Nothing cuter than babies splashing in the bathtub and saying “bye-bye.” Kanan and his good friend Nolan on one of our many Christmas adventures this last week.
Author Archives: Theresa
It’s Raining, it’s Pouring: how to make Colombian hot chocolate
My son this morning stared in awe at the wonder before his eyes. Water was falling from the sky and Kanan wanted to know what the heck was going on. His little mouth fell open and he kept pointing out of the car and saying “whats that?” He also did not like my windshield wipers going back and forth until I started moving my right arm in the same motions and saying “wipe” everytime it sprung back to position. He laughed and laughed.
I love the rain. It makes me think of childhood. Here is a link to a little story I wrote a couple of years ago about rain and childhood. I hope you enjoy. 🙂
Oh and after reading the story, and you would like to make this lovely chocolate beverage here is a simple recipe.
Colombian Hot Chocolate
- break up 1 block of colombian chocolate (70% cocao)
- bring desired amount of milk to a boil (how manycups of chocolate you want will be dependent on the ounces of milk).
- Add chocolate chunks into milk
- add desired amount of sugar
- whisk with a molinillo (a wooden whisker specifically for chocolate)
- simmer until melted, whisking as you go
- pour into a mug
- add one chunk of queso blanco into the center of your hot chocolate and let melt
- enjoy!
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How To Make Colombian Hot Chocolate
I sit here on this rainy afternoon, smelling the wet cement outside my classroom door, looking down at my hot chocolate sitting in my coffee mug. I take a sip and feel the sugar crystals melting in my mouth and a mild nostalgia takes over me-bittersweet. I am reminded of my youth in San Bernardino County. It was during the year it rained and rained and rained. So many kids hated the rain. But rain always reminds me of my mother’s Colombian hot chocolate-of my brother and sister. Of an innocence and glee for life, which has begun to crust and separate now- like cheap hot chocolate after it sits too long-how I yearn for the chocolate of my youth again.
My mother got huge blocks of Colombian Chocolate from her mother every time she went back home to Bogota to visit our family. Family I have never met and hope to know one day. She took out the block and put it on a cutting board and broke it with a kitchen hammer. Then she poured the bittersweet chunks into a big pot with sugar and milk and boiled it until the chocolate melted and then simmered it for a long time, whisking it with this giant wooden whisker she called a molinillo, letting the happy chemicals in the chocolate saturate the milk. To pass the time, she sent my brother, sister and I outside, bundled up in winter clothes to go play in the rain. We ran around wildly, taking our umbrellas not for protection, but to use as buckets as we filled them up with rain-water flowing down from the drain pipe off our roof and then laughed as we dumped it over our heads. We soaked ourselves clear though our long johns and gleefully shivered. We jumped in the puddles that formed in the streets, laid on our bellies and dared each other to lick the rain off the cement driveway. We played hide and go seek, and between games tilted our heads back, tongues completely out, tasting the semi-sweet, earthy flavor of the sky.
After about 45 minutes, the cold would no longer feel good and my mother knew this, prepared and all. She called out our names and opened up the garage, still warm from the heat of the washer and dryer. She pulled out fresh clothes for us, hot and smelling of Mountain Fresh scented drier sheets. We undressed and changed right there, giggling and telling our mother of our adventures so quickly, I’m surprised she could even make out our words. Then she opened the door leading into the house and handed each of us each a steaming cup of Colombian hot chocolate with at a drop of queso blanco floating in the center. We smelled the sweet aroma, carefully walked to the living room, taking short steps which barely lifted our feet from the carpet, so as not to spill the chocolate. There in the living room awaited a blazing fire in the fireplace, the smell of the burning wood, mixed with the steam of the chocolate, and I sunk easily into the moment-comfort’s womb. The three of us sipped our hot chocolates in silence, and with chocolate mustaches and peace in our eyes, took out our coloring books, and colored right on the brick step of the fireplace. My mother sat on the couch, watching us in silence as well, a satisfied smile on her face. I remember glancing back at her and watching her sip her chocolate drink long and slowly, closing her eyes. I like to imagine, it was in that very moment she was dreaming of her childhood in Los Angeles and the family adventures in Bogota, Colombia-the country where she grew to understand love and family-and where she would gain the wisdom to teach us these things.
