Distrito Federal

On an extremely regular basis, David throws crazy ideas at me: building gyms in Latin America, buying a beach house in Latin America, swimming with sharks in Latin America, setting up a scholarship foundation in Latin America…the list can go on forever. But do you see a common theme here—Latin America. He throws them at me and the supportive wife smiles and knows the idea will go away and be replaced by another absurdity very soon. So, when he mentioned moving to Mexico, I acted accordingly: supportive wife, knowing that this too would pass. And it has passed…to reality. Now I’m dealing with this reality with mixed emotions. Let me just regurgitate a few of them for you.
1) Pollution. The only thing I remember learning about Mexico City (which is now over 21 million strong) when I was a kid was that the children could only go to school if a certain colored flag as raised. This flag represented the pollution level in the city. I had mixed feelings about the prospect of not having to go to school vs. black lungs.
2) Murder. I would like to thank my big sis for mentioning the Wall Street Journal article that came out a few days before. Here’s a quote from the story about Ciudad Juarez, Mexico: “Then homicide rates suddenly skyrocketed, to 12 a day, the highest level in the city's history. The year ended 2009 with about 2,750 drug-related homicides, up from 1,600 the year before.” Turns out, she’s not the only one afraid for our safety…
3) Big City. I told David I never thought it was possible for us to live in a bigger city than NYC. His response: “We might move to an even bigger one if we aren’t shot first.” So, watch out Seoul and Tokyo, if we survive, you’re next.
4) Stability. Coming to the dramatic realization that I’m not as adventuresome as I once deemed myself has been a little shocking. I take pleasure in familiarity. Letting the earth absorb my roots, establishing myself in one place, living near people who are forced to love me by marital and eternal law…all good things. Finally David gets a job offer in Houston, a place where I can see all of these things happening, and he is counter offered in another country. Which do we choose?
5) Miscellaneous. And then a lot of little things like worrying about if my already fatal cooking skills will worsen if I can’t find ingredients, driving again (it’s been over 2 years), being fiscally and culturally different, my friend-making skills have always been faulty, I might become a certified hermit, and….
6) Hospital system. I will give birth to a Mexican child. Her name will be Guadelupe Encarnacion de la Cruz Garcia.
7) Not Ready to Leave. On a more serious note, am I ready to leave NYC? Have I left it a better place and sucked all the life out of it that it has been willing to give me? I feel unsettled by this, because I’m not sure this is a positive answer. And, my goodness—I’ll miss my barrio here!

We went to the temple last night. I was hoping for overwhelming confirmation about moving to Mexico; it was more like a feeling of resignation.
Now, I hope you have all shed a tear for me, because that was my pity party. I know there are things I will absolutely love about Mexico (e.g. language immersion); now it’s time to dig deep—really deep—and focus on those.

PS. I made eye contact with John Lithgow at the Lincoln Center right after going to the temple.

Claire Tiene Dos

Claire has been telling people she’s “dos” for quite some time; now it’s true. A few weekends ago, David took her out for his birthday present to her. She got a haircut as she watched Pocahontas and drove to nowhere. He also got her a dress and shoes for much more than I would have paid, plus a toy and book, not to mention the donation to her college fund. David is the gift giver. Today she got my presents: keys from Salvation Army, $5 sing-along video, and some girly underwear. This last one was the special surprise. A few mornings ago, we got awoken by a nude Claire. She had been upstairs with her brother who was coaching her on the pot. Now she is in the “baf-room” as much as possible. Yet for some reason, I find more puddles on the floor than goodies in the toilet. Her first goodie came this morning. Yeah Claire, one less diaper David and I had to debate who would change!We were hoping to do something fun this weekend for her birthday, but found out last night that David will be business traveling to Mexico. So, he took off this morning before his flight. The morning was slightly sabotaged by the mouse we saw INSIDE OUR APARTMENT on the eve of her birthday, and the lack of sleep thereof, but we had fun nonetheless: park, eating out, library, and flavored ice (it might be blasphemy for the Garcia family, but I find the flavored ice we buy on the street here to be much better than New Orleans snow balls).
Claire was tired and slightly unhappy for part of the day:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL GIRL!!!!

