Archive for May, 2009

Sideshow Boob

Posted in breastfeeding, Maximo, sleep on May 31, 2009 by Gabbi El Mas Negro

sideshow boob

Behold the glory that is my over-producing right breast.  You see, about a month ago (when this amazing early-morning self-portrait of my mutant breast was taken), I had stopped nursing Maximo throughout the night, in an effort to get some more sleep and sanity.  Prior to this new doctrine, my little milk-pire was waking up more and more frequently throughout the night to suckle on his sweet chi-chi (“chi-chi” being the Mexican term for baby-booby, as well as the name of a now-defunct Mexican chain restaurant where yours truly grew up on PB&J burritos and fried ice cream in scenic Louisville, KY).  So we employed some techniques from The Sleep Lady, and Dr. Michael Cohen, and within a week or so, managed to have our babe sleeping through (most of) the night, resulting in a ridiculous, mutant-level amount of unused milk produced by my dominant right boob.  I seriously considered running off and joining the carnies with this little sweetie.  But then I remembered the last carnival I went to in Mexico… and decided to ride it out with my trusty pump.



First Words

Posted in dog, Maximo, Uncategorized, words on May 29, 2009 by Gabbi El Mas Negro

Today my son said his first word.  For the past few months, he’s entertained us with strings of syllables woven together in melodic little babbles – even piecing together the occasional “da-da” or “ma-ma,” leaving us with hopeful questions in our ears.  “Did he…?”  “Was that…?”  “C’mon, say it again: ‘maaa-maaa’…”  But this… this was an honest-to-goodness, repeated, contextually validated w-o-r-d.

“Doggie!”1 dulce + maxxi

Yes, doggie.  You see, Maximo (son) loves Dulce (dog).  She is his size, and, operating on the same level (el floor), they share a playing field.  She also keeps him in stitches (the laughing kind, not the bitten kind).  So when we heard that adorably nasally “oggie!” for the fourth or fifth time, while Maxxi was pointing at his four-legged sister pal, we weren’t surprised.  Maybe a little hurt – I mean, hello?  Mommy?  Daddy?  But his excitement, and ours, at this new skill, this naming of a thing so constant in his world, quickly put our egos in check.  Our son was talking.  At nine months.  It suddenly didn’t matter too much what he said.  Or maybe it does.  Maybe in his own innocently diplomatic way, our son was avoiding the trap of who’s name to say first.  Ma? Pa? Who could make such a choice?  …just skip it and go right to the next in line.  Smart kid.

In the spirit of first words, I thought I would seize this momentous opportunity to put fingertips to keyboard and start committing my thoughts to digital ink (Oh, My God!  Another self-important diatribe is about to be unleashed upon you and the great internet galaxy, dear reader…).   So who am I, and what is it that I have to say?   I am Andrea Villarrubia (formerly Andrea Stoops for any long-lost-friends cum stalkers).  sayulita familyMy tribe consists of my most amazing, hot, wonderful, dedicated, loving, amazing (did I say that already?) husband, Gabbi Villarrubia; my beautiful, angelic, prodigal (did I mention he also drinks from a straw?  nine months, bitches!) son, Maximo Lobo Roque Villarrubia; and my very sweet, though slightly neurotic Dachshund/Chihuahua (that’s “Salchihuahua” en espanol) pup, Dulce.  We live in Sayulita, Mexico, a small bohemian beach town on Mexico’s Riviera Nayarit, and quite possibly the coolest little spot on the globe.  Life is good.

So why ¡Que Madre! ?  Because Mothering, my new favorite pastime, is cool.  Possibly the coolest thing I’ve ever done.  Fucking life-changing!  Revolutionary!  Humbling.  Soul-warming, ass-kicking, sweet-mama goodness.  Cool.  Here in Mexico, there is a saying.  When something is super-cool, hip, worthy… we say “¡Que Padre!” (literally, ‘how Fatherly!’).  Another similar compliment is to say that something “no tiene Madre”, or “has no Mother.”  In a culture that so often puts Mamas up on impossible pedestals, language cuts to the chase.  The ultimate insults always invoke some slur on one’s mother, while the highest accolade is to be “father-like.”  To this I say, “¡Que Madre! ,  dammit!”  Mommies are COOL!  We Rule!  We make you, feed you, love you, teach you, change you, heal you, we are you.  Kneel before our greatness and sing it to the heavens.  Because Mothering is Cool.

So is hearing your baby boy find his voice.  Let’s hear it for first words.