My mother doesn’t get Colombian blocks of chocolate anymore. But when I finally get to visit for the first time that country of my blood, I will buy enough to last my lifetime.
Another Year Older and Still Thankful
Thanksgiving and my birthday always seem to go together in association. Every couple of years my birthday will even land on Thanksgiving. This year, however, it landed on black Friday. Still–when I think of my birthday, because its so close to Thanksgiving, I think about the past year of my life, the good and the bad. Then I give my thanks for the good and think about how to make light of the bad.
So as of now, I have lived 29 years and I must say, this year it finally shows. Sure, I have been plucking the three white hairs I have from my crown the last few years, but this year, something extra special has happened. Yes—on birthday I did not get carded. I ordered a glass of wine at PF Changs with my mother, my friend Lael, and my brother and his girlfriend. I did not say it was my 29th birthday. The bartender wanted everyone’s ID’s but mine and my mother’s. I laughed…it happens, right? Then on Saturday, when I had my big birthday dinner with all my beloved friends and family—I did not get carded. Nor did I get carded afterward when a small group of us went out for cheese and wine. And then on Sunday when I went grocery shopping–I bought a bottle of wine for when my friend Bethany comes over for dinner—and they did not card me then either. One time here and there can be a fluke. But four times in a row?—well that is two things. One–I officially look old enough to not get carded. And two—I drank too much this last weekend. Both of these things I am not used to. One I will have to get used to. And the latter will go back to normal now that my birthday weekend is over. Who knows—maybe the fact that in the last year, I’ve recovered from my dogs being malled half to death, Kanan’s back-to-back ear infections, moving out of the barrio, moving out of the beach house in the rain on the coldest weekend in December, separating from Mike, moving out of his house, moving in with my sister, practicing being a single working mom, moving out of my sister’s house, and moving in with my folks, and now continuing to mother and work and be alone. Yeah, I think that might add a couple of wrinkles to one’s eyes, a prominent frown line, and somehow through it all—a permanent laugh line on the right side of my mouth. (wink wink…..but not too much! Don’t want to make the fourth crow’s foot show! 😀 ) But that was the negative—and there is still much to be thankful for.
1. My Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who wooed me back into his loving arms and has since blessed me soooo much! He answers so many of my prayers and lets me know when I need to wait on others. Who also continues to convict me of my daily wrongs and shows me how to change and be more like him.
2. My loving family who gives me strength and encouragement.
3. My amazing son who has taught me how to love with Jesus’s agape love he asks of us.
4. My wonderful friends who love me for who I am.
5. My two newest friends Lael Lloyd and Kelly Cook—both answers to my prayers.
6. The opportunity to pay off my debt and save money for my own place while living with my folks temporarily.
7. The opportunity to have my Grandmother Lois now live so close; Â I now have a weekly date with her on Thursdays. So awesome!
8. My job—during such a terrible time in the economy, I could easily be one of the many who have lost their jobs, but by God’s grace, I am still working.
9. Gas prices dropping! Yipeee!
10. The time to be able to write, paint, and now act again—something I’ve been wanting to do again for years! My church performs “Christmas Cliche” in a couple of weeks. I am so excited and thankful to be in such a powerful and fun play.
Alright 30, I can handle you. Give me your worst or your best. I’ll make the most of it!
