Perks

Don’t judge me (although I would if I were you)… but my son has a chauffeur.
I personally think it sounds pompous; therefore let’s think of it as a one-sided carpool, or a favor done by a paid friend. Listen, I’d love to be a soccer mom, but not at the risk of our lives. When traffic standards become predictable instead of a matter of shifting personal opinion, mood, or personality maybe then I can join the ranks and drive my son to soccer. Meanwhile, I am able to put Iris to bed on time b/c I’m not sitting in traffic for between 0.5 and 1.75 hours.
Today I drove for the first time in weeks? months? Not sure. It was for the sake of visiting teaching. I figured that if I die on that errand, exaltation is guaranteed anyway.
Again don’t judge me (although, again, I would): someone cleans my house twice a week.
I know, I know, I’m spoiled. This is a perk of living in Mexico—cheap labor. The best part is being able to leave the girls at home if they are napping when I have to go pick up E from school.
The following picture demonstrates why we absolutely need (almost as much as the air we breathe) someone to clean twice a week.Does this make you want to move to Mexico?
Wait a minute…
Now, a non-perk. In the past 8 days I have had herpes (of the mouth, of course), severe pink eye in both eyes (we’re talking swollen eyes cemented shut with my own diseased muck), and food poisoning not once, not twice, not even thrice, but 4 glorious times. Actually, come to think of it, maybe this is the work of an amoeba, or a parasite. Okay unruly inhabitants, you are welcome in my body as long as you shed 5-15 pounds off my love-handles. But I'm disappointed in your work thus far; actually helping me pack on the pounds by getting happy right around the time I usually go running is not acceptable.
Anyway, I was getting used to the runs 1-2 times a month, but this week I hit the bowel jackpot! I know everyone is riveted by the activities of my nether regions, come on, it’s hard not to be! And don't worry, you will be updated frequently.

More Happenings

I’ve been having an internal blogging struggle for a few weeks now. I feel like everything I post needs to be inspiring or meaningful. I’m sure you can tell from my posts so far that my definition of these words is highly debatable. But I’ve felt neither inspiring nor meaningful lately. Therefore, I have a feeling this is going to be a post that’s “constipation of the brain and diarrhea of the mouth” (that’s one of Mista Hecta’s favorite quotes).
Food: Made praline salmon which was exquisite (salmon baked with brown sugar and pecans).
Entertainment: Platinum movie viewing included ordering sushi and ice cream to enjoy in the comfort of our own personal fully-reclining La-Z-boys.
Animals: Went to the zoo and learned that the nutria (aka. perros del agua) apparently only live in Mexico and southward. Mista zookeeper, take a trip north to NOLA where the nutria are ripe and ready for petting, eating, and wearing. When I was a young-un they became so abundant that “officials” were trying to encourage cooking contests, fur-fashion contests, etc, anything that involved massacring the omnipresent mammals.
Sports: Last week a kid punched E in soccer, resulting in a bloody nose. He did not cry nor retaliate. Yet the day before he made his playdate buddy cry twice over a toy. Caprichoso! (Abuela Maria’s favorite description of David)
I was a guest speaker in E’s primary class this past Sunday. The teacher asked E what his mother did for him. He responded that I eat my boogars, teeth, and bones. I'm all about service!

Kler: Cleare or Kler (both spellings from her nursery leader) has become somewhat of an insomniac. Last night I woke up in the middle of the night to find her flipping through a magazine. The next time I found her crying while intensely studying her face in the mirror. And when she is asleep at night, not trailing me to and from Iris’ room (Iris now sleeps in the muchacha’s room), this is where she sleeps: in a sleeping bag on my floor because I refuse to spend an even more sleepless night with her next to me in bed.Baby food: Iris has officially become the 4th picky eater in our household. The only thing I can get her to eat consistently is chayote, which is beyond me since that stuff has no taste. Here she is sporting her food of choice and her newest tooth (the bottom 2 came in around Christmas).
Also, a few weeks ago someone asked me if we cut her hair that way. Seriously?!

This is where we went this past weekend. Plaza San Jacinto in San Angel: an artsy-fartsy place.

A walk down memory lane

How it all began

NOLA

San Antonio: Found out E was on his way

E's first bites

A&A wedding

Washington State

Alaska

B&E wedding

Ann Arbor, MI Christmas 2006

The Big House

Cancun, Mexico

Ann Arbor, MI Christmas 2007

Princess #1 arrives

Blessing in AA, moved to NYC immediately after

M&J weddingI'll have to go through the rest of the photos later...

Happy Birthday Mista Hecta!

Mista Hecta look at all the weight I lost!
This is a line from a past Garcia neighbor. It has got some good mileage since then.

Mista Hecta, this is what we did this weekend:
Diego Rivera museum

Hey Mista Hecta, the apple didn't fall too far from the tree!

GUNS!

