You’ve come a long way baby!

Full disclosure, I’m an only child.  I’ve seen the pendulum of sibling relationships only as a tourist, never a passenger.  I’ve watched little sisters holding hands in the store and two twin brothers beating the crap out of each other in their front lawn.  So the dynamic of Connor and Josephine has been pretty fascinating to experience. 

I got some advice from a few other parents who said, the second one always makes the first one a bit nuts and there is usually some regression.  This is primarily due to the attention split.  Looking at it through Connor’s eyes: You start off, you get all the attention, everyone loves and holds you…and all of a sudden bam!  Someone brings a “thing” into the house and wammo! Just like that half your attention is gone.  What’s even worse, is they can’t even do anything.  They can’t walk, talk, feed themselves, or spin around in a circle until they get dizzy and fall.  They can’t sing the itsy bitsy spider, recite their ABCs, or hook two trains together.  Really they are quite useless.  Why on earth would you even waste your time feeding her, I mean "it."  And the crying?  Seriously? I’m losing my mommy and daddy time for that?  Okay, so that’s how it’s going to be?!  I’m going to start crying too, and acting up!  Negative attention is still attention after all.

Actually, it hasn’t been bad at all.  Connor has been pretty sweet.  One of the nicest parts of marrying and having children a little later than most is we have the benefit of someone else’s experience.  Since we did get all the advice on the potential above scenario, we spent a lot of time with Connor and did a lot of 1 on 1 time split with each of us.  We also encouraged Connor to participate in Josie’s development with “Connor, can you show Josie how to XXXX, you are the big brother, you need to help her sweet boy.”  And he is at the age where he loves to please. So he usually and excitedly complies and of course we give him treats for obedience and good brothering.   

This last week, Josie caught some stomach bug and was on full reverse throttle on the food.  EVERYthing she ate or drank came out way faster than it went in and usually at a way longer distance.  Nita’s philosophy is “everything is washable.”  But some things you just have to see.  It really is amazing to watch a baby puke for distance, and coverage.  You’d think a little baby couldn’t cover every square inch of a shirt and a onesie…but they really can.  Another thing I remember from the hospital is they say an infant’s stomach is the size of their clenched fist.  BUT, I’d like to state for the record that they can puke at least two adult fists worth of volume.  So I’m not sure how the math works, but I was a witness.  In any case, poor Josephine couldn’t keep anything down for two days.  It actually got to the point that we took her to the emergency room. 

Short version is she was given an anti-nausea medicine and from that point on everything stayed down.  We eased her back into solids with a healthy dose of pedialyte and even mixing formula and pedialyte.  She’s fine and luckily her chunkiness provided a healthy cushion for the drastic weight loss.  See that’s why I carry the extra weight, to stave off any harmful effects of dehydration.  Now who’s the fat idiot? Hmmmm?

The cutest part was Connor’s reaction.  Every time Josie was crying or screaming, Connor would walk up and pet her like she was a cat and say, “It’s okay Josie.”  He even walked down the stairs Friday morning (because when daddy went to get Josephine at 4:30AM he forgot to close the baby gate).  I discovered this when I’d finished showering and dressing and opened the bathroom door and there stood Connor with three pedialyte Popsicles. “Connor, did you walk downstairs by yourself?”  “Yes daddy, I got one for Josie and I got you a blue one.”   And when she finally started eating again, Connor was right there to hold the bottle for her and smile at her.  He even tried being silly to make her laugh. 

And Josephine LOVES her some Connor.  She wants to be everywhere he is, play with every toy he’s playing with, and stand up like a “big boy”does.  She smiles her 2 bottom tooth grin (with two poking through the top) every time she sees him.  She laughs when he laughs and crawls to him at every opportunity.  The funny thing is at Josie’s age, Connor was not even interested in parallel play, much less collaborative play.  And honestly Connor at first wasn’t too cool with his new playmate.  She’d reach for one of his trains and he’d grab it back and yell, “No Josie No!”  But we found gummy bears and jelly beans make wonderful positive reinforcement tools.  Every time he was nice to her or let her play with something, he got some positive feedback or a gummy bear.  Jelly beans were mostly for going potty like a big boy. 1 for number one and 2 for a deuce.  I wonder what Nita would do if I yelled from the bathroom to bring me two jelly beans in the morning.  I mean besides hit me with a flyswatter for waking her up.  I digress. 

