What. A. Day.

Today Puerto Rico celebrated its day of "discovery".  It is an official local holiday and most offices and all schools are closed.  I, after having spent the weekend continuing to reunite with my newfound family members, was looking forward to this day "off".

It started just how I wanted it to...early rise, followed by daily readings, followed by a trip to the local track for a long overdue jog in the crisp morning air.  Check, check, check.  Next, I was heading home to jump into my pilates/yoga regimen.  Then, I would start on the laundry list of to-dos I had assembled the night before.  But, just as I was starting my car and heading home, my phone rang. It was Mama's neighbor.  They were in the hospital.  They'd been there since about 5am.  Mama was experiencing such a severe pain in her arm she could not get herself out of bed.

From then on out it was hours upon hours in the extremely cold hospital emergency room.  Thankfully, she was in a bed by the time I got there, and a stroke/heart attack had been ruled out...but the pain had hardly subsided.  It wasn't until almost 5pm - yes, 12 hours later - that they realized she had dislocated her shoulder.  For 12 hours she suffered through injections, tubes of blood being sucked out of her, apathetic technicians who borderline manhandled her, and numerous, personality varying nurses.

Her neighbor/bff was there the whole way through.  And, while she certainly can't seem to stay still, and has an apparent issue with more than a few minutes of silence, she is an excellent follow upper.  She is precise.  If they say they're coming to check her pressure in two hours, well she's checking her phone every half hour to make sure they come when they said they would.  When they don't come, because they never do, she is making her rounds looking for the nurse.  I am thankful for her and have even begun to admire her.

Dislocated right shoulder

Once Mama was finally diagnosed, we were told they were going to sedate her for a short time so that they may put her bone back where it belonged.  Then they'd take another X-ray to make sure nothing else was awry.  How does an 88 year old woman dislocate her shoulder?  Well, the answer to this particular question, when it comes to Mama, we will never specifically know.  But, my hard headed, warrior woman, grandma still rearranges furniture.  She still mops her house, still insists on gardening, and as if that weren't enough, she does stuff like gets dizzy or falls and tells you about it days later after she's picked herself up and kept it moving.  Because of this, a few months ago, I got her the Life Alert bracelet.  Sadly, she didn't actually use it last night.  Lucky for us, her neighbor/bff heard unusual commotion against the wall their bedrooms share.  She called out to Mama through the window to check if she was ok.  That, was when she discovered she wasn't.

Today was emotionally draining.  I continued to battle feelings of inferiority, of naivety,  and of pure freight.  When the doctor told us Mama would have to be in a sling for the next two weeks, I honestly freaked out inside...because my first thought was...I'm going to have to bathe her.  How selfish right?  Why is that even a thought? Well, it was...that and every other foul, funny,  and disturbing thing that may pass through ones mind when they realize bathing an 88 year old is in their very near future.  I honestly had a moment.  How can I get out of this? Who else can do it? I thought.  No one but you was the immediate answer.

By the time we got home, Mama had had a mini bathroom accident in my car and was still a little dazed from the drugs she was given at the hospital.  My feet were sore from standing for so many hours and we were all exhausted.  I knew shower time was coming and I knew that meant showtime for me.

I am pleased to report I put my big girl hat on and I just went to work.  It was fairly easy once I put myself in Mama's shoes.  Here is a very proud and independent woman who now has to depend on another for just about everything for the next few weeks.  She is tired, she is embarrassed, she is feeling her mortality and she is counting on a neighbor and a granddaughter that, two short years ago, she had a distant relationship with...at best.  She deserves my utmost respect, my upbeat demeanor to lighten the mood, and my compassion.  So, I got a washcloth, I made the water comfortably warm, and I began to treat her like she was at a spa.  She deserved it after all she went through today.  As I continued to bathe her, I thought about the numerous toddlers I've bathed in my life.  This wasn't much different.  While many of my friends are dealing with terrible two's, accidents, bath time adventures, and first time boo boos....I kinda am too.  It's like I'm in bizarro Mommy Bootcamp.  The circle of life I guess.  I'm doing my best to embrace it.  Fighting feelings of "What the hell am I doing here?" because the truth of the matter is I know ...

Challenge accepted.  What a day...of "discovery".

Guineo Escabeche

As promised in my last post, here is the guineo escabeche recipe.  Mama and I made this together for the family reunion last weekend.  Very simple, very tasty.  Enjoy!

Ingredients:
olive oil
vinegar
onions
bay leaves
olives
garlic
salt to taste
guineo verde (small green bananas)


Process:
- slice the guineos down the back, keep the skin on
- set the guineos to boil for about a half hour - depending on the amount of bananas you're boiling

- the guineos should be soft enough to easily peel the guineo, but not too soft
- while the guineos are boiling, slice onions and press garlic
- while guineos are cooling- take a pot and combine olive oil, vinegar, onions and garlic under low/medium heat
- allow this to simmer a bit, then throw in a bay leaf or two
- peel the guineos and cut them into slices and throw in the pot
- add olives and salt to taste -- note that you shouldn't need much salt considering you're using olives
- remove from heat and allow guineos to sit and marinate for at least a half hour
- you may eat at room temperature or cold

Brothers & Sisters

The "every Ramirez" photo

Hermanos.  This past Saturday, a major "Puerto Rico to-do" was scratched off my list.  My beloved Tio Roberto and his wife Nereida, threw a family reunion!  We got more than half there, as six out of the ten who are still with us were in attendance.  This was, without a doubt, a victory!

