I am a momma again!

Thanks to FB, I am now the proud momma of two pygmy goats. A friend was giving them away and posted it on FB. As if I did not have enough to do, I immediately responded that I would take them. The only problem was that although I had the land for them, I did not have a corral or anything to enclose them into. I put a call into my niece and asked if they would foster care for until I could prepare a home for them. After almost 2 months, we finally have the 2 newest members of our family, Jack and Tom. Miss M named them and has become quite the Goat Whisperer. She spends quite a bit of time in the fenced area with them, talking and trying to teach them tricks. One of them hopped on its back two legs, and she was certain that it was because of her incredible training. They really do not do much, other than eat and drop pellet sized poop all day. Every now and again they fight each other and bump heads. I am really hoping to find them a Mrs. to keep them company. Anybody needing to get rid of a female goat? I could really use the milk. Goats milk is so expensive!

Dr. Luther King Martin

So I was laying in bed with my oldest daughter and she begins to tell me a story about Dr. Luther King Martin (that is what she called him). She starts telling me that she learned that he helped the black people sit where ever they wanted to on the bus and that he helped the white people be nice to the black people. I realized that this would be a good moment to discuss how we are all different and that no matter what we look like, that we are all the same. I was also curious as to how she saw herself, since growing up I was always confused where I fit in with the whole "white" and "black" thing. She said that she was black and that her dad was also black. I asked her what I was, and she said, "white". That really threw me off since our skin color is the same. I asked her why she thought that, in which she replied in a very matter of fact tone, "well, the white people were always telling the black people what to do, and you are always telling me and dad what to do, so we are black and you are white". Say what? I was speechless.

To V or not to V...that is the question.

During my pregnancy with Baby R, I told Mr. B that he needed to get fixed. I feel as though my body has been through enough with 4 kids and that it is now his turn. At first he was dead set against it, but now that we are full speed with 4 kids he has realized that the time has come to stop the madness. I have been on strike for the last few months because the idea of having another child just blows my mind right now. Now don't get me wrong, I always imagined myself with a lot of kids, but the reality of it is incredibly incredible. If it was not for the enormous amount of help Senora X provides, I would have already lost it. Well, I still do lose it, especially with my 2 year old who has become beyond defiant and has no fear of my spatula. Mr. B is becoming more and more willing to discuss the idea and next week we have a consultation for the big V. He said he will go, but he still hasn't commit ed to the actual procedure. Hmmm, what can I do to persuade him?

The breast feeding shuffle

I feel like I have been nursing for almost 6 years straight...oh wait, I have been. My Baby R is a nursing machine and at almost 10 months, I see no end in sight. Now that I am back to work full time, my life has been a strategic game of timing. Everything revolves around Baby R and his need for "chita". I spend a lot of time driving back and forth from work to home, and making sure that my appointments with my clients allow enough break in between to have a date with my little guy. He still gets up 2 to 3 times a night to eat, and with the madness of the day to day (not to mention the interrupted sleep), I am struggling on what to do. Knowing that he is most likely my last child, I do not want the experience of nursing to end. Is there anything wrong with a nursing 5 year old? On the other hand I could really use a long nap, escape for the weekend with Benny, and drink myself silly....all which are impossible at this point. We have good days and bad days with nursing. The good days are jam packed with intense love while he is eating and the bad days involve biting that brings tears to my eyes. Oh, I don't know. What I do know is that if it were up to my boobs, they would holler.....enough already!

Returning to Reality...YUCK!

