More Mexican?

I have possibly taken a few more steps towards becoming Mexican. The proof:

1) I DROVE!!! …around the block…I was forced to do it.
I am proud to announce that for the first time in my life I didn’t even tap the brakes at the stop sign--ran it completely. I also put the car in park in the middle of the road. And yes, there was traffic. I was quite thrilled by the whole experience. I had attempted Mexican driving previously, but was not able to make it out of the parking garage.
2) I bought a pay-per-minute phone. I got a clue that the sales clerk thought I was stupid when he asked me if I wanted him to change it to English. Oops, maybe a step further from Mexican?
3) Montezuma has struck! Which isn’t necessarily a sign that I’m Mexican, but more a sign that I’m in Mexico. This is the sixth Latin-American country in which this historically angry man has had his revenge on me—four of the other countries were while I was on my overly-romantic honeymoon, but we’ll save that for another post. The good news is that this is the first time I had access to my own personal washer/dryer and cleaning crew, the unfortunate cleaning crew, so the experience wasn’t as messy as it could have been. I’m still trying to figure out the exact medium that Montezuma used. Every time I brush my teeth and shower, 2 lines from a Dave Matthews song run through my head: “Don’t drink the water. There’s blood in the water.” I don’t know what the song is nor why I remember it, but it has come in semi-handy. And of course, he had to strike this week, the week (and a half: I guess Dia de los Muertos is quite big around here) that Elijah is out of school. And PS, this is one of the things that happens when there's a week and a half without school: random hide-and-seek games:and swimming:4) Día de los Muertos goodies: Pan de Muertos, Calabera treats, and more candy, because of course David is the head of this household. The following is part of a candy skull head: For Elijah’s 4 Halloweens, we have dressed him up as someone from another country. He was Mexican one of those times. This time, he and Claire will be Gringos. I have no special plans for Halloween other than going to church and having friends over for dinner. Just call me the Scrooge of Halloween, or lazy and having no clue how to do it down here.

5) Making Mexican hot chocolate.
6) House hunting. David won this one. It was between elegance (David) and homey (me). The match point came down to the location. Remember a few posts ago when I said I walked down the "Rodeo Drive of Mexico?" Well, now I will live on it. Odd? Yes.
Although the marble floors are beautiful, I don’t think they will match well with my children’s round heads. And the glass shelves clash with their “superhero” tendencies. But the 9th floor balcony might be an interesting experiment.
I’m so amazed that we are allowed to haggle the price. We haggled the Spanish owners down $500 a month for rent with maintenance fees included, to equal the amount we were paying in NYC (never would have imagined that).
It reminds me of my first trip to Mexico (excluding Nogales, if that counts). My dad, in one of the famous Udall told and retold stories, tried but failed to haggle a storeowner for what he believed was a beautiful black, leather backpack. Turns out, my color-blind, and quality-blind father paid a fortune for a maroon plastic backpack. He held onto that sorry piece of luggage for at least a decade, still maintaining that it was a great steal.
Dad, I love you anyway.

Here are some pictures of our steal and proof that it will most definitely take a record amount of time to hang pictures since the walls already intimidate me.



This is the entry way. Notice it conveniently comes with a place to put our altar to Mary.
And of course, the semi-nude water woman is a MUST!

Primary Presentation

Am I really writing this at 2am Monday morning? I’d like to blame it on my 2.5-month-old, but it’s due to my 32-year-old.

Primary presentation. This has always been one of the moments I have known would be one of the highlights of motherhood. I enjoy watching primary presentations. Kids in front of large audiences always means good entertainment: nose picking, shout outs, microphone mishaps, and several other socially abnormal behaviors are born. Although Elijah has been in Primary this whole year and has participated in presentations even longer, I was never quite able to enjoy them since I was biting my nails on the sidelines as a presidency member. This time I basked in the little white head bobbing above the pulpit. And maybe this is bad, but I was slightly happy he didn’t know the songs well (at least not in Spanish) since that lent to much better random facial expressions. Elijah was the last presenter, the icing on the cake. He got down from the stand a few times to make sure with the President that he hadn’t missed his part. And finally, the finale…”Yo sé que mi Salvador vive.” And then after prompting, he whispered “comparto, Amen.” He previously claimed he was going to dive off the pulpit and yell “I am a luchador” and although that didn’t quite happen, he did get some giggles, and what more could a mother ask for?

