it is what it is...

I haven't decided how this whole blogging thing works, or if there really is a rule for that matter. Sometimes when I'm trying to decide what to write, I literally have a conversation with myself in my head. I tell myself about the struggle to decide and tell myself how I don't think I'm doing it right. And then me tells me that in order for your blog to be successful it must be consistent regarding all things readable. I must make sure to blog on the same day, and the topic should overlap somehow and ride the same theme. And then I stop my know it all self and say, shut up, you don't know shit, I'll write about what I want and when I want and so that is what this is.

I really hate my popcorn ceilings.

I have surrendered myself to the truth that is...no, God did not make me this way...the TRUTH is, the glorious body He gave me has disappeared and some fat chick is boss now, as a direct result of negligent "templing" (as I like to call it when referencing my direct avoidance in dishonoring my temple and pure obsession with gluttony).

My engagement ring is broken, I'm really sad about it too, sometimes I'll look at it and think about, "what if Marcus had never given this to me?", and then I'm quickly reminded that we dated for 5 years, and nearly strangled him to the idea that marriage was next. And if he hadn't handed that sucker over, I would have surely handed him my foot in his face. Or something less suttle. Just sayn.

My husband is out with his buds tonight, and the older I get the less I care. I was never the jealous type. Look, it is a true emotion we all have, however, the wife or girlfriend that gets or shall I say, acts jealous, has never been me. And I notice now, its even less of a bother, mentally.

I want another baby.

I am a member of Pinterest, and suck at it.

My little boy got a real bed today, and I can't believe I glazed over it like it wasn't a big deal. It's a huge deal, sometimes I feel like I am just glazing. Am I doing this right? Yes, I breastfed for a year, yes my son was potty trained at 21 months, yes, he sleeps in his own bed, and always has, etc...but the other stuff, the non tasking mother stuff, am I doing it right? My little boy amazes me everyday and sometimes I feel like his accomplishments are the, my, expectation and not a milestone where true, honest and loving acknowledgment is due. I gotta get it together.

I miss soccer so much. I have never been able to watch it on tv and really enjoy it. If I can't play it, I don't want any part of it. Stupid I know.

I really got to get over the thinking that I'm the only one that knows how to do it right. My inability to allow others to help me is just plain sad.

Cooking, I mean seriously. Really? Why must I be so bad at it, and secondly, why must it be such a necessity?

I tell people that my mom used to tell me that a little man lived in my ear and when I would fall asleep he would come out, walk to the inner part of my eye and poop there, when asking about eye boogers. As if my mother was creative enough to come up with that...why? Why, lie about that? I'm pathetic.

I blog from my phone only.

Mi vida es totalmente todo lo que mis sueños presentaban. Y todo se lo regalo a Cristo. (Get'cher translating on...)

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how much is enough...

My husband is back in town. Marcus was gone for 2 whole weeks. For those of you that don't know, my husband is in the airline industry and he travels about 2 to 3 times out of the year, and when he does it's overseas. This time it was Germany and Austria. Having him away means many things.

1. Adan discovers how much cooler and funner his daddy is than his mommy.

2. I quickly realize all those silly fights we have as parents, spouses, etc...are quiet the funny joke on me really, because the truth is, I can't do it alone and yea, I would miss him. Love u babe.

3. My parents are true saviors. They would do anything for their family, including putting up with an overbearing daughter and her super ooober cute kid.

4. House work, outside the home, really does belong to my mate.

5. Sex is kinda lonely when it's a party for one, love making is truly meant to be between two.

6. Always, always hoping that a little brown bag would be escorting my lover on the plane ride home.

7. Trading off the warmth of his toosh when we sleep for killer miles...thank you bizzyness class. Hola.

8. Awaiting the inevitable arguement we'll have before he leaves...like clock work...every time.

9. The smell, THE SMELL. Let me all just inform you of a little something I like to call..."um, excuse me, but my man never smells", (as in bad)...I'm about to totally cross the line here, but I feel it's justified, besides my only two followers are girls, and there's only two of you..he NEVER smells, never! I have been with him for almost ten years and have been with him, you know what I'm saying...NEVER, even when he's been in his man place mentally or physically, never. The only thing my baby has piercing through his juicy pores, is lush. He is so Yummy...and I'm reminded every time he leaves.

10. The burden is on me. My husband, Marcus Sais, I love you so much. You have provided me a place to live out my dreams, a place where I can be me, a place where I don't have to worry about what anyone thinks because our family is what matters and you have created a safe place for your big and little baby to nest. When you are not with us, our lives are empty, you make our life so much fun, and you make me feel like the responsibility of our life is shared when you truly carry it alone. You protect us, and when you are away, I am alone with that and become aware of how wonderful you are at making us feel safe.

