dip.

Just saying.

I enjoy a yummy sweet treat every now and then. I don't discriminate. I am an equal opportunity fat girl.

So Laura from The Sugar Spot came by and dropped off a box filled with cupcake yumminess for me and the chil'rens to enjoy. Carrot cake, chocolate and red velvet. Just so you know, I hissed like a feral cat everytime the chil'rens tried to get near my carrot cake and cream cheese frosting cupcake.

Like, for reals. Carrot cake is my all-time favorite.

And it was heavenly. Moist, not overly sweet (my usual issue with cupcakes), the carrot cake tasted like actual carrot cake...and the frosting? Let's just say when I die, you can bury me in a vat of cream cheese frosting. The light dusting of walnuts sent me over the edge.

So.freaking.good.

When someone drops these at your doorstep, you know you're going to have a good day.

So cute and delicious.

Keep your hands off my carrot cake cupcake or you might end up with a nub!

Judging from the way we demolished these cupcakes, I'd say they were pretty delicious. If you want to bring some fantastic baked goods to your holiday festivities but you don't have the time or the inclination to bake them yourself, contact Laura. She is located in Riverside (she delivers!) and she has a ton of specials going on for the holidays.

And she has really cute freckles. At least that's what Xixi said.

Like The Sugar Spot on Facebook. Celebrate National Cupcake Day by munching on some delish cupcakes!

Rest in peace, friend

2011-12-08T09:59:00.001-08:00

A dear friend of mine who battled brain cancer for more than twenty years died yesterday.

Jon Veitch was one of those people you never forget. A free spirit, a true original, an artist visionary with a sweet spirit. He was passionate in his love for others and his love for God.

Although we graduated from the same high and we knew many of the same people, I didn't really get to know him until 2004 when we started attending the same church. I came to find out he was also a talented artist and so we bonded like that. Crazy artist people.

Jon's drawings inspired me to begin my own Sharpie work.

His Dr. Suess-inspired bike/sculpture. Amazing!

I often wondered how much of who he was was truly him or the brain cancer. Ask anyone who knew him, he could be out there at times. But that is what made Jon, Jon. That is what people loved about him. When I would see him worshiping God, it always brought tears to my eyes. He was the dude way down in the front with his arms and his voice raised. Or he was humbly on his knees in thanksgiving--either way, his outright worship inspired me. There was no shame, no embarrassment, no attention-seeking in his offering. It was then I realized he was who he was because that is how God made him, brain cancer be damned.

After we heard the news that he had passed, my husband and I sat together and reflected on our friend. So many of us have a mask on, a facade. It covers who we really are, it shows only what we are willing to share with other people. It seemed as though Jon's brain cancer stripped that part of his personality away. What was left was his true self, the raw incarnation of who Jon Veitch was. Unpolished, inappropriate at times, loving, humorous, passionate, brutally honest...real.

I was sad, thinking of his daughter's loss of a father. I was also sad that I won't see his handsome, smiling face again when he made his presence known, as he so often did, in the middle of bible studies, family gatherings, birthday parties, church, the Art Walk or our front door. I understand that he is no longer walking in the Earthly realm but I have a peace knowing he is walking with Jesus now. No more suffering, no more tears.

R.I.P Jon Veitch 1964--2011

Hooking up my wreath with Home Depot

2011-12-04T21:54:00.001-08:00

***************WE HAVE A WINNER! CONGRATULATIONS TO LAURA CICHON FOR WINNING THE $50 HOME DEPOT GIFT CARD! WOOOO HOOOO. CHECK YOUR INBOX, LAURA. MANY THANKS TO THOSE WHO PARTICIPATED. **********************

My Christmas decorations are up, thanks to my very persistent chil'rens. If it wasn't for them, I would put up the snowman shower curtain in the bathroom and call it a day. But they so love the ritual of putting up the Christmas tree, our beloved Nativity scene, and all of the twinkling lights that I can't help but catch the Christmas spirit.

Everything is looking nice and colorful except for one thing: the great big wreath I had hanging on the front door. It was basically a plain wreath with a few acorns scattered on it.

It was not exactly the most colorful, welcoming wreath. It did not scream, jolly Christmas times are being had here.

This wreath needed some love STAT. So, we loaded up in the hooptie and made our way to Home Depot.

I love how the chil'rens use the cart as a family trolley.

The minute I step into a home improvement store I get all wide-eyed and I start fantasizing how fabulous my house would look if I could just buy everything. Home Depot is one of those places where we spend an incredible amount of time because A. We have six kids who have managed to wear down our house B. The house was built in 1953 (!) and C. My dear husband always has a very long "Honey Do" list. So, we grabbed several things for around the house: LED lights, chalkboard paint (new projects--yay!), painters tape, spray paint, wood and a gallon of semi-gloss paint that was in the mistake pile that happened to be the perfect shade of Fiestaware green. For seven dollars. Swoon.

Decorations. Stay on track, Denise. You are here to fix up that sad little wreath, remember?

If you are like my family, you have a big bin filled with Christmas lights that either don't work or are a tangled mess. Our solution is to just keep buying more, apparently. Heh. After looking through the mind-boggling selection of lights, we choose several strands of mini lights.

But wait--the ornaments! It's important to me that I not just pile on a bunch of random ornaments for the sake of decorating the wreath. I wanted to incorporate a bit of my family and what we like. I snagged one of Martha Stewarts's 71 piece set of shatter-resistant ornaments. I loved it because it had such a variation: glitter balls, snowflakes, Christmas trees, polka-dots and icicle ornaments. And 71 shatter-resistant pieces sounds good to me. I can't even count how many ornaments fall and break because of the chil'rens rough little hands.

This is what the wreath started out like.

Hi, I'm a dusty old wreath with sad little acorns on it.

Booo-ring, right? Total snoozefest. Then I started layering some of my favorite ornaments, along with the new Martha Stewart shatter-resistant ornaments.

My felt pear--so cute!

Baby Jesus.

Had to put some Dia de los Muertos flavor up in here. It is hand-painted on clear ornament glass.

Love the glitter.

Because candy canes and calaveras totally go together. Totally.

In the end, I really loved the way my wreath turned out.

Oh, you fancy huh?

Big thanks to Home Depot for helping my family find some really cool stuff to decorate our home with this Christmas season. Make sure you visit www.homedepot.com/holiday for more Christmas decorating ideas, tips and videos.

But wait. There's more! The Christmas spirit is like, totally never-ending right now. Right? Home Depot has graciously given me one (1) $50 Home Depot gift card to give to one of my readers. Ain't life grand? Here is how to win, friends.

Mandatory Entry:

Visit www.homedepot.com/holiday and then come back and leave me a comment about something you learned at the site. Be sure to include your email!
Follow Home Depot on Twitter
Like Home Depot on Facebook

Merry Christmas! Now, shoo! Go and comment, follow and like so you can win this gift card!

DISCLOSURE: This is part of a compensated campaign with Latina Mom Bloggers and The Home Depot. The Home Depot works with bloggers such as myself to conduct product reviews. They do not tell bloggers what to say about their products or how to say it. The Home Depot fundamentally believes that people should be free to form their own opinions and share them in their own words. The Home Depot often provides product - free of charge - to bloggers for review as they did for this post. The Home Depot's policies align with WOMMA Ethics Code, FTC guidelines and social media engagement recommendations. The Home Depot provided me with a gift card to shop for the holidays and post my experience. All opinions expressed in this article are my own and not influenced in any way by anyone.

Why my girl crush on Jennifer Lopez is over

2011-11-28T11:48:00.001-08:00

I used to have a girl crush on Jennifer Lopez. Though I've never been a big fan of music, I've loved her as an actress. Ever since the movie Selena, I've put all of my Latina hopes and dreams in a sparkly JLo basket. Well, actually, she shares the basket with Salma Hayek, but still. Jennifer Lopez did Mi Familia, a story about a Mexican-American family, even if she is Boriqua. She was also a Fly Girl on In Living Color. And JLo was Janet Jackson's backup dancer in one of my favorite Janet songs, That's the Way Love Goes.

Still. Back to my story.

Jennifer Lopez has achieved a level of success in the entertainment world. And she is Latina. That is a feat in itself. I was happy to hear she settled down with Marc Anthony. Their movie El Cantante was a chance to see them in their raw Boriqua-ness, which was cool. Then they had the twins. I was happy to see the resurgence of her career when she signed on to do American Idol. I almost wet myself (ok, we all know that happens pretty easily) when JLo and Marc Anthony performed Aguanile on the AI finale.

I mean, I could see all the Puerto Rican flags flying high that night, with a loud chorus of, "¡Coño!"

But these days, JLo is really leaving a sour taste in my mouth. First, it was the bombshell of her and Marc Anthony separating. I know, I must be the only person who believes that celebrities actually might love each other in real life. Thinking back to that very AI performance, I was like, heeeey! All that emotion onstage was just a farce. I felt duped. I was really hoping it was just a rumor because in my mind, JLo and Marc Anthony were going to stay happy and married. And filthy rich. Just like Alicia Key's Unbreakable but a Latino version. The Latin Power Couple.

Then I saw this. Bikini-Clad Jennifer Lopez Lounges with Shirtless Casper Smart in Hawaii Can I say, ugh?

Who does that?

Who hooks up with one of their backup dancers who is half their age? Well, obviously not you and I because we don't have backup dancers, but you know what I mean. Frolicking on the beaches of Hawaii in a bikini with your new hot young stud...and your twins. Ew. I just can't.

My girl crush is over. I'm sad.

I guess now Salma has room to stretch out her tiny legs in my sparkly Latina basket.

Image source: eonline

What are you thankful for?

2011-11-24T11:20:00.001-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

There are so many things to be thankful for and it almost seems trite to say, I'm thankful for my health, my job, my children, my spouse etc. etc. But it's so true.

Today I am sharing a moment of gratitude over at Babycenter's MOMformation. It happened one late night/early morning not too long ago...the overwhelming sense of gratitude because all of my loved ones were at home in bed. Head on over there and check it out: Thankful for a house full of children.

What are you thankful for today?

Be blessed.

Denise
xoxo

Phil. 4:13 TOMS shoes

2011-11-15T10:38:00.000-08:00

One day, I received at least fifty emails asking me about the TOMS shoes with the Philippians 4:13 scripture painted on them that they saw on Pinterest. And the emails are still coming.

Sure enough, someone repined a pair of TOMS shoes that we painted brown with black script and the verse, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." We painted this pair back in January of 2010, when Sandals Church held a Style Your Sole Event.

I think it's really cool that this shoe has gotten so much love and attention. And it's nice to know that people always credit me and include the link to this blog whenever they repin.

Which is why Pinterest is so flippin' awesome. Seriously. Don't forget to follow me on Pinterest because right now, it's my happy place.

Here's a short video featuring our latest pair of TOMS. Enjoy!

Dia de los Muertos 2011

2011-11-11T17:09:00.001-08:00

It's been over a week since Day of the Dead 2011 and I think it's safe to say to I've survived. Really, honestly, it was a crazy week. Not only did Day of the Dead take place, it was the culmination of seven months of creating and producing art, one of my sons had a simple outpatient surgery and my family got hit with the stomach flu. And yes, by stomach flu I mean every so many hours someone new was puking into a trashcan or running to the toilet. Me included.

Thankfully, we're all better now. Finally, I can share how the Dia de los Muertos event went. Whew.

This whole night was a huge learning experience for me. I've never hosted a booth to sell my art before. I pushed and pushed for weeks--no, months! I hardly got any sleep (four hours a night for days on end--not something I recommend) and I was a terrible wife and mother. Okay, terrible is kind of harsh. I was a distracted mother and a grouchy, mean wife.

Here are a few things I learned:

Begin creating pieces in January. Work all year long until Day of the Dead (November 2nd). Then take the holidays off. Believe me, I'll need that long.
Lighting, lighting, lighting. The generators kept blowing out, leaving our row of vendors without lights off and on the entire night. Not necessarily our fault, but the lighting we did have wasn't necessarily adequate.
Display shelves. I saw people use crates, old suitcases repurposed into a display case, antique frames to hang artwork, etc. I told my brother (who can pretty much build anything) to walk around and peep ideas we can tweak and use next year.
Grow a pair. Check in time for vendors was 4:00 and we arrived at 4:10, only to found out I was put on a funky little side street. I walked around the corner and realized I was nowhere near the main drag. I ran around, found the event coordinator, told him I was unhappy with my location and could I move, like right now?! After that it happened really fast. We had to break everything down and move our booth to the other spot, right in the middle of all the action, and set up everything again. You should've seen me, running down an alley dragging a table. Heheheeee
Mod Podge is like crack to me. Resist the urge to put it on everything.
Face painting. Give yourself adequate time to create your Day of the Dead face. I didn't even get to outline my face the way I wanted. Booooo.
Hanging my original artwork. Next year, I will definitely display all of my original artwork. My husband reworked my beloved Frida Kahlo painting and we decided to display it that night and it drew so many people into our booth it was amazing!

The night passed by too quickly. I saw so many familiar, loving faces come to visit me, I just wish I had the time to talk with everyone. I really thought it would be like the farmer's market, where I could chill, sit in my camping chair and people watch and talk to the people who'd wander in and out. No, it was nothing like that. It was a constant stream of people, fielding questions and quoting prices, buying our stuff, handing out business cards, packaging up their purchases, taking pictures, talking to people, making change--it was craziness! When it was over, my feet were killing me and I was starving. We collapsed into bed at nearly 3 am the following morning.

