Peed pants

Alejo is at it again: today he peed on himself while we were having lunch--he liked his food, we were talking and eating normally, it was not a stressful or different lunch in any way... and when he got up I saw that he had soiled the chair. He said nothing about it and if I had not noticed the chair, he would've stayed wet and dirty all day. He had already changed into his kimono to go to judo class, and of course, that got a bit wet because his underpants were totally wet. His father asked him about him having peed, and Alejo lied saying that in school the teacher had done this or that, but when I showed him the seat cushion he had to admit that he had wet his pants at home, not in school.

We made him wear a Pull-Up, and he was a bit flustered and asked if he was going to have to wear it to go to his mom's house. We said: your underpants and your pants are totally wet and dirty: what do you think? He cried a bit, but he always cries when his father reprimands him, so it is hard to know if peeing his pants and being caught and being made to wear diapers causes him a particular distress, or not at all... I am starting to see that it does not distress him much at all--that it is an annoyance that he prefers to put up with, the whole reprimand-diaper thing, instead of actually going to the toilet...

I told him that the Pull-Ups are not to humiliate him or make him feel bad, but because we are literally concerned about him getting rashes, since he does not change or clean himself and simply spends all day with wet, and then dry, urine on the sensitive skin of his private parts... and we are worried about him smelling so bad that the other kids will notice and make fun of him. He sometimes does smell bad enough that at ten feet away from him we know he is walking around in clothing that has dry urine all over it. He is not happy about wearing diapers but he is not unhappy enough to stop his behavior... I have asked him to please think hard about why he does this, so that we can think of a solution, but he simply stays quiet or says that he doesn't know... His father keeps telling him to go to the bathroom when he feels the slightest need to do so--as if Ale were peeing his pants after having held it in so long that he couldn't make it to the bathroom on time. This happened sometimes throughout his 4th and 5th year of age, but the end result would be pants with some urine, underwear with some urine, not totally peed through and through. I know that the boy does not pee on himself because he cannot hold it in: he simply lets go and pees on himself, period. It is not when he is doing something fun, or when he is doing something that he does not like. It is not when he is anxious or angry, or when he is happy or relaxed. There is something, some reason, some physiological thing, I guess, that is behind this behavior... does he like the sensation of letting go and peeing on himself? Could that be it? It is not for attention per se, because he tries to hide his soiled underwear, and he doesn't say anything, letting it dry on him. Is it a cry for help in some way? Maybe--but help in what??

I looked up "my 6-year old pees on himself" in google and saw tens of parents, many of them stepparents, asking similar questions in situations that were similar: kids who had already learned to use the toilet, and who do not wet their beds at night, suddenly start, at age 4, or 5, or 6, or 7, or 8, or 9, even, to we themselves. But nobody had answers, just questions!

Over Christmas vacation he did not pee on himself as much but only because every couple of hours we would have him stop what he was doing and go to the bathroom. He would sometimes say, "I have nothing, I cannot do anything" but most of the time, he actually peed. I guess we will simply have to make ourselves remember that he cannot do this on his own, that, like his homework, he needs to be supervised regarding peeing... but we cannot do anything about school, and sometimes he stinks from having peed his pants in school and spent all day drying it out on him...

So that's it for today--I don't know how to help him, and that drives me crazy!

Sorullitos de maíz

so i am about to make sorullitos de maíz for the first time since i came to spain. (my dad wonders if i have something against capital letters. i think i do, actually). it is not easy, finding the right cornmeal. but i think i found it, and so i will now go into the kitchen and make some sorullitos, minus the gouda/edam cheese because they sell those in slices here, not in a ball or a quarter of a ball that you can grate... oh, well...

i will make the sweet kind. you know, following this recipe:

http://www.publiboda.com/cm/pbreceta/3327/SORULLITOS_DE_MAIZ.html

there they have both the sweet and the non-sweet variety.