They now usually sleep together successfully, sometimes in their own beds, sometimes not:
And last weekend was the Stake Tag Sale. Elijah became a tiger and still has slightly pink hair, despite at least a dozen scrubbings.
Claire got her first manicure and loved it!

Rats: A mixed bag

I have been meaning to dedicate a post to rats for some time. I know how enthusiastically riveted my blog reading public (all 2 of you: Hi mom!) is by rats, but it’s something in my life that I will remember, not with love and affection, but more awe and an upturned lip, like the tool-shed-type structure David and I lived in when we were first married. And since, as usual, I find myself home alone with sleeping children, why not throw my rat diatribe out into the blogging void?
So, this is the issue: rats aren’t exactly welcomed on our patio, but neither are they rejected.

I have a history with rats. When I was a kid, my friend Eve Hladky had pet rats. It creeped me out at first, but then she became convinced that Laslo, one of her pet rats, had a crush on me. Weird as it may seem, I was slightly flattered at the first male attention I had received in my short life, albeit from a rodent. Then came along Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Eve and I were both enamored with Splinter, the wise rat mentor. To top it all off, our family eating table looked out over a big, green bush. Or at least it started out green. The rats created a kingdom beneath that poor bush and we’d often watch them sunning themselves as we enjoyed meals—no biggie: happy coexistence. This is where it gets ugly. Our friendly sun-tanning rats totaled the parked BMW (or was it a Mercedes?) of our Japanese exchange student who was back home for the summer by eating out its innards. So, out comes the heavy-duty rat poison, which was unfortunately very enticing to my favorite dog Doobie. Poor dog died a slow, painful death in front of my impressionable, young eyes.

Back to the present day: Hardly a day goes by that I don’t see at least 1 rat, but usually several, from the bevy that inhabits my patio. My scary thought is that Doobie weighed more than my 2 kids combined, hence my fear of rat poison. Nevertheless, I admit I caved in after watching the rats drag pizza, bags, and other goodies across the patio one night. I tattled to the landlord. Poison was placed. Now the rats look slightly sicker, or at least Grandpa Rat does—he is rapidly balding in one spot on his right flank. But despite the poison, the rat pack remains in full force and the babies look surprisingly robust. They breastfeed in public, give piggy back rides, the parents frolic, take their time checking things out, carry goodies into their home; the clan even has FHE at the planter. And the cycle has come full turn: my kids now watch for them while they eat, just as I did as a child. So, in the spirit of Spring and peaceful coexistence, I’m thinking we might name a few of the babies. And really, why not? David refuses to allow us dogs, so these might be the closest we get to pets.

Below is a picture I got of Grandpa Rat this very night drinking from the flower pot (the grandson made a few guest appearances, but got stage fright and didn't show up in the picture). Note the balding patch. Sorry Gramps, I almost regret the poison. Maybe your hair will grow back in a few months, or maybe this look can work for you.
Please excuse the ugly, dirty patio…I have no desire to clean it for the sole benefit of beings that eat trash.

Addendum:
My sister Lex reminded me that the rat poisoning under the car was our second line of defense, the fall-back plan. The first brilliant idea was to invite the missionaries over and arm them with beebee guns. What were we thinking? God's army, indeed.
And one more thing I thought of: Grandpa Rat’s mange might not be due to my evil poisoning. We live right next to a glamorous parking garage that was recently closed for a few months due to asbestos. There were signs all over the sealed area with small print about carcinogens and lung dangers. So rats, just file a law suit. I’m sure the government will protect your rights.

A & A & V

We were excited to have a whirlwind visit from Andrew, Ashley, and Vincent. The 24 hours included: Strawberry Fields, Levain Bakery's divine cookies, Caracas Arepas, Chicalicious, Washington Square Park, and the MOMA (several tantrums convinced me to skip out on the last venture even though the live-nude exhibit slightly piques my interest and grosses me out at the same time). Of course the best part of it all was hanging with the A & A & V squad, but it hurt nothing that they came bearing a king cake from Haydel's. Love you forever!