All in all it was a great experience. I definitely want to do this again next year!

I could not have done it without my mama. She pushed me, helped me organize, was my financial supporter, my part-time housekeeper--everything! Love this woman--she is ride or die!

My husband Michael supported me, too. He did all of my screen-printing, he was there to bounce ideas off of and he helped me bring my vision to fruition. And look at this amazing sign he painted for me. It was perfect!

My niece Selah was there to help her mama sell their custom hair pieces. She was getting her hustle on all night long!

The finished skulls!

So cute!

We still have several hair accessories left if you are interested.


My brother and sister posing with one of the many people in cool costumes and makeup that night.

We ended up just giving away bracelets and rings to the little girls who came to visit our booth.

Hand-painted rosaries by my brother, Jeshua at BoifromIpanema

He also created this uh-mazing Rasta-themed Barbie doll with a mini 'fro.

Jeshua's Frida Kahlo doll sold out within minutes.

A hand-painted mask created by Sacred Art

The face painting looked so incredible!

This was an altar right next to our booth.

Another hand-painted Barbie from BoifromIpanema.

The Barbies were already selling before we were even completely set up.

Screen-printing scarves in the studio. Can you tell where I got the artwork from? My punk rocker calavera.

The scarves turned out so flippin' adorable that I wanted to keep all of them. I have a few left for sale, I'll put more info about them if you are interested!


A Day of the Dead collage that me and Sol worked on.


I'm guilty of stress-eating Halloween candy while making some last minute frames.


These Loteria card picture frames were so much fun to do.

I created this bride and groom design for a wedding gift a couple of months ago. I ended up making a few cards. A woman that had several weddings to attend came and bought them all up.

It feels really good to work with family!

A last minute idea to create custom light-switch plates was a good one--people loved them!

My Siamese Soul Sister hand-painted these skull masks. Her attention to detail is amazing! Look at that crown. It looked like a vinyl sticker, it was so perfect.

I'm so sad that since were were so busy in our booth, I didn't get a chance to see the Aztec dancers. LOVE the feathered headdress.

People checking out our stuff.

Frida kept drawing the people in!

Windy conditions that night prevented the dolls from being put up on their stands so that is why they are laid out on the table like that. But that didn't stop the people from buying them.

A view from outside.

We had alot of family visit us that night. Oh, and the chil'rens. They so wanted to be a part of the event, too but I could.not.concentrate with them there. I was concerned someone would wander off and get lost, I was concerned they would knock something down, I was concerned they were getting hungry--I was just plain concerned. I could not take off my mom hat! Even though they came with Michael later in the evening and then supposed to go home with their grandfather, I couldn't relax until they were gone for the evening. Next year, I'll definitely have to make a solid childcare plan.

So, did you see anything you like?

Don't be afraid to ask! There are a few of each item left. They'd make great Christmas gifts, too! You can e-mail Denise at pearmama@gmail.com. I also plan on making some of work available here on my blog within the next week or so.

Peace and love,

Denise

My October in pictures

2011-11-09T17:15:00.000-08:00

We're studying The Middle Ages in Story of the World so we made mosaics out of beans. Wooo.

Diego was The King of Pop for Halloween. He won Best Costume!

There are IT'S-IT mint and chip ice cream cookie sandwiches in Heaven. I know this.

Weird penis thingie at the urologist's office. We had fun sliding the thing back and forth. Ahem.

Some Day of the Dead art at my son's 3rd grade class.

The bottom of some crazy, bumpy squash. My sister had a phobia of bumpy things so I made sure to post this on her Facebook wall. Because I love her. And I'm a sadist.

Miss Maya, my lunch date on a quick trip to downtown.

My brother Jeshua's Day of the Dead Frida Kahlo doll. Dying. I'm dead. She was uh-mazing!

Mod Podging my life away on these custom wall plates (lightswitches).

My DOD coloring sheets were a hit and my baybays colored them all month long.

Dia de los Muertos tonight!

2011-11-02T12:48:00.001-07:00

Hope to see you there!

My tribute to Amy Winehouse

2011-10-31T23:28:00.000-07:00

Halloween is almost over.

Yessssss.

I was going to dress up as Miss Piggy but...I didn't have anything pink and I was too cheap to go out and buy something I won't ever wear again. Plus me...going as a pig....well, that's just too easy.

So I picked a different costume.

I was going for the just got out of rehab...stopped drinking and began munching....put on some weight...should now attend Weight Watchers.

Mmmmkay?

I haven't inhaled this much Aqua Net in 25 years!

Yes. this is all my hair. *snort*

"All I need is my booze and my fag and I'm cool."

The aftermath of that rat's nest and black eyeliner.

Oh, hop on over to Babycenter's MOMformation so you can check out Xixi's homemade Frida Kahlo costume. She looked sooo good!

What did you dress up as on Halloween?

Why zombies have scarred me for life

2011-10-22T00:03:00.000-07:00

Since its Halloween time, you cannot escape the endless ads for scary movies that run incessantly during October. If I see another Paranormal Activity 3 ad, I think I will gouge out my own eyeballs. Late at night seems to be the only time I watch TV, thanks to a mountainous pile of laundry and six chil'rens who control the remote.

That seems to be the exact time TV programmers decide to run scary movie previews. Whenever commercials for AMC's show, The Walking Dead come on, I duck and run for cover. Eeeeek.

I just posted about accidentally stumbling onto a zombie movie with my kids right there on Friday at Babycenter's MOMformation titled, Do you let your kids watch scary movies?

You see, I am not a big fan of horror movies. Especially zombie movies. Zombie movies just take me over the edge. I don't know what it is, but the thought of the human race decomposing or mutating and dying and coming back to life as a monster that wants to eat you just freaks me the hell out. The gray color of their skin. The blackened blood coming out of their mouths. The rotting teeth. The way they walk.

And...braaaaains!

Shiver.

I blame my dad. When my little brother and I were five and six years old, he thought it would be fun rite of passage to let us watch Night of the Living Dead. It was so not fun.

Who does this?

To this day, the movie creeps me out, especially in the beginning when Johnny and Barbara are at the cemetery and you can see a zombie walking in the distance. The horror. It just makes me want to kick my legs like an egg-beater. Even though the movie itself is pretty cheesy and way less bloody and scary by today's zombie standards, it traumatized me quite thoroughly.

I would never let my five and six year old watch a movie like that. I wouldn't even let my teenager watch it! Even if they begged me. They wouldn't sleep for weeks. Believe me, I know. I don't care how old I am, I will always believe a zombie will rise from the ground, chase me down and feast on my brain.

Always.

Are you a fan of zombie movies?

Don't mind me, I'm just going insane

2011-10-21T12:42:00.000-07:00

Twelve more days until Day of the Dead and in true procrastinating artist fashion, my stuff is far from done. Granted, I've gotten tons of work done since I've been working on it for about six months straight but I'm nowhere close to being done.

The part that sucks the most is I've run out of money to invest. I still have prints of my artwork left to order--which happens to be the main reason why I wanted to have a booth to sell goods on Day of the Dead in the first place. But I don't see how I'll be able to. I also have scarves and tees that are on my worktable that I still have to finish.

Aaaaagh.

One of my problems is, I suck at asking for "money from investors". When I met Kathy the Crafty Chica, her advice to me was I shouldn't be so caught up in the creative aspect of it all--the business side is just as important. Well, I've got years as an artist under my belt but I'm a total new booty when it comes to business. But seriously. Most days, I'm just a mom with six kids who's been doing artwork at her "studio" which is really just a glorified desk in the livingroom.

I'm just.
I'm just.
I'm just.

Everything I do, in reality, is me working on my art after and around all of my other duties--cleaning my home, cooking three meals a day, laundry, homeschooling my kids, blogging for Babycenter and being a wife.

If I make it until the end of the month in one piece and with my sanity intact, I'll let you know. But today, right this second, I feel like I'm going to crack. But then again, how is that different from my everyday scenario? I always feel like I'm barely holding on by a string. I haven't blogged and vented in a long time but this just happens to be where I'm at right now.

The artwork above is a collage of sugar skulls that I created for these really cute and tiny wooden plaques that are about 4 x 4 inches in size. I featured a pic of them in the post below. I haven't decided if I'm going to sell them individually or in sets of four. There are nine different designs. My brother Josh was a contributing artist.

He told me to tell you to follow him on Twitter. Heh.

Anyhow, I put together all of the designs just to see what they'd look like and to me, it resembles some really cool Dia de los Muertos fabric. Hey, people over at Alexander Henry Fabrics, peep it.

And now, I must return to the salt mines. Hope you have a restful weekend.

P.S. Should you care to donate to my cause, there is a handy dandy PayPal donate button in a widget on the left side column. There is also a donate button in a page under my header. If you donate, thank you and you're awesome. If you can't donate, I still think you're awesome.

Totally.

My week in pictures

2011-10-11T20:56:00.000-07:00

Here are a few random glimpses of my life these days. October has been a blur thus far, and we're only eleven days in!

Wood carved design on my DIY headboard.

Why must the chil'rens insist on eating cotton candy-flavored ice cream?

When the day gets rough, the power of these words get me through it.

Is it weird that I wanted to use the El Pato enchilada sauce can on my desk? I love the colors!

Skulls, skulls, skulls get yer skull right here! Been working on these all week long. Mod Podge for the win!!

Eenie meenie minney moe.

A respite from a long, hard day.

About to add some special sauce to this already awesome painting from Sandals Church's Art of Authenticity series.

I made candles. Woooohooo! My artwork looks amazeballs on the glass, iffa do say so myself.

Day of the Dead Barbie: bride and groom

2011-09-28T21:00:00.000-07:00

October is upon us. What does that mean? Dia de los Muertos is almost here!

Gulp.

I only have about 349857753495803 things left to do. On top of the other 4893570345737 things that I do on a daily basis. I'm hoping and praying that adrenalin will kick in and allow me to complete all the tasks I need to. That and a whoooole lot of caffeine.

As the month progresses, I'm planning on doing a little preview of what I'll be selling at my booth. For those of you who aren't here in Southern California, these items will be on my Etsy shop as well.

Note to self: Complete Etsy shop.

Ahem.

Until then, I thought I'd share a pic of the latest Day of the Dead Barbies we'll be selling on November 2nd.

Isn't this bride and groom just...bad ass? So cool and so much fun to create.

Until then, peace and love.

P.S We're doing some changes to my spot here, so excuse the banner changes as we work on finding the one I like (what can I say, I'm really picky)

Crafty Chica sighting

2011-09-27T21:51:00.000-07:00

I finally got to meet Kathy Cano-Murillo of the Crafty Chica fame over the weekend. Yay me! I've been such a ~~stalker~~ fan. Ever since I read about her lovely family's Christmas tradition of tamale-making in Better Homes & Garden, back in 2004.

When a brown family is in one of my favorite mags, doing something near and dear to my heart such as tamale-making, I pay attention.

Ever since then, I've followed her on Diary of a Crafty Chica. She's been such an inspiration to me. An artist, mother, wife, writer, business-woman and mujer--she's is blazing a trail for creative Latinas such as myself. Of course I had to make plans to go and see her at the local Michael's Art & Crafts store, promoting her new line of craft supplies.

I have to say she is glitter personified. Everything about her personality was so friendly, bubbly, down-to-Earth and sweet! It was really like meeting an old friend.

I also had the chance to meet her husband, Patrick Murillo. I've always loved his style of artwork, and the fact that he had dreadlocks all the way past his behind just made me dig him more. It's so encouraging to meet another artist couple, one that has worked so hard over the years. It gives me hope!

Sometimes this artist gig is kind of rough. I often wonder what is the point of being an artist? What is the point of having this thing inside you that needs to be expressed outwardly if it's practically impossible to support yourself and your family financially? I really struggle with how artists are undervalued in our society. This is what plagues me in the middle of the night.

This is one of my all-time favorite quotes by Pablo Picasso, and it never fails to remind me why art and artists are necessary.

Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.

I may never make millions of dollars. Not every person may enjoy my type of art. Some people may even question the need for art and/or artists in the first place. But I know that art is important because it does exactly this--washes away the worries of everyday life. It brings forth beauty.

Needless to say, meeting Kathy and Patrick really boosted my morale and put some wind in my sails. I have so much to do and Kathy helped me to realize I have to keep working hard. Working, loving, creating, living and being.

Everyday.

Frida fanatics, pay close attention

2011-09-20T18:46:00.000-07:00

This Frida Kahlo Button Art is just...amaze-balls.

Totally.

Process: Frida Kahlo Button Art Time Lapse from Ashley Hackshaw on Vimeo.

8 hours of labor, 6 tubes of industrial glue, and over 2,000 buttons. I'm verklempt.

Dia de los Muertos Barbie dolls

2011-09-18T20:53:00.000-07:00

I visited a local gallery last week and I was totally inspired by some of the artwork they had on display.

Whenever I see a really cool idea, I immediately assess whether or not I can make something similar. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, after all. It's not because I want to steal the idea.

No.

If I see something that's really cool, my wheels start turning. How can I make this better? How can I reinterpret the piece? How can I inject my own style? I mean, hellloooooo. It's all about appropriation in the twentieth century and beyond.

So, I saw these Dia de los Muertos Barbie dolls and died on the spot.

I died. Dead.

I mean, two of my obsessions wrapped up into one design. How could I possibly pass it up? Within seconds I was visualizing how I could paint the faces of the legions of Barbies I have scattered around my home. This is the first time I've done created something like this with a Barbie doll.

