Preschool Casanova

My son is a cutie. Not that I am biased in any way. He's got light ash brown hair and piercing blue eyes that can see right through you.

My son likes girls.

As a baby he would giggle on purpose to get a pretty girls attention. So I already knew I was in trouble in the girl department. But I didn't think we'd be here so soon.

A few months ago my husband gave my son a few pennies to play a game at work. He spent a few, but saved a few in his pocket. So we asked him about it and he said he was saving them for Amy. He also mentioned that he wanted to get her a pink flower because pink was her favorite color. Even though I thought it was super cute; I wasn't going to go out and buy a flower and make this into anything serious. However a week after that my little helper was putting out favor boxes at a baby shower and noticed that the flowers in the centerpieces were pink. He pulled me aside and whispered, "Mami, the flowers are pink". I said that's right buddy. "Mommy can I take a flower for Amy?" I said that they were not mine so I couldn't give him one. He mustered up the courage and asked the hostess, who of course said yes. We kept the flower in water overnight so that he could take it to school the next day.

The next day at school he walked in with the flower behind his back. The teacher asked who the flower was for and he whispered it to her. She made everyone close their eyes as he placed the flower in her hand. She then gave him a hug and he turned bright red. Adorable.

We'll the other day while driving home from school, he tells me that the love isn't there anymore with Amy. I asked him what happened and if she didn't want to be his friend anymore or if he didn't want to be her friend anymore. He said, " Both of us; We are separated." Where does he learn these words?

He was just moved to a new PreK4 class for the big kids and so I asked him if they moved Amy too and if she is his friend. He says, "Mommy I told you- we are separated." I asked him why they were not friends anymore and he told me that it was because she was a liar. Apparently she claimed that Winnie the Pooh's name in Spanish was Tata. I said, "Is that the only reason?" She also claimed that her mommy didn't want her to be friends with him. Which to me sounded like the preschool version of "It's not you.- It's me."

Here we are again. On the drive home two weeks ago he said, "Mommy can I take a flower to school for Ludmila?" Ludmilla is in his new class and she is older. We picked a beautiful Plumeria from our tree, but after he professed his intentions she reavealed that she wants to marry someone else.

He took it well and has moved on to Estella.

If this is what we are dealing with at four what can I expect at 14?

God help me. I always thought that I would be a really cool Mom when it came to my childs interests, but I remember the moment they placed my son in my arms and I looked into his eyes. The first thing that crossed my mind was- "No woman is ever going to be good enough for you."

Picky Eater

If your kids are anything like my little one, you have the deepest conversations while driving around. He may ask, "Mommy does Hulk have a wife or kids?" or "When can I become Spiderman?" These are the deep musings of a four year old.

Well on this especially long drive he says, "Mommy, What is mucus for?". My husband and I give each other a look. Let's see where do I begin? Sometimes I feel like a need a Phd for some of these questions.

I begin to explain that there are little hairs within the nose that help to filter the air and catch larger particles too keep them from entering the lungs and that the liquid mucus also traps germs and dust from entering the lungs and our body so that we don't get sick. So we said, " Buddy this is why we always tell you not to pick your nose and eat your boogers. You are letting these germs into your body"

He gets really quiet and then says, "I understand!- I understand now! Why didn't you tell me all of this sooner. If you would have told me sooner...(he pauses). Oh my God! I could have died!

Me No Spiki Ingi

Miami a truly international city. You walk down any street and you can hear Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Creole and a host of other languages.

I grew up Speaking English in School and Spanish at home. I have memories of "El Noticiero 23" and of course all of the Spanish Novelas like, "El Derecho de Nacer" every evening. However, since I can "pass" for a gringa and grew up in Miami Beach, most people assume that I am not Cuban. I have always felt Cuban, but I knew I didn't fit in with the other Cuban girls that grew up in Little Havana or Hialeah. I eat Bagels and Lox with as much enthusiasm as Cafe con Leche.

I have been married for 10 years and we have been an English speaking household. Well that is until our son was born. We decided that we would teach him Spanish first. This was a huge sacrifice since I think and dream in English. I bought kids English/Spanish dictionaries so that I would not end up teaching him Spanglish. I have always considered myself fluent in Spanish but teaching a little child from Scratch is another thing all together.

