Baby “schedules,” eyes like sandbags, and Cuban lullabies

The Schwietert-Collazo household has been a wild place the past few days.

Back at the beginning of winter, we called the city to file a report about a heat problem in our building. By the time the inspector showed up, days later, the heat was working. But he decided that he needed to send some more inspectors out to test for lead paint. They showed up, weeks later. Then the lead paint report showed up.

And then the workmen showed up, weeks later. At. 7. A.M. Three days in a row.

The work they needed to do to rid our apartment of lead paint necessitated Francisco shifting items from one room to other in precarious piles and required me to take Mariel out for hours at a time while the workmen did their thing.

Days later, we’re lead free but our eyes are like sandbags.

For some reason, Mariel has not been sleeping. After sleeping through the night once last week, she went on a three day-three night tear of not sleeping more than about six hours. Total. Francisco and I have taken turns looking at each other with bloodshot eyes and sighing, “I have got to sleep. Now.”

Dr. Felix, Mariel’s fantastic pediatrician, told us last week that it’s time to start introducing a schedule. A routine. It sounds nice in theory, but it’s not easy to introduce because it requires transitioning out of whatever this period without a routine has been.

Part of establishing a routine involves something we’ve actually been doing for a while now. Every night Francisco gives Mariel a puppet show. It involves a varied cast of characters: Piglet, Cookie Monster, a hippopotamus, Giffy the Giraffe, and a few other members of the stuffed animal menagerie. He sings Cuban lullabies and tells Cuban fairy tales and Mariel bicycles her legs and moves her arms around like the paddles of a windmill, grasping for the puppets and giggling, her eyes squinching up and her nose wrinkling in joy.

Cuban kids, I think, have got it good. Whereas lullabies and fairy tales in English are dreary, macabre, and downright scary (ashes in “Ring Around the Rosy”, ovens in “Hansel and Gretel”, and branches breaking in “Rock-A-Bye, Baby,”), Cuban lullabies and fairy tales are filled with bread and cinnamon and smiles and roses and nothing that would give anyone traumatic nightmares.

It’s one of the best parts of my day, this time when I watch him sing songs I don’t know, when her big, shining ojazos look at him with so much attention. And when I’m in bed with the pillow over my head, muerta de sueno (dead tired), I fall asleep listening to him walk our creaky floors, singing “Duermete mi nina, duermete mi amor, duermete pedazo de mi corazon.” (“Go to sleep, my baby, go to sleep, my love, go to sleep, little piece of my heart.”)

Look at that “buscanovio”

That’s what Francisco said when he saw this little curl in the middle of Mariel’s forehead.

Translated literally? “The boyfriend seeker,” or “boyfriend magnet.”

It’s a ‘modismo’ I’d never heard before… and 100% Cuban, of course.

La nena tiene tumbao.

I woke up this morning (ok, this afternoon) wanting to listen to Celia Cruz’s song “La Vida es un Carnaval.” (“Life is a Carnival.”)

It just has so many good lines… like “La pena se va cantando” (“The sadness goes away by singing”), which somehow sounds better than something like “Sing your blues away.”

Anyway, I didn’t feel like looking for the song on iTunes and we don’t own any Celia CDs (I know, travesty for a Cuban), so I pulled up the video on YouTube:

Mariel was sitting on my lap and when she saw Celia in all her outrageousness, mineando with her ample hips and bobbing up and down with her shellacked helmet of peroxided hair, she just started laughing. I’m talking full body giggles.

So after “La Vida es un Carnaval” we listened to “La Negra Tiene Tumbao”:

and the giggles continued, along with full body lurches toward the screen.

Here’s to tumbao- hope these songs make you as happy as they make Mariel.

Babies. Haiti. Help Now.

It’s going to take a miracle, but I believe it’s possible:

www.thatschurch.com

Even if the only thing you can do is pray, do it.

Babies: The Documentary

Thanks to Candice for the heads-up on Babies: The Documentary.

Can’t wait to see this one- and already scheming an NYC moms-n-babies bumrush on the theatre.

Another reason to love my grandmother

Dear Julie:

… I was looking again at your last message, and clicked into your YouTube, Flickr, and blogs and it was so interesting. Plus I saw recent pictures of Mariel – she is SO cute. And you and Francisco don’t look a day older than when you got married. And you both look so happy.”

What’s keeping you from being this happy?