When I was in college, I fashioned a bondage/dominatrix-themed outfit with black electrical tape on an old Barbie. It was pretty sick and twisted. When Josh was about five or six years old, he would come into my room and study this dominatrix doll for all she was worth. Anyhow, she was a main fixture among my collectibles for many years. I feel like these Day of the Dead Barbies is a natural extension of that.

There we were, my little brother Josh and I, working feverishly into the morning--tiny outfits, flowers, and nekkid Barbies strewn about. It was so much fun! Oh em gee. Probably a little too much, if that is possible.

I was so proud of my baby bro's painting skills. He was neat, his color choices were good, and his lines were clean and steady.

The force is with you, young Skywalker. But you are not a jedi yet.

Every doll is painted by hand, with Pandora playing and ish talking all around.

This doll was all him, so maybe he is going to give me a run for my money .

This project is something we decided to do for fun, to get the creative juices flowing. We want to decorate our booth with them. These will be limited edition dolls, complete with a dress, flowers and their hair did. They will be for sale so keep your eye out or more details coming soon.

Senior citizens on the interwebz

2011-09-17T12:24:00.000-07:00

My parents have just entered their rollin' sixties (two points for you if you have some hood knowledge and know what rollin' 60's are), and thanks to their employers they are not completely computer illiterate. My mom e-mails and she pays her bills online without fear that they'll steal her identity like she used to about five years ago. My Dad is the same way, he can e-mail and surf the web, too.

But that is where they draw the line.

My mom curses all the time we spend online and the $$ they charge for data packages on our phones but she is the first person to speak up when she wants us to google something or use our navigator to find directions. We recently talked my Dad into getting a Skype account so we could communicate a little more frequently. I often complain that we could be dead and buried and my Dad would have no idea what was going on since we seem to catch each other on the phone every couple of weeks or so. Skyping my Dad is a comedy of errors. First, there is him looking at me over the tops of his glasses. Then we always have a sound issue. He can't hear me. Or I can't hear him.

I think you've got the mute button on, Dad.
Unmute me, Dad.
Raise the volume, Dad.
Dad, are your speakers plugged in?
Wait, you still have the mute button on?
Dad, come on! Geeez!

And there I am typing chat messages so he can fix it. Usually, I'm like, "Just call me! This is ridiculous!" When I saw this video, I just about died laughing because although my parents aren't quite as old as these two lovely white-hairs, they will be someday.

Video: Dia de los Muertos artwork

2011-09-15T00:10:00.000-07:00

I've been busy busy busy all summer long, finishing up my artwork for Dia de los Muertos. I'd be lying if I didn't already feel the heat. It's only a month and a half away! I have sooooo much to do by then.

My plan is to utilize all of my original artwork and then make prints, candles, tees, printed scarves, postcards, a coloring book etc. to sell at my booth. So I've been working hard for the money. I think I could draw a sugar skull in my sleep!

I managed to create nine new pieces over the summer. I'm almost done, I'm working on what I think is my last one. It's a hippie.

Groovy, man.

I've been working strictly with black and white because....that's just what I've felt like doing. But my eyes are telling me that I need to take a break from black and white because they kept blurring and tearing up.

I'm pretty sure it has something to do with being an old sea hag but whatever.

I'll post more images soon. Until then, here's a short clip of me finishing up a bride and groom portrait, and talking to myself like I usually do.

Our homeschooling, unschooling and charter school hybrid

2011-09-13T11:12:00.000-07:00

The school year has officially started for us on August 23rd, as dictated by our charter school. But being the rebel that I am, we have eased into the school year, and I've cast aside any worries about the "first day of school". This is more for me than it is for the chil'rens. So instead of banging erasers, we've read a few books, ordered a few programs, organized our "school room" (basically, its just a glorified one of these). Whose bright idea was it to begin school in August, when it's still hot and sunny outside and the slip 'n slide beckons?

What a sadist!

We went camping on Labor Day weekend, so there was that. Then there was the mandatory 2-3 day recuperating period after said camping trip. We tried to get some work done in between all that but, who am I kidding? We were in survival mode. That left yesterday, as our unofficial/official first day of school. For my kids that are home, we've settled on this: Teaching Textbooks for math, Apologia Botany for science, a combination of First Language Lessons for the Well-Trained Mind and Easy Grammar and IEW for my oldest. We've finally decided on Story of the World, the Middle Ages for history. We've also got guitar lessons, sports, Boy Scouts and possibly dance class for the girls. Things are looking pretty good. We may or may not finish these books but I like to get some direction and then move from there.

As it stands right now, I've got three chil'rens in a 3-day a week charter school. My oldest three are fully homeschooled. On the days I'm working on homestudy packets with my littles (Tuesdays and Thursdays), I usually let my homeschoolers read, look at videos and/or do math programs online. I can't handle a full day of everyone's studies. I just can't. Not with the horrendously fat stacks of homework the charter school hands out. Not to mention the five to six assorted websites they like us to utilize throughout the day. It's just craziness. We work on it all.day.long and there is still assignment we don't finish.

I can't say that I'm completely happy with our current arrangement. Some tweaking is still in order. My littles love their charter school, their new friends, their teachers. But now, more than ever, I feel that our educational philosophies don't align with a public charter school, so I am feeling the discord of not being true to myself. But my bank account with the zero balance dictates that I stay with a school that will give me instructional funds for each child. Just like the carrot dangling before the horse. I will hang in there for now and plan my exit strategy.

Its been a real eye-opener for me. I've learned that the grass isn't always greener on the other side. We are in a continual state of evolution, as far as my children's education is concerned. We've filed independently (going rogue, my personal favorite). We've done homeschool co-ops, which is basically organized classes taught by other homeschool moms. When we first enrolled in a charter school (keeping attendance was like a splash of cold water on the face every month), I was relieved at the thought of some lesson planning help, some monthly accountability and the instructional funds.

Did I mention the instructional funds already?

As their mother and the chief officer of their education, I reserve the right to withdraw the chil'rens from any/all of these programs and go rogue once again. We need to be able to breathe. We need the flexibility. And I need to feel inspired once again. I want to look at the job of educating my children with a smile on my face. When I have to crack the whip to get things done, when we are under someone else's schedule and timeline and there is absolutely no time for anything else, I am not the happiest mama in the world. And I really don't think I can survive the next eighteen years in that state.

I have lovely children and I want to enjoy them. I'm going to see to it that I do.

Dogz in the Hood

2011-08-31T21:51:00.000-07:00

When I saw this tumblr post I had to laugh out loud. You see, it can be taken both ways.

Most people will think its about the hot dogs you can get on the street corner after a hot, sweaty night dancing away at a nightclub, or shopping in Santee Alley. Alley dogs are usually piled high with grilled onions and green peppers...sometimes they are wrapped with bacon. People crowd around and excitedly get their grub on. Yes, they are as nutritious as they sound--nitrites piled with some carcinogens and then some more nitrites.

Yum.

But when I see the term alley dogs, I'm not thinking about hot dogs. No. I'm thinking of the nasty and mangy dogs that run around the streets and alleys of L.A's industrial neighborhoods in packs. I used to work out there, off Olympic Blvd. near Soto Street. Right down the street from the Farmer John factory with it's famous pig slaughter murals. It reeked of dead a$$ around two in the afternoon like clockwork. Whenever I'd return from lunch or get ready to leave for the day, you'd see them coming: around five or six of the ugliest, dirtiest, mangiest dogs I'd ever laid eyes on.

I know what you're thinking. Those poor animals! Abandoned. Hungry. Dirty. Poor little creatures!

Before you get all Sarah McLachlan on me, I have to say that they were kind of scary. They looked diseased. Most of them were nearly bald because of the mange. They were aggressive. Hood dogs don't have an owner to teach them manners and they don't have anything to lose.

One very memorable dog was one we christened "Sunflower". He might have been a Chow mix so he had alot of fur. But it was nowhere on his body, just around his face and neck. Thus the name sunflower. He also had a rope tied around his neck that was frayed on the ends because he dragged it all over the street.

I had a co-worker who was a bleeding-heart-animals-are-people-too type of person who was always trying to feed them and calling animal services but no one really cared. Yes, it was sad. But they terrorized us. There were many days I wouldn't get out of my car because they were out there waiting for me to throw them a piece of my Sausage McMuffin. And I'd always be like, I'm a fat girl-there are no leftovers, dog. Duuh.

They reminded me of Lady and the Tramp. Hood dogs prowling through the neighborhoods, all mangy, dragging rope and whatnot.

Now that's an alley dog.

Keeping it fun and cheap for the family

2011-08-27T01:41:00.000-07:00

We haven't really been anywhere this summer. Finances are slim, as usual, but even more so (if that's even possible) to the point that anytime we do go somewhere, we are really grateful to have had the opportunity to do so. It's not easy to take a family of eight out anywhere, even on a budget. I keep my eyes peeled for free events and we pack a lunch and a few snacks, with about a billion bottles of water.

We decided to take our kids to Tom's Farms, which is this little free farmer's market that has a bunch of small shops and you can sit under a really cool pergola around the pond and feed the ducks for free. Did I mention it was free? Anyhoo, we usually take a few snacks and then buy turkey, roast beef, big fat pickles and yummy french baguettes warm from the oven and make sandwiches for the kids. They love going to Toms Farms because it's a place their grandparents take them often.

My sister was on vacation, so my mom brought my three nieces along. The weather was a little warm for my taste, but then again anything past 82 degrees is a little warm for my fat ass. On our way home, we stopped at the Dos Lagos bridge so the kids could let off a little bit more steam.

All the old people chillin' with their wine and cheese at Toms Farms were giving all nine of our kids the side eye.

This bridge is made from bamboo and it's really cool. There is a winding path between two lakes, with water spilling down the sides, so you hear the constant hum of rushing water. There are also benches along the walkway. I took this time to take some pictures. I definitely want to come back when I am not sweating profusely down my butt crack so we can take a few family photos with Michael's good camera, and not with Retro Camera on my phone. Am I the only person who has completely ditched their camera in favor of camera phone apps?

We wrapped up our day at Trader Joe's for an ice cream (we decided to pass on Pinkberry) and we went home happy and exhausted and my wallet was none the wiser.

A day trip to downtown L.A

2011-08-23T01:13:00.000-07:00

I recently took a trip to downtown L.A without the chil'rens for a little shopping excursion in the famous garment district. My mom didn't want to brave driving through the crowded downtown streets and she couldn't bear the thought of me or my little brother being behind the wheel either, so we hopped on the Metrolink and made it to downtown L.A by the time I was finished putting my face on.

What? I was too lazy to wake up extra early to get all dolled up.

We wanted to find some cool stuff for Dia de los Muertos which is coming up in GASP almost two months.

Where has this year gone?

We picked up some really cool scarves (which shall be screen-printed), jewelry, candles, shoes for the chil'rens (hello fake leopard TOMS shoes for $5.99!!), flower pins for our hair, leopard-print suspenders etc. etc.

But, dude. We walked. We walked and walked and walked and walked. Like eight blocks. Chub rub was in full effect. It was a hot day, too. And if you have never been to downtown L.A, suffice it to say, there are very few pleasant smells on a hot L.A day.

My biggest regret: I didn't buy that tan suede cross-body bag with the fringe. Kill me now.

My biggest surprise: Some to-die-for-smack-my-face-and-call-my-mama Frida Kahlo fabric from Michael Levines.

We wrapped up the day having dinner at La Placita Olvera where I got to feast my eyes on some very nice and overpriced Mexican wares.

All in all, a great day.

Dear diary....

2011-08-18T09:47:00.000-07:00

I would kill to read my old diaries/journals.

I've been a faithful diary and journal keeper since elementary school. I would hide it so my brother and my mother couldn't find it. Then I had one during my middle school and high school years. Bet that would've been hilarious to read. My mom found it one day. She said she respected my privacy and didn't read it. Then she added on, "Actually, I didn't want to read it because I was afraid of what was in there."

Now that is one wise woman.

I had a very detailed journal I wrote during college. Let me reiterate, it was very detailed. All my time carousing, getting high, going to concerts, partying and getting into all manner of craziness was outlined in that bad boy. When I got married, I promptly ripped it up and it threw away. I was actually embarrassed by what was on those pages. The last thing I wanted was for my new husband to read it and then wonder why he ever married a ~~wannabe hoodrat~~ crazy chica like myself.

Not like he didn't already know.

Still, I didn't want something as incriminating as that laying around. But today, I'd love to read it. Shoot, I'd make myself some popcorn and serve an ice cold Arnold Palmer and I would read those things from front to back. All these years later, I'm almost positive it would feel like I was reading someone else's story.

The journals I started for the chil'rens are still intact. And I guess you could say the last five years of writing this blog could be considered my journal as well.

Only, I leave out the juicy parts.

Memories of death and life

2011-08-17T00:32:00.000-07:00

When I turned seven years old, an event took place in my family that was life-changing. My mom was eight months pregnant with my sister and my little family (dad included) lived in sunny San Diego. We got a phone call one afternoon. An accident happened. My grandfather's truck was struck by a drunk driver. He was dead. My 18 year-old uncle was severely injured with a broken neck. They didn't think he was going to make it.

My memory is foggy but there are several things I remember about this event. I remember coming in from riding bikes with my little brother on the sidewalk. Mom was crying hysterically in the bathroom. It was her father. My dad was holding her and trying to comfort her. When I heard my grandfather died, it was a strange and hollow feeling. I never knew anyone that died before. I just saw him recently, he drove down from East L.A for my seventh birthday party. My aunts dressed up like clowns. I hated the scratchy black velvet dress and white tights my mom made me wear.