for the sauce, which i may or may not make, i'm not sure, i always add secret ingredients which make people say, oh, this is the best mayoketchup sauce ever, or, depending on the country, this is the best ever pink sauce.

besides the mashed garlic, mayonnaise, and ketchup, squeeze half a lemon (small), put in some salt (just a small bit), some sugar (even less), some pepper (more than the salt), and half a teaspoonful of mustard, the grainy kind... um, what's it called... you know, the one with little mustard seeds.

that is my advice for the day: go out into the world, buy cornmeal, and come back home to make sorullitos. fry them and have some with coffee or hot chocolate or tea-with-milk or whatever warm thing you may want to drink this wintry day...

i am now officially starving. which sucks, because once the masa is ready you have to wait a while for it to cool down a bit. not a half hour, that's insane, just enough so that you don't burn your hands... argh!

c-section!!!

so i went to the doctor today and she looked at me with a mean face and said, "haven't you told this baby that she has to turn around?"

Aitana is just sitting there, instead of being upside down, she's just sitting there waiting... fool!

i said, "she's only human: its uncomfortable for a human being to be upside down for weeks and weeks..." ignacio said, "see? she is just being logical to the extreme, like you, regardless of how not logical it is to be logical at certain times."

so that's the news. BUT the doctor said that she will not perform the c-section until at least the 20th of january--THIS doctor says that it's better if i actually go into labor. the doctor who saw me before, and the matrona, said the opposite: that it's better, for my own recovery, if the c-section is performed before i go into labor, and not in the middle of the process, because i cannot deliver a child who's sitting.

that's the news: i have another appointment in a week, to see what's happening, to monitor the baby's progress, and i wish they let me, if it is indeed going to be a c-section, have it done on the day i should've given birth, the 17th... it's a good number, and my mom can spend a longer time with me and help me recover... and be with her grandchild...

anyway. we have to go buy Reyes gifts now...

ciao!!!

Creepy

I do not understand it. Why does Creepy have an insect family? Is she adopted?

Christmas in Spain

so yesterday was Christmas day.

first things first. the night before yesterday was Christmas eve.

So in my mother-in-law's house--mind you, it is really the house of both parents-in-law, but it is always her house--"the family" got together to have "dinner". That means that besides Tororo (real name, Teodoro) and Rosa (real name, Carmen Rosa), there were: Ignacio and Alejandro (and I); Ignacio's sister Carolina, her husband Maxi, their daughters Sonsoles (13), Angela (10) and Paloma (7); Ignacio's next sister Rocío, her husband, Christian (who's German), their children Guillermo (8) and Teresa (6), and Ignacio's youngest sister, Raquel. Her husband, Frenchman Vincent, is in France with his brother this year. In Paris. I am not supposed to eat seafood, particularly shellfish, mind you, because I'm pregnant. Right.

What's a Christmas Eve dinner like in Spain, you ask? Tororo was sitting by himself at the table waiting for the rest of the family to sit there. The rest of the family was all over the house: the kids were playing here and there, I was talking with Christian in the living room... Rocío came with Sonsoles and Paloma and Teresa singing Christmas carols and scolded Ignacio for changing the lyircs of one... (the real lyrics say, stupidly enough, "watch how the fish in the river drink when they see that God is born; they drink and drink and drink;" Ignacio said that the fish were drunks... Rocío was offended. How could he make fun of such a serious, sensible, sacred song?) I went and sat with Tororo. Paloma had written down the names of each person and put them on plates, arbitrarily. I paid mine no heed and sat where I pleased, and changed Ignacio's as well.

There we were. On the table there was this, um, spreadable pate made of tuna and mayonnaise and something else, probably, which was very good. Tororo and I ate a lot of it while we waited.

Well, we had, um, something called berberechos, which are like little clams or little mussels (real name: cockles). Then we had, um, some other sea creature. Rice and squid. You know, where the rice is gray because of the ink. It was not hot. It was lukewarm, actually. Then we had desserts.

