my little one has a middle name. it’s super xicana to the 10th power.the reason i say xicana  tiene una “x” el mendigo nombre. not because being chicana means you have to do one tunneled thing / have a name with an x. definitions of being chicana hay millones. pero algo muy tongue in cheek.

ixchel.

fertility goddess who is in the yucatan.

and for some reason no one in my side of the family knows she has ixchel as her middle name. in our family middle names aren’t a big deal. reason number #2 my family would probably be one to ridicule me.

fabiola y sus cosas hippies. fabiola and su focus on the children too much. fabiola and her funny hairstyles. fabiola and her boyfriends from another culture. food that isn’t mexican that she tries to cook and weird music.  fabiola and her living in neighborhoods with hills that resemble Tijuana.

Fabiola and her old cruncker cars and child that cries too much that clings to her hip at seven still.

feels good to write this because i love my family and i don’t want to get too stuck to this story that we humans here in the us tend to do, “ay my family” thinks this, next thing you know some of us really cling to a part of our story that overrides everything and trumps our own expression around them / others / moving into also trumping connection to our beloveds. and in my opinion also trumps  our growth with ourselves.

mira. now i’m going to share with my family that my daughter’s middle name is ixchel.

it only took seven years.

unleashing secrets that you didn’t intend to be a secret.

you know your child has grown in the inner city: “mama i like that pretty graffiti, not that ugly kind.”

you know you’ve talked about death a lot when your daughter once referred to herself before her time as “when I was dirt.”

you know your child has seen your worst  “you and my dad fight a lot, see you two haven’t grown.” Little one was four and we were listening to a keynote by a couple about maturity and growing up …. this was in detroit.

you see your child’s insight, “being a mama is hard huh, mami? you have to clean me, feed me, go with me to the restroom, help me over and over” … (this was in the restroom in detroit)

you have a strong spirited child “mama stop talking” and she puts her hand over your mouth as you interview people outside a Unitarian church at the nov. 2008 election.

your child wants more for you “mama did you go up there and share your story?”

in an open mic at mama’s day.

for the longest i would ask the little one:

who is the boss?

she would reply,  you mama.

sounds very hierarchical and dicator’ish.

it worked, i needed to remind her from time to time why i chose many things for both of us for the most part, because at the end of the day i wasn’t going to harm her, and 99% of the time i had her best interest forward and in short, i was the boss of our house and her mama. 

i would remind her that she’s the boss of herself and her body.

so we are both the bosses at the casita.

#memories

yesterday started the moon.

week after 31 bday.

mama’s bday anniversary month

solar eclipse on sunday

biggest moon first sunday

make sense

throat hurt

yesterday when i spoke to

aquella 62 year old argentina llena de vida

motherly therapist

met her on mama’s bday.

the way a bee rides with me

on window

month of dreams with two pregnancies,

ana c, suheir ha, my mama, my daughter’s father,

amaya, pets, and more pets my childhood home

change change change in the memory keeping

keeping things moving in memory awakening

not giving in to memory nor logic

new

crisp

balance

it’s fresh.

New, with the old

bossing up to memories

they don’t rule

not one day this may…

May, thank you for your gifts

birthing daily

my girl is growing so fast …is there a pause button? we know the answer to that,  been feeling this for a while now, ay my god(dess). … it’s like i want to gather all tangible and non memory /for her to know some of the things she did/ for me to make sense at the depth of bond and how fast it has gone. is it melancolia and being in it now needing to pay tribute to close witnessing a little one grow in all ways imaginable. 

my colleague/homie/buddy D apologized yesterday that he saw my name on the open mic list, and didn’t ask me to come up. 

no, no worries, i respond. i affirmed that there will be a next time. (hoping) 

i shared to him that my little one had reminded me the day of “mami go up, go”… when one of the readers was over with her piece, i remember saying to my girl, “wait. i am going to wait.” it was clear, she was pushing me and i hesitant. 

and i (we) waited and scoped out the scene and the folks performing and eventually decided with my actions that i wouldn’t share today. 

my little one was on the stage with d and two other little girls helping with a raffle, during intermissions, being loud and funny, fierce little girls. 

i watched .. .then my little one picked up by her dad, at 5 i leave. having kept my story to myself. my voice to myself. i listened hard, for sure. 

the day after, she asks “mami did you share your story when i left?”

I respond: “No, not yesterday.”

me- “Did you want me to?

she responds, “Yes.” 

I apologized with my eyes. 

((sigh)) It’s all good. 

my little one is upset she isn’t going to san francisco with me. she can’t believe i have the audacity to leave to another city without her.

she mentioned the time i wasn’t in LA for seven days. that’s the dc trip back in 2010.  

i listened & saw her struggle. 

we are planning a trip to san francisco for july or august / driving up there with my colleague/friend who has a younger sister that is 9. she is excited. 

little one is interested in learning to skateboard, she gave it a try this past Saturday with a new little friend at the lincoln heights skate park in lincoln park. 

we are learning son jarocho, we have been learning zapateado (the techinique a bit) for the last few months and the jarana/ singing too. :) 

she is really into amber brown, so am I. they are chapter books, and recommend them to anyone and everyone with small children. 

she wrote her first little song / and sang it had to do with money, not having enough but being okay with it and being rich with other moments/home/etc.

i figured a little something yesterday to keep her from grinding her teeth at night. it worked, it involved massaging jaw, neck, head and lavender oil.

she is a strong little spirit. those children, wow. 

she asked me yesterday if I shared my story for mother’s day at mercado la paloma (during an open mic). she left to her dad’s and remembered, and asked me yesterday. quite remarkable that she finds that important … since she knows how important it is to me. 

attuned to her mama. 

she is …  we are. 

“I’m a witch woman—high on tobacco and holy water. I’m a woman delighted with her disasters. They give me something to do. A profession of sorts…I have the magic of words. The power to charm and kill at will.” — Sandra Cisneros

“I always tell people that I became a writer not because I went to school but because my mother took me to the library. I wanted to become a writer so I could see my name in the card catalog.”
—Sandra Cisneros