Mexico: week 2

Even though we are finally located in the same country, I wouldn’t exactly say we are living together just yet since 2 of the past 3 nights David has spent at the office and tonight isn't looking too promising either. David’s first symptom of homesickness is to ask for pictures of the kids to be posted:

Bathing in Mexico requires lots of: "don't drink it."

The kids and I, on the other hand, have spent the whole day inside due to a nasty bug. Why does Elijah always get sick at the most inopportune moments? The past 2 times were when I had Ob/Gyn appointments. For the most recent, E had been throwing up, coughing, and complaining of pinworm the night before. But I couldn’t reschedule my appointment and he woke up happy as a clam, so to school he went. And for the past few days he’s been hacking up a lung to the extent that the school nurse even medicated him without our permission and the teachers were dropping not-so-subtle hints that he should stay home. But I’ve been out hunting an apartment and of course, he's happy as a clam, so to school he’s gone, until today.
Apartment hunting: in the process I have felt captured in the Antebellum deep South. Most of the apartments have quarters for the maids (aka the “muchacha” or the “girl”). She gets to sleep in a depressing room right next to the washer/dryer. Sometimes her depressing room is on the roof and sometimes it’s next to the kitchen where she has her own entrance (the service entrance) and her own staircase to get to the entrance. And of course all muchachas wear uniforms. I’m not commenting on these things as a complaint, just an observation (I think David gets paranoid that I’m too negative). But the apartments were beautiful, some with spectacular views, and all with great uses of natural light, which we definitely didn’t get in NYC. On Sunday we were able to open our 2 huge sliding glass doors and listen to a mariachi band playing across the street. So…if David isn’t still living at work, we will make the final decision on our future residence on Saturday.
And another thing: pre-motherhood, I thought little babies were boring. Now I find my little infants quite fascinating: the split-second mood changes, toothless, infectious grins, the musty smell of cradle cap, the sour smell of milk curdling in their neck folds, their masochistic limbs attacking themselves, and my favorite is that they are always up for a nap. My other favorite is that I can kiss them and chew on their cheeks as much as I want without getting an “Awe Mom!” or “No más!” At least not verbally...

Chilangos

The happy family reunited at last

After about half a year of talking about it, and several roadblocks, we are finally in Mexico as a complete family, although some might debate our unity since, as of now, Iris’ last name doesn’t match ours: what up passport people? Is Garcia not one of the most common last names in the Americas?
My first reaction upon flying into D.F. was, “What am I about to put my lungs through?” Despite the brown cloud hovering over the city we are very happy to be together in Mexico. I also have no qualms about the daily cleaning crew that visits our corporate housing apartment. What mystifies me are the 3 locks and the peep hole on the master bedroom door. Are we preparing for a drug raid here? Are they supposed to make me nervous?
And Elijah is finally in a school: Lisee Franco Mexicain. We are going for a trilingual Elijah. The application to get in was astonishing: was he a normal pregnancy? Forceps delivery? Blood type? Someone told me that they asked her if her child had been breastfed and if not, why. But at least the forms had French translation in case I didn’t understand the Spanish. I thought today would be his first full day until I learned that he was in the infirmary with a fat lip. This kid is all about action, no matter what country he’s in! Below is a picture of him on our way home today. That smock thing is his uniform.
I make the school trek with the double stroller and baby carrier since I refuse to navigate the kamikaze roads via car. The walk is about a mile, and let me tell you, we are the biggest spectacle since Barnum and Bailey. We cross several major roads and walk for a good portion on what one woman called “the Rodeo Drive of Mexico.” There are few children on these streets and far fewer sets of three with blonde heads and a stroller nobody has ever seen. Moreover, Iris looks lifeless because the carrier is her sedative, meaning her head is always at an unnatural 90 degree angle and her mouth is open and sometimes snoring.
One thing I have been proud of is my Mexican manors. I learned the sign for “thank you.” It looks like a cross between an American flip off and a wave. I do it proudly every time I cross in front of a car and feel at least .09% Mexican already.
Pictures below are of our attempt to prepare ourselves for the big move: surrounding ourselves by luchadores, because isn't that what Mexico is all about?