Spanish Christmas desserts are not good, either: they consist of "turrones", some of which are good and some of which are just weird, and other assorted bought things like powdery cookies and marzipan stuff. Nothing like a cake or a pie or a mousse or a custard or a something that somebody has made. Well, Christian brought this dry cake that was good, sort of like a flatter Pannetone with powdered sugar on top. A miners' dessert, he said.

Conversations came and went. We turned the TV on. Paloma played a lousy organ. Her mother made her stop because it sounded so bad, although the child played well. Tororo got upset. He wanted to hear more. Raquel got upset at something else. Ignacio got upset at something. Rosa got upset at something. The kids annoyed Tororo. Maxi annoyed Tororo. Carolina and Rocío and Rosa and Raquel and Ignacio were annoyed at Tororo's annoyance. Carolina kept telling me that I could sit and do nothing only because I was very pregnant with Aitana, but that next year I would be working like they were. I smiled and said nothing. I do not think that next year I will do much. Not unless I am served a hot meal, dammit! Or at least something that I can remember two days later, jeez...

Christmas Day: lunch at the same place, same people, plus 2: these two nieces-cousins something or other, named Teresa (thirty-something) and Marta (early twenties). For starters, we had mussels. And shrimp. And prawns. Then we had octopus. Well, these are not my relatives so I understand that they would not change their Christmas menu for the pregnant lady who should not eat seafood. Then we had a choice: a thin fillet of pork in milk and mustard sauce, or a, a, i guess a pudding of fish, breaded. I had a piece of both. With some mashed potatoes. Mashed potatoes in Spain ALWAYS come from a box: they do not conceive of actually buying potatoes, boiling them and mashing them. And they do not add much margarine or butter, they just add the milk or the water.

Same desserts. With an extra turrón, one of chocolate. Which means, really, a fancy chocolate bar that they split with a knife and put on a plate. Like a Hershey's bar. On a plate. That's a Spanish Christmas dessert. (Other desserts, not in Christmas. are: a banana on a plate, which you are supposed to peel with a knife, and cut it, and eat the pieces with a fork).

This time, at least the pork was hot. Although, by the time it reached the table, of course, it was not hot. Neither were the "mashed potatoes" that had come from a box. These things had been sitting in the kitchen while we all ate seafood. And bread. And stuff.

I think that unless you are wealthy enough to hire cooks and aides for Christmas dinners, who can bring stuff out and take away plates and continue cooking or reheating things while you go through the appetizers and the first round of food and bring out the last things steaming hot, and actually mashing real frikin' potatoes... then you should move on... no three course meals in which the last course is cold, and which require that everybody work getting up, taking things to the kitchen, bringing stuff out again, cleaning up halfway through dinner, constantly working instead of relaxing and eating... I don't get it, actually. It makes no sense to me: people who have servants, live their lives one way. People who do not, should realize that their lives would be much better if they lived them some other way. Say: put on the table all of the food that will be eaten, and people can actually eat the food that is supposed to be eaten hot, when it is hot, and if they want cold prawns, they can have them. But no!!!!!!!!!!!!! That would violate the canons of decent living. So you have to eat cold pork and cold mashed potatoes. Less people were upset by each other this time. In general, people did not speak as much. And Tororo and Maxi took naps after eating, so that made things easier.

Carolina told me the same thing again: next year, you have to work! And I will reply the same thing: only for a hot meal!

