A bilingual mix of fun children's songs iMIX

Mami made an iMIX for Maria.
We're sharing.
Be sure to listen to the bilingual Walkin' the Dog by Dan Zanes
Enjoy!

Introducing a new tag: Dulce de Leche

I think this blog might turn into the world's greatest collection of Dulce de Leche recipes. I seem to keep stumbling onto them. The Universe loves me. A lot.

Here are a couple I found on a beautiful, smart and award-winning food blog called Leite's Culinaria. There's so much great stuff there that I've added it to my Netvibes reader.

Gingersnap Dulce de Leche Ice Cream Sandwiches by the same woman who brought us the Dulce de Leche chocolate bread pudding from heaven I wrote about recently. I made it last week for Maria's teachers, by the way, and they're still thanking me.

Dulce de Leche Cake (with rum syrup)
This one looks more involved than I am used to. I'm more of a dump it all in kind of cook.

I'm thinking a can of dulce leche, a spoon and a few shots of rum on the side would make a great shortcut.

Hey Lupe, wanna play Mall?

from playthings.com:

"Hip-Spanic, Las Vegas, will debut Lateenaz, a line of fashion dolls and play sets designed to embrace Hispanic culture and traditions. Each playset (Salon, Mall, School, Quinceanera) opens up to different play scenes and comes packed with themed accessories, mix-and-match outfits and a “Lateenaz” logo patch. The dolls have realistic body shapes, facial characteristics and hair. Free gear is also available to girls who log into the website with good report cards."

OK, I can embrace school and quinceanera, and ok, kudos for encouraging good grades, but salon and mall as the only other options?
Please tell me there are other options.
A library? A playground? A congressional office?
Hell, I'd even be happy with a Dream House.

Realistic body types and hair?
I don't even want to know.

More here with information on Hispanic heritage dolls like Baby Abuelita and some trends and stats.

(photos from Toy Directory Monthly added April 17, 08)

Help for Hollywood: Gifts for Latin babies

I imagine this weekend a whole lot of celebrity elite were sending gifts to the royal Latin blessings born to Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony. Her father told reporters they'd already bought azabaches for the sweet twins, which no Latino baby should be without. Or at least no Caribbean Latin baby. Must ward away the evil eye of those spreading the mal de ojo. (see above, available on ebay) My mother gets on me for not pinning Maria's on anymore.

But what else to send babies who have it all?
Cultura, of course!

Here are my gift tips for Latin babies, perfect for all baby showers and newborn gifts -- and for American-born Latinas getting newly in touch with their Latinaness. (There are a couple of toddler gift ideas at the bottom.)

OK, teach bebe about La Tradicion with a guayabera and then sprinkle baby with Agua de Violetas, the sweetest baby cologne known to mankind. Cologne for babies? Oh you bet.

Teeny tiny perfect little confections of leather made in Spain and Portugal. And, only Spain and Portugal. When you walk on sunshine, you must be shod by artists. If they're charol -- patent leather -- all the better. Oh, and if they've got jingle bells on them, even better too.


Sweet shoes go perfectly with these fancy baby outfits from La Ideal in Miami, the first place I went baby shopping for my own princesa. It's like the Cuban Babies R Us. I didn't see their gorgeous embroidered Colombian dresses, or fancy outfits from Spain on the web site, which is too bad because these sweet dresses and pant suits are stunning.

Latin parents like the paci, commonly called tete. Give this one, called RaZBaby, designed by two Cuban-American sisters from Miami.

Now, on to music: Lull sweet child with Cuban Lullaby, a delightful collection of traditional lullabies and a personal favorite around here. A little more rockin' is Diez Deditos, by Jose-Luis Orozco, an awesome album of playful Latin American songs and finger games. There's a book by the same title.

I usually give my favorite illustrated copy of Los Pollitos Dicen, so baby is sure to learn the words, and yes, I pair it with a Pio Pio Pio Spanish t-shirt from our own collection. (We're about to add newborn hats and bibs, by the way!)


And, here's one sure way to get grandma and grandpa to love you: Give an abuelita and abuelito doll that sings Spanish nursery songs. We particularly like Abuelo Pancho, though Maria doesn't play with hers much anymore. My mother says he is "exiliado al closet.'' (exiled to the closet.)

Moving on to a couple of toddler gifts. Inspire rhythm and noise with Salsa in a Box, everything a tiny person needs to channel Tito and Celia. (Or J.Lo and Marc) And teach the "eh-re'' and the "ñ" sounds with these blocks, made in the U.S.A.


Alright then, not a bad little regalito list, si?

Mamas y Papas what are your favorite Spanish baby gift items?
Hollywood needs us.

Batanga!

So, I thought I would tell you all about the dream in which I helped deliver Jessica Alba's baby.
But, no.

So, instead here's Batanga, a new discovery for me.
Maybe you all have already found Batanga, but news sometimes travels slowly to the Boonies. It is free Latin music, 22 music stations and music videos.