So Connor has gotten more and more generous and giving of his time to Josie.  He shows genuine concern, or at least curiosity, when Josie’s upset.  He involves her in a few things and he rarely asks us to put her down so we can hold him instead.  He’s not overly selfish, for a 2 ½ year old I mean.  So hoping I don’t jinx it, I think they are going to have a really sweet relationship. That or they’ll be beating the crap out of each other in the front yard someday soon

I Got Me a Buddy

Last week I was casually scanning craigslist for big boy beds I saw one that struck my fancy.  It was a Thomas Train bed in South Austin.  I pitched it to Nita and she began to explain to me that she didn’t think he was quite ready and the crib was still fine.  However she humored me and said we could go “look” at it. 

We enjoyed the 20 minute drive to Travis Country and sang songs on the way.  When we got there it looked good, in fact, I started taking it apart pretty quickly.  Connor was captivated with the other little boy’s train table and his Thomas cars and trucks and mostly stayed out of the way.  I loaded everything in Nita’s SUV and we headed back home.  When we got home, I figured I could assemble it while the kids had lunch.  Connor wasn’t having it, insisting he help me. I should have seen this coming.

Josie has been getting more mobile as each week goes by.  She’s also been pulling herself up and cruising.  For those who don’t have kids, cruising is holding on to objects and using them to balance while standing or walking upright, she isn’t looking for liaisons or trysts in the park.  Because Josie had been pulling herself up in the crib, Nita asked me to drop the mattress to the lowest level a couple of months ago.  She didn’t want her to lean too far and flip herself out of the crib.  As soon as I entered the room with my tools, here comes Connor with his “little tykes” electric drill.  He was going to help daddy.  And Even though it took me four times longer, it was pretty cute.  Connor had to hold all the screws and turn the screwdriver.  He would get shoulder to shoulder with me while I was lining up the holes and wanted to hold the butterfly nut while I fed the screws into the holes.  When I flipped the bed up for leverage he of course was completely in the way.  And he and I had a lot of fun while mommy and Josie watched and giggled.

So I’m trying to take the pieces upstairs and Connor is determined to help me carry them upstairs.  Then once everything is up and ready to assemble he’s taking the mallet and hammering everything that looks like it needs hammerin’.  The crucial part to any project like this is really the initial connection of the base.  Since you are building a cube/square base and not a triangle, it’s going to be completely unstable until you get the two sides and the back assembled.  It is during this crucial part of the assembly that Connor is bumping me with Thomas’ face and funnel (the last part of the assembly).  He’s straining because it is kind of heavy, but he’s holding it and with a little labored voice saying, “Here daddy, do this one.”  I replied, “Connor please!  Just hold Thomas over there, daddy really needs you out of the way.”  So as he’s moving he kicks out the perfectly balanced (yet unassembled) base and I have to start over.  Since I was trying to beat the clock for his lunch and nap this wasn’t as amusing as it is now.  He continued to slow the process and I essentially started over about five times.  Finally we got it and Connor finished it off by hammering all the edges.

While Nita and the kids had lunch, I went to Lowes and bought a couple of 2x6s and had them cut into 23 inch pieces.  I layered the bottom so the mattress wouldn’t sag (Connor is a jumper).  So we’re all set and ready for nap.  I put him in the bed, put on his covers, kissed his cheek and said take a nap.  This is pretty much all it takes in the crib.  I then went to my office which is right across the hall and started doing some work.  I saw his door open.  I put him back in bed and said, Connor, time for bed.  He got up again, too excited.  Nita was furious at me.  “I told you he wasn’t ready yet!”  So she made me put the mattress back in his crib and put Connor back.  Within minutes he was jumping.  We have a video monitor so we were watching what he was doing.  The other thing is at this point Josie is asleep and this is the “long nap” part of her two nap day.

