Por donde andabas?

There is a box in my attic filled with abandoned journals. Curly, youthful writing about boys