Return of Juban Princeling Photo of the Week!

Better late than never.

This one is titled, "This is What a Feminist Looks Like!"*



And that sippy cup next to him? Is a Tinker Bell sippy cup. I'll just take that Liberal Mother of the Year Award now, thanks.


*My BIL's boyfriend, The Professor, pointed out that any ol' misogynist might see this photo and make the case that feminists are illiterate, since the magazine is upside-down. To which I would respond to those misogynists: HE'S TWO AND A HALF GO HAVE A GREAT BIG GLASS OF SHUT THE F**K UP.

Juban Princeling Photo of the Week, 5/14/11

So overwhelmed by the book selection at Barnes & Noble,
the Princeling has to have a little lie-down.

Happy Mother's Day!

To my own mom, and to her mom, and to every other mom out there - have a very happy, restful, and fun Mother's Day, and may you be showered with love and gratitude!

Juban Princeling Photo of the Week

My husband says "flashlight," I say SONIC SCREWDRIVER!

I mean, right?

(Image of David Tennant as the Tenth Doctor from geek.com)

Halloween 2010

My friend NoLa had a big Halloween bash yesterday. The theme was Creepy Carnival, and she - along with her pal Cali - went all-out creating a huge set, complete with music, and everyone in appropriate carnival-esque costumes.

I had volunteered the Lopez family to go as the Freak Show, with my son, the Juban Princeling, as the Tattooed Baby, my husband as the Bearded Lady, and myself as the Two-Headed Woman. Alas and alack, October kicked my ass and I never really got around to creating our costumes.

Note to self: next year have all costumes DONE and READY TO WEAR by the end of September.

Instead, like the slacker loser that I am, I went to the neighborhood costume shop and bought us a family's worth of Star Wars-inspired costumes:

Help me, Juban-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.

My brother went as Mr. Spock. Because our family is nothing if not geek-tastic.

May the Force be with you and prosper.

Before heading out, Husband and I took the Princeling trick-or-treating for the very first time. I bought him a 99-cent Star Wars-themed bag, and we stayed in our building. Even with just six floors and four apartments per floor the kid still made out like a bandit, especially considering we went trick-or-treating at 3pm, a time when most families were either watching football or still getting into their own costumes. More than one of my neighbors had to open their brand-new bags of candy for my son's benefit. But everyone was tickled by my little miniature Obi Wan Kenobi, and the Princeling enjoyed knocking on doors. He was too shy to say, "Trick or treat!" to anyone, but not too shy to take the proffered candy.

What disappointed me about this Halloween, besides disappointment in myself for not keeping up with NoLa's Creepy Carnival theme, was the number of little boys dressed in costumes from the new Clone Wars cartoon who did not recognize me as one of their own. One little boy said, "Star Wars rules!" or something as we passed him, and all the grown-ups got it, but more than one boy dressed as an Imperial Storm Trooper walked right past me without so much as a "We have orders from Lord Vader!" I even said to one of them, "Oh no! Don't arrest me!" and he looked at me like I just spoke in ancient Babylonian to him.

Now that Halloween 2010 is behind us it's time to start thinking about Halloween 2011...

Love Hurts

Yesterday morning I took my son, the Juban Princeling, to a nearby playground. I was actually quite looking forward to our day together, as it would be the last day of just us two for a while: today he has daycare, and tomorrow my parents fly into town for a week.

The Princeling was engaging in his favorite activity, swinging a gate back and forth. I bent down to pull up his pants, which were falling down, and he swung the gate, hard, into my head. Stunned for a second, I reached up to touch the tender spot where the gate had made contact, and my fingers came away covered in blood. I stuffed the Princeling into his stroller, called his daycare babysitter, and ran him to her. He was happy enough to be there. I then walked myself to the nearby emergency room, where, 2 1/2 hour later, I walked out with a tetnus shot in my left arm and two staples in my scalp:

It's exactly as painful as it looks.

I picked up the Princeling on my way home. Despite what my father said on the phone about my son being wholly unaware of what he had done to me, I considered pressing assault charges.

My mom: "For what, elder abuse?"

Hardee har har.

When we got home I cut off my hospital wrist band and taped it to the Princeling's baby book with a little description of what happened. This way I can use this as guilt-trip fodder for the rest of his natural life.

Only 77 More Days Until Halloween!

I take Halloween very seriously. It's my favorite holiday. The only thing I love more than dressing in costume is dressing in a FAMILY costume.

Last year my husband had none of it. I went as a witch, and the Juban Princeling went as my black cat familiar.

The Princeling and I, and our friend Julie, Halloween 2009, Prospect Park, Brooklyn.

This year I can't convince my husband to do a family costume: I was thinking, since I have red hair and he has black hair that we could go as Ariel and Prince Erik from "The Little Mermaid," and the Princeling could be that little red crab who sings the Under the Sea song.

