Dancer for Life

     Today I went and watched Eva's Nutcracker recital. I honestly don't know what I love more; that feeling of excitement as you watch the choreographer lay out the steps eight beats at a time or the actual show where it all comes together. I felt a bit nostalgic too at watching the combination of the young ballet school girls, prim and proper with their hair in tight buns and pristine tights, working alongside the ballet core girls in their grubby ripped sweatshirts and baggy pants. In my day, your talent as a dancer was directly proportional to how disgusting your clothes were. And that seems to still be the case. We used to get our old tights and cut out the crotch to use as an undershirt with our leotards.We cut out the backs of our leotards and then cut holes in our shirts to show off the cuts we made in our leotards. We used actual trash bags as pants so we could sweat off five pounds in a rehearsal. It seems somebody cashed in on that idea and now sells fancy trash bags for $30. And where we used the Ugg style shoes over our pointe shoes, these girls have some form of arctic climbing shoe (shown below). Now the guys are in on it too. Here is what I call the Michael Jackson of feet look. One sock on, one sock off look. I can see now why my mother was constantly disgusted with me. If we looked like these girls, it looked like a homeless shelter had been infested with an extremely talented group of bums. And of course, with the hindsight I have now, I would have been happy to show off my body more back then, instead of being so self conscious about every single hair on my head. 

arctic footwear

MJ of feet. Look at how cute the young girls are

I love the split shot of busy class and girls chatting before class.

I make a very big effort each year NOT to force Eva into ballet. I put on my best poker face and ask her if she wants to continue or try something else. I hold my breath but she really seems to like it and I think she has a lot of potential. But I have to say that ballet is a lot different for her as it was for me. I went to a ballet company that was run by serious Cuban ballet dancers that were trained by serious Russian ballet dancers. I can't think of a teacher that didn't scream at us and carry a big stick to bang on the floor or hit us with. Not like a beating you would get in the hood. But a smack on your butt or belly to remind you to suck it in or push it down. I look at Eva's teachers, how they smile and hug the girls, and part of me is jealous I didn't have that but the other part is wondering if these kids can really learn in this Sesame Street environment.

I think every girl, whether it is two seconds in a tutu after Christmas, or for twenty two years in a company, has dreamed of dancing-of putting on the beautiful costume, the makeup and getting up on stage to perform for an audience. I see it in my daughter. She has the bug. What I wish for her and for all of us is more shelf life. Where do old dancers go to dance? 

I danced alongside Nuryev, Fernando Bujones, Edward Villela, The Kozlovs, Godunov when I was in the ballet company. And when I wasn't with them, I was dancing in a Cuban Folklore company, shaking what my mama gave me.   We traveled the country and out of the country. It was wonderful. But for me the dream had to end so I could grow up and be what I wanted to be more than a dancer. At least, that's what I told myself. My husband never saw me dance and the ongoing joke in our house is that every time he sees me trip or bump into something he says, "You must of been a great dancer." I think its weird he doesn't' know that "me". It was such a big part of making me who I am now. But again, every little girl's dream of being a dancer must end: whether at two or thirty two years old is the question. There may be some fun classes for adults who used to be dancers, like the one I did with my friend Natalie in New Orleans, but there is no curtain call or costumes in that one. But it sure was fun. So for now, I am happy to have my memories and love, love, love these moments at the ballet. 

Nuryev

Bujones

This was my Cuban Folklore days

My dad almost had a heart attack when I wore this at the Orange Bowl Parade

For all of the dancers who read this post. Keep dancing. I do it with my babies, in the shower and wherever the beat catches me. I've never looked back at my life and said, " Hey, I should of danced less." Fathers-dance with your daughters. They will always remember those moments. My first salsa dance was with my father and I can still remember what he smelled like. And now when I dance Salsa, I think about him and where I come from. Girls, dance with your friends. I have many fond memories of dancing alongside my besties as we rang in new year after new year. And mothers, teach your sons how to keep a beat. It can only help them land a future wife you may actually get along with. I have to go now. I feel like dancing with my daughter. Maybe I'll show her some of my fancy moves the old Russians passed down to me with their sticks. And I don't know how much longer I will have to do it.

New Orleans with the Family

So here we are again. In the Big Easy. The only place I know where the wicked witch and her flying monkey (who look like they just came directly out of central casting for Wicked may I add) don't even cause the crowd around them to take a second look. I don't think I was ever bored of people watching in this town.

Help I'm an Instagramaholic

I have my friend Natalie to blame. She introduced me a few days ago to Instagram and I can't seem to stop. It is everything I love about

blogging. A lot of picture and little talk. Nobody really knows how much a picture can say better than me. And this is just my kind of mojo. As if wasn't a mamarazi already, this has taken me over the edge. I think my photo addiction comes from the fact that there are only two pictures of me as a baby in my photo album. One is of me at birth approximately 40 feet away from the camera in my father's arms, with my sister Lourdes sitting on the edge of the chair and the second picture is of me, approximately 5 years old, standing in front of Cinderella's Castle. I feel compelled to take pictures of my children in every bit of their everyday activity no matter how boring and trivial it may seem. So go ahead and Instagram me. I'll Instagram you back. I think that's the lingo for these kids these days. I'm also learning what a hashtag is. And I'm going to hashtag the heck out of everything those kids do. So Natalie I love you thank you for this lesson as well as for teaching me how to blog. You were always the cooler one. #natleilani

We're Still Alive....For Now

Where did the time go since my last post. What I remember is we took a family trip to Michigan only to drive back 13 1/2 hours straight to return the day before school started. I really think that third and fifth grades are my hardest years yet. I have had a planet project, an ecosystem diorama, three book reports, a clay butterfly project, 25 AR points of book read, two social studies papers and oodles of extra credit stuff I needed to get done so far. But, I am happy to report that I am on the honor roll for both grades showing you all that this girl still has what it takes to crush elementary school. Oh yeah, the kids help me too, but I really feel like I can do this on my own most of the times. Actually, I sometimes think I can get things done faster and better if the kids don't help but Mike insists they need to participate in some capacity. Suit yourself Mr. By the Book. When I handed in my skeleton art project, I told the teacher that this was really hard on me. She said, " And to think you have four more fifth graders to come." I think part of my brain melted out the side of my ear. I never really thought it out that far. I may need to let these kids get some of their own work get done. 