So here we are 4 years later. Four years of Spanish only. Wow only in Miami can I raise a gringo looking, blue eyed boy with Spanish as his first language. He does not let me speak English to him. He wants me to translate every book and until recently he would always pick the Spanish sound track on all of his movies.

It is quite funny but he has an accent when he tries to speak English. He has been picking some up recently. How does this happen. How did we do it? Well as it turns out none of the teachers in day care speak English either. Whenever I would go into a new daycare I would ask if people spoke English. Since they though I was American they all quickly tried to speak in their best English to assure me that they did, "O ches wi spiki ingli". I would say no please do not speak to him in English but since they are required to teach them in English it was inevitable that he would pick up their accent. There are things he says to me that I can barely understand. He also picks up things from TV that crack me up. His recent one is "Okay, okay Mr. Wossy" which means "Mr. Bossy" Although I tell him that it is not the right way to speak to Mommy and Daddy, I love it when he says it. I know I shouldn't do this but sometimes I set him up so that he says it. It is the cutest thing I have ever heard.

A few months ago I was very worried that I had made a huge mistake. He started to be shy at the park. He wouldn't approach kids until he knew what language they spoke first. He didn't want to be the one to speak first for fear that he would be in the wrong language. Thank goodness that it was short lived. He has gone back to asking other kids to play with their toys in both languages.

Recently I have been increasing some of the English we speak to him so that he can learn the right way to say things. He once came home singing- Mon- Fri "to" days of the week, only to find out that it was supposed to be "the" days of the week and the teacher herself was saying it wrong. A few days ago he came home singing yet another song but this time I have no idea what the song is and he is basically cursing. He sings it all of the time. " Chicken f&*?" This is a real problem as it is a song they are learning to prepare for a show next month. I have to try and get this on video as there will be 15 kids all yelling it at the same time. I tell him that it can't possibly go that way but he insists. So I ask him to stop singing it until I ask the teacher to teach it to me. He is reluctant but says, " Okay, Okay Mr. Wossy"

Neat Freak

So this morning as I slowly make my way to the kitchen in my terrycloth robe and slippers, rubbing my eyes to wake up, a perky little voice says, "Mommy we need to organize the house." He makes wide sweeping circles with his arms to make sure I understand he means the whole house. "We need to organize everything. Let's clean and make everything shiny." He turns and with more sweeping arm circles says, "And what do we need to clean this floor?".

I know- this would be any mother's dream, but keep in mind -Saturday morning, robe, slippers.

I know I am blessed. So I wake myself up and start cleaning. He loves to clean. He did not get that from me. I was an only child and if my mom made me clean, it meant that I was being punished for something.

He must have gotten this trait from Dad's side. My husband is the same way. I know, I know -you hate me. Actually, I think it's an Ecuadorian thing (my husband's side). Not just the cleaning, but the need to rearrange furniture. If my son decides he wants to clean he also means moving the furniture around. This table goes here and that one goes there. "It's prettier this way", he grunts as I run to help him move something before he gives himself a hernia.

I say this is an Ecuadorian thing because my roommate before I was married, who is also Ecuadorian, would constantly move things around. Our apartment never looked the same. She was also obsessed with changing her nail polish every night, but I'm not sure the two things are related.

So there we were on a Saturday morning wiping, sweeping and mopping all before heading to work. Although it was not what I was planning on doing and truthfully I didn't do much with such a great helper; It was surely productive. I truly am blessed and I don't deserve it. My mom always said that in punishment for not cleaning my room I would get a child that was worse than me.

But now that I think about it, perhaps the real punishment is getting a child that is worse than her and still makes me clean my room, even if I don't want to.

Whistle while you work.

My son is obsessed with whistling. He started after seeing Disney's Robin Hood.

He just loves it. He whistles is the morning, on the way to school. He whistles all of the time. Well, he thinks he does.

The only problem is- that he doesn't really know how. Oh, he licks his lips and puckers just right- then proceeds to make a high pitched "whoo-whoo" sound with his throat.

At first, I didn't get it and then as he "whoo-whood" a familiar melody I realized what he was doing. I have to look away and shield my face so he doesn't see me laughing. It is really hard to contain myself.