And now he was dead. And my uncle might die, too. My mom's baby brother, number six in a family of seven siblings. The youngest boy.

The funeral for my grandfather was dark and foreboding. It was a rainy day, cold and grey. During the wake, the immediate family was sequestered under a black canopy. It scared me. It was something out of Rosemary's Baby. My mother was inconsolable. My Nana fainted and they revived her with smelling salts. I sat in a long pew, surrounded by my cousins. To witness our parents grief was frightening. My older cousin started to cry and it was like a domino effect. We all started to cry.

I looked over and saw my little brown Nana from East L.A--my father's mother. I ran over to my family and they took me to their hotel room that night. It felt so good to be around normal people, people who weren't mourning and sad and grief-stricken.

The next morning, we buried my grandfather. It was a dark, dark day. I remember being disappointed that he didn't have a big tombstone, like the ones I'd seen in the movies. It was just a flat grave marker. We stood under our umbrellas in the rain as they sprinkled Earth on my mother's father.

I happen to live about five minutes away from the cemetery where my grandfather is buried. I drive past it all the time. It's a beautiful, old cemetery with lovely old homes nearby. It's green. Peaceful. So unlike the day I was there with my heartbroken family, thirty-two years ago. I recently took the chil'rens there to see it. I remembered where my grandfather was buried clearly, as if it were yesterday.

Beating them off with sticks

2011-08-16T18:55:00.000-07:00

I took this photo of my son Diego last week. He won't turn 13 until next year, but he's taller than me, wears a size ten shoe, weighs about 130 lbs and he looks like this.

Seriously?

It's boggling my brain that my little boy with curls and chubby cheeks is turning into this handsome young man.

This was definitely a pose on his part. 98% of the time he is a goofball, cracking jokes, laughing loudly and he usually has crust on his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his eyes, etc.

You get it, the dude is crusty.

But the just the fact that he can pull it together and look as gorgeous as this at the age of 12 is kind of frightening. Soon, I'll be beating these fast little girls off with sticks.

Good Lord, he's like his father all over again.

Free lunch

2011-08-05T00:57:00.000-07:00

Growing up, my Nana used to get the government cheese. I remember standing in line alongside her at Sacred Heart Catholic Church. She would get that big ole block of free cheese and we would be on our way.

I hated that cheese. Hated it.

It had a very distinct taste. Like plastic, fake cheese. I could taste government cheese in a second, so Nana had to be sly with it. She would slip it in the beans, the enchiladas...and I'd always turn my nose up at it because I knew this was that nasty free church cheese she insisted on getting.

Fast forward to now. It's summertime and I have six hungry kids. Work has been slow. Money is scarce. I'm wearing my poverty like a noose around my neck and its getting tighter and tighter. My neighbor started to take her two sons to the local park where they were offering free lunch to kids aged two to eighteen and they invited a couple of my boys to come along. Afterwards, they would rave about the delicious meal they got.

Free! Can you believe that, mom?
Will you take us tomorrow?
Can we go again?

So everyday around 11:30 am, my kids start to circle me like a shark after some chum.

One afternoon, I stood and chatted with my neighbor as our children got in line for their lunch. She said that even though we might not "need it", we should take advantage of the programs our city offers or else the program could be cut and the people who really benefit from it would be at a loss. I agreed. But do you want to know the sad part? Its not the raggedy, ghetto, (insert whatever adjective you want here) poor people who "need" this free lunch. As I am sitting in my van waiting for the chil'rens, I study all of the nice, newish SUVS and vans driving up with their children.

Everyone is hurting. Not too many people are turning their nose up at free lunch. It makes me sad that our economy has so many of us down. But at the same time, its like another layer of pride that I tightly cling to is being pulled and more of the real me is showing.

Would you take your kids for free lunch?

Superhero family!

2011-07-25T15:18:00.000-07:00

What do you do when you're a little kid home on summer vacation but instead of going to fun places like the zoo and the beach, your parents are home working all day and they are too busy to entertain you?

You bug bug bug bug bug them until they stop working and paint a superhero mask on you. Because you don't already own a superhero mask and you like, need one.

Duh.

Tempera paint is non-toxic and washes off with little effort.

Super Stretchy Ballerina Girl was born!

And her side-kick, Pink Guuul (Xixi translation: Pink Girl).

This superhero stuff runs in the family, totally.

It's been fourteen lovely years

2011-07-21T23:23:00.000-07:00

This week was my 14th wedding anniversary. I can't believe we've been married that long. A few memories of my wedding day:

I was so nervous after getting my nails done, I couldn't even touch my lunch. You know it was bad if I couldn't touch my lunch.

It was really hot outside. I was sweating at the altar.

I was late. Like thirty minutes late.

Michael's auntie arrived a little late as well, and as I was about to walk down the aisle, she darted in front of us to find a seat and snap her camera in my face. Ahem.

When my father and I stood at the door of the church, I took one look at all the eager, smiling faces and I backed right out so I could catch my breath. Everybody giggled.

My husband was very emotional and cried and said the loveliest vows to me. I don't remember them, but they were beautiful words.

My little brother Josh was crying hysterically, and my stepdad had to soothe him gently. And I have that on video.

The reception was a blur.

Someone stole my wallet. And the thief mailed it back to me (anonymously, of course) about a week later.

At the end of the night, we were starving. I'm sure we weren't the first bride in groom in the drive-thru line at In-N-Out on our way to the honeymoon.

Here we are, after a lovely evening of conversation, laughs and a lot of sushi.

Botox, baby from Pearmama on Vimeo.

Blogs by Latinas Awards 2011: go out and vote!

2011-07-21T22:07:00.000-07:00

My people.

I've been nominated for a 2011 Blogs by Latinas Award for Favorite Mommy/Parenting blog.

That is pretty flippin' sweet, right?

Little old me, spinning tales about Bean Week, chub rub, my hooptie, hemorrhoids and the fear of burritos in my lunch box.

Way cool.

Would you be a doll and get on over to the website and vote for me? Voting ends on 7/26/2011 midnight PST. I'm not sure what being a winner will entail...but nevertheless, it's a nice title to hold. Now I can tell my mama I'm not just sitting around on my sweet ass staring at the computer doing nothing while the laundry piles up. So, go and vote.

And if I win, send me one of these. I'll love you forever.

Growing older

2011-07-19T15:36:00.000-07:00

My mom said the saddest thing to me last night.

Ahhh well I'm 60 now. What does that mean, I have at least five, ten...maybe fifteen good years left?

I didn't know what to say. I looked at her and wondered how such an energetic, passionate and vibrant woman could possibly ever slow down and grow old. My mother is always gonna be my mother, running circles around me, scolding me for having TB (tired blood).

So it threw me for a loop, hearing her say that. I almost cried, you know.

"Don't be ridiculous, mom!" I said, exasperated. "I expect to have you with us for at least another forty years, give or take."

She smiled wistfully.

My mama is as invincible as the Earth. This is how a child views their mother.

Me, my mama and my siblings at her 60th birthday celebration earlier this month.

New art

2011-07-14T22:17:00.000-07:00

I've been working on my Dia de los Muertos pieces like a dutiful worker bee every day now. You should see my house, I've got dust bunnies and laundry piles to show for it. For whatever reason, my soul really needs to stay in black and white mode. Perhaps I'm feeling the need to deal in absolutes.

Whatever the reason is, I'm digging it.

Punk rock forever. I'm really feelin' the Huitziloxochitl (hummingbird and flower) design on his tee.

My little Frida. She's been sitting in my drawing pad for over a year now. All she needed was something very minor to finish her up but of course, I lagged and lagged. But now she was ready to be born, so here she is.

A few people have asked me about my black and white drawings so I just wanted to say that I use both fine and extra fine tip black Sharpies on 9" X 12" smooth bristol board paper. I do some light sketching to complete the overall layout but all of the intricate designs are 100% freehand.

What do you think?

Maxi dresses: long on style

2011-07-13T17:24:00.000-07:00

I'm talking about my crazy obsession with maxi dresses over at Babycenter today so pop on over and check it out.

I ♥ the maxi dress.

Seriously, I'm obsessed. If it's boho-chic, I'm all over it.

I tell no lies.

This is a pic of my baby sister and I taken at my mom's 60th birthday party, wearing our fab maxi dresses, of course.

Tumblin'...

2011-07-13T01:51:00.000-07:00

Well, I went and did it now.

I got a tumblr account.

I've been holding out for months. I mean, seriously...how can one manage:

This blog.
My Babycenter blog.
My art blog.
Twitter.
Flickr.
Ning, both here and here.

And now, tumblr. Hijo de su...

But I peruse so many tumblrs that it just made sense. There are lots of little things I'd like to pop in and say but I so often feel like I have to write and post and pontificate etc. etc. Just regurgitating something funny and/or cute, interesting is what I need right now. We'll see how it goes.

Video blogging

2011-07-06T21:56:00.000-07:00

If the FDA seizes birthing tubs, then my kids will have nowhere to swim

2011-06-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

When it's hot outside and the chil'rens need relief, they jump in the pool to cool off. Now, you might be envisioning a lush blue swimming pool complete with lounge chairs and palm trees, since I'm in Southern California and all.

Um, not quite.

Ok...an above ground pool, maybe?

Think again.

The chil'rens love to swim in--wait for it....their birthing tub.

When I was pregnant with Cyan (baby #4) and planning my second homebirth, I thought it would be much more economical to just buy a birthing tub instead of renting one like I did the first time. My midwife assured me they were inexpensive and easy to find, since we lived near a rural horse community.

You see, these "birthing tubs" are really just large troughs to feed/bathe your livestock. Did this little tidbit bother me? Not in the slightest. I wasn't too excited about the puffy, plastic birthing pools that were out there. They just didn't provide enough support for a big mama like me, who needed something sturdy to lean on during labor. And using a kiddie pool? You've got to be kidding.

Squatting and bringing forth life just doesn't sound very dignified in a kiddie pool.

There were only two problems with it. One, it was black, which made it difficult for the midwife to assess the amount of blood loss. She also had to use a flashlight to discover my baby's head was about to come out. And second, it doesn't have a drainage hole. Yes, that means after each and every birth, my dear husband had to empty out the birth water with a bucket.

Do you have any idea what's in leftover birthing water?

Lots and lots of assorted bits and pieces that come from a laboring woman's vagina. And other places-ahem! Now, if that ain't love, I don't know what is.

After we had Xixi, I couldn't bear to get rid of it. Not that I had a choice because the minute summer rolled around, the chil'rens found themselves the perfect swimming pool. Which was cool when my older boys were four, five and six years old. Not so cool now that they are ten, twelve and almost fourteen. But they still use it, even if it means they just sit on the edge and splash each other. However, it is the perfect size for my daughters. The photo above are my little ones "swimming" last Saturday.

I love to hear the chil'rens splash and giggle and tell each other, "I was born in this tub!"
"Me, too!"
"So was I!"

And the mere fact that they aren't weirded out by that knowledge in the slightest makes me...happy. Content in the choices I've made. I'm just glad I wasn't hassled about the purchase of my tub because from what I've been reading on the interwebz, the FDA is seizing birth pools because they are claiming they are unregistered medical equipment. What a pile of manure. Seriously.

If anyone needs to borrow a birth tub, you know who to come to.

Bob Marley portrait

2011-06-18T13:41:00.000-07:00

My boy Sol is at it again. His uncle commissioned him to paint a few music portraits for him, and this is his finished Bob Marley piece.

Lots of people are amazed that a ten year old boy could pull off something like this. I have to admit, I'm impressed but then I'm not impressed! This is just Sol being Sol. He makes things like this look easy. I can talk to him as a fellow artist, meaning we'll discuss techniques and I know, with complete confidence, that he understands what I'm saying. I wish working on fractions were as easy for him. He is very observant--most of us in the family call this: being nosey--and he is constantly studying things around him. He is usually the one working alongside Michael outside, so I have no doubts that he learned a lot of his skills from his daddy. And me, too.

Mama ain't too shabby.

In exchange for his paintings, his uncle builds us wood panels. All of us here at the Cortes house like to paint on wood panels versus canvas. Personally, I don't like the texture of canvas and I don't like the fact that you can puncture a framed canvas piece. Couple a sturdily built wood panel (which consists of leftover wood scraps) with practically indestructible acrylic paint and you've got artwork that is archival and eco-conscious.

So far, he's painted three Bob Marley's. He has a Zach De La Rocha in the works and my Pops mentioned he wanted a Jimi Hendrix painting last night. Personally, I want a shot at that one because it sounds ridiculously fun and I've always wanted to do one.

I'm looking forward to working alongside my boy this summer as we work on our own independent projects. He's such a cutie, with his pompadour 'do that my baby bro hooked up. l love the fact that he's an artist. I knew there had to be at least one out of the bunch.

Custom-painted TOMS ♥

2011-06-13T13:33:00.000-07:00

As you can imagine, I don't get much of a chance to do anything creative while my kids are in school and play sports. But every now and then I can squeak something in and get it done.

My most recent project is pair of really cute black TOMS shoes for a friend's little girl. I wanted to do something simple and wouldn't take me hundreds of hours to complete. In the past, I've painted everything by hand with a paint brush but since I love to work with black ink and create patterns and designs, I decided to introduce a handy dandy Decoolor paint marker into the mix. It gave me those nice, fine black lines and I didn't go blind in the process. Loved it and it came out fab.

