2nd Child Syndrome

Putting away old photo albums and I’m noticing that I’m either 3 months or 4 years old in all our pictures.

3 years and 9 months of missing footage. Something big went down. I feel it in my joints.


*I was in the baby witness protection program.

*I was adopted illegally.

*They’re white, I’m half Mexican. It took them 3 years and 9 months to figure how to manage my hair.

*My toddler brother sold the camera for baseball cards that he later sold for beer cans (kind of a true story).

*No one cares about child #2

*They sent me back to the “Mothers Home” in Chicago to live with the nuns again until I could get my sh*t together…literally. “Don’t come back until you are potty trained!”

Anyway, in case you’re wondering, I’m overly tired and I drank a cup of coffee 45 minutes ago. This is my brain on caffeine.

#whatswrongwithmyeye #isthisreallyme #secondchildproblems



My Airplane Story 1

My Airplane Story 1

Around 6 years ago, I’m on a flight from London to Chicago and I’m feeling victorious because I actually scored a front row seat. Finally, I can stretch my legs out and have a little room to breathe.

I always take care of a few things in the first hour of a flight:

  1.  I usually have to get up a couple of times to use the bathroom (I have a tiny and nervous bladder, don’t judge me).
  2. I always fall asleep before the plane even leaves the runway (all the excitement is just too much for me sometimes) so I decide to adjust my neck pillow and blanket.
  3. After a 45-minute snooze, it’s time for lunch.  Airplane food is not great but with the cost of airfare, you better believe I’m eating every bite and I’m also asking for an extra bag of pretzels (and taking everything in sight; barf bag, newspapers and the sky mall magazine).

It may seem like I’m quite busy but it’s not like I’m acting like some crazy toddler kicking the back of the seat or screaming bloody murder.  (If your child does this, I’m so sorry to use them as an example.)

Anyway, a ginormous British guy behind me is huffing and puffing every single time I move even an inch.  His belly leans up against the back of my seat so he can feel every move I make.  Then he has the nerve to start making comments under his breathe followed by some more huffs and puffs.

I was born with my dad’s gentle demeanor, which is amazing because I’m adopted.  I know, it’s amazing and freaky at the same time.

We (my dad and I) smile

We laugh

We joke

We take a lot

Until we don’t

And then…

It’s not a pretty site and it literally shocks the hell out of people because it’s so out of character for us.

Anyway, British guy made the final mistake of mumbling for the 13th time.

I quickly stood up, spun around, pointed my finger at him and said…

“Listen here jackass, I paid the same amount of money (unless he used Delta points or had a promo code) for my ticket as you did for yours so enough with the animal noises and passive aggressive comments. I WILL be getting up occasionally and re-positioning myself so DEAL with it.”

The man turned a special shade of red and looked like a scolded 5- year old.  He didn’t say another word or grunt another sound the rest of the way to Chicago.

At the baggage claim in Chicago, I made eye contact with him and said

“Now you’re in my country”

I have no idea what I meant by that, but I felt like it was something Liam Neeson would have said.

He scurried away and I imagine he was secretly mumbling something about…

“CRAZY American women”.

IMG_1490 2

I can’t give credit to anyone for this picture because I found it on the internet so please don’t sue me.  At this point, all you would get is a lot of random stuff packed in boxes.



Adoption/House Story

As I was checking in with my folks today, my dad says…”I remember the day when Catholic Charities called to tell us that they had a baby girl and that we needed a three bedroom home before we could adopt her.”
I became 5 years old again, eagerly anticipating to hear the story (again) of when I was adopted.
He goes on to say…”Your mom and I stopped by Grandma and Grandpa’s to tell them and they said that there were houses being built up the hill in Crest Hill.”
At this point, I have both hands on my chin, taping my foot and just waiting to hear how excited everyone was of my pending arrival and the details of how adorable I looked when they first met me.

“And that’s how we bought this house”

End of story.

*For the record: I was a cute baby and I’ve been told my family was ecstatic.