It really sounds like "whistling" most of the time. The rest of the time, it sounds like a whining dog or a cat scratching a chalk board. It was really cute at first but it has been at least two weeks.

Then Saturday morning, I hear a high pitched sound over the baby monitor. He was "whistling". I guess it is better than when he yells out- Mami! Ven! Ven!!

Since he considers himself a whistling expert, he "whistles" along to cartoon jingles and just anytime he is inspired.

So I sit here listening over the monitor as he "whistles" himself to sleep and the whistling softly fades.

PG- Parental Guidance

Never watch "Bolt" with a four year old. How do you explain to him that the dog he is watching in the movie is part of a TV show but he doesn't know it? If you think Bolt had a hard time understanding that he really didn't have super powers, try explaining it to a four year old. This requires super powers of their own. I don't know about you but all things that have to do with my son require parental guidance.

Its like the questions never stop. Why this, why that. Sometimes he sets me up. He makes a statement like, "That man stopped his car because the light was red." I say, "That's right buddy" and then he says, "why did the man stop the car? Why is the light red?" I have finally figured out how to stop this line of questioning. I have two techniques. One is to answer with a very long scientific and correct answer like-there are sensors strategically placed along the road and they transmit information through to the light posts about the flow of traffic and a computer that controls the light signals changes the light to red." This usually has him take a short break while he digests it all. Sometimes it back fires. My new one is to say, "Why do you think that he stopped? This one is working nicely lately.

And then this evening, I read him an abridged version of Alice in Wonderland. It was just the story of a dormouse that eats magic candy and becomes a giant. I should have known better.

"Mommy what is a dormouse. Which are the magic candies. Why did she tell the Mad Hatter not to eat them. I don't see the magic candies in this picture. Why is the mouse a giant." I had to threaten to stop reading the story. It was exhausting to say the least. He is finally asleep and I'm going to bed, but who is going to read me a story?

Take my child or Somebody's Going to Get Hurt

Whenever I would meet someone who found out I was a new mommy they would always say, "Aren't they fun?" I would smile at them but would think to myself-"fun is not the word I would use to describe my situation." It is a blast now-most of the time, but the first eight months were a living hell. It wasn't my son. He was a good baby. It wasn't him, it was me. I hadn't slept in over a year and I was totally depressed. God allows me to go through certain things so that I can't be self righteous. Before I had my son I would hear of a mother who hurt herself and her child and I would think. "How can anyone do something like that?" I know how. Wow those first few months were scary for me. I was clueless about how to take care of a baby. I wasn't producing enough milk and I was alone most of the day. I was lonely, I was tired and I felt guilty all of the time. Why didn't I have lovey dovey thoughts all day? What was wrong with me? A hormone imbalance and some chemicals a little bit off, now add to that no sleep, guilt for not producing enough milk and loneliness and this is a dangerous recipe. A newborn cannot care about you or tell you that it is all going to be okay. It just cries a lot. I thank God everyday that I had some self control and could say to myself-"self, get a grip-those are not good thoughts, take a deep breath and think of something else." There were times I thought about crashing my car and had to literally shake it off. I can't even imagine what it must be like for women who are truly clinically depressed and cannot catch their thoughts and make them captive. Sometimes I get a little nervous when I think of having another child. I have always been a truly fun and happy person with lots of optimism and it freaks me out to think about being in that frame of mind again. On the bright side I can now remember that it gets better. One of the things that make the baby blues so blue is the feeling that it is never going to get better. The feeling that your life has changed forever. Now I know that a newborn doesn't stay a newborn forever. At 8 months I started going to the park everyday. More for me than for my son. I need to talk to other parents. At 10 months I placed him in daycare part time. I drove around looking for the right place and all I wanted was for someone to take my child or someone was going to get hurt. He started sleeping through the night at one year and then my life changed. Sleep is what I really needed. Soon I got back to work full time and I felt human again. After 18 months he was truly fun. It just kept getting better and better. He truly is a blast. I know I can't live without him. He provides the purest unconditional love, hugs and kisses. He brings me unparalleled joy. I hope that anyone who is going through something similar can grow in faith that it gets exponentially better.