After I created the initial design, I worked on these shoes in the car while my sons had baseball practice. I know, the glamorous life of an artist!

I lay out my sketch using a white watercolor pencil. For this project, we decided on simple red heart shape with wings. Then, because I am painting on what is basically black canvas, I primer my original design with white (sorry, don't have a picture for that step).

The finished product. A simple, one color design. I want to snag a pair for myself. Sometimes I forget that I can paint my own shoes if I want to! LOL I guess it's sort of like the construction worker living in a home that is falling apart. He works on everyone elses home but his own.

Preach.

If you are interested in getting your own pair of custom-painted TOMS painted by me (woohooo!), please e-mail me at pearmama@gmail.com and let your request be made known. For reals. ♥

Talking about race and dark skin

2011-06-06T23:12:00.000-07:00

We have lots of talk about race in my home.

Inequalities.
Stereotypes.
Racism.

We've had to deal with things of this nature before. I realize how much more aware of these things I am now than I was say, five years ago. Needless to say, Michael and I don't shy away from these topics.

Yesterday, I saw this preview for an upcoming documentary called Dark Girls and it made me so sad. It's about "deep-seated biases and attitudes about skin color---particularly dark skinned women, outside of and within the Black American culture."

The part that really brought me to tears happens around 2:18, when a teacher shows a young black girl a drawing of five little girls, in various shades of color. When asked, she quickly points out the "smart, good-looking child" is the white one--light-skinned as the little girl calls her. The "dumb, ugly one" is the black child. It just broke my heart to think this little girl would consider the little girl that looks just like her is the "dumb and ugly one". Which made me wonder....did she have a low opinion of herself? Or did she just not even identify with the black child, preferring to think of herself as white, just like Claireece Precious Jones in Sapphire's book Push?

Which is very unsettling.

It's easy to say, "black is beautiful" and the "blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice" but do we really believe it? Sometimes our bias occurs and we don't even notice. I'm not black, my skin is not dark...yet I still manage to partake in these attitudes toward dark skin. When I say I prefer to have my hair straight because it feels "neat" and I feel "put together", does that mean that curly, nappy hair is the opposite?

Just last Friday my brother commented on my tan, courtesy of camping and being out in the sun for four days straight. I scrunched up my nose in distaste. Too much sun makes my freckles go crazy. And my makeup becomes invisible.

"Ugh. I hate when my face gets dark. I look dirty."

It wasn't until days later that I took in the veiled meaning of my words. People that are dark are dirty. The fact that I contribute to this type of thinking disturbs me. I think we all do at some point but just don't realize it. And so we do it unwittingly. But it's still wrong.

Solomon was sitting beside me when I watched this video. He asked me a simple question, "What did Jesus look like?" I assume he asked me this question because he was trying to decipher what this documentary was about. We talked about how God created man in His image, and that is was good. Black, white, brown, red or yellow.

His head and His hair were white like wool, like snow. Revelations 1:14 Is it safe to say Jesus had a nappy 'fro going on? And when the Bible describes it as white, I believe it has everything to do with purity and not so much about color.

His feet were like burnished bronze. Revelations 1:15 Burnished bronze? Could that also mean a deep brown color?

He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. Isaiah 53:2 Regardless of the color of His skin, Jesus came into this world as a simple, humble man--a carpenter's son. If Jesus' appearance wasn't of great importance, why must we focus on our own looks so very much?

Let's not forget that Jesus was a man from the Middle East. He most likely had dark skin. I told Solomon this. I wanted to convey to my son that light skin and light colored eyes shouldn't be the ideal. God, the ultimate creative being, saw fit to make us all unique from one another. There is divine beauty in everyone, whether they are white as snow or black as coal, and those of us who fall somewhere in between.

Surviving a camping trip

2011-06-01T22:06:00.000-07:00

I just got back from a four day camping trip in San Diego, at Campland on the Bay. It's a pretty cushy place to camp. There are paddle boats on the bay, warm showers, a skate park, two swimming pools and jacuzzis, an arcade, an ice cream parlor, fireworks at night and a dance party with a DJ on Friday night. Once you drive out of the campground, there is a Starbucks, Target, Chipotle, Trader Joe's and various sushi joints not more than five minutes away. Not exactly what I'd consider roughing it.

But my kids love it and so do I.

It usually takes me about a day to relax my control issues. Sand inevitably lands on the air mattress, no matter how much you shake it off. Feet do not stay clean, no matter how many baby wipes you have available. Even though I tried to get my children to keep their belongings together, I still had to do a regular prowl around the campsite, gathering stray flip flops, beach towels, t-shirts and swim trunks.

The chil'rens didn't take a "real shower" for two days. That's right, two days.

I also came to the realization that a shower rinse right after getting out of the pool and/or the ocean works just as fine as gathering up seven kids (we brought my nephew Elijah along with us) and showering them with real soap and shampoo.

In the end, no one smelled. I didn't see any flies buzzing around them. They survived.

We camp with the fam bam, so that means there were about fifty people coming in and out of our campsite. I counted about 26 kids. There was always someone to laugh with, munch on s'mores, ride scooters and walk together to the restroom for a midnight pee run. And food, there was tons of food including homemade tortillas.

Something happened on Saturday that really threw a monkey wrench in my sanity. This.

I'm pretty sure he started out his day with a fully intact front grill. Sigh. Really, Diego? Your front tooth? While swimming, he managed to hit his mouth on the edge of the pool. Who does this? Diego, obviously. The chil'rens teeth are very important to me. Whenever they fall down, my first thought of panic is, OH dear Lord baby Jesus puh-leeze don't let anything happen to their teeth!!

Because, you know....we only get two sets.

And they are expensive to replace.

My mind began to drift to a bad place...root canals, a brown tooth, thousands of dollars to fix, etc. etc. But I didn't want to put a damper on the rest of the weekend, so I tried not to make a big deal about it.

In the meantime, Diego entertained himself by taking bites of food and marveling at the odd shape it created with his chipped tooth. That and rubbing his tongue on it, something I caught him doing over and over again.

When we got back from vacation, the first thing I did was schedule him an appointment with his dentist. Thankfully, they saw us right away and he didn't damage the nerves and/or the root. They were able to bond a piece over the broken tooth at no cost to us.

Whew. That was a close one.

I'm happy his tooth was fixed. But I don't see any corn, apples, ice or beef jerky in his future.

My baby no longer looks like a hill-billy. All is right in my world again.

Why I'll leave L.A Rising to the newbies

2011-05-16T10:00:00.000-07:00

That was me on Thursday. Verklempt. Today I'm cool.

When they announced Rage Against the Machine would play in concert sometime this summer in L.A. a few weeks ago, I braced myself. Of course I'd want to go, but what type of venue would it be? How much would tickets cost? Who else would be on the bill? Would they play some new music?

Hmmmmm. All very pressing questions.

Then, they announced all of the pertinent details about L.A. Rising. And aaaarrrrgghhhhh because of my RATM fanaticism, I started to get hyped up because I wanted to go. I foolishly began reading the facebook page, which further hyped me up. I began to confer with my fellow RATM heads.

Yes? No? Should we?

But noooo. My brother spoke some sense into me.

It's going to be hot (its in July). In a ginormously huge venue (the Coliseum). They are playing with several other popular bands (Muse and Rise Against), which means RATM would play a shorter set. And it was expensive ($114) and there is no guarantee what kind of seats we would get.

Now, I'm getting on in years. I am no longer a spring chicken. I used to do festivals, covered in sweat, dust, mud, drunk, high, exhausted, sunburned.

That is all good times for a young person.

For me, this concert would take days to recuperate from. So, I will leave L.A Rising to all the new booties who have never seen RATM before. Those that were still sucking on their mama's teat when Zach first started shaking his dreads to Know Your Enemy. The ones who did not get the chance to see RATM at all of the places I did.

Santa Monica Civic Auditorium (when they opened up for House of Pain).
Lollapalooza at the Santa Fe Dam (they were one of the first bands to play that day).
Big Top Locos at the Grand Olympic Auditorium.
Hollywood Palladium (TWICE! In '96 and in '10).
La Hacienda (that's right, a Mexican restaurant in downtown L.A.)
Cal State Dominguez Hills (when the crowd broke through the barricade during Beastie Boys set).
Coachella '07.

And several other places my senile mind can't remember. But nothing can top seeing them last June. Nothing.

So, those of you going to L.A Rising: have fun.

You know I'll still be raising my fist in resist.

The one where I talk about how much stuff I have

2011-05-13T11:29:00.000-07:00

Stop by Babycenter and check out my latest post The fine art of collecting stuff where I share a few pics of the collections I've got going on.

Hoarder status. Ok, not quite but let me just say, you don't realize how much stuff you have until you really think about it.

Extending beauty toward yourself

2011-05-11T00:41:00.000-07:00

I am a big fan of fat girl blogs. I've stated this before. But I have to admit, my reason for reading fat girl blogs has definitely evolved. At one time I was drawn to them because I was eager to discover where they found their clothes. It's no surprise that plus size clothing is difficult to come by.

Either it's made for 80 year old ladies.
Or heifers that enjoy polo shirts and beige capris.
Shapeless.
Cheap.
Funky.

So if I spot a big girl that is looking cute, I will pay attention.

I'm a regular peruser of tumblr sites, youtube channels and blogs that feature big girl fashion. But, along the way, I stumbled onto something called the Fat Acceptance movement. Now, I'm not gonna break it down for you because it's complicated. You'll have to read about it yourself. And I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing. I'm not quite ready to burn my Spanx and show my knees. But on the course of this journey, I've learned about myself.

I am way more accepting of other people and their fatness than my own.

After looking at images of plus size women and finding them beautiful in their own way, I realized that if I considered them beautiful just the way they are...then why don't I do the same for myself? It has nothing to do with sex, since my husband was getting a little worried that I might finally go full-on butch. I had to assure him that it wasn't about that at all. It was about finding beauty in other people, and extending it toward myself.

I'd think, well her stomach is way bigger than mine, but she still looks good. Oh, she has big arms but that sleeveless dress looks beautiful on her. Awww, she has alot of cellulite on her thighs but she is rockin' that short skirt.

And I felt like I've spent years hating my body/trying to cover it up/trying to change it/lamenting over how it used to look before having six chil'rens. Instead of appreciating the temple God's given me. Loving the body my husband loves. The arms my children love.

It's like this crazy, convoluted, trippy, Alice-down-the-rabbit-hole type of thinking. But it's freeing. And it feels good.

So, I'm a fan of Keena of Buttahlove. We've got totally different styles but I dig her afrocentricity. Imagine my surprise when she posted a pic of herself in the exact dress I tried on a couple of weeks ago. My boy Cyan was in the dressing room with me and he was like, "Wow, Mom. Your butt looks really big in that dress."

And there was like, no way I was going to wear it out in public. Not even with leggings or tights because I felt it hugged my curves too much and...I just would have felt nekkid in it. Of course, I didn't buy it.

But not Keena. She rocked the dress. And you know what, she looks damn good in it, too. You may or may not agree with me, but seriously?

Werrrrk it.

You can also see Keena in this video The Fat Body (In)visible

Freestyling

2011-05-03T08:41:00.000-07:00

Ever since I met my husband Michael, he's been a rapper. Not so much in the bling bling, grills on his teeth, booty clapping rap game, but more so in underground hip hop and spoken word poetry.

His favorite thing to do while we were driving around town was to beatbox. Or listen to a beat on the radio and then freestyle some lyrics. Once, my brother was riding in the car with us and he got to hear Michael doing his thing. Later on, he asked me a question.

"Does he always do that? It's pretty cool."

And the answer is yes, he always does it. And yes, it's pretty cool.

It's one of those things that I take for granted. He has always had this gift. That is just who he is. Once we started having the chil'rens, that did not put a damper on his freestyle sessions. He would rap about dirty diapers. Taking baths. Cooking dinner. Etc.

I didn't think that the chil'rens were actually paying attention, that they would pick up on it.

Michael usually takes Cyan, Maya and Xixi to school three mornings a week. When they are with their Dad, they've gotten into the habit of "rapping" for their dad. My baby girl Maya, otherwise known as "Miss Midgey" (her nickname is Midget) decided to flex her skills.

I've gotta say, baby girl has swagger.

What do you think? Can she be the next MC Lyte or M.I.A?

Help Babycenter win a Webby!

2011-04-26T15:27:00.000-07:00

Babycenter is up for a Webby Award in the Family/Parenting category! Woohooo.

Help Babycenter win by casting your vote. It only takes a few clicks. Thanks a lot, friends!

A day in my crazy life

2011-04-20T22:06:00.000-07:00

My day has been so insane that I thought I would share it with you. Sometimes I feel the need to document these things.

Went to bed around a little after midnight which is a huge deal for me. I usually don't go to bed until around 2 am.

Michael woke me up to make his lunch for this new job he's been working with. He leaves at 4 am (!). So I rolled out of bed with the crust still in my eye and proceeded to make his lunch on autopilot. When I looked at the clock it said 2:45am!! Dude, I was pissed. Gave Mike the stink eye, told him his lunch was on the counter and then I went back to bed.

Woke up again at 7am. Made my lovies their lunch for school. Two bean and cheese burritos, chopped strawberries, hard-boiled egg, juice and crackers, if you must know. I got them dressed, curled Xixi's hair for her kindergarten graduation pictures ("Oooh mama, I look pwetty just like you!"), gave Cyan a big hug and kiss because it was his 9th birthday today, took them all for a donut and milk before school and drove off like a crackhead on a joyride to get them to school on time.