I know- adults have more responsibility, more awareness about the world’s troubles, but still….

Some thoughts on saying no to South Africa

A few incredible travel opportunities have rolled into the inbox in the past few weeks: London, Glasgow, South Africa, Istanbul. They’re all places I’d really love to go and if the opportunity had arisen a year ago, I’d have been all over it.

It was hard to leave Francisco behind at home as I traveled to Chile and Brazil and St. Kitts last year, not because I’m some needy, co-dependent spouse (ok, well, kind of), but because we really spend all of our time together and all of our experiences and thoughts bounce back and forth as if we were one person instead of two. So when I’m out there alone in the world, I really do feel like my other half is missing. God bless Skype.

Anyhow… it was hard to leave him behind, but I could do it, the main reason being because he was so happy to see me out in the world. He embodies the peculiar Cuban trait of being genuinely happy for others without envy or anoranza.

This year, we’re in a different place.

It’s not just the fact that we have a daughter now, though that’s a definite factor; it’s also that Francisco’s immigration status problem (a drama I’ve written about or around here and here) remains unresolved and isn’t likely to change anytime soon. I could leave Mariel with him and travel, or I could find a way to bring her along and leave him at home, but neither feels like a true option.

A few weeks back, we talked about all this under a piercing blue sky while standing on the subway platform and made the decision easily: We won’t travel unless the three of us can travel together.* That decision leaves us with the United States and US territories as our potential stomping grounds. No offense to my home country, but that could make me feel really sad: There’s so much of the world to see and I’m really happiest in Latin America… Mexico, specifically.

But absolute happiness isn’t ultimately about where I am. It’s about who I’m with.

I could go to London, Glasgow, South Africa, or Istanbul, but I’d spend a good chunk of my time there wanting to be sharing the trip with them or wondering what new experience in Mariel’s development I was missing.

And so, for now, I can say no to South Africa and not feel all torn up about it.

I’m exactly where I want and need to be.

And when everything gets sorted out, Mariel’s ready:

*One potential exception being a trip to Cuba so I can take Mariel to see his family.

Another benefit to having a child

I’ve always thought there’s something terribly misguided about couples who have children in an effort to hold their relationship or family together. If you’re not relatively healthy as a couple, adding a third party to the mix isn’t likely to help.

That certainly wasn’t our motive for having Mariel. And our relationship has never been on the rocks.

But I have to say that, at least in our case, having a child is a major incentive for Francisco and myself to stay centered in our marriage. We’re far less prone to argue now than we were before. Though I’d classify both of us as conflict avoidant, we’re also both (as Francisco’s mom would say) “medio locos con cabezas duras” (“half crazy hard heads”) and strong opinions. Neither of us likes to argue, but with the kinds of personalities we have, it’s happened.

Now, though, I’ve noticed that we both go to exceptional lengths to address and resolve any differences without arguing, which makes a lot of sense because 100% of our disagreements are petty anyhow. Without going all New Age on you, we both believe that babies absorb the energy of their environments, and it’s really important to us that Mariel not be exposed unnecessarily to any negative energy. We’ve talked about our first memories and want her first memory to be pleasant and positive. God forbid her first memory be an argument.

We also believe that experiences get imprinted in our memories and have lasting impacts… that a single moment of your childhood–however inconsistent that moment may be with the whole spectrum of your childhood history–can endure. Who wants to remember the time their parents had a verbal duking out? Not pleasant.

So this is a fabulous added benefit of having a child. If I wonder why he used the crappy lens to shoot photos or he wonders why I made plans for us without asking him, we’re much more inclined to let our gripes go, to choose love and what our friend Nancy calls “pre-forgiveness” over a verbal duel.

And that feels good for everybody.

My 2010 resolution: Be more like Mariel

We can learn a lot from babies.
Or at least we can learn a lot from Mariel.

Here are some lessons she’s teaching me:

1. Wake up smiling every morning.
No joke, Mariel smiles first thing every single morning. It’s an incredible way to start the day. If we all smiled at each other first thing, our lives would probably go much more smoothly. It’s worth trying, no?

2. Eat when you’re hungry. Sleep when you’re tired.
Don’t let other people dictate your schedule. You know your body best.
Even if you’re only three months old.

3. Give love freely and don’t worry about being needy.
It’s all about the give and take.

4. Be curious. Delight in simple things.
Explore your world. Find pleasure in it. And don’t hide that pleasure.