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they say it's your birthday...

We had a great time today celebrating RiRi's birthday. Steaks, crab and cakey, oh my! We hung out at our house, and hosted a family affair. Adan woke up from his nap and I and Marcus took him outside to play with his new chalk set. He never asks for anything, as a matter of fact, if we are at a store and he holds on to a toy the entire trip, as we head for the register, like clock work, we await the "wait, put toy back"... statement. He is an amazing boy. Mucho tension at Ese'me Street, so below when reading, think of family as opposed to a relationship. I have an amazing brother in you Richard, and I love you very much. This is for you.

What are we doing these days to stay

Away from the anger that breeds here today

Time keeps on ticking and waits for no one

I'm constantly left with feelings that stun

How could it be, we aren't even close

To finding the piece of the puzzle that's broke

One day soon I will leave you behind

And never look back wishing I had the time

To make up for all of the gaps that create

Ripples of emotions that can eventually brake

The bond that we have is only the start

To an ending that's immenent, we both will embark.

Never look back is a phrase over used

When times like these are more than a few

Trusting in you to follow through on your word

Showing symptoms of sickness that surfaces burns

It's never enough, until one of us learns

To love unconditionally like when we first birthed

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somebody has already paid...

At church this morning we had a guest speaker. Steve Russell, he is/was a Leutinent Col. (I abbreviate the big COL here because I don't know how to spell it) for the military, Army I think, anyways he was the guest speaker this morning. Kind of an important guy, his team captured Sadaam. Let me preface this by saying how stoked I was to hear this guy, Marcus and I both, we went as far as to leave the service we normally sit in, walk down the hall, sneak in late, finding out he'd be live down the hall versus the television feed we'd get where we were.

Introductions made, small chat, funny first liners and a bit of how do ya's later, he began. Right off the bat, appearance, manners, etc, this guy was all military, his gift to speak wasn't great, of which I gathered quickly, however, resume wise, it was one of the first things shouted out as a vice. I'm picky, REAL, picky when it comes to public speaking so maybe I was a bit hard on the guy, but he still didn't carry the medal like many do. His testimony was incredible. It was professionally an achievement that is simply unattainable to most and mastered by the finite few. Needless to say, many a shout out to the Lord was made, he is a Christian man, and spoke of his coming to Christ moment, a small window of time that he elongated only through the grace of God (my words, not his).

Here is an opportunity for my own bait and catch...many have experienced God's love and mercy and others will die saying they never have. Some, many even, are given a chance to experience it again. Steve, as I like to call it, only by observing from a pew of course, was lucky enough to elongate his original intro to Jesus, and reconvene with him at a later time.

The story was long, informative and interesting in the least, but like all war stories I've heard post our official July 4th independence win, you know, THE BIG ONE where America was freed as a nation, it was CONFUSING! Is it just me or haven't we already been freed?

Our old timers spent many a time gifting to us the opportunity we have now. Why do people continue to reference the old saying, "fighting for our freedom", when regarding our present war, or any war since then as if we are not free and the war in Afgani (that's what I like to call it, and yes, the Kardashians make ploy to the same thing-shortening words, whatever, but I have been doing it way before them hoochies were on the tube) is about that? Catching Sadaam and/or Osama, won't make me any freer. I get it people, Lt. Col. Russell, yes, at first glance a gal like me would audio back as a cynical, mean spirited, a lone ranger in my choice of words I'm sure. But aren't I more so of a realist then anything? America's freedom isn't going anywhere, nor has it. However, what we may in fact be doing is taking other's freedom away by intercepting the countries leaders freedom to dictate any way he wants. Do I agree with, support, honor or appreciate the other side here, absolutely not. I'm just trying to make the point that America is already free, stop saying, "our troops are fighting for our freedom", and say it the right way, "our troops are fighting back against those that invade and attempt to cause us harm". My sister's will take great offense to this and say I'm just playing semantics. But by definition, isn't all I'm doing just trying to express myself through language? Now, with all that said, I know that this kind of jib jab will strike a cord somewhere or with someone, (my sisters) so let me leave you with just a tid bit of quirky but very true information, you know, just to perk things up a bit.

1. I have been couponing like a mother recently only to discover I kinda suck at it, but in an effort to use one at lunch, we had a munching fest at the one and only Big O (Olive Garden). We sat next to one of those "old timers" who had a Korean War hat on, not one of the "oficiales", but nonetheless someone we think about when veterans are mentioned, and one of Mr. Russell's closing comments was to thank the next veteran you see for, you guessed it, OUR FREEDOM. As if anyone from 1776, is still around, sheesh. Contrary to any gut feeling I had to do the complete opposite, I swallowed that bullet, and thanked the son of a gun for OUR FREEDOM. And do u know what that old timer said, "what freedom?, we had that already darlin, stupid Truman was just plain nosey!"