After the drop off, I went to the grocery store because it was my turn to bring snacks for Cyan's baseball team later on in the evening. Hot dogs, chips, juice and cupcakes, if you must know.

Came home, unloaded, fed my boys, published a new post over at Babycenter, set the boys on their list of chores/schoolwork, folded some laundry, set my alarm and took a much-needed nap, made a giant pot of pasta e fagioli soup and grilled hot dogs for the game.

I tried to finish everything before I went back to pick up my lovies from school. Then I came home and wrapped thirty hot dogs in foil, packed chips and juices and water in the van, made sure everyone was dressed in their uniform, loaded everyone up in the car and drove over to the field, where I was going to meet some family who were there to root my boys on.

Diego's team won 8-2.
Cyan's team won 9-7.

Woooohooooo.

After the game, we handed out all the snacks to Cyan's teammates, including chocolate cupcakes that my brother made for him and we all sang happy birthday. On our way home, I took my baby boy to Starbucks for a hot chocolate. Skinny caramel macchiato for me. Drove home.

It's almost 10 pm now and the kids are through with their meltdowns and their baths and are snuggled in bed. I'm going to try to get some quality time with my man, even though all I'd like to do is pluck out my eyes and brain and and sit them on the dresser so I can pass out.

But, seriously?

I made it out alive today.

Why go all the way to Coachella when you have the internet?

2011-04-18T14:21:00.000-07:00

I love concerts just as much as the next girl. But seriously, this homeslice would not be caught dead out in Coachella. I just can't mess with the desert, the dirt and the heat. Granted, it's barely April. But I live about ninety miles away from Coachella...and it was a sweltering 95 degrees in my hood on Saturday. So you know it was hotter than the devil's buttcrack out in that desert.

Wooooboi.

I made it out to Coachella back in '07. I was all ready to endure the elements in order to see the best band ever. You can read all about it here.

I might have gone to see these two ladies but....why would I need to die from heat exhaustion and chub rub when I can watch their performances online? From the comfort of my cool bedroom, completely removed from any high, foul-smelling hipster dripping his sweat on me.

Now that is my kinda concert.

Image source: LAist

True worship

2011-04-18T08:44:00.000-07:00

Now, I know that all the people who visit Pearmama's World are not Christian.

You might be Buddhist. Or Catholic. Unitarian Universalist. You might be a pagan. You might not even believe in God. Yet, you read my posts.

And I believe in God. I may not be a holy rolling proselytizer, but I do. In fact, I love Him. His Son, too.

Jesus.

I realize that many, many people say they believe in God. But Jesus? Not so much.

But I really, really wish that people who have had a bad experience with religion could visit my church. I think you would walk away with the feeling that Christians...and their God, well, they aren't so bad after all.

I love Sandals Church. I love the people that go there. I love my pastor, Matt Brown. He has this way of expressing himself like a real person. There is no fake I'm-so-holy-let-me-say-the-perfect-thing-from-the-pulpit stuff going on.

He is the business.

Yesterday, we were celebrating Palm Sunday. This is an exciting week for Christians, with Good Friday and Easter approaching. Pastor Matt was trying to convey how the people were celebrating the man who came riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, amidst shouts of "Hosanna" and much palm frond waving, and how we should worship at the mention of His name.

So Pastor Matt showed us this video of Steve Harvey, to get us excited about celebrating Palm Sunday.

When it ended, Pastor Matt said, "We need more black people at our church. Black people know how to worship!"

And I clapped and amen'd and hallelujah'd and I really hoped people wouldn't get offended. Because you just gotta know Pastor Matt. He doesn't try to offend....he is just real with it.

And if you've ever been to a "black church", then you know exactly what he is talking about. Black people be havin' them some church. And a little bit of racial diversity never hurt nobody.

So my Sunday at church was awesome. I just wish more people could have experienced it.

You can watch Pastor Matt Brown at Sandals Church every Sunday here on Livestream.

Image source: Matt Weybright

Fo shizzle my nizzle

2011-03-30T08:00:00.000-07:00

We just started baseball season a couple of weeks ago.

I slipped back into the practice and game days two days a week business pretty seamlessly. The good thing: the boys have practice on the same days. This frees up an extra two days for us in the week and we don't feel like we're living at the baseball field. The bad: they practice on two different fields with the same start and ending time.

Uhhh.

So I drop off one a little bit early at field number one. Race along this road to get to field number two so he won't be late.

Get there by the skin of my teeth.

Then, I usually hang out with the kids at field number two. And then the second practice is over, we race back down the same road to get to field number one. We usually find Diego, standing in the parking lot with one of the coaches and his son, and everyone has already left.

All of this is fueled by Starbucks, of course.

Those are my Tuesday and Thursday evenings. I know, fun right? Oh, and this isn't counting the fact that Noah has guitar practice earlier in the afternoon on Tuesdays. And Sol has dance class every Thursday evening.

Yay me.

Anyhow, while I'm racing around like a madwoman down this road, I pass by a small farm. Or a ranch. Whatever you want to call it. I think they have animals, too. The name of the farm is stenciled on their wooden fence. It says, "Dizzle Ranch".

Being ghetto fabulous like I am, everytime I pass it I say

Fo shizzle my nizzle dime brizzle Dizzle Ranch

In a total Snoop Dogg voice and everything.

It's a visual marker for us. The kids know they'll be at practice soon (no one wants to be late or else they have to run laps). They also know that when mama sees it, she starts talking like a tall, skinny black man from the LBC.

Burritos in your lunch box

2011-03-23T12:02:00.000-07:00

I did something for the chil'rens today that I absolutely dreaded for my mom to do for me as a child.

I made them burritos for lunch.

Specifically, bean and cheese burritos. I had to make my lovies their lunch for school today and the most convenient thing for me to do was take advantage of all the beans I made last Sunday. It's Bean Week, yo. As I wrapped them in foil and placed them in their sandwich container, I laughed. I remembered hoping and praying my mom wouldn't embarrass me and put a burrito in my lunchbox.

You have to understand, I went to school with very few Latinos. Aside from my family, I did not have an accurate picture of what my culture looked like. Oh sure, I was living it but I didn't have a mirror to look into so I could accept it. Does that make sense?

At home, it was beans, salsa, rice, chile colorado, tamales, quesadillas, chile verde, chorizo con huevo and tortillas. At school, it was pancakes and maple syrup, hot dogs, pepperoni pizza, Pringles, ham sandwiches and Ding Dongs. I used to beg my mom to buy these things for our lunch. This way I could blend in with the other kids seamlessly. To assimilate, if you will. I wanted to be like the little blond girl with feathered hair and rainbow socks. She always had a Twinkie with her lunch.

My dark, frizzy ponytails, brown skin, eyeglasses, and thick thighs already stood out like a sore thumb. Imagine my horror at the thought of unearthing a big, foil-wrapped chorizo burrito from my lunchbox.

I realize now how I wanted nothing more than to fly under the radar. I wanted to look like everyone else: thin, blond, with straight hair and wearing a Def Leppard t-shirt.

That burrito was a symbol of everything I was but did not accept about myself.

Yet.

Thank God for Chicano Studies in college is all I have to say. Sadly, for most of us, that is the first opportunity we get to truly learn about ourselves. That is the first time I learned about my culture and was able to gain some sense of empowerment. It's not so much that my family failed to teach me about who I was...they were just living life. I don't think it occurred to them that I needed to know about where we came from so that I could be content with how different I was from the other kids.

And now? I look forward to my mom's burritos. At the beach, Disneylandia, camping, a Dodger game--my mom knows we expect her delicious burritos and she is very gangsta about smuggling them wherever we go when we need an inexpensive snack.

And my lovies? They were excited about having bean and cheese burritos for lunch. They weren't worrying about what the other kids would think. They weren't begging me for Lunchables. Their main concern was keeping them warm and not getting smooshed by their juice pouch.

I can only imagine the glee on their little faces as they are enjoying their burritos this afternoon. It makes me feel good.

Photo: That is me looking all cute and whatnot, hoping that my mama packed me a ham sandwich and not a chorizo burrito.

Breastfeeding babies with teeth...ouch

2011-03-22T00:42:00.000-07:00

Have you ever pondered about what happens when you breastfeed a baby with "teefs"? Head over to Babycenter's Momformation and find out.

And...if you ever wonder what extreme pain feels like, have a precious little baby with razor sharp teeth chomp on your tig 'o bitties.

Um, owww.

You'll be thanking me for my little suffocation tip.

Proceed.

Future aerosol artists

2011-03-14T09:41:00.000-07:00

Is it naive of me to think that as long as I let my son paint along the wall in the backyard with his Dad's spray cans, he'll resist the urge to take off in the middle of the night and go tagging?

I don't have an answer to that yet.

But I have faith.

For now, they are easy to contain. They are still boys. Little men.

This is how these two cousins like to spend their time together. We'll let them paint in the backyard for as long as they'll think it's fun. And for as long as they will grace us with their presence.

My nephew Elijah, nine years old.

Cousins.

Elijah and Sol, with their boombox character.

"Yes, I chose a home birth."

2011-03-09T13:48:00.000-08:00

It doesn't take much to get me on my homebirth soapbox. I will readily jump up there and speak because having your baby at home safely and peacefully is something I've always felt very passionate about.

I'm over at both Babycenter's Momformation and Parentdish today, sharing a little about why I chose homebirth.

Go over and show me some love!

The sketch book

2011-03-07T20:35:00.000-08:00

I've had this drawing in my sketch pad for several months now. Just a small portion needs to be finished. Don't know why I've been sitting on it for so long but this seems to be my M.O.

What I love about drawing with Sharpie markers on paper is this: I don't have to lug out all my supplies (since I don't have the luxury of a permanent studio), I don't have to worry about mixing and storing paint, I don't have to clean my brushes. I can pretty much just take out my bristol board pad, my secret cache of Sharpies (I have to hide them greedily or else Michael and Sol will steal them from me) and I can draw anytime. And when I'm done I just put it away.

This is as close to "sketching" as I come. I'm not much of a sketchbook artist.

It's all right here. {tapping skull}

But I love flipping through people's ideas. For me, inspiration comes from magazines, modern art, graffiti, pictures, color schemes, and fashion so I just have folders of pages I've ripped out of various places.

My little Frida, she's almost done.

Artists work in seasons

2011-03-03T07:57:00.000-08:00

My painting sessions seem to work in seasons. Sometimes I am dry and have no desire to paint. Other times, I have lots of inspiration and its like this colorful purge or...someone commissions me to do a piece for them. And what can I say? Paper is always a pretty good motivator.

Heh.

I actually started this painting around the holidays. I was set on getting it done while the chil'rens were on vacation. But then I got sick and the plague made the rounds. And instead of sitting there painting, I just wanted to chill and relax with my family.

Then I hit a wall. I added something to the painting on a whim but I wasn't really feeling it. But it was too late to buff it out and start over soooooo it took me some time to sit on it and then pick it back up again.

That's the thing with us artists. I have lots of people ask me, so when are you going to do a painting for me? and where is my painting? and I thought you said you were going to paint me something? And that is all well and good and yes, I feel guilty when I get those questions but people have to recognize.

Sometimes you got the mojo and sometimes you don't. Last week, I got a brief wind which brought my mojo back.

I honestly believe that all creative people go through the same process.

I love to look at artists who continue to produce a steady stream of artwork like El Ponk and the Crafty Chica and Maria Sanchez and Rio Yañez. Ya'll inspire me. I'm in awe of how you get your grind on.

Maybe when the chil'rens grow up, I can produce a lot of work like that. But until then, every piece is carefully crafted with sacrificial love. Meaning, I sacrifice sleep, a clean house, clean laundry and home-cooked meals.

And I'm cool with that.

This latest piece was commissioned by my girl Nadia. She has been waiting ever so patiently for her little sugar skull. And now its all her's. Hope you like it, Boo.

Finally figuring out what looks good on me

2011-03-01T13:00:00.000-08:00

Hey people, I wrote about The fine art of dressing to flatter your body type over at Babycenter's Momformation today. A subject that is near and dear to my heart. Its kinda rough dressing this here bod. It always has been. Finding jeans that fit will fit my big booty and hips and not be five inches too big in the waist....plus the fact that I don't have big breasteses so plus sizes always fit me a bit strange.

But I think I've finally found the right combination. I mean, finally.

So check it out and give me some love.

Why must birthdays be so bittersweet?

2011-02-23T23:46:00.000-08:00

Miss Maya turned 7 today.

Its bittersweet. I'm noticing that anything related to the chil'rens growing up is bittersweet. My son's feet growing almost as big as his fathers. Bittersweet. My youngest, my lovey--Xixi, just lost her first baby tooth yesterday. Bittersweet. And now, Maya is growing up and with it came the realization that these are most likely the last couple of years we'll have of her as a little girl. So bittersweet. Soon, she'll start to change and blossom before our very eyes.

And I'm already lamenting it. I really am.

Its awful.

I want to see her as a beautiful young woman, I do. A mother, even. I have so many hopes and dreams for her. But it hurts my heart. For whatever reason, it's hitting me much harder with my daughter than with my sons. Perhaps its because I know the changes she'll be going through firsthand. I know the journey she will one day embark on.

Look at me, I'm getting all emotional. I couldn't even look through my archives to post pictures of her when she was younger because then I can't avoid the obvious.

She's not a little baby anymore.

I brought her balloons and cupcakes to school today. Cupcakes so her classmates could sing happy birthday to her and balloons because I know my girl. She enjoys physical demonstrations of my love. She wants people to know, yes I have a lot of brothers and my little sister is really cute, but I still have a place in my mama's heart.