Our final days in the D.R. were spent packing and gulping down as much Presidente (the local beer) as possible. On the final day, we were picked up real early by the family that we spent our first few nights with. We wanted to make sure that we left plenty of time so that we did not have to rush. So 4 hours before our flight they drove us to the airport. From the moment we walked into the airport we were met with problems. 2 of the 5 bags were over the weight limit. It was going to be several hundred dollars to send them. We were directed to a store to purchase 2 new bags. While my 3 girls ran wild in the airport, Senora X and I transferred items around to balance them all out. It took quite some time as each time we had to wait in line to weigh it again to see if we had it right. After over an hour burned on just fixing our bags we were finally able to check in. On we went to security, our next problem. Trying to get all 4 kids through security is pretty difficult as shoes come off and we try to keep everyone together in the long line. Right after security you have to pay a "departure" fee. What?? No one told me you had to pay to leave the country. That would have been all fine and dandy, except that as we were driving off from our condo, I gave the rest of my pesos to the maintenance folks who helped us so much during our stay. I gave every last peso away and now I needed over 4,000 pesos to get my family out. By this point Senora X is fading fast after staying up late the night before, not eating breakfast (she's diabetic) and all the stress of trying to get our luggage right and listening to crying kids. As I am having her translate to the lady at the counter that I do not have any money, I notice her start shaking and looking like she is going to pass out. I tell her we need to sit down and regroup and figure out what to do. Thankfully, the lady was very nice and allowed us to sit in her little area. She fetched some juice for Senora X. Once Senora X stopped shaking, the lady escorted me to an ATM machine to withdrawl the cash. I left everyone else at the pay station to avoid ALL of us having to go through security again. She walked me to the other side of the airport and I attempted to get cash, except there was one really big problem. The card that I took out of my wallet was telling me "NSF", I tried another one....same thing. OMG, how am I supposed to get out of this country if I have no money? I remembered that I had one more card in one of my carry on bags. The poor lady had to walk me back through security to her station to get the other card, then all the way back to the ATM. Finally I was able to get what I needed and we could move on. Although the shaking had stopped for Senora X, she was still very sick and was not able to help me the way she usually does which left me alone to manage the kids and the carry ons. By the time we made it to our gate, we had less than 10 minutes to board. Really? We got there 4 hours early and we only had 10 minutes to board? We did not even have time to eat, which lead to the melt down once we boarded the plane. To make a very long story about our plane ride home short, I will just say it was just about one of the worst experiences of my life. The kids struggled with the long trip, Senora X was out of commission on the verge of vomiting just about the entire time, 2 of the 4 had bowel movements that needed to be addressed and we were all tired. When the plane landed, I cried very hard that the nightmare was over. It will be a very, very long time for the memories of that trip home to fade and an even longer time before I attempt to travel with my kiddos by air. Mr. B was there to pick us up and get us home. There is nothing greater than being home!

Lights out!

Electricity here in the Dominican Republic is a luxury, not a right. It has been by far the most frustrating part of our whole trip, with mosquito attacks coming in at second place. For whatever reason, the electicity cuts out at random times throughout the day and night. There is no warning and the amount of time it is out is unknown. My absolute only complaint about my entire adventure is that I was not made aware that the condo that I would be renting had a schedule for the generator. Meaning that whenever town power went out the generator would only kick on during certain times. From 10am to 6pm if there is no town electricity, there is also no condo electricity. Electricity also powers the water pump, so no power also means no water. After several rounds with the condo administrator and talks with local folks that ‘that is just the way it is’, I accepted the 10-6 schedule. However I was real annoyed that I was never told that this amazing condo with all its splendor only supplied power during certain hours. This morning the administrator made the big mistake of turning the generator off at 9am. My laundry was in the middle of its cycle and I had yet to take a shower. One thing I have learned here is that you have to raise hell before anyone will listen to you. That means you have to yell loud and say the same thing over and over. Being passive will get you nowhere and people will only take advantage of you. Up until this morning, I have been more than patient and tolerant and the maintenance folks and administrator know that and have taken advantage of that. I have also had a huge language barrier to express my point so I have just accepted the B.S. But this morning, I had had enough. In my best Spanish, I went outside and starting yelling as loud as I could that it was not time for them to cut the power. Rather shocked at my tone, the administrator tried to tell me that the generator had been running for a long time and that it needed to rest. I went on to say that I did not care and that it was not time. I was shaking and on the verge of tears as I had not felt that much anger in a long time, since life for us has been so relaxing. Imagine my surprise when my fit of anger actually worked. He walked back to the machine and turned it back on. I was so proud of myself. I did it! I yelled at a grown man in Spanish and he complied! I think I like this yelling is Spanish to get my way. I only wish I had started my yelling sooner.

The Moto

I finally have gotten tired of walking and decided that I was going to try out the Moto transportation system here. Motorcycles are the transportation of choice here, but they seemed so dangerous to me when I first arrived, but after wearing out my sandals from all the walking I decided to give it a try. My first ride was intense. I think I probably left marks on the shoulder of the driver from holding on so tight. They go so fast and traffic is a nightmare that you really just have to have faith that the driver is paying attention. After several more trips on a Moto, I was ready to add some kids to the mix. I am proud to say that we are all professional Moto passengers and I can’t believe I waited so long to utilize them. I guess if anything, I got some great exercise but my walking days are over. I can get to where I want to go so fast. I’m hooked on Moto!