Really, can you imagine that?  Two naps.  I’d kill a neighbor if I could have two naps a day.  Actually I suppose if I killed a neighbor I’d have quite a bit of free time for napping.  Okay, bad idea, back to the story.

At this point, Connor is calling for us and I’m on monitor patrol watching to make sure he doesn’t pull off his diaper.  And then, bang, cry.  Connor jumped over the side of the crib and was screaming.  I came in the room and forgot all of my EMT training in 2 seconds.  I picked him up before I established whether or not he had a head injury.  He didn’t, but I’m just saying.  In any case, he’d fallen on his back and was mostly scared…and he (insert half cry half whine voice) “wanted to sleep in Thomas bed.”  At this point, Nita is, what comes after furious? [Ed. note: after Nita read this she send me an email.  Apparently the answer is "A RED moment."  Any of you who have red-heads in the family know what I mean.] In any case, I told her I’d manage it and I was mildly threatened/warned not to wake up Josie.  I put Connor back in his bed and told him the deal.  “Do NOT get out of this bed.”  I reset the camera and went to my office with video monitor in hand.  Within seconds I see his little head pop up and watch him head to the door.  He opens and peeks out, “CONNOR,” and I snap my fingers.  He slammed the door and jumped back in bed.  About 30 seconds go by, and he does it again, slamming the door. 

At this point it’s about preservation.  I go in put him back in bed, cover him with the quilt and give him a swat.  I told him, “Connor, do not get out of this bed.”  I walked just outside his door and heard, “Ow.  Ouch daddy, that hurt.  Daaaaaadeeeeeee.  Daddy! Daddy, I need some water.”  I got him some water.  I walked back in and lay down next to his bed.  “Okay, C, you have got to stay in bed buddy.  Or we’re both going to be in trouble.” His head pops up, “Daddy, I love you.”  “I love you too Connor, but if you don’t stay down and take a nap we’re both going to be in trouble.  And mommy is going to give daddy a spanking.”  Connor then spanked himself and said, “Bad daddy!”  I say, “I’m serious Connor.  Mommy is going to be mad.”  And he sat up in the bed and said, “This is mommy’s mad face.  EEERRRRRR (monster voice)” while making a little mean face.  I could not contain my laughter.  My side almost hurt.

What I didn’t know was Nita had the second video monitor and was watching/listening to the whole thing.  She came in and was laughing at both of us.  Connor didn’t nap that day.  The bad news was we had planned a date night for tonight. We had no idea which bed to use now.  Connor had now jumped out of the crib and we had no idea if he’d stay all night in his no rails bed. The good news is our nanny came by to sit while we went out and really tuckered him out at the Chick-fil-a playscape.  We got the text about 8:15. “Both kids asleep. Connor in big boy bed.”

Connor slept through the night, napped on Sunday, slept through the night on Sunday and again on Monday.  Nita is no longer furious at me.  If he makes it all the way to Saturday, looks like we’ll be selling a crib.  And when I take it apart, I know a buddy with a drill who is dying to help me.

Where Rudy, Sea Biscuit, Braveheart, Hoosiers, and the red fern grows.

When you think about inspirational movies, I’m sure you conjure up some list of your favorites that you need a tissue, stiff drink or both.  I’m sure you remember a time in your life when you saw this movie and were immediately inspired to go practice something you’d been working on, or pick up some activity you’d been putting off.  There are countless other movies, Miracle, Field of Dreams (“Hey dad. Wanna have a catch?”), Shawshank, etc.  My point is, the movies that really uplift you are the ones where someone or some team who wasn’t supposed to win, won.  They did whatever it took, worked harder, and won.

Nita and I went to dinner with some friends the other night and they casually asked how our day had gone.  It had been fantastic.  I took Connor to the pool while Nita played with Josephine.  We were silly together and drove around in my golf cart.  On the way home he said he wanted to see the fire trucks.  So I drove him by the fire station and the door was open in the ladder truck bay.  Connor then said he wanted to drive the truck.  “Don’t we all son,” I replied.