Her class was walking out to the playground when she spotted me. Her cheeks got flushed, she had the goofiest smile ever and she giggled. She proudly handed out her cupcakes (thanks, Uncle Josh!) and held her balloons. Her smile said it all.

Mama loves you, baby.

Only in San Francisco

2011-02-18T08:23:00.000-08:00

Last week, I had the pleasure of making the trip up to San Francisco to meet up with the rest of the Babycenter bloggers, as well as to visit Babycenter's headquarters. What an amazing trip. It was such a pleasure to meet all of the bloggers. And I love San Francisco! What a great city. I fell in love with this place back in '09, when I came to visit and see Frida Kahlo's show at SFMOMA. Below are pics from my trip, in no particular order. Enjoy!

The Bay Bridge, near the Ferry Building. We stayed at a hotel right across from here.

A wall of family pics from Babycenter's headquarters. I am so going to steal this idea!

We ate lunch here the first day we landed. Oh em gee. The steamed pork bun was to die for.

It was so cool to finally be here and meet people I only know through emails!

Our room was simple and elegant.

We ate this delicious eggplant dish at Andalu. The food just kept coming and coming. The tuna tartar was un-freakin-believable.

Michael was the man with the camera for the entire trip.

Buildings.

San Francisco skyline.

We had dinner at Tyler Florence's Wayfare Tavern. And yup, that is the Tyler Florence. It was really cool and the food....well, I'm still fantasizing about the food. Forget Tyler Florence, I'm dreaming about those bacon-wrapped dates!

Salud.

Enjoying SF's public transportation.

Me, on a quick break between important blogger business.

Love.

Chinatown. We braved walking up and down those hills. And now my TOMS stink. Oh well, I had so much fun!

Large family living

2011-02-16T08:10:00.000-08:00

Life has me running around like the proverbial chicken with her head cut off, so I haven't really been keeping up with things here the way I should. I've totally slacked on Smothered and Covered Fridays, if you've noticed. My bad. Then there are really cool things happening that I haven't shared, a spa review that I've been working on forever. I kind of see this as blogger constipation. Like a log-jam of drafts, just waiting to be published.

Recently, I was involved in a special feature on Babycenter, called Secrets of Successful Moms, where I shared some organizational tips for moms with large families. I know, right? The irony! Organizational tips from me, the most insane fly-by-the-seat-of-my-fat-pants mom I know. So far I've managed to keep six chil'rens alive and well, so I must be doing something right. Right? Right.

Holler.

I also made a....gulp...video. The idea was for me to take a stroll through my house and share some of the ways I squeeze six kids and two adults in a 1400 square foot house and how we live as a large family. I was going to be behind the camera but it kept coming out too blurry and shaky. So, Michael volunteered to film me while I narrated. I didn't even contemplate what I wearing (and how my bra strap kept showing), or how my day-three-of-unwashed-hair was looking kinda funky. I didn't even have any shoes on! I basically showed you what I look like in real life.

No Spanx.
No cropping of the image.
No Photoshop.
Yikes.

But overall, it was fun. Once I got over how my voice sounds like a tranny, I was good. I share more about the video here, if you are so inclined to check it out. I plan on making more videos in the future, just because they are such an easy way to communicate, and my kids provide such hilarious sound bites.

Top 10 Most Romantic Movies

2011-02-14T23:12:00.000-08:00

Since it's still Valentine's Day and all, there was a post listing the 10 Most Romantic Movies of All Time on the Huffington Post.

I read the list and to be honest, my romance meter was like meh. They are like, old people romantic movies. Seriously, have you ever seen Harold and Maude?

Thank you.

Here is my list, in no particular order:

1. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: I saw this movie in the theater with my husband. After watching the scenes where they are fighting in the bamboo forest and all the green leaves are swaying...sigh...I fell in love with this movie.

2. Brown Sugar: When did you fall in love with hip hop? An important question, and one I've been asking myself since I was a kid. This movie is close to my heart because its a movie I saw with Michael. We were friends first, like Dre and Syd were in this movie.

3. Say Anything: Um, helllooo, John Cusack holding up a boom box, blaring Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes?? Major swoon.

4. Dirty Dancing: Loved, loved, loved this movie. I will always stop what I'm doing to watch it if I stumble upon it on TV. Patrick Swayze, RIP. I've always wondered, who dirty dances that way?

5. The Notebook: This movie made me fall in love with Ryan Gosling. This movie is what gave my husband the idea that we were going to die together, holding hands and laying together in an old folks home. Only we won't be in an old folks home because brown people like to keep their elderly living with them. So it'll most likely die together in one of the chil'rens spare bedrooms. Or maybe a trailer out in back. Heh.

6. Legends of the Fall: Brad Pitt. Long hair. Need I say more? I just wish he could stay this way forever, frozen in time. This time and Fight Club time.

7. 50 First Dates: I love how Adam Sandler's character is willing to make Drew Barrymore fall in love with him over and over again.

8. A Walk in the Clouds: This is a visually stunning movie with Keanu Reeves. Anthony Quinn plays the grandfather, which is really cool because this actor resembles my own grandfather, who passed away when I was seven years old. But I still remember him vividly.

9. Some Kind of Wonderful: This movie made me fall in love with Eric Scholtz (a redhead!). I also loved how cool Watts was--her style was so amazing, even though its been twenty-four long years since this movie came out. Wow. Apparently, girls in combat boots, fishnet stockings and fingerless gloves never goes out of style.

10. Grease. I don't care what people say, Summer Lovin' and Hopelessly Devoted to You are some seriously romantic songs. Those stolen, bittersweet moments on the beach in the beginning of the movie were precious. So were the Pink Ladies. And the hand jive.

These are the movies that make my heart go all pitter-pat. They make me remember when I was a love-starved young woman, waiting for her prince. And now, I watch these movies with my prince. So lovely.

The birth of an artist

2011-02-13T17:39:00.000-08:00

The one question Michael and I always get asked after,

are they all yours?

and

how old are they?

is most definitely

are they artists just like their mom and dad?

When the chil'rens were really young, we didn't know how to answer that. We were just your typical parents who ooohed and aahhed over their child's cute drawing. They didn't really show any particular promise. We just hung it up on the fridge anyway.

But now that my son is ten years old, I'm beginning to really see Sol's artistic talents starting to flourish. It's a beautiful thing to contemplate that my son is an artist. Michael and I get excited when we see his work and we realize, he's going to be ten times the better artist than we are!

The kid is amazing. And I'm not just saying that because I'm his mother.

Heh.

At ten years old, he paints, draws, does graffiti, designs his own vinyl stickers and can operate the vinyl cutting machine and he is learning how to use computer programs like Photoshop. Oh, and he knows how to airbrush, too.

Shoot, I was doodling on my Peechee folder at his age.

When I saw this video of Ernesto Yerena of Hecho Con Ganas, a young Chicano activist and artist, I couldn't help but think of Sol and his art. I let him watch the video and I saw his eyes light up when he heard the soundtrack. And really, how could he not? It was RATM! He was very interested to learn about this young man who grew up working with his father in the garage. When he got to see Ernesto share his creative techniques, Sol was inspired by his fellow artist.

I told him, "Mijo, you could do all of these things. You are a gifted artist. Imagine what you'll be creating when you are this dude's age!"

Which is approximately twelve years or so because Ernesto is a youngster himself.

And Sol just smiled that little Sol smile, dimple and all. I love my little king. I'm in awe of my son. Here is some of his artwork so far:

Mixed media collage with oil pastels, color pencils, tissue paper and magazine clippings, a project we created on Modern Art 4 Kids.

His first try at painting Bob Marley. My Dad literally pulled it off my livingroom wall and took it home.

Sol's workstation. He's working on another Bob Marley painting.

Sol and his 10th birthday present: a respirator to use while he uses aerosol cans. Most kids just want a new video game, right? Not Sol.

The artist, working on a wood panel.

While I'm working on my own painting in the background, Sol is working on an airbrush portrait of his Dad in our kitchen/art studio.

A piece in Sol's black book.

A Frank Stella-inspired relief sculpture he did in art class.

A Van Gogh-inspired still life drawing made with oil pastels.

Sol found these random wood shapes in the garage, so he decoupaged drawings he liked onto the wood, then he added some color to it with paint and/or marker.

Working on a painting of Frida Kahlo to augment the report that he did for art class. I helped him out with the drawing and then he painted it.

I really felt the need to document some of Sol's artwork. He's gonna want to see this someday. And what can I say? Sometimes a mother has to brag about her kid's efforts just a little bit.

Boys and penis jokes

2011-01-27T00:42:00.000-08:00

My boys are growing.

They are growing day by day. A couple of them have already exceeded my shoe size and are about the same height as I am. So, physically they are taking off like a rocket.

Maturity-wise, not so much.

I just never thought I would see the day that they would make fun of each others genitalia, but that day has come.

We've been repairing the plumbing in the kids bathroom, so every night they try to get into my shower first so they can hog up all the hot water. Believe me, you don't want to be the sixth (or the seventh!) (or the eighth!) person in line for the shower. You can best believe it won't be a warm, steamy event.

Two of my boys took off for bathroom, stripping off their clothes as they charged down the hallway. The one who got there last was pissed, and being a bad sport about it. So then they started hurling penis insults.

Can you believe that? Penis insults, already?

You're just standing there with your little Tic Tac penis! Omigosh! Ahahahahahahahahaha!

Shut up, you baby walrus!

Mutant fur! You have mutant fur "down there".

What are you talking about?? Your penis is so crooked it leans like a cholo!! It looks like someone broke it! Get out of here with that! Bwahhahahahahahaaa!

Really, boys?

All this, as I was trying to eat my yummy tortilla soup in peace. They stood there with towels around their waists and their mutant fur under their armpits and it was really difficult for me not to picture them as babies. I loved them so, adored their chubby little legs and double chins. They used to love it when I let them lay on their tummies naked, to let their junk get some fresh air.

And now this? Telling each other their penis is so small it looks resembles a Tic Tac?

Sigh.

I'm so not prepared. I'll take nekkid babies on towels anyday.

These guys are...

...hilarious.

"I could eat you up, I love you so."

2011-01-21T00:31:00.000-08:00

I love my family. They are my life.

Even though its rough living with seven other people. Sometimes I find myself near tears because I crave a small space to call my own, where I can have privacy, quiet, neatness and order--a place untouched by seven other people.

~They always steal my brush.
~They always steal my toothpaste.
~My room seems to be the place where everyone kicks off their shoes to watch cartoons and when I kick them out, they leave their shoes behind.
~My girls love to read my Instyle mags and rip open and smell all of the perfume samples.
~My husband has about a billion things he carries in his pockets, and he dumps every single one of them on his dresser. If he runs out of room, he puts some on mine.
~They write on the walls with marker.
~Whenever my phone rings, they automatically pick it up, answer it, and then hand it to me.
~My girls love to remove every last washcloth from the bathroom and use them as Barbie blankets.
~When everyone is talking at once and vying for position, the noise level is ridiculous. I go to my happy place.

I mean, those are just some of the little things that drive me nuts. On the flipside...

~My daughter's hair always smells so good, and I love to bury my nose in it and inhale deeply.
~My sons email me sweet and funny messages just like this one: "Mom without you in my life I'd be fat, dumb, and hairy, so take care of me."
~I love when I walk into the kitchen and Michael is whipping up one of his "gourmet meals". I swear, he can get the chil'rens to eat anything, and all with a smile on their face. They never do that with me.
~At night, I have such a peace knowing they are all in bed safely, they are warm and happy and they are all still young enough to be living at home.
~I love to torture my kids by kissing their daddy and hearing them groan in horror when they catch him giving me a squeeze here and there.
~I love that they aren't afraid to talk to us about anything and everything (and I do mean anything and everything).
~I love that throughout the day, I usually have extricate someone from my side, my butt, my arms, my lap because no matter how old they are, they love to cuddle. And by cuddle I mean, drape themselves all over me.

Such is my life.

Me and the chil'rens, the providers of such good material. From the left: Diego (12), Noah (13), Me (ageless), Sol (10), Cyan (8). In front, Maya (almost 7), Xixi (5)

My family, January 2011.

Miss Stank Attitude

2011-01-18T23:15:00.000-08:00

There is no way to sugar-coat this fact. My little girl has a stank attitude. I mean, yes, she is adorable and sweet and quiet and giggly and girly and completely lovable. But on the flip side she is whiney. A complainer. Crybaby crybaby suck your thumb. And when she is pissed, she'll try to pull this pouty routine which is sort of comical because it never seems to work out for her. We just end up brushing it off and within a few minutes she is happy and smiling again.

That is Miss Maya. She is 6 going on 16. Lord help us.

Hmmph!

This is what I call her pretzel maneuver.

She wants to smile.

But she's trying soooo hard to keep the pout going.

Awww, forget it! Its so much easier to be happy and smiling!

And she's off. Until the next pout...

Diva.

2011-01-13T00:47:00.000-08:00

"A diva is a female version of a hustler..."

Yeh, I think I'm in trouble.

The author of "Wheezy and Cheesy" turns 12 today

2011-01-10T00:17:00.001-08:00

That would be Diego. He is twelve years old today.

Sigh.

I wish I could say that my son and I have lots of warm and fuzzy moments but that's just not the case. We bump heads multiple times a day. And its not because we have clashing personalities, its because of the ADHD.

Stoopid ADHD.