The best Mothers' Day on record

Yesterday was, by far, the best Mothers’ Day I’ve ever had. David and I have been married for almost 7 years now and for every momentous occasion he still threatens to go to Tiffany’s and buy me a diamond necklace, even though he knows I abhor his spending habits. He threatened this time around too, but he finally succumbed to the only thing I’ve ever wanted and transformed himself into my personal slave. Diapers, cooking, dishes, laundry, closet organizing, kid duty during church… In retrospect, I should have asked him to jump to see if he would have asked “how high”—a project for next year. His only folly was that peer pressure drove him to buy me flowers—dying plants don’t thrill me in the slightest. Nevertheless, at the risk of being sappy, I must admit that I am thoroughly in love with my man. We often fool people by our public fights, rallying all around to our side of the argument, but what’s the world without a little Garcia tough-love?

Another big highlight of the day was that it was the first time in almost 2 years for the following events to take place in our bedroom at night (don’t worry, this won’t get cheeky): we turned the light on, spoke in loud voices, organized, and slept without the accompaniment of a baby snoring. After our friends' generous donation of a toddler bed, Claire and Elijah now share a room. They are both extremely tired today, but David and I aren’t! Does that sound mean? Anyway, they’ll get used to it and I think they are enjoying it 90% of the time (Claire enjoying the extra playing time=100% and Elijah enjoying playtime, but not the loss of sleep=80%). At this very moment, They are together taking a “nap,” in other words, there are screams, laughter, roosters crowing, tambourines, etc coming from the bedroom.

This was the scene 1 hour after putting them to bed last night. We will have to work on Claire sleeping in the bed. Her belly is too cute to work on the shirt-wearing.
Highlight #3 of Mothers' Day was that Elijah and I got to see Elder Holland talk in the Harlem 1 ward. It was the first time since David and I traveled to Chile (our college graduation trip) that I had shaken his hand. Once again, I felt the apostolic stare down into my soul--pretty cool.

Friday was Carnvial at Elijah's school. The kids paraded out and danced. Elijah striking a pose:


Then there were stations with food, planting beans, face painting, jumping castle, wearing costumes, and making fans:


But none of this could be out-done by David and Elijah's trip with the Young Men to Popeyes and Dylans Candy Bar that night.

Brooklyn Zoo

We met the Steirwalts in Park Slope to check out the Brooklyn Zoo. Walking through Prospect Park to get there was beautiful and I felt like I was able to enjoy it fully—it’s much less crowded than Central Park.
Claire’s reaction to the barn portion of the zoo reminded me of taking Elijah to the Michigan State Fair a few years ago: absolute terror. For both kids I think it had more to do with the smell than the animals. Poor girl clung to me in fear of her life.Loved the monkeys and especially watching the sea lions do tricks.Elijah has been interested in tigers since he stuffed one at a birthday party on Saturday. But alas, no lions, tigers, bears, nor food court (I need me some Audubon!). Unfortunately I selected a beef sandwich from the vending machine that reminded me too much of my college anatomy class. So, the rush hour train ride home included junk food, followed by Elijah passed out on my lap and Claire in tantrum mode between Times Square and W 96th street.
All in all, a great visit. The kids always have such a good time together!

More Nonsense

1) Claire’s favorite part of Monday, Wednesday, and Friday is walking to pick up Elijah from school. I push an empty stroller. She whiplashes her bebe in hers while throwing her head back in a cackle.
2) For the past week now Elijah licks his hands quite often. Is this a primordial feline tendency that’s finally shining through? Either way, I now hold his wrists instead of his saliva hands.
3) Sometimes my kids get along great. Sometimes they don’t. Lately they have been bonding over potty humor. I'm reluctant to stop them when they are having so much fun “pooing” on each other. Am I wrong?