Multi-Culti Mami

Before moving to the US permanently, my exposure to American culture was limited. In the summers, we visited my grandparents in Pennsylvania, where I spent much of my time playing…

When motherhood was a theory impending practice, the soundtrack I had in my head was this: me speaking only Spanish to our children, my husband speaking only English, our children…

To my daughter, sometimes the pulpo is bad, sometimes he is good. When I ask her about him she either looks at me with fear, telling me that he’s outside,…

It’s a long story, why we stopped going to church for the last four years, a story involving a sharp sense of betrayal, a we-know-better-than-you sabotage, and a shove to…

Most evenings, my husband and I are so tired that we hardly talk; we sit or lie down side-by-side, holding hands, or touching feet under a blanket, and either watch…

My children have a multicolored plush spider that, if you press one of its dangly dance-shoed legs, plays the Lambada. A Spanish-speaking friend of my mother’s got it for our…

In the past year, my family has endured an enormous amount of change. The good: our younger daughter’s adoption was completed and she came home; we built a new house;…

On any given day, I won’t be able to remember what I’m wearing or what I did that morning, but no matter what, I will always be able to tell…

Last month I woke up early, made a special breakfast of chocolate magdalenas and fruit, dressed everyone, and got out the camera for our son and older daughter’s first day…

A year after we married, my husband and I took a road trip to the Outer Banks. Before we had kids in car seats spanning the back seat, we packed…

Sometimes it strikes me how quiet many of our friends’ and neighbors’ homes are. I don’t mean that they’re noiseless, as much as I mean that they lack the particular…