Kind of like Pandora for people with rhythm.

Oh, and a hurrah for the birth of Latin Royalty today.

More thoughts on The Bearded Dictator's "Retirement"

Here's what keeps bugging me about the Bearded Dictator retirement and his "I won't cling to power'': There are more Bearded Dictator haters at my mom's on any given Sunday afternoon -- when the Tias, Tios and Primos gather -- than there seemed to be on the streets of Miami yesterday.

Growing up, I imagined the Any Day Now really could be Any Day Now. I imagined taking to the streets, like we did when the Dolphins won in '72, honking horns, causing traffic jams, waving flags. I imagined the pachanga of a lifetime. A party to last for days, a party to end all parties. The tears of joy, the boats leaving for Havana Harbor and coming from Havana Harbor, just like during the 1980 Mariel Boat Lift.

The Any Day Now of my making would have meant these TV reporters could barely have heard themselves above the total Cuban racket, the kind only Cubans know how to make. But it was do damned calm.

This was so anti-climatic, so not a victory, from where I sit. Same old mierda, same old misery.

I'm still waiting for my Any Day Now.

That's it? You just resign after a lifetime of Hell Making?

When the arch enemy of your people just kinda resigns it's a little bit of a let down.

I am a peace-loving girl, so I didn't want bloodshed or bombs, but really, to just resign like some corporate CEO, on your own terms, after so much hell has been wrought?

That's just not right.

For those of you with kind of a passing or romanticized idea of bearded dictators know this:
Bearded Dictator: Bad
Bearded Dictator Brother: Badder

At least that's always been the talk at home and during our visits to Cuba.

I'm hoping Bearded Dictator Brother has gotten hold of Oprah and her nice Friends on XM, maybe listened to a little Course in Miracles.

Because really, what we need on that little Lost Island is a miracle.

(If you want to follow what's going on in the Exilio today go here and check out the Exile, Cuban Style links to the right and be sure to read the post at the Adventures of the Coconut Caucus, a site I am really loving.)

Answering the question: More kids?

February seems to be the month I get sick and the month I get a little romantically melancholy.

The cold is better.

The melancholy continues.

You see, it’s about to be five years since Maria was conceived.

I imagine I remember it so well because it was so technical. All sperm counts, FSH levels. Eggs were counted and sized, hormone levels were recorded and precise instructions for injecting myself were given. (“Pinch an inch and poke!”)

Conception occurred in a brightly lit, coldish room with a nurse doing the deed.

So not the romantic fantasies of a young woman. (Maybe it will happen on a sunlit morning under rumpled sheets, followed by café con leche and 2 hours with the morning paper? Maybe it will happen when we go to Venice? Maybe it will happen after a hot night on the town when I wear black stockings and not wool socks to bed?)

TMI?

Sorry.

Hang in there.

My kid is 4. We get asked a lot whether we will have another child, so the subject already is on my mind. But in this month of memories, I think more about whether I would be willing to undergo what we did to get pregnant in the first place.

No.

I can finally say that with a comfortable finality.

No.

Those months were difficult and draining. I cried into my plate, my pillow, my husband’s shirt a lot. (“But, I’m Latin! This is supposed to be easy!’’ I said, only sort of joking).

When people ask me - and it is mostly other mothers - I give the short answer: “No. I’m 40, husband is 55. We’re good.”

Sometimes, I get the “You can’t have An Only Child’’ talk. Seriously. Shocking, isn’t it? From strangers, no less. It’s mostly OK. People are allowed their opinions, but there are times I wish I had a few vials of Follistim to hand those who insist.

I’d give them instructions and then tell them their ovaries would soon feel like bricks free-floating in the abdomen. Then, I’ll tell them that in two weeks, they’ll feel like dying as new surge of hormone occurs, but not to worry, the recovery is quick. I’ll tell them that all this will happen about two years after they’ve done nothing much but cry. I won’t mention the surgery or the first loss or the cost.

My fantasy self sees a house full of short, sweet-smelling people, and one day, a dozen or so grandbabies. But, it's puro fantasy.

Do I feel bad for Maria? A little, yes.

But, the reality is we don’t want another child enough to endure the sadness and uncertainty we had to endure to get the one we’ve got. Looking back, it was quite an exciting ride. Only looking back, though. (And by the way, at our ages, adoption isn’t very easy.)

And the truth is I still pinch myself daily.

But, for totally different reasons.

Good ones.

Do not doubt my love for you...

I just typed this entire recipe in for you, dear reader, because I could not find it on-line and had to share. Just typing in this recipe, I can feel my jeans getting tighter in the seat.

Join with me in the “Amen’’ over this recipe. Chocolate, dulce de leche, rum and bread. This woman needs nothing else. Que rico!

The recipe is from the March 2008 Bon Appetit and by Jill O’Connor, author of Sticky, Chewy, Messy, Gooey and is it rude of me to suspect the woman is a supreme pms-er? I mean, really, to come up with this recipe?