We sure do miss these luchadores!

Iris Marguerite's baby blessing

This past weekend family and friends came to visit us in Texas to attend Iris' baby blessing (there were 40-50 of us). I am posting several pictures taken by our fabulous family photographer, Ashley.
This first one is of best friend/cousins. The pose highlights perfectly their relationship with the subtle choke hold, but sweet, smiling faces.



I include the next 2 photos mainly because they are my absolute favorite Buddha bellies. They have brought me much good luck.

The spotlight child. Both My mom and Marguerite gave very touching testimonies before she was blessed. "Behold your children."













What is going on in that man's head?
"Megan, don't you go getting any baby ideas in your head."
Any other ideas?

One of the most amazing women I know. Love her to death, but kisses still pain me.

Gotta love those Udalls!

First a few words on destruction. Below is the "Junk Pile." The Junk Pile was constructed with chairs, 3 mattresses, and pillows and blankets collected from all corners of the house. Where do kids come up with ideas like this? It was fun until I learned that I would head the one-woman cleanup crew.
Another element of destruction is the The C&C Cyclone (Clayton and Claire). They will entertain themselves for hours, but leave a path of demolition. Casualties have included: the car phone adapter outlet, the van’s middle seat, the car CD player, Lexi’s and Elle’s entire makeup collection (Claire often emerges from the master bathroom with what looks like a bloody mouth; it’s actually Lexi’s chocolate flavored gloss), the entire nail polish collection along with the nail polish remover and cotton swabs, thus preventing cleanup. Children locks don’t block them. They broke the cabinet door hinge to ensure unlimited access to more beauty supplies. I'm sure the list will continue. They sure are cute though!
On to the Udalls: My mom stayed with us the night they got back from Africa. Here she is showing the grandkids pictures of the animals in Africa.
That weekend more Udalls arrived to celebrate their return. This is the first Udall reunion with the 2 parents and 4 kids since 2 Christmases ago. I almost never act as immature as when I’m with the fam. One of the highlights of the trip occurred when the 3 Udall sisters were confined to one car (we were all without our husbands). The result was a contest: “who can gross out whom more.” I’m pleased to announce 2 happy results: 1) I won, and 2) I know Lexi’s weakness: hairy, bloody boogers. Sorry if you tossed your cookies there, but I need to make sure this information is documented somewhere, and where better than through a public medium. Another highlight was the visit of my Uncle Kim. He is full of good stories. He and my father grew up in a family with 5 boys, 2 girls, and 2 prim and proper parents. These are the makings for many good memories like when they practiced their wrestling moves on their tiny mom and broke a few of her ribs. One of the stories Kim told this time had to do with a favorite game. As children, they had a swingset, minus the swings. The game involved scaling to the top bar and then engaging in kicking wars. The last one remaining on the bar got a point. The best part is that they played to 21. I’m sure there were many injuries; one involved my father falling on top of Kim and breaking Kim’s arm.

The mix of the cousins made for a spirited environment.










This is how many of the kids enjoyed General Conference: playing doctor in the garage. We thought it might be wise to remove the spirited children (8 of them) outdoors so as not to relapse my dad.

Gotta love those Udalls!