2. Then he proceeds to tell me that technically the Korean War continues since no treaty was ever signed.

3. Happy Fourth of July.

Ok, so maybe 1 & 2 didn't happen, but here's to hoping 3 does. Gobble Gobble, no wait, that's Thanksgiving, oops.

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I'm too proud...

We went to the Maná Concert last night for Marcus' Father's Day gift and while we were there it became very clear to me how I am in desperate need of Mexican friends.

Hello, my name is Mónica Isela Sais de Águilar. I was born to Susano Águilar, Jr. de Villalon and Antonia Águilar de Alba. I am first generation American on my mother's side and 5th generation American on my dad's. My parents tried really hard to make sure we grew up with the best that they could provide and looking back now, through no direct fault of their own, we were sheltered. Not the kind of sheltered you think, however, sheltered from exploring who we really were. Don't get me wrong, spanish was and still is my first language, but that is the extent of it. My daddy worked outside the home and my mommy was a stay at home mother, she was responsible for our activities, school enrollment, etc. This all from a woman who knew absolutely no English and had a second grade education from a poverty striken country. How she managed to always have us in vacation bible school, arts and crafts at the local community center, enroll us in school, Dr's appts, soccer, is a mystery. You name it and we did it. The desire my parents, but probably more so my mom, had for their children to have more than they had spilled over immensely into the way they raised us. It wasn't until just this past week in talking with her that I think I really got it. We were talking about her upbringing and what it was like for her growing up hearing about this place called "América", and how she was told about this idea of true possibility, the idea that she would be considered fair, the idea that her life could be different, that the life of her children who weren't even on the horizon could have this place that appeared so dreamy and at their finger tips, it was a tangiblity that she needed.

A 25 year old Mexican woman with a burning desire to learn braved her own river wild and attempted to live out her predestined future. My mother was unsuccessful once at crossing the Rio Grande River, but a champion of never giving up. She was sent back immediately and returned later with falsified documents stating that she was an American, the shear idea that she was now "Rosa Muñoz", didn't matter because she was about to fulfill her destiny.

The details about how her and my father met, how she later naturalized and how us three girls were thought up is for a later time. My mom and dad, again probably more so my mom since her influence and time was the majority, reared us based on what they knew. My mother knew that America was full of beautiful white people who lived in clean homes, drove pretty cars, had jobs that paid money to pay for all the luxury in life. My mother made sure to influence us to make the right choices when making friends. I can actually remember a time when my sisters and I sat around talking about the fact that mommy's great great grandchildren would never believe that she was a "wetback" from Mexico, because neither of us had Mexican friends and we sure as hell weren't gonna marry anyone Mexican, gross!!! I would marry a fabulous white man, my children would marry fabulous white people and so forth, and before long my mother and Mexico would no longer exist. The irony of who we are now is laughable, needless to say we all chose Mexican men to marry, but our mentality back them was ignorant and still astonishes me. The root of that thinking lingered in me through adolescence. Even in college I would reference my childhood for choices that I needed to make regarding the people I let be part of my life. It isn't until more recently that I desire the companionship of a girlfriend that might have the same story as me, someone who will share laughter when we remember the cultural differences we had growing up with those around us, someone who I can drive around blaring cumbias with on my radio, someone who just gets it. It isn't enough to have it with my husband, I desire more.

My name is Monica Isela Sais de Águilar, and I am a recovering racist of my own people.

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in an attempt to...

My last night at Parkland and all I thought about was, when will this shift be over? Don't get me wrong, I will miss many things...of which are listed below.

1. A GI bleeder with fresh melana justa pouring out of his/her prolapsed, hemorrhoid filled anus.

2. The CHF frequent flyer non compliant Diabetic with active DKA, whose bestfriends mothers uncles nephew keeps bringing him/her donuts and soda, which he/she chugs and proceeds to hide the evidence under his/her pillow.

3. Hearing this every Damn shift, "uh, no speaky eenglish"

4. Relying on a 26 year old, fresh out of medical school, for the lack of a better word "doctor", manage and dictate the care of an over the top critically ill person.

Then there's always...

5. The overworked and under paid staffing of our unit..."Monica, can u come get me access", "Monica, can u translate for me", "Monica, can u..."

I am relieved that this part of my life is over. I'm grateful because Parkland taught me how to be a nurse in the same way Parkland taught me that it's very good at turning its back on you.

Goodbye, and you will never swim in my brilliance again.

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wouldn't u agree?

Anything that is right and good in my life is right here. My heart is swimming with love for them, my eyes are lit with happiness when I see them and my life runs on full because of them both.

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