We got home and Josie was napping and Nita’s mom was over to help with lunch.  So I went into man cave to see if there was a ball game or a good movie on.  As I was flipping through I saw it.  Where the Red Fern Grows. No way!  And it was just starting!  So I poured myself a Gentleman Jack with a little diet coke and settled in.  I think I made it about 19 minutes to the first tear.  After lunch, Connor came into the room and sat on my lap and watched the movie with me.  “Awe, that puppy dog is hurt daddy.  Bad Cougar, he’s mean.”  And I can barely tell him it’s okay, they’re just acting.

I remember reading this book as a fourth or fifth grader and just balling at the end.  I then remember deciding that I was going to be the coon hunting champion of Manchaca, Texas.  My problems were we had yorkies not redbone hounds, and my parents wouldn’t let me go stalking ring tail ‘coons in the woods with a BB gun and a hatchet at night.  In retrospect it was probably because all of our neighbors had real guns and it might have turned out badly.

In any case, the movie is a wonderful story of perseverance, loyalty, honor, love, humility and respect.  There are some pretty great lines as well, "I reckon every boy ought to have a tree like that to cut down once in their life." And when I told our dinner companions the movie I’d seen they were kind of familiar with it but not completely.  So I summed it up by saying, “I just saw a movie about how everyone wants their boy to turn out.”

The next day we went to a jumpy castle birthday party and Connor did three pretty cool things.  First, he was climbing an obstacle wall to get to a slide and wasn’t quite extending his legs and couldn’t reach the next handle/hold.  The best part of this was when I was telling him what to do; he was very calmly listening to the instructions and executing the commands. This made me happy on several levels: 1. He didn’t freak out at the height; 2. He was calm and not anxious about what to do next; and 3. He was listening to daddy in a situation in which it would have been easy to ignore me being caught up in the moment.  Second, when it was time for the kid’s picture most of the cat herding had been done by the time we put Connor and Josie down.  But we asked him to let Josie sit between his legs and have him hold her.  No problem, he did it gently and sweetly, but he held on tight.  Finally, there were some older kids who I guess thought he was a little older than he was and were rough and tumble with him on the jumpy obstacles.  And he just got up, laughed and chased after them. 

He’s such a good kid, he may never be the coon hunting champion of Oklahoma, win a state championship, or play football for Notre Dame, and I’m positive he won’t skate on the Olympic hockey team unless our neighbor Oly is a miracle worker, but I’m already pretty proud of him.  I think he’s going to be a great son, brother, member of society, husband, and father.  He did, however, poop the bed the other day.  So I guess the jury is still out.  I know!  Just pulled off his diaper and dropped a deuce.  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!

When did we stop singing songs about our junk?

A funny thing happened a while back at work.  I was in the men’s restroom and as I was walking to the sink one of my co-workers who speaks with a pretty thick accent came in and was headed to the stalls.  I said, “How are you doing,” trying to be polite.  He responded, “I’m going to poop (it’s even funnier if you think about it with an accent).”  I started getting a little red faced and explained, “No, I asked HOW you are doing.”

It made me think, would I ever answer this question the way he did?  And then it made me think, at what age did I start letting my ego/pride/embarrassment get in the way of my communication?  We all have stories about how we tried to act cool and did something stupid or hurt someone’s feelings and I’m not going to go there and issue apologies to all those... actually, yes I am.  If anyone reading this blog was a victim of my trying to act cool, or save my own pride, I sincerely apologize.  It more than likely made me look worse anyway.  But if you were a victim of my stupidity, please forgive me.

I got home yesterday and our nanny was telling me that Connor was singing songs about different body parts.  He sang about his toes, his knees, belly button and of course his penis.  Actually who hasn’t sung an ode to their own penis at least once right?  A friend of mine even has a comedy song about it called dear penis.  The question I have is, aside from Rodney, when do we stop singing about our body parts?  Publicly I mean.  