Not meant to be. :-(

Alas, I'm now charged with coming up with a costume for the Princeling and myself, sans husband/Da Da. I have a few ideas, but they won't be easy to pull off, and I'm not exactly Martha Stewart when it comes to DIY costumes. Tick-tock, tick-tock...I'd better get a move on.

Happy 21-Months, Juban Princeling!

I can't believe this happened 21 months ago - and that in just three more short months I'm going to have a 2-year old on my hands!

I love you, little boy, so very much. You are the best son a mother could ever ask for.

Go Spain!

The hubby and I celebrating our 1-year wedding anniversary in Sevilla, Spain. May, 2007.

The Sailin' Lopezes

Pirates and Parents and (Ball)Parks, Oh My!

My parents are on their way up to visit from Miami. Before their grandson, the Juban Princeling, was born, my father came to New York maaaaaaybe twice a year. Now they're both here every other month. Literally. They were last here in May, and before that in April, and they make no attempt to disguise the fact that they are here solely for the Princeling and no one else.

At least we get to ride along with the good times. Tomorrow we're going on a sailey boat! I have a cute little pirate t-shirt and matching shorts for the boy. My brother-in-law, Gilligan, has volunteered as a deckhand on the schooner Pioneer (part of the South Street Seaport Museum) for the past three years, so our new summer tradition is to sail on his boat. Back when I was preggo with the Princeling, being on the boat and enjoying the rocking motion was the only time I did not feel completely uncomfortable during my entire pregnancy.

The proud grandparents with the Princeling, on last year's sailey boat ride.

Then Sunday we're all going to a Yankees game, minus the boy and my mom. The only thing my mom loves more than seeing her grandson is getting alone time with him.

Sunday is also my parents' anniversary. My dad's perennial joke is that the country gained its independence...and he lost his! Har har!

Should be a fun weekend!

Healing, and Growing

Meatloaf Face, Day 5:

"This had better be important, Mom. You're interrupting my Elmo time."

The hubby and I are amazed at the speedy healing powers of toddlers. If either of us got hurt like this on our face it would take MONTHS to heal. I've been putting anti-biotic ointment on his nose and forehead four times a day, and that seems to be helping the process along. I'm glad - it's hard to look at him without my heart breaking. But the Princeling is a trooper, and doesn't even seem to be aware of anything wrong.

Elsewhere in the Lopez household, my herb garden is really coming along!

Tarragon, planted from seeds in April.

Oregano, planted from seeds in April.

And then I did that thing on Facebook where I made it look like my face was painted to support the U.S. team in the World Cup:

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

And then my brother-in-law, The Professor, pointed out that it looks like I've turned myself into a Tea Partying ultra-conservative, because the right has pretty much co-opted all things patriotic, including our national flag. Well, I'm just not having that: I'm a liberal AND a patriot. I believe in reproductive freedom, gay marriage, welfare, health care reform, and I LOVE MY COUNTRY!

So, feeling patriotic, I bought some little American flags at Target, 3 for $1.99. (Made in the U.S.A.!) I put one between my two lavender plants.

So there.

Phantom of the Playground

This is what the Princeling looked like upon waking up this morning:

"My mom calls me Meatloaf Face."
(And yes, that's his thermometer he's playing with.)

Since we live in a pedestrian city and therefore we walk everywhere, we got a lot of stares this morning on the way to daycare. People's general reaction to seeing this on such a little boy was a combination of horror and pity, as if I was pushing Quasimodo in the stroller. As we walked out of the elevator and our upstairs neighbor walked in - our neighbor whose dog the Princeling is in love with and plays with - he said, "Oh my god, is he OK?" I said that yeah, he's fine, just ate some sidewalk yesterday, as kids do. The neighbor got onto the elevator with a look that clearly said he was keeping an eye on me and had the Department of Child Services on speed dial.

Meanwhile, today while I was out I took a photo of the spot where the Princeling fell yesterday:

The scene of the crime.

This is on the north side of 10th Street between 7th Ave and 6th Ave, in front of the first brownstone closer to 7th. The Princeling was running from the top of the photo area to the bottom. It slopes down, so he gained a lot of momentum from running, and that uneven part where the two pieces of sidewalk meet is a good 2 inches or so. When you're only 20 months old that's a huge gap, and so he lost his footing and fell face-first. Poor little guy.

I'm working on finding out to whom I should complain about this. I love the trees here, but the roots are killing the sidewalks and this is a real hazard.

I Was In the Sh*t, Man!

I love our neighborhood, Park Slope. It's family-friendly to a fault, Prospect Park is awesome, and we are never lacking for playdates and fun things to do.

However, the sidewalk situ here leaves much to be desired. The sidewalks are broken and uneven and a total hazard. Today I let the Princeling run down 10th Street from 7th Ave to 6th Ave and the downhill slope gave him momentum, and then he tripped over some broken sidewalk. He landed on his face, and after some kisses and bloody-nose wipe-ups from me, we kept going. The scrapes on his head didn't seem bad enough to warrant a trip to the pediatric ER, and within minutes he was back to himself, running along 6th Ave and playing with gates and such.