A Questionnaire Analyzing Heterosexuality
http://worldnetdaily.com/index.php?fa=PAGE.view&pageId=82529
A Questionnaire discussed in the above article was presented to a Group of High School Students. The obvious bias of the person writing the questions is clear. It is obvious the writer wants to get a discussion going and point out that homosexuality is no different than heterosexuality, and I notice and understand the point, but hope my answers shed some light on the misconceptions that many homosexuals AND heterosexuals have about morality and mankind. Continue reading
KDogg, the Dancing Machine
Kanan loves to dance. Last night his dance moves were cracking me up. And this was just his toy music. You should see him when I put on some hip-hop or rock. 🙂
An “A” for Love
One of my students, Jonathan, didn’t come to school yesterday because he left in search of his girlfriend who moved to Tijuana overnight without a call or a note or goodbye. He has not heard from her in weeks and in desperation fled to roam the streets of a city as large as Los Angelas to find a 17-year-old girl with whom he madly loves. When it was his turn today to practice his English by sharing a story with the class, he said he wasn’t prepared. I told him to tell us the story of what happend yesterday. In my ignorance I assumed he could share without it hurting—who knows maybe he even found her. But when he lifted up his head and his brown eyes sagged and brimmed with tears, I knew I was a rotten, careless woman. He said he couldn’t find her and asked if I could let him pass. I felt so terrible for him. So sad for his loss. I know that despite his young age–he loved this girl more than anything. She was his love of his life. And she was gone. And he may never see or talk to her again. And I just cheapened it by asking so carelessly for him to share—as if it were just a story and not his life, bleeding from his veins. In my regret, I apologized to him in front of the class. And I told him that because I believed in love, I would not only let him pass, but excused him from the assignment altogether without a negative effect to his grade.
To see a shy, 17-year-old boy flee the country in search of his love. To see him come back defeated and hopeless. To see a 17-year-old boy cry in front of an entire class of peers. It breaks my heart. I do not know what to tell him. Did she not tell him because she didn’t love him anymore either? Or did she not tell him because her parents moved her to get away from him? Regardless, I know he hurts. And our whole class hurts for him. She was not only his girlfriend, but my student, and their classmate. A girl we had all grown to love over the last year and half as this group of teenagers started in ELD 1 last year fresh out of their countries and now in their second year of English language development. Jonathan had been with her for almost that entire time. I remember when he came into my classroom the beginning of last year, asking if he could use my computer to type up a love note to Pricilla asking her to be his girlfriend. The next day I caught them whispering and laughing and holding eachother in the hallway. Apparently, his note worked. They had been together ever since. Â
 Somehow, the young romantic in me hopes he finds her and they run away together and get married and live happily ever after. But if not, I hope he heals. That he lets his heart love again. He is a sweet and attractive young man. He will not have a problem with moving on if he lets himself do so. But between now and then, I feel for him. We all do.
I’ll be 29 years old in about a week. And apparently, my scarred heart has not given up hope on love either. Sometimes I think I have become jaded, but it is stories like this that make me know, we do heal. We heal and we move on, and life continues to surprise us. So many times in my life, my heart has shattered to the point I never thought I could put back the pieces. But with time, it has. Sure my heart is not the heart of a 17-year-old anymore, but it hasn’t lost its ability to love. We need love to live. Similarly—the heart is a strong muscle—and its very instinct and purpose is to keep us alive.
Halloween and Kanan
This year’s Halloween adventure was much better than last years. Check the archive for my details on that although I warn you, the crying skunk pictures are adorable. This year, Mike had Kanan on Halloween, but because I couldn’t resist spending time with my son on such a fun evening, Mike allowed me to not only tag along on their adventure, but even allowed me to direct us where to go. So where to? We went to my Church’s Harvest Festival! It seemed like a fun, wholesome place for Kanan to go and we wouldn’t have to worry about Kanan running in the streets or getting hit by cars or having big kids steal his candy. Mike dressed him in a wet suit and messed up his hair. He was the cutest little surfer there and danced to the band playing music, played bingo, rolled over-sized balls around, and made friends with a little girl dressed as the Cowardly Lion. He even introduced me to her in his little baby gibberish. It was wonderful. Unfortunately, I did forget my camera, but asked Mike to take a shot of Kanan with his cellphone camera. Here is Kanan taking a break from dancing as he gazes at the audience. He was exhausted at this point in the evening and we left shortly after. All in all, Halloween was a success. Kanan had one piece of candy—a tootsie pop and loved every lick it took to get to the center.