Aitana

1) estoy bien, estamos bien, todo bien. ha nevado un montón y está nevando ahora mismo. peso 77.5 kilos y la babé no-nata, algo así como 2.75 kilos. y que me dicen que bien, que eso está por el libro... 2) sin embargo, la beba no está del todo encajada en donde tiene que estar, y que eso puede deberse a que su cabeza es más grande que el hueco pélvico donde suelen encajarse ya en la semana 36-37... hoy fui a ver a la matrona, y al parecer la nena estaba con la cabeza abajo, no debajo de mi pulmón derecho como en la última ecografía... pero no está encajada en su posición. si sigue así, dando tumbos, y el 4 de enero no está ahí metida en el hueco pélvico, me citan directamente una cesárea, ya sea el mismo jueves 7, o por tarde, el lunes 11 de enero. la matrona dice que así evitan que me ponga de parto, y sea peor para todos puesto que simplemente no cabe y no cabrá... 3) que la niña ha sido llamada por mí, y por su padre, y por Susana, y por otras personas allegadas que se refieren a ella de vez en cuando, Sabrina, porque así se llamaba. yo le voy a hablar en inglés hasta que vaya a la escuela, para que sea bilingue (aquí no hay escuelas bilingues, todas las películas son traducidas, y los canales infantiles, y sería una pena que siendo yo bilingue la nena no lo sea porque no tendría exposición a ningún otro idioma que el español...) Y en inglés, sabrina suena muy bonito, así que cuando me daba alguna patada o se movía mucho, le decía, "Sabri, crazy girl, what are you doing!?". en fin, en resumen, ya tenía nombre: Sabrina. las cualidades positivas de este nombre son su sonoridad divertida, provista por esa "br" en el centro, que obliga al que lo pronuncia a poner su boca en forma de beso por unos segundos. Al terminar en "ina" además, parece señalar a una niña, a una joven. Y la S es una letra visualmente muy atractiva, además de sonar como el sol, sssss, es una excelente primera letra. así pienso yo en los nombres--pienso en su sonido, en cómo se ven escritos, en cómo fluyen, en qué tipo de cara uno se imagina al oírlos (una cara sonriente, alegre; una mirada misteriosa, seria, profunda; una cara seria, una mirada serena; una cara adulta; una cara de bebé... por eso había eliminado Jimena, porque suena a una mujer adulta, seria, y no me gusta cómo se ve escrito. Con X se vería mejor, pero aquí no se escribiría así... ) caveat aside, de repente la niña ha cambiado de nombre. su padre ha dicho hace una semana o dos, ¿qué tal el nombre Aitana? y ahora en Puerto Rico, mi madre, mi hermana, Ángel, y mis sobrinos, decidieron que Aitana es el nombre, y punto. Ignacio se sumó a su campaña y le dijo a Alejandro, que si la niña se llamase Aitana, sus nombres "empezarían los dos por A, ¡qué bien, no!" y yo me puse a pensar... Sabrina evoca sonrisas, sol, una cara alegre y risas, una niña feliz, una joven divertida, impulsiva, enérgica, graciosa... pero no evoca adultez. no puedo imaginar a una mujer hecha y derecha llamada Sabrina... hmmm... qué lío! Aitana evoca a una joven seria, profunda, pensativa, más bien callada, de pelo oscuro... una niña tímida, quizás, pero segura de sí misma, que escucha, que lee, que observa. y me he dado cuenta de que yo quisiera que la nena se llamase Sabrina para que fuera como su nombre, pero que quizás la nena no sea como su nombre... quizás sea, en su infancia, como yo, y sólo al llegar a adolescente, a los 17 por ahí, se decida a dejar a un lado la timidez y sonreírle y amar a la humanidad. entonces, su nombre comenzaría a tener sentido, pero es un nombre que se le quedó pequeño y que no usó cuando lo tenía que usar! y hoy pensé--es que mi hija se hubiera llamado Aitana, es un sonido que va más con todos los nombres que consideré, que hasta Gaitana consideré, que es un nombre indígena--indígenas europeos, que fueron colonizados y desaparecidos por los romanos--que es un nombre raro... y me di cuenta que mi resistencia se debía a tres cosas. primero, a que ya me había acostumbrado a Sabrina y le había cogido cariño a la nena así llamada, y ahora es como si Sabrina hubiese dejado de existir y en su lugar hubiera otra niña... segundo, a que Sabrina en inglés suena bonito, y Aitana no tiene inglés... y tercero, a que Aitana no tiene apodo, y Sabrina ya era de vez en cuando, Sabri. bueno, a cuatro cosas. la cuarta, a que me molesta que me presionen, a que me intenten dirigir por aquí o por allá en algo que me parece tan íntimo y tan personal como nombrar a un ser humano no-nacido, algo serio y que una tercera persona, sea abuela o vecina, da igual, no debe ni siquiera opinar hasta que se le pregunte! no he resuelto estas resistencias, pero sí he decidido que la niña, hija mía y de su padre, es una Aitana. que Sabrina es hija de otra persona, una persona con una carga emocional y mental más liviana que nosotros... era esa la razón por la cual quería ese nombre, para aliviar la carga de locura depre que la niña tendrá que aprender a manejar de su entorno... pero bueno, el universo ha dicho, asume quien eres y afronta la realidad!!! eso comunico, entonces. eso... he asesinado a una niña que nunca llegó a nacer. la he matado. existió por un mes o dos meses, y ya no más. ¿será posible?