"Do I have something on my face, or something?"

Once we got home and I cleaned him up he looked much better. His forehead was barely scraped but very bruised. The tip of his nose and just below his right nostril were pretty bloody, but once cleaned up they made him look like he had a bad cold. It would be funny if it wasn't so heartbreaking for me to look at.

I called the pediatrician just to be on the safe side. The nurse I spoke with told me to watch him for the next 24-48 hours for any changes in behavior, and whenever he goes to sleep to make sure I can rouse him 10 minutes later. Well, his behavior is fine. We got home and he danced to Yo Gabba Gabba, colored, and ran around the kitchen floor as usual. When I went to rouse him from his nap he didn't quite wake up, but he's always been a deep sleeper. He did open his eyes and close them again, and kept moving away from me in his sleep. Since that's normal for him I'm going to go ahead and say that he's a-ok.

My nerves, on the other hand, are shot. This whole incident is reason # 4,692 why I drink.

Baby DudeBro

My BIL Gilligan has this term, DudeBro, which indicates a dude, usually white non-Jewish, who is or was almost always in a frat, and engages in the type of privileged culture that involves any or all of the following: sports bars, Bud Light, college hats and sweatshirts, careers on Wall Street, GQ, homophobia, and date rape.

See also: Garfunkel and Oates' hysterically funny video, This Party Took a Turn for the Douche.

It also usually involves polo-style shirts with the collars popped up.

So, since the Princeling and I had a few minutes to kill before his daycare babysitter arrived this morning, I decided to do an experiment: does a popped-up collar automatically make one look like a DudeBro, even of one is only 20 months old?

Let's see:

Non-douche collar...vs...Douche collar


Yup. Even a toddler looks like a douchey DudeBro with his collar popped up.

Where the Orange Blossoms Grow

We arrived in Florida on Saturday after a blessedly uneventful flight with the Princeling. He was clearly tired but couldn't get comfortable in our row. Still, he was a champ and didn't have any meltdowns. He colored with his crayons - and, yes, I let him color the window shade and tray table in front of him because the airline was a total ripoff and didn't have pillows or blankets and charged for water - and climbed up and down the seats. Half an hour before landing he fell asleep in his father's arms:


Once in Florida we rented a car with a toddler seat, despite Florida law that practically allows newborns to wear only an adult seatbelt. We stripped the Princeling down to his diaper and flip-flops because Florida is one giant swamp and we didn't want him to melt. We drove through a McDonald's and gave the Princeling some fries and felt very South Florida - here's some fast food for our almost-naked toddler! Yee-haw!


So far so good down here. The Princeling seems to really enjoy it here, though mostly indoors - outside he walks two steps then demands to be carried. In West Palm he only napped in the car, but here at my parents' in Miami he seems to be napping well in the rent-a-crib my parents got for him. And his night sleeping is excellent. His first night here he slept 14 hours! He's terrified of the ocean but loves the pools. He learned how to play catch with his bisabuelo (my hubby's grandfather) in West Palm, and was the absolute star of the show at my grandma's retirement community. We bought him a floating lobster for the pool that he loves, and my parents are by far his favorite people on the planet for whom he goes down to sleep with no issues and eats without fighting them. At this rate we'll probably just leave him here when we return to NY on Saturday.

Mother's Day 2: The Wrath of Mother's Day

My second Mother's Day was lovely. Spent the day with my mom and Aunt L. and the Princeling, who gave me the gift of a 3-hour nap (his, not mine).

Meanwhile, despite my husband's whining about it, my adventures with the Hipstamatic app on my iPhone continue unabated. Here, some "art" of my naked son.



And some "art" of the Princeling walking with an entourage of Baby Boomers.



Friday we fly down to Florida for 8 days, so I won't be posting much. But I promise photos and hilarious anecdotes when we get back!

Crayola Washable Crayons are the Greatest Thing EVER EVER EVER

Ropa Vieja

Last night I made my first ropa vieja, or Cuban pulled steak hash. I have to say - it came out quite delish. For a blancita such as myself, I do cook up some rather tasty Cuban food if I do say so. (And Husband confirms.) We have so many wonderful cookbooks at home, and as we are a family on a budget and trying to be healthy(ish), I don't often take advantage of all the delicious recipes I have laying around. With that in mind, I pulled out my copy of Mary Urrutia Randelman's "Memories of a Cuban Kitchen," and made some ropa last night. I bought the book years ago, back when my Cuban-American Husband was still just my Cuban-American Boyfriend, in order to impress him with my mad Cuban cooking skills, yo.

My first photo of the ropa was taken with the Hipstamatic app for iPhone, which all my friends have been downloading and posting photos all over Facebook with. I wanted to capture that authentic, old-fashioned Cuban feel, as if this was a ropa made during the Revolution. But Husband said the Hipstamtic just made the food look green and gross. So I took another with the regular camera feature on my iPhone.


Soylent Ropa is people...it's people!!!!


Ropa even Jose Marti would love.