Diego has always been a highly imaginative child, with tons of energy and personality that oozed from his pores. I used to call him a demented elf. He still is, but now that he is growing older, there are certain things/behaviors that I wish he would 1. start to do and 2. stop doing.

Does that even make sense?

I guess what I mean is this: when he was a small child, childish/obnoxious/hyperactive behavior was somewhat expected and accepted. But now that he is on the cusp of the teen years and hair is sprouting up in places, I look at him and expect him to act a bit more mature. But it seems that his mind hasn't caught up with his body.

So I find myself exasperated by him often. And I don't like it. I want it to be the way it was when he was younger. When I didn't have to nag him to death about everything--from finishing a task to staying off the computer to putting deodorant on (PLEASE!), to stop making all those weird noises when he is playing with an action figure.

I know the ADHD has everything to do with it. And although it continually frustrates me, I give him grace and love on him. It saddens me to think, how much of what bugs me stems from the ADHD....and how much of it is just his personality?

'Cause I love the boy desperately. And I don't like to think I'm contributing to a bruised self-esteem, which many ADHD people suffer from. I am his mother, I should be a continual source of love and support.

With that, I'm so thankful that he gets to spend his days at home learning and growing at his own pace.

But some days, I'm not so thankful and I feel awful about it.

But today...today, I have a son who has reached the milestone of twelve years old, and I couldn't love the boy any more. In no particular order, Diego is:

handsome
a bookworm
caring and gentle
creative
has a beautiful singing voice
draws awesome super heroes
loves Michael Jackson, as we've seen here
loves to tell jokes
aspires to be a writer someday, and for the past year he has worked on stories called, "Wheezy and Cheesy"--everything is saved on our computer so he can publish it and make the big bucks one day soon
obsessed with rice, Cheez-its and juice
has suffered from chronic asthma, but this is the first winter season we've managed to keep it under control, with no visits to the emergency room
the first to wake up in our house
talks in his sleep like he's having a full-on conversation
loves to spend time with his family

Life with Diego has been an adventure, to be sure.

I love you, son. Happy birthday, Dego-dog!

Things to love: Xochico's plush pan dulce

2011-01-09T13:47:00.000-08:00

The night I went with my family to celebrate Dia de los Muertos here in downtown Riverside, I was flabbergasted by how much this event grew. I do believe it doubled in size this year. Which is fabulous for all of us Mexican folk art lovers and sugar skull fanatics. They were a ton of vendors, selling the wares I've come to expect from this type of event. But then, there were a few really cool and unique things offered that night.

Xochico was one of them.

I discovered this dude who was selling the cutest, most adorable little coin purses, pillows and backpacks. Shaped just like pan dulce. In pink pastry boxes.

I.just.died.

I fell out and died right there on Dia de los Muertos. They had to revive me with a carne asada taco and a cup of champurrado. The Mexican version of smelling salts, if you will.

What is pan dulce? You might be asking yourself.

Sweet bread. As in, Mexican sweet bread.

Americans have their apple pie. The Sicilians have their cannolis. The Greek have their baklava. The Chinese have their almond cookies.

The Mexicans have their pan dulce. With your little cup of cafecito, mmmmm.

I so feel like a little old Mexican lady just for saying that. Seriously.

When I lived in East L.A., there was a tiny panaderia right off of Eastern Ave. They had the most delicious pan dulce I ever tasted. I would walk in there and the smell alone would make you swoon. When I first moved back out to Riverside, I had to settle for tough, crumbly pan dulce.

Boooo. Hissssss.

The pan dulce predicament has gotten better over the years. Or maybe I've grown desensitized. Who knows. My point is, I shared all that so you could know how us beaners feel about our pan dulce.

So when I stumbled upon Xochico selling pan dulce-shaped purses, pillows, fuzzies (to hang from the rearview mirror in your lowrider), keychains and backpacks, I found myself swooning again. They were so cute. My girlies saw them and started squealing. There was no explanation necessary. They knew exactly what they were.

The cultural reference was unmistakable.

Xochico, if you read this, hook an hermana up. I wanted a backpack for each of my two girls but you only had one in stock that night. Heh.

I love it when brown people come up with such original, creative ideas. You go, Xochico.

Smothered and Covered Fridays: Prince O(+

2011-01-07T14:37:00.000-08:00

I am a die-hard Prince fan, and have been ever since I was a little girl.

My Dad was really into The Time and Prince, so I guess I followed suit. I mean, how can you not love the raw and uncut funk? Had my Dad not introduced it to me, I would have most likely discovered it myself.

But, inappropriate for a nine year old? Totally.

I don't know about you, but I don't want my curious daughters listening to songs titled Head and Soft and Wet. But I do remember staring at Prince's Dirty Mind album for what seemed like hours on end. Nevermind the cover featured Prince in a black speedo, scarf, happy pubic hair trail and nothing else under a trenchcoat.

I won't even get into the record jacket of his 1999 album. Loved that picture, to this day. Ahem.

Just fyi, Prince has written many songs for people other than himself. This is one of those songs when you just can't fathom another person singing.

But I have to say, I've always loved Sinead O'Connor's version. I think it's because you can really hear and feel her pain in this song. And that makes it captivating.

I love both versions.

Wii like MJ

2011-01-06T13:58:00.000-08:00

My kids are ~~obsessed~~ huge Michael Jackson fans.

They learned to love him through my little bro, who has spent the last year or two kinda obsessed himself because he's been performing Michael Jackson routines and meeting several of MJ's choreographers and dancers.

I have to say, Diego is the biggest fan. Evert single time he decides to turn on the iPod, his go-to choice is Michael Jackson.

Sigh.

I like MJ as much as the next person, but dang.

My kids biggest Christmas wish was to get the Michael Jackson The Experience video game for the Wii.

Which would be a bit challenging considering we didn't even own a Wii.

But guess what? They got their Christmas wish and a Wii game was sitting underneath Grandma-mama and Papa's Christmas tree.

They were pretty excited, to say the least.

Then it was Diego's turn to open up the next gift and that's when I heard this blood-curdling shriek. It was Diego, right after he opened up his new Michael Jackson The Experience video game. He was so overwhelmed and excited, his body didn't know what else to do but cry/laugh/drool.

Oh, he's only slightly dramatic.

The Michael Jackson drawing above was created by JRocka and colored in by Diego.

A few good things about 2010

2011-01-04T02:19:00.000-08:00

As always, I am eager to say good riddance to 2010 and how you doin' to 2011. 2010 brought lots of new opportunities for me, but it was also very stressful and fast-paced. I lived and died by my daily planner. We had lots of schooling happening, lots of sports, camping trips, writing/blogging, art shows and concerts.

The one good thing about 2010? It was a good year for concerts.

Sublime with Rome back in April. Although it was one of the most laid-back shows I've ever seen, it was good to hear all their old classics.

Rage Against the Machine in July, which still gives me goosebumps when I think about it. It was the best show I ever saw. The air raid sirens, my nervous stomach, the Escalade we saw with RATMFAN vanity plates, Zach's swagger, the music pulsing in time with my heartbeat, those memories will be with me forever.

Then there were the B-52's we saw in October. It was a local, inexpensive show that I got to take Noah to. Yeh, they were as old as dirt but it was fun. Cindy was rockin' a muumuu like it was nobody's business. Fred was strutting around looking like someones gay grandpa and Kate....well, Kate blew me away when I discovered she was 62 flippin years old.

62! I'd like to see you rock a bouffant and heels and sing Rock Lobster at 62 years old. Hats off to you, Kate. At 62, I know for a fact that I would be at home in my robe watching Benny Hill reruns, with my teeth in a jar. Seriously.

Then there was Mary J. Blige in October. I've never had the opportunity to see the Queen of Hip Hop Soul perform live in concert. It was such a fun concert! Miguel had us all on our feet dancing. Jazmine Sullivan had me thinking about busting your windows. And El Debarge brought light-skinned brothas back in style.

I've always loved me some Mary J. Blige, ever since I heard What's the 411. She sang all my old favorites, and her new ones, too. You could tell she was a very down-to-Earth person and that she was having fun. She danced a lot and she even let the crowd sing half of Sweet Thing. You know I was up on my feet, singing my heart out to that one.

Amid financial woes, health/mental issues, church and family drama, I gotta say, the concerts were most definitely a highlight.

The New Year's hat photo magic was courtesy of my son, Sol, who is becoming quite efficient with photoshop. Now I can have him liquify the double chins for me.

Hello Kitty sittin' on the toilet...

2010-12-26T22:59:00.000-08:00

Michael and I tend to be very sporadic in our gift giving. I can't bear to buy him anything impractical so his gifts usually consist of socks, underwear, pj's, shoes, sketchbooks and the occasional cologne. Which he is totally okay with because that is an extension of my nurturing. He knows he is well taken care of.

His gifts to me are usually the same--paper, Sharpies, handmade jewelry and food. Prolly something we both need to retire from--the food and snacks, I mean. Anyhow, lots of times he will buy me something that reminds him of me. And those are the gifts that touch me because one, he was thinking about me and I was on his mind throughout his day. Two, he knows me. And three, they mean more to me than your average gift. So no matter how random or off the wall it seems, I treasure it.

This little Hello Kitty on the toilet is one of those types of gift. She sits on the toilet reading, and she bobbles her head.

It's perfect.

Moby Dick...moldy dick...same difference

2010-12-21T07:04:00.000-08:00

Oh my.

Ahahahahahaaa. Hahaha. Heeehee. Hehe. Wooooo.

Ahem.

I was just reading through some of my archives. Funny ish right there.

And I can't believe I said this:

...when one of your kids tells you they read a story about a man and a whale called Moldy Dick in Sunday school...

Seriously?

Hilarious. And the chil'rens just keep the laughs coming.

Do they know its Christmas time at all?

2010-12-18T22:40:00.000-08:00

Doood, I know I am totally dating myself but I absolutely loved Band Aid's "Do They Know its Christmas?" song when I was kid. It came out in 1984, so I was a ripe old 12 years old. I loved it for three reasons: Duran Duran, Boy George and Bono.

But what I could never understand were the lyrics, especially this one: And there won't be any snow in Africa this Christmas time. The biggest gift they'll get this year is life.

I always thought they were singing: ...the biggest gift they'll get this year are flies...

My cute, crunchy-haired twelve year-old self would furrow my bushy brows and shake my head incredulously and think, Geez. Flies?! Well that is pretty harsh!

Hehe.

Silly girl.

Smothered and Covered Friday: Stevie Wonder

2010-12-17T21:54:00.000-08:00

If anything reminds me of my husband--besides underground hip hop, jazz and spray paint fumes--it is Stevie Wonder. I can just see him as a little boy with a 'fro, sitting on the lap of his daddy, who also had a 'fro. Super 70's style, with bell bottoms, roller skates and totally grooviness.

For Mike's birthday a few years ago, I bought him Songs in the Key of Life. His father passed away when Michael was 22, so I know he feels his dad's presence when he listens to this type of music.

That said, this week's pick for Smothered and Covered Friday is Higher Ground by Stevie Wonder. This song came out in 1973 (we were only one year old!) before Songs in the Key of Life was released.

It is soulful, funky. Delicious. I never knew Stevie Wonder played all the instruments on the track. Amazing.

This weeks cover is by none other than the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Can I just say how I had the hugest crush on Anthony Kiedis when I was in high school? My goal in life was to find a shirtless boy with long hair and tattoos. I wore out Mother's Milk my senior year. I love RHCP's version, especially the beginning because I truly love Flea slappin' that bass. And wearing stuffed animal pants! It just doesn't get better than that. My favorite part of the song, though, is around 3:13. Favorite.part.ever.

So I really can't pick a favorite of the two. I love them both and they can stand alone. I don't really know if it's because I truly appreciate the Chili Peppers musicality or because I'm still thinking of that shirtless boy with the long hair and tattoos. Hmmmph.

Either way, love both versions. Opinions?

"Muah, muah....oohhhh....ssssssss!"

2010-12-16T00:31:00.000-08:00

I love that my little ladies are very close.

They are the youngest two out of seven.
The only females (well, besides me).
They share a room and a bed every night.

That is something I'm going to work on next year, possibly buying them a bunk bed. Maya's been asking for her own space, since Xixi is a wild sleeper. I've really been dragging my feet on this because, one, their room is practically a glorified closet. Super, super tiny. And two, I can't stand bunk beds. I know they are fun to sleep in when you're a kid, but when you are into vintage/antique furniture like I am, the bunk beds just don't go with everything else they have in their room. My mom has a really cute set of antique twin beds and I've been dying to use them. But sadly, they will not fit in their room along with everything else they have in there.

So I wait....and Maya and Xixi continue to be sleep partners.

Which brings me back to my little ladies. They are very close. They make up the silliest songs and dances and they giggle all night long. I thought I would share their famous sister handshake. It is so funny. They've reworked it to include the sister version, the old lady version, the daddy version, the teenager version and the Hello Kitty version.

They are so cute and so obnoxious. I have no idea where they get that from.

Its a sister thing from Pearmama

Smothered and Covered Fridays: Jimi Hendrix

2010-12-10T08:40:00.000-08:00

One of my all-time favorite musicians has to be Jimi Hendrix. You can listen to his music this very second and it's as fresh and visionary as if he performed it yesterday. So, that said, who can mess with Little Wing?

I mean, seriously?

Stevie Ray Vaughn! That's who. He is the only person who has been able to do Little Wing justice. I truly believe his version is equally beautiful, if not more haunting because there are no vocals on the track. I love both versions.