The personality differences definitely shined from time to time...little miss diva Mama removed herself from the group at one point because a bottle of rum was on the table.  She is the eldest and it is quite evident that she is a bit of a separatist.  Speaks when spoken to, you know, that sort of stuff.

Eventually, with a bit of help from the more outgoing, younger generation of cousins, she warmed up.  Before I knew it, she was singing her heart out to classic boleros, providing enthusiastic backup vocals for a group karaoke session, and shoulder shimmied the night away to salsa, merengue, and even reggaeton tunes.

I'm getting my photos one by one!

The reunion not only brought brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles together, it also managed to shine a light on just how close Mama and I have become.  When it was dinner time, I served her a plate.  As I walked up to her with plate in hand, I spotted her adamantly shaking her finger and head in unison (as any mature 5 year old would do).  By the time I got to her, she announced (sternly and proudly), "No, no.  I'm not going to eat."  This, of course, was declared in front of an audience of her sisters...one of whom had already deemed the food not to her liking (this sister, I must add, is painfully skinny and doesn't seem to eat much of anything...further in that discussion I will not tread).  So, I looked Mama straight in her eye and as softly, warmly and equally sternly as I could, I said "I'm getting my plate now and we'll eat together."  As I walked away, mumbles of protest continued to fill the warm night air.  

Add caption

I prepared myself for the battle ahead of me, but upon my return, "motherly" instincts simply kicked in.  I removed her from her "audience" by encouraging her to face me with her plate.  I then asked her to pray over our meal (as she does everyday with me at lunch).  As she eyed her food, I reminded her I prepared the salad myself and we made the guineo escabeche (recipe coming in next post) together.  I saw an air of comfort fall over her face as she picked up her fork and started for the leafy greens.  Finally, I sealed the deal with her favorite...a nice cold Coke.  Before I knew it my Mama's plate was spotless!  She even ate her dessert (and half of mine...what a greedy lady)!

She arrived clutching her purse, refusing to eat, and being almost anti-social.  She ended up singing, chair dancing, laughing, smiling for tons of pictures, and being the LAST sibling to leave the party.  

Titi Rosa, Mish and Mama

Mama with one of her many nephews

Mama Maria is the big sister.  Serious.  Independent.  As one of her brother-in-laws describes her, "..una guerrera...siempre" ("...a warrior...always").  This may not be the most popular personality in a family, but she is still family.  She is a mother, grandmother, great grandmother, aunt, daughter, and sister.  And these, well these are her siblings...and there's nothing she can do to change that.  Whether they want to admit it or not, they need each other and probably always have.  Tio Robert gets that.  On Saturday, the veil seemed to lift for many of them, and they are now getting it too.

Titi Fanita, Mish, and Titi Virgin

I am one of three.  The middle child.  The only girl.  The wild card.  My older brother is the definition of stability.  Responsible.  A meat and potatoes kinda guy.  The "little" one is taller than all of us.  Charming.  Warm, yet cool under pressure.  Together, somos hermanos.  While we may change, that fact never will.

Right now, the three of us are separated.  One in Japan, one in New York and one in Puerto Rico.  Conversations are far and few between, as we can no longer count on Ma's next BBQ to catch up.  Between the three of us, there are currently three different time zones, three children, journeys of self discovery, bills, questions of next steps, significant others, oh, and not to mention, aging parents.  It now takes effort and a level of consideration for each other's lives...separate from our role as brother or sister.

Thank you technology!

Saturday night, when I got home, I e-mailed my little brother.  I'm looking for a good old fashioned sibling conversation.  No one else, just him and I.  Its long overdue.  Big brother can expect a call shortly as well.

Who picks up the phone, who sends the e-mail/text, or pays the first visit just doesn't matter.  Forgotten birthdays, anniversaries, and time lapses don't matter.  We're human.  Life happens.  What matters is that when we reach out, we are received...with genuine love.  THAT is the only thing that matters.

My brothers are special because they are my brothers.  We were gifted to each other and grew up together in a household that only we truly get--- because we lived it.  The good, bad, ugly, and beautiful...we shared those together.  Blood runs thick and what we have to offer each other is support...by birthright.


The pride I felt as a little girl watching my big brother play the trumpet, pitch at his numerous baseball games, or even graduate, is the same pride I feel today when he does something simple like pick me up from the airport.  He's there.  Late, on time, whatever.  I know he'll be there.  Siempre.  

My little brother can become Andre the Giant, he can learn discipline, and be a proud member of the US Air Force...but that hug, that smile, and the traditional head scratch that makes him 8 years old again, that will always be him and I.  Siempre.

These connections keep a family united.  These connections lead to cousins knowing cousins.  Family becoming friends rather than strangers.  This world is hard enough to navigate, why not face it together?

cousin love