Being a (pregnant) stepmom

we think that the boy has some issue, something beyond our capacity to address as simple parents, let alone parent/stepparent combo...

although he is clearly intelligent (some children aren't, you know, it's the truth) and resourceful in some ways, he has learning disabilities, or perhaps, difficulties... he has difficulties relating to other children, and can do so only under particular circumstances, he has developed difficulties at playing, which he did not have before... he is now, a week short of turning 6, peeing on himself... he has difficulties, in the end, relating to himself, to the person that he is becoming, to his life, of which he is increasingly aware the more time passes and the more mature he is...

the poor boy, after all, has two families that are very different. in one, his father is a grouchy man who both scolds him constantly, and sometimes scolds him jokingly, and often scolds him as if he were joking precisely because he--the dad--is trying to reduce the strength of the rebuke... and a stepmom who tries to stay out of the way of these interactions when they happen... (the rest of the time i keep telling the father, do not scold him for stupid things, he does enough things that require scolding as it is, and in a few months time, scolding will lose all effect because it is used many times a day, every day... and especially, do not scold him jokingly, because the child is too young and not bright enough with words to understand sarcasm, or to realize that you are in fact, scolding him but trying to be "nice" about it... ) and we don't know exactly what goes on in the other family, but we do know that there is a lot less discipline, a lot less scolding, and a lot more freedom to watch television endlessly, do no chores, and that type of lax child-rearing that works wonders...

the child never knows where he will sleep, where he will be that weekend, what day of the week it is. mom's house? dad's house? the grandparents' house? he has not been able to learn the days of the week or the months of the year, or to manage time at all...

i think he has add. so ig looks it up.

he finds this webpage, it describes the boy as if it were about him, personally.

so now we should learn to deal with our part of being his family. learn to discipline him and help him and learn to be organized and timely. ig has to stop waiting for the last minute to say, "let's go, hurry up, we're late," and instead, give the child 10 minutes even if a "normal" child would need just 2... that sort of thing... be very specific about what the child is doing wrong instead of saying, "stop misbehaving" or something that some other child would react to... etc...

whatever.

as a stepmom, however, what should i do? it is not the same, what parents can and should and need to do, and what stepparents can and should and need to do... does the child need an extra parent? no. the child has too many parenting models as it is... he needs something else, and i can only give something else, but no webpages or books address the roles of stepparents of children with ADD or other psychological issues that are related to parents' bad divorces...

and not only am i a stepmom to him, i will soon be the mom of his sister. and that will change everything, but what will it change i to? for one thing, i will feel with the right to discipline this child of mine, and get more directly involved when her father does or says something crazy. my stepchild cannot help but notice that when it is his sister, i get involved, and when it is him, i do not, or do so less... he doesn't know that when he is not present, i do intervene... perhaps from now on, i shall do so. i shall say, hey, this or that... i dunno...

in any case.

the environment in the house is a lot more tense--the boy is getting increasingly difficult, and it is hard to know how to deal with all of this, and to think ahead, all the time, "oh my god, imagine how much worse it will be when the baby comes..."

help!