When you think about mooning or flashing people, you usually have some fun little memories of high school or college.  Additionally, skinny dipping is a fun and naughty little rite of passage…unless you are two and a half.   At this age pulling off your diaper and running around the sprinkler is merely something you would do on a Tuesday in the summer.  Obviously Josie is only 8 months and is just saying “mama” and “dada” and is oblivious to nudity or body fluids.  I guess this is why she can spit up on your neck and then give you the biggest two teeth grin she can muster.  She also has no problem eating the little portions of ritz cracker that Connor discards for lacking the proper amount of cheese or peanut butter….off the floor.  We’ll have to teach her about the three second rule later, but for now there apparently is no time limit. When you see her excitedly grabbing a hot new prize (like a sunflower seed kernel or a day old quarter grape) and she’s putting it into her mouth she looks pretty excited about the little treasure she’s just dug up.  Of course we take it away from her, but her disappointment clearly isn’t shame.  I guess we have to be taught that.

So when is the appropriate age to teach shame?  I’m not talking about right and wrong.  I mean shame.  Like don’t pull your pants down at the store …until you are in college and your pledge master tells you to.  Actually, I guess shame is the wrong word.  Modesty is probably the better term.  I don’t want my kids to be ashamed of their bodies, but I also don’t want to see Connor giving his little buddy some air at a dinner party.  And I certainly don’t want Josie playing “guess what’s under my dress” EVER (I know I’m going to have to let go eventually and I’m going to need some help from friends who have older girls).  I know I like to walk around the house in my underwear (because it’s cooler) but I certainly run to the bedroom and put some clothes back on when someone comes to the door.  But Connor doesn’t care, and I guess I hope he never does.  

So I think I might just tell Connor and Josie that due to their fair skin, they mustn’t show a bunch of it, but never be embarrassed.  And if you want to sing songs about your junk, go right ahead.  I happen to know someone who’s made a pretty good living doing it.  Just please don’t do it in church, or at school, or at the mall, or in the grocery store.  Okay, so maybe we could just sing it in the car?  Am I too uptight?

My son is a coked-up monkey.

My freshman year at A&M I took all science classes: Biology with Lab, Chemistry with Lab, Calculus, weight lifting, and Psychology.  The idiocy of my choices notwithstanding, I really enjoyed the Psych class.  One thing I will never forget was that our Professor had a research grant to study monkeys under the influence of cocaine.  This was 1987 mind you, so coke was still relatively new unless you count the hundreds of years that Mayans and Aztecs chewed up coca leaves and ran nekkid through the jungles of South America.  In any case, these monkeys would stop having sex (in the middle), stop eating, drinking water, sleeping, everything for more cocaine. 

Connor loves Thomas the tank engine.  He’s seen many of the videos, has at least 50 trains and coaches, and even has Thomas PJs.  We took him to the touring Broadway show that came to town where he met Sir Topham Hat and Thomas’ and Percy’s drivers.  He has a ton of track with multiple levels and tunnels, bridges, etc.  He has wooden railway pieces upstairs and the plastic sets downstairs. 

My best friend’s (and Connor’s Godparents) across the street neighbor has two boys who’ve recently just grown out of their Thomas obsession.  So their mom was just about to put them up on craigslist.  My best friend’s wife said, “Wait, call Nita first and see if they want it.”  Nita asked me if we should go and take a look before she sold them.  Connor has a catalog and is constantly pointing and saying which trains and trucks we “need.”  To be honest, I’ve broken down and gotten most of them for him.  And to be more honest, I couldn’t fathom them having anything unique to Connor’s collection.  I figured at best we’d find two or three trains Connor didn’t have or maybe get some more track to continue building his little empire.

Holy shit!  Now I should have guessed that a best-selling and award winning author might be a little quirky and gravitate toward the obscure.  But when we started sifting through the trains he and his wife had gotten for their kids, it was beyond amazing.  They had every obscure train and even some discontinued sets.  They had bridges, carnivals, the sheds, tunnels, and so many different and unique trains I was absolutely shocked.  Connor immediately took ownership of them and even started howling when Josie dared to play with one of the trains we didn’t even own yet.  So of course we bought the lot.

We got home and normally a big drive from Onion Creek to North West Austin induces a little nap.  Not for my boy with one train in each hand.  We got home and it was just about lunch time and immediately afterwards would be nap time.  But not for my little coked up monkey.  He wanted to take all the trains and sets out of the four boxes and start assembling all of them and cataloging his inventory which was now about double.  Connor threw a little tantrum when pressed to have lunch.  Again when he was put in his crib and told to nap.  He was trying to bargain his way into getting a train to hold while napping.

