Friday, March 28, 2008

Why Moms Should Never Freak Out On Their Sons OR Feeling Irie

The last time I did a genuine double take it was early in the evening as I walked into my bathroom to pee. Just to pee mind you, my world was just fine sans drama. So, there I am in all my happiness when all of a sudden I gasp. Oi! I fumble with the most basic of post-peeing procedures and think "What the heee......!"

Flashback: there was a silver thing sitting on the bathroom counter.
Yes, a silver thing. I now remember glancing at it in passing and thinking
"Oh, what a nice bong."

Wait! It can't be a (now I can't even say it). I want to rush back to the counter but my feet are somehow stuck to the tiles with some panic cement that comes from deep inside the womb that carried my child for nine months. That's right boy, I think. Nine months and you dare to bring a bong into my house? Okay, I try to remain calm and walk wobbly knee'd over to the sink.
There it is. Spout. Elongated tube. Do you see it? OMG, OMG, OMG. That's really all that's going through my mind at this point. That, and what did I do to get cast in this really bad After School Special? I close my eyes, then open them. It's still there. I move it with my one index finger, afraid I'll get residue on me and then I start picturing Homeland Security wiping my hand down with that Noxema pad they use on luggages. "Oh, Ms. Reyes, we're going to have to ask you to step aside. A female agent will pat you down. Don't worry, it's only precautionary."

I push it a little harder. It's solid, pretty heavy, and it looks like it's almost made of silver or platinum. Where did he get such an expensive bong? I need to decrease his allowance. I knew he wasn't eating that cafeteria lunch. It's all my fault, I've financed my own son's addiction!
I hold it in my hand and contemplate our futures. If I go to jail, I'll deserve it for not seeing the signs earlier. I knew that skater dude haircut I let him get was trouble, why didn't I do something sooner? I pick it up and sniff it. I look through the spout. No ashes, no leaves. No little roach stuck inside the neck. It doesn't even smell like weed. "Kid's pretty savvy", I think to myself, "and, what a clean boy too!" His bong is spotless. When they haul me off to the Guma Hustisa and arrest me for parental neglect at least I'll know I've taught my son proper hygiene and care. I will go with a full heart, wearing that orange jumpsuit and look into that KMCV camera dead on and with my head held high. I will wear my brown peep-toe pumps. Brown goes nice with orange.
After absorbing it all I turn it over and read the engraving. 11CB. Made in Checkoslovakia. They make bongs in Checkoslovakia? WAIT! Didn't Tony Jr. say something he owned was from Checkoslovakia? I dash to his room with alleged bong in hand and lo and behold! Alleged bong fits perfectly, beautifully and oh so innocently into his trombone! I blow into the mouthpiece and revel in the sounds of relief. Just so you all know, my son had a good laugh on me too!!

Monday, March 24, 2008

Easter With The Reyes'

Aiyisha and Doreen
Uncle Manny & Auntie Dianne
Ryan & Tony Jr.

Jessica, Jesse & baby on the way. Below: mom and son, Tanya and Peyton, me and baby Nolan, Sommer and finally- Akieva and Hope.

Happy Easter - He has risen and so shall we

I believe good things are on their way.
I believe the Lord has plans for us, plans for a wonderful life.
I believe my children are in His and my hands and their destinies are great.
We do not know what the future holds, but we know who holds our future.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Peyton: There are so many flavors going on in my mouth...

This is what the sky looked like when I woke up today. It is this view, the cool breeze and the smell of flowers in the front lawn that keeps me outside on the porch.

Peyton decided she'd like to make pork dumplings for dinner last night. Dinner takes quite a bit longer when your sous chef is 7 years old and her assistant is 3, but it's definitely worth the wait.

The compromise: goutie (fried dumplings) for the stubby fingered eater. Peyton's specialty which she learned from her Godmother and my cousin, Char.

We saved some dumplings for a soup to compliment the rainy and cold weather outside. Light broth, mushrooms, pechay, lobster bits, eggplants, pork dumplings and onions & garlic. Everyone agreed, dinner was worth the wait. I think Peyton has some potential, I may just offer her a contract.
One thing never changes in Papago. After dinner there is a strange phenomenon that occurs right before it is time to clear the table and wash the dishes. The children go missing.

In other totally random and awesome news:

What? You don't believe?
Deece made me mango jam! Well, I officially
won the jam because I'm a good guesser, but still...
Deece made me some yumdeliscrumptuous mango jam.
I need a pedicure. Badly
What? You didn't believe me?!

Thursday, March 20, 2008

The Last Mallard and the Marianas Trench

Angelo (A.K.A. "action in tattered jeans") is asking us to do what we should anyway - get involved in what happens to our environment. I'm in a forgiving mood, so even though Angelo is indirectly linked to the extinction of my school mascot, I will offer the same plea. Read, share, listen and participate in any way you can to what happens in our home. Somebody's coming to dinner in the Marianas. Let's set out a plate and talk.

A proposal for a National Park of the Sea will soon be introduced. I know nothing about it, except it has something to do with the Marianas Trench. You can visit Angelo's blog for more information.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Boni Pending

It used to be our names defined us. My family's history wove itself wordlessly through my name, Yvonne Reyes. It was enough until the metamorphosis began. Redefining myself started with what else but my name, and that too seemed sufficient until I became so much more:

A grown up. A wife. A mommy. A teacher. An aunt. A part a community whose names were interwoven to cement my identity. It was something bigger than just myself and it nearly qualified my existence. For a time.

Today I find myself in transition yet again. I am a soon to be. I am a soon to be single mother of four gorgeous children; a soon to be single 37 year old divorce'; a soon to be sole provider of a household in need of structure and laughter; a soon to be friend to myself, whoever that person is. Like Trina Paulus' cocoon maker who realizes she has the same potential to be a butterfly, I must first be "willing to give up being a caterpillar".

Boni. Boni Gomez. Boni Reyes. Soon.