Virtual Reality—a scary reality that exists today
http://videogames.yahoo.com/feature/online-divorcee-jailed-after-killing-virtual-hubby/1259111
 In the above article found on yahoo video games, a woman in Japan was arrested for hacking. Nevermind the fact that she’s also the same woman who hacked in order to virtually murder her virtual husband in a virtual world website to which she virtually lived. Sound confusing? Yes, virtual reality is much more complex than when it once defined simply video games. Read the article. This is really disturbing.Â
The idea of having virtual worlds in which people create a virtual identity and live a hypothetical life just seems unhealthy to me even if one didn’t use it to commit murder. Shouldn’t we live in the real world instead of escaping? This makes television and video-games look like child-play. Also—stories like this show that virtual reality potentially plays with the thin borderline of immorality. Are crimes and vices and lifestyles lived in the virtual world that are considered immoral in the real world any less immoral? It is the heart that matters, right? I think I remember Jesus sharing that.  I imagine people can really become emotionally attached to their other life in this hypothetical land and I’m scared to think of what other lifestyles people are living as their avatars….indulging in vices that could be harmful to themselves and others and disrupting and skewing their perspective and perception of the world in the real world by fueling and feeding some possibly really bad behavior and desires (like cheating on their spouses, for example).
 I strongly feel that these websites shouldn’t exist. I suppose some could argue that people could “get out” their inner desires on these sites so that they don’t do it in the real world, but part of me thinks that there is still no difference and perhaps could drive someone to begin doing some pretty bad things in the real world once tasting it in the virtual world didn’t satisfy them enough anymore. Some could argue that by getting out these desires in the virtual world, they won’t hurt people in the real world—but this article shows that it still can hurt people. The man who divorced this woman virtually—angered her so much, it drove her to virtual murder. She was hurt. This isn’t a video game people. There are real people behind these avatar’s.
 A couple of months ago after learning about these virtual worlds from another source, I visited a couple of virtual world websites myself to see what it is exactly that people can do–I was scared about what I might find. It is crazy, but people can do pretty much anything: buy, sell, go to clubs, have sex, get married, divorce, have kids, have dream jobs, exercise…you name it. People can literally escape this world and live another life in their virtual world. A professor I was talking to a couple of months ago told me he checked out these websites too because a significant number of college kids on his campus were into them and he was disturbed to see one man on the site had been actively logged in for 3 months! He also shared with me about one website (one in which I later checked out myself to verify his observation) where the administrators actually had to change a rule on the site that no one with an avatar that looked like a child could go to the sex rooms because of a significant amount of other avatars who were interested in sexual relations with these child-like people. Atleast the websites are not condoning virtual child molestation! But still, that shows that people would endulge in it, if they were allowed. I bet if websites like Maple Story and Second Life gave the option to murder without having to hack into others accounts, people would be doing it.
 In the end, what defines morality? Would moral people do immoral things if they could get away with it?
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Kanan update—the good, the bad, and the ugly!
Kanan went to the doctor’s last Friday for his well checkup. Mike was there for most of it, but I came in for a short time to drop off my new health insurance information and came in just as tge pediatrician was telling him that Kanan is advanced for his age in his verbal skills and he is right on target for other milestones for his age. He is in the 75th percentile for his weight and height (I don’t remember the actual weight and height though because I came late and saw only the percentiles while Mike got to hear the details).
Two really cool things he said recently include:
- “Momma, what wrong?” ( I was crying about something when he said this….so cute. Showed empathy and good language skills)
- “I want breakfast! I want breakfast!” (This was right after he woke up last week during his growth spurt).
He has a total of 10 teeth. Four on top, two on the bottom and four molars. He finally can chew raw veggies which excites me. Of course, the only raw veggies he will eat is salad if it is doused in Italian dressing. But that is good. It’s a start. He still doesn’t fall for steamed veggies covered in cheese sauce or peas mixed in with his Mac and Cheese so I’m still using Jessica Seinfeld’s technique of blending veggies and sneaking them into sauces and other foods. It works.
Kanan is also starting to experiment with the potty. He hasn’t actually gone to the bathroom in it yet, but he sits on it. And he even asks for toilet paper and tries to wipe himself. So funny!