The next day Nita said he didn’t even want to play outside, it was all trains all day.  When I got home, it looked like it was about to rain.  Since I had driven Connor through a sprinkler or two in my golf cart, I said, “C, let’s go ride in the golf cart and see if we can get rained on.”  He very matter-of-factly said, “No daddy, I’m playing trains.”  I replied, “Hey buddy, come on, it’ll be fun I’ll even give you some juice.”  He stopped, thought, looked at his trains, grabbed Diesel 10 and Charlie the purple engine, and agreed.  So we drove around and finally got to the golf club where he hopped out and ran around (finally) with a train in each hand.  Again, dinner time was preceded by a light tantrum and he wanted to play trains instead of taking a bath.  Bed time was also coke-monkey-esque.  We almost had a little meltdown during his rant/explanation of how he just needed to “finish” the track. 

He really is at a great stage right now.  He’s really in to creating things, building, connecting, combining, etc.  So he has a red moment once in a while. (For all of you who are married to red heads or have red heads in your families, you immediately knew what I meant didn’t you?)  See y’all later, it’s back to the train table….I’m coming Connor, cool your jets!

Okay Nobody Call CPS....Again.

It already happened once with Connor’s stitches and although the person was pleasant enough, I’d rather not repeat it.  You’ll recall he took a little spill in day care and ended up with three blue stitches on his little red eyebrow.

Josie is now full-fledged crawling.  Not the commando crawling which I believe is safer and lower to the ground, but full-extend-the-elbow crawling.  Additionally she wants to crawl to Connor and either touch/grab anything he’s playing with or put it in her mouth.  Finally, she’s also pulling herself up on everything to a complete stand.  She thinks she’s way more coordinated than she is and is okay going up the sunken living room steps, down….not so much. So right now she looks like an MMA fighter with a little mouse over her right eye.

Connor has also realized he can get away from her by climbing the steps, and of course she goes after him.  Although he is a sweet little boy most of the time, he doesn’t dig sharing Thomas train engines or his “Mater” tow truck.  He has now mastered, “NO JOSIE, NO!!” 

His new technique for dodging Josephine is not helping her avoid looking like Rocky I, II, III, okay all of them.  She’s mostly tough and only cries for a little while until someone picks her up or gives her a puff (Puffs are the new organic fruit cheerios for those of you out of the game).  So the baby corral is up and it’s like reliving the Connor crawling dangers.  The difference is she’s so much further along physically than Connor.  I mean WAY ahead.  At least Connor was stronger and little older when he attempted some of the things Josie is doing.  He’d been in the exer-saucer for four months and the Johnny jump up for about the same time.

We’ve been taking them to the pool quite a bit and Josie just loves being in the water in her little float.  She kicks her legs in the big pool and actually walks along like a walker in the baby pool.  And she’s pretty good at controlling her direction.  Connor was very skittish last summer, but has turned into a little water bug.  We stumbled upon a swimming class last weekend and a kid just a few months younger than he was screaming about being in the water.  Connor very sweetly asked, “What happened daddy, is he okay?”  Meanwhile Josie is doing synchronized swimming in the corner.  All in all we’re having a fun summer (although if any of you could send some rain this way we could use it).  Connor loves running around and Josie is trying to emulate Connor using her head to cushion her fall.  Actually it isn’t that bad.  She’s pretty good with two hands, it’s when she tries to hold something or put it in her mouth while standing that she might lose her balance and do the face plant.  She’s still beautiful and chunky. J

And on July 4^th, Connor and Josie were in a little Independence Day parade.  Mom’s little dog Delilah also rode around in the wagon.  Connor and Josie loved the attention, the ride, and all the candy that went along with being the “talent.”  Of course getting him to stop eating candy and calm down was quite an adventure.  Mom doesn’t help at all in the sugar department. She sneaks him M&Ms, mints, and other things in which she claims her status as a grandmother exempt her from parental policies and mandates.  When mom said, “Connor will give you 5x what you did to me,” I didn’t think she was going to jump start it with cupcakes and egg him on.  Isn’t that cheating?