Mista Hecta has a crazy paper route in a crazy part of town. He carries a gun. Once he was robbed at “gunpoint." Hector wasn’t sure if the gun was actually a finger in the man’s jacket pocket, or the real deal, so he handed over his wallet and valuables. Man walked away, Hector reminded the man he left his drink on top of the car, when man turned back to get it,Hector’s gun was pointing at him. Hector asked the man for his wallet and valuables back, in addition to the man's wallet, and then told him to run. Man obeyed, as bullets flew over his head.

Flashing lights, a siren, and a monkey peeing on Iris and me: this was the spectacular prize for shooting the golden animals. David was proud to have gotten it 2ce. Iris and I were not so proud.

Alameda

Palacio de Bellas Artes

Mista Hecta, hope the birthday was great!

The grand finale of Claire singing "Happy Birthday to You":

Suck yer toe

SUCK YER TOE

ALL THE WAY TO MEX-I-CO

and then give those toes a nice Mexican pedicure

but make sure the beautician is licensed

Merry Lundi Gras!

I pass this van at least 2ce a day, so Mardi Gras is often on my mind.
We had a Mardi Gras party that was OFF THE HOOK! I made Jambalaya and dirty rice (box mix--thank you GG).
Imported King Cake."Dad, I can't believe you weren't going to share with me. Oh well, I have my methods."
I know what you are thinking...How did the those silly Garcias celebrate Mardi Gras 3 years ago--the last time we were in NOLA for the festivities? Well, since I wasn't a fabulous blogger back then, let me enlighten you. First, Michigan was dumped on and we weren't happy about it:

So, we traveled South to get some good lovin'
party with the fam (estrogen-style as shown here):
and to attend the Mardi Gras (This is an inside joke. Non-NOLA people (aka the uncool) say they attend the Mardi Gras, but the dirty South knows that Mardi Gras is not an event, but a state of mind):




Sorry, one more thing that I must share. Looking through old pictures, I found this gem. Can't stop laughing. Elijah, although a rockstar (notice even after falling he was rocking on the ground), has had a rough start with women.

I spotted 3 incidents of abuse before intervention. Sorry Katie.

On a semi-daily basis the kids pray that they won't hit and kick. Gotta have the faith! For the past 2 school days he hasn't been able to go to recess b/c of fighting "anyone in his path"--quote from teacher. But still gotta have the faith!

At the conclusion of 2 years as a blogger

3 posts in 1 day; is this a record? That's dang right!

Blogging. I was introduced to blogging a few years ago. My little sis had a blog, but I’m a bad sister and didn’t usually read it. Then my friend Anna came to visit me in NYC. This was the turning point. I was aware that she was a blogger, although I didn’t read her's regularly either. During her visit, I found myself very self-conscious, wondering if my every word and action were blog-worthy. I kept thinking: “I really need to be funny and witty so Anna’s blog-reading-public will realize my excellence.” Low and behold, it was mainly our MASHES game that made it to her blog, and I agreed completely with her censorship of our visit. But, the result was that I grew an alter ego. This alter ego lived in my head and narrated my life according to: “If I had a blog, this is what I’d write about this moment.” And yes, dear voice, you have been my fickle companion for 142 posts and over two years now. You have whispered cute little stories and you have made me laugh right out loud in the middle of the street. I have had to sensor you though. Some stories don’t even make it to draft format—way too raunchy. But little voice, you have also popped up sporadically even pre-blogging. For example, you played dirty tricks on me when I applied for my current job. Talking about leaky bladders and anuses in the job interview made you go crazy! So much that I really had to focus on something like dead squirrels (there were many in Ann Arbor) in order not to break out in giggles in front of my future boss. Now that leaky pelvic regions are part of my regular work life, thankfully you have calmed down in professional circumstances for the most part.
So this blog was born to pacify my inner nerd. David wrote the first post because I didn’t have the guts. He wanted to start it “in medias res” as if we had jumped on the blogging bandwagon years before. He also chose the title “Coup de Garcia.” He meant it to be a play-off of “coup de grȃce” which is French for “a death blow intended to end the suffering of a wounded creature.” Personally, I don’t think that’s a very complimentary title to our blog, but maybe it’s appropriate. Anyway, I have written all of the posts since then (thank goodness since he entitled the first one “Saqarik” and I have no idea what that means but can only imagine it means something like “Suckers” or “Read at the risk of your life.”)
Since then, my other motive for writing is for my posterity. So children, as you can deduce from my posts, my mental senility began in my youth. I plan to mature in my 60s or 70s. Then, when I’m 908 (you are direct descendants of Methuselah), you will realize that I am not senile just because I’m 908 years old; this has been a life-long cross I’ve born.

Champion!

This is how I know Iris is done eating:

spoon tug-of-war.

PS. Have you noticed how she looks surprised in all of her pictures? She must not have been fully aware what family she would be joining on earth.