Finally, Kanan loves his new place here at Grandpa’s and looks forward to the weekends when he gets to see his grandparents. He loves spending time with his Dad of course. He eagerly runs to them when they are home and gives them hugs and kisses before bed on Saturday and Sunday nights. On my days, Kanan and I go on bike rides, play with Kanan’s new friend across the street named Hailey (and her super cool Mom who is now my new friend! Yay!), go to the park, and go on walks (Kanan’s newest self-made ritual is a walk to the park after dinner. He initiates the walk and I spend the whole time following him where he wants to go—so cool! We also draw together and read books. Kanan often reads books by himself too. Tonight I came into the room to find Kanan with one of his books and he was jibber-jabbering to himself about choo-choos. I looked at the book and there on the page was a picture of a train. So he knows what he is talking about! 🙂 Good “reading comprehension” I suppose. As for his other life—Mike tells me that Kanan is learning to boogie board and is even trying to balance on the board, so hopefully surfing will be a natural next step. They go the beach almost every day they spend together. They also go out to eat a lot with Mike’s buddies. And Mike recently took Kanan to the Birch Aquarium where Kanan had a wonderful time.
The Bad:
At this recent checkup, they gave him 4 shots. Of what I don’t remember, but I must say, he was a miserable mess the next day. I took him to Bate’s Nut Farm (Folks around here call it Nate’s Butt Farm—just rolls off the tongue better, ya know?) with my Dad and Linda expecting for Kanan to have a great ol’ time jumping in the jumper, sliding down slides, going on haystack rides, petting the animals, etc. But instead, my little grumpy baby screamed his head off until I layed him down in his stroller and stuck a pacifier in his mouth, whereby he instantly passed out. We hadn’t even made it to lunch yet. When he woke up, he was interested in the ducks and Turkeys but could care less about the jumper which is crazy because he LOVES LOVES LOVES jumpers. He normally jumps around in it with all the other youngsters and screams “jum, jum!” But not this time.This time, after the birds, he was obsessed with going on the haystack ride. He called it a choo-choo. It was a train of wagons pulled by a tractor so I can see where he saw the resemblance. We waited in line. Well more like I waited and he screamed with impatience. I was exhausted to say the least.
The Ugly:
It was a tough day. And to top it all off, I made the mistake of trying to cheer him up with a sip or two of Sprite. Well, it attracted a honey bee and the bee stung Kanan on his eye! At that point we decided to go home. Poor kid. I pulled the stinger out and we put some medicine on his eye to prevent any swelling. He was okay. He had a reddish ring around his eye the following day, but otherwise, no deadly reactions.
He is finally starting to get back to his old self today aside from one temper tantrum, and some night wakings but the temper tantrums just might be his new self given he is at that age. We are all practicing ignoring his fits and hoping that he figures out they just don’t work at getting what he wants. Cross your fingers for me, please! 😛
The Truth:
Regardless of the good, the bad, or the ugly—my child makes me smile everyday. He is a joy. He is a blessing. I love him so much. I truly know now what “agapeo” love is. And I hope this update made you as happy as it made me while writing it. If you are not mentally ill or severely irresponsible, I strongly suggest you have child if you haven’t already done so. You will not regret it! 🙂
The Fear of Being a Starving Teacher–(am I serious or is this a satirical commentary?)
http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/10/03/california.loan/index.html?section=cnn_latest
If California doesn’t get its $7 billion loan, I will have two choices: work for free and hope oneday I get my money. In the meantime, sell my car (if I can), ask my parents to take care of Kanan and then get a ride home from my friend Al, who is a teacher but married to a rich woman who keeps getting richer because the poorer America gets, the more alcohol they drink, thus helping her winery—so I can take care of my son since my parents will have to go to work in the evenings….and thus will go my life.
Or
I can put all integrity aside and join in the race for survival by feeding the alcoholism that is increasing in this nation by going back to my old profession of cocktail waitress.
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In the meantime…..is this really happening? Where am I?