A Tale of Two Cultures

One of my first experiences with Nita’s Italian side of the family was during Thanksgiving while we were engaged.  She said to me, “They are very close, loud, and there’s lots of food.  It can be quite overwhelming.”  So, being someone who was in team sports, and someone who presented in front of lots of customers, and finally being Hispanic, I figured this will be easy.  So here we go, off to Houston and we get to the house and there are a lot of people and way more food than a most third world countries have in a year.  There were three generations of Italians and a priest.  The extended family was awesome and I began attempting to learn and memorize everyone’s name, side of the family, and which boat they came over on.  I’m kidding on the boat thing, but Nita is three generations from the Sicily.  One of Nita’s cousins came up and trying to be sweet said, “Hey Marco what do you think about all these Italians?”  The conversations get quieter and just like in the Sure Thing everyone hears me say, “I think they’re great, Italians are basically the Mexicans of Europe.”  In a movie, this is where the sound effects guy would scratch a needle across the record and everyone would immediately stop talking and stare at the new guy like he’d just peed the floor.

I then proceed to explain that, like Italians, Mexicans were mostly Catholic, family oriented, loud, and if any of them had ever been to a tamalada (tamale making party) they’d know about food. (Nice save)!  In the years that have gone by I’ve grown to love them like my own family (more in some cases) and think they’ve grown to love me as well. 

Sure there are some differences, and some of them are political.  You have to remember that many of the Italians either lived through or were close to the Mussolini Fascist regime, but kind of started out as the leaders of the world (Roman Empire in case any of you forgot about that portion).  Mexicans were ruled mostly the Spaniards, French, and now drug lords, but they too were an amazing civilization and even invented the zero (Aztecs and Mayans).  We both love Oregano.  Tortillas vs. Bread, can’t we have both? Cheeses are a little different, and spicy is in the mouth of the beholder. For example, spicy for Italians is whether or not to have gelato or a drink of water between sips of wine.  Spicy for Mexicans is whether to put the toilet paper in the freezer or just sit on an helado (ice cream).  I’d like to focus on the similarities.

Two weeks ago, Connor was the ring bearer in my cousin’s wedding.  We were invited to the rehearsal dinner and the reception.  This week Nita’s aunt had a birthday and the whole family came down for a really nice dinner and then a fun little brunch/lunch.  I thoroughly enjoyed both sets of events.  Connor got to meet some of his cousins and had a blast with all the sweets.  The funny thing is Nita is deathly afraid of Connor getting teased about his hair.  She doesn’t make things easier by putting so much sunscreen on him that he looks like Casper the ghost with red eyebrows.  But in both family gatherings the kids have been wonderful.  They all run and play with him and chased him around and were tickled that one of their cousins didn’t have black hair.  The cousins (both sides) adore him and can’t get enough of Josephine’s chunky legs and puffy cheeks.  (Originally I used fat, but Nita thinks I’m going to give her a complex).  Everyone is a hugger and everyone is legitimately interested in how you are doing. 

By interested, I mean it.  If you ask someone from work or at a party how they are doing, they’ll say fine or excuse themselves to go get a drink.  If you ask a Mexitalian (this is what we call Connor and Josie by the way, so for brevity, I’m combining them into one new master race J ) how they are doing, they’ll tell you.  You may find yourself in a 30 minute graphic conversation about lancing a goiter.  You cannot get away from their generosity and if you try to send a plate back with food on it, God help you.  You better finish it, ask for more, and eat that too… and then ask to take some home with you.  If you ask how to build a fence or a dock, you better expect 12 people in your back yard next weekend with tools and 13 different ideas on how to start.  If you go on a hunting trip, you better not expect to eat hamburgers and salads, you either eat some obscure “delicacy” or what you shoot.  And by delicacy I mean you better be willing to eat what other people throw away.  And they LOVE to argue, which is where I think I feel most at home. But more than anything else they love their children.  They are both beautiful cultures and I’m proud to be part of both.