      In reality, both my kids are towing their own. I am there for the hunting and gathering portions of the homework but it really feels like I am the one being graded. And I am sure I am not the only parent that feels that way.

      The trips are on fire. They are such different kids but all of them are just adorable. When she is not reading a book, Gigi has learned that if she puckers up and bats her eyes when she is caught doing something wrong, she just might get away with it. Carlos, my Romeo, has decided that in order to go to sleep properly, he needs a complete rub down. Massaged from head to toe with a song, that boy drifts off with a smile on his face. I think he just needs those five minutes of my uninterrupted attention where we look at each other lovingly while I rub his feet and smile at his smirk which tells me, without words, "God, I love you, woman." Beau is our princess. She will bring you an assortment of outfits that she wants on all at the same time. After you put the on, you have to sing her a princess song I invented. She goes into a trance and begins to bob back and forth in a circle like, "Look at me. Ain't I the bomb."

I have their stats somewhere in my room and will list them at a later date but they are really growing and speaking a language that most of us here at the house understand. I think they are well trained too. I say "papas" and they run to the kitchen to sit in their chairs to eat. I say, "paseo" and they run to the door to get ready to go out. I say, "zapatos" and they get in line to put on their shoes and "afuera" they love the most because that is play time in the back yard. 

     By the way, Michigan was great. We spent the two weeks at the grands lake house and I actually took one week to work. What a joke work seemed like compared to my mommy job. I will never complain about a paid gig if I choose to go that route again. But right now, I am happy to be here in the home mom roll. 

Great grandma Tillie with some of her great grandkids.

Beau

The grands with the trips.

How big do my big gins look. 

Okay, so I saw these little mermaid outfits and thought, these are so wrong they are right. Then I thought what is a mermaid without a sailor so Carlos got into the act as well. 

Beau

Gigi

Carlos


Babies at 15mos


Beau  22.75lb 29.5 in
Carlos  23.63lb 31.5in
Gisele 24.75lb 32in

May the Force Be With You at Disney

With school out and ballet and piano done for the year, what else can one do but go join the Imperial Army. Wait, are those the bad or good guys? I'm not too savvy on my Star Wars so let me just spew out a few words I know: Jaba, May the Force be with you, Solo, Yoda, Nano-Nano. One of those may be from Mork but you get the point. We were off to Disney's Star Wars weekend. Even for the not so EXTREME lovers of the series, this is a great show. When we were walking in the bad guys with masks (it's hard to see them as bad guys because they ARE in white.) were patrolling the entrance and pointed to Mike and said they were keeping an eye one him. Nothing looks more suspicious then a man  pushing a stroller of triplets and walking next to two Tweenagers. 

     Golden got to have a cool experience. He got himself carbon frozen just like Han Solo did. They took his 360 degree picture and gave him a bracelet afterwards and told him he would be tracked from now on. And if it turned red, Darth Vader himself would be after him. 

All of the famous Star Wars characters were there and even the voices of the Star Wars cartoons showed up. Mike and Golden were very impressed. I thought the Darth Mall guy was pretty cool. 

Even Carlos got into the groove with his Star Wars gun which we got at the Darth Mall. A 10,000 square foot mall filled with everything you never knew you needed Star Wars related. 

The Guerra's joined us for the weekend and much more my style we visited the Blizzard Beach and rented a cabana. I think we got ourselves some more water babies. 

The babies were exhausted from all their play and Carlos just couldn't look cuter. Laying on uncle Juan he slept with his little hands in the shape of a heart. Thanks Juan for that image.

We made it back to Hogwarts.

And made it back to Animal Kingdom safari

Look at that long tongue

I just love giraffe markings

I made monkey noises and more man looked over. I think I might have said something vulgar the way he is looking at me.

My kids growing up before my eyes at the tree of life.

The triplets are now walking, dancing, eating machines. Gigi likes to wear crocs and gets down to the music. She can point to her hair, belly button and nose when asked in Spanish. She loves books. And when Mike get's his shoes on in the morning she will back up between his legs to watch him do it.

Beau steals everyone's milk bottles. She loves her daddy and her and Gisele love to sit in his lap whenever he comes home. If you get on the floor and scare her, her first response is to get down on her knees and drops forward head first like a possum playing dead. Actually, she uses her head as a battering ram most of the time. But she also loves to kiss and hug her stuffed animals and rubs Carlos' head (usually after she takes his toy and he is crying). 

Carlos loves his mommy and is not a morning guy until he has had his coffee (nursing). Otherwise, he is very mellow but is quick to smile and laugh with me. He likes to dance too. And with his solitary top left tooth and cool duds, he has what I call my Hillfiger Hillbilly look. 

Eva is obsessed with all things mermaid right now. So like her mother it hurts. And Golden is saying so many funny comments he keeps me and his dad in stitches. 

Can't wait for our next adventure!