Dulce de Leche and Chocolate Chunk Bread Pudding

8 to 10 servings

8 1/2-inch thick slices of egg bread, about 4 x 5 inches, crusts trimmed. Cut into ¼- to 1-inch cubes

4 tbsps (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted and divided

1 ½ cups heavy whipping cream

1 cup purchased dulce de leche ice cream topping, plus more for serving.

4 large eggs

2 large egg yolks

1 tbsp dark rum

1 tsp vanilla extract

Pinch of salt

½ cup (about 3 ounces) bittersweet chocolate chips

2 tbsp sugar

Powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Place bread in large bowl. Drizzle with 3 tablespoons melted butter; toss. Transfer to rimmed baking sheet. Bake until bread begins to color, stirring occasionally, about 12 minutes. Cool.

Brush 11x7x2-inch glass baking dish with 1 tablespoon melted butter.

Stir whipping cream and 1 cup dulce de leche in medium saucepan over medium heat until blended and bubbling. Remove from heat. Whisk eggs and yolks in large bowl. Add rum, vanilla, and salt; gradually whisk in warm dulce de leche mixture. Stir in bread cubes. Let soak 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Mix chocolate chips into the custard mixture. Pour into prepared dish. Sprinkle with 2 tablespoons sugar. Bake pudding until puffed and set in center, about 35 minutes. Let cool 15 minutes. Dust with powdered sugar. Serve warm, passing more dulce de leche topping.

Give thanks.

Pass out.

Note: The recipe says you also can use butterscotch-caramel topping, but no. Not in my dulce leche-loving world.

Freedom for the familia

My parents, brother and I have been on the telephone these days more than we usually are. Our family is about to grow by six. Six relatives straight from La Isla.

We are, to say the least, joyous and also, to say the least, un poco freaked. It's the paperwork, the unknowns, that have us talking, but so is the possibility of uniting with loved ones we have only seen a handful of times.

The relatives are my father's oldest daughter, her husband, two adult children, baby granddaughter and son-in-law. I've met most of them during our three trips to Cuba and they are funny and charming and creative. They gave me their food rations book once and instructed me to show everyone in America just what they ate, and didn't eat. It sits on my bookshelf next a collection of Cuban history books.

My father has seen his daughter less than five times, so my heart swells at the possibility of their making up for too much lost time. His great-granddaughter is 2.

The paperwork to bring them to the U.S. has been in for a while and the target arrival date was sometime in 2010, but in November the government announced a new reunification program. My parents got a letter a few weeks ago that our family qualified. We still don't know how soon they'll be here.

My mom says a woman she knows got word that nine relatives are on their way. I imagine this is the case for many families in the diaspora.

In the mid-90s I did some volunteering and some befriending of Cuban refugees who had been resettled to Nashville. I was amazed by their questions: "Do I have to go register with the police to tell them I am here?''
No, you are a free man.

I was amazed by their quick successes and ridiculous mistakes.
"What do you mean you just took the car back and left it at the dealer?'' I said to one guy.
"It was a lemon, una mierda,'' he said.
"But you bought it, you can't just leave it and not pay,'' I said.
"I didn't want it anymore,'' he said.
I translated for him in small claims court. He lost.

And now the education of our own family will begin. What a blessing to be able to show them America grants you opportunity and success and that all you have to do is want it and work for it. America grants you the liberty of spirit (and credit card offers!). These are truths and concepts that are completely foreign to my relatives.

But one day soon, they'll get it and they'll live it. There is no doubt for me they'll find joy here, peace here.

And that 2-year-old will grow up free.

Surviving tornadoes and mompreneurs with cameras

It was, to say the least, a long night. The tornado warnings were close enough to keep us up, but far enough that we were safe last night. Friends and family called and e-mailed us today. They know we still have some post-traumatic episodes from the hit in 1998, which demolished much of our then-neighborhood and damaged our home. If I never have to hear the sound of a tarp flapping against a roof top, I will be very happy.

Now then, meet my little friend, El Gordito Mas Fabulous in the Whole World. His mother, a generous and delightful woman, was kind enough to let me dress him up and torture him for a few minutes.

"Can I have my maraca back?"

"I mean, seriously lady, give me back my maraca.''

"One day, I am going to blow out my diaper all over this woman."

Little Dictator

If you can't see it too clearly, that's a wind-up duck giving marching orders to an army of sorting bears. Perhaps the green ones were casualties?

I promise she's never watched any footage from La Plaza de You Know Where.

Dictatorship: Must be in the genes.

Habla y Rie

I don't usually post twice a day, but I found these gems from HBO Latino and have been laughing and devouring them this morning. Um, yeah, I should be working, but this is more fun:

we can party:


latin lover:



we are a rainbow:



glorious gorditas:



latina bottoms:



spoken word. beautiful palabras:

Pachanga: Party, Latin Style

Genius, no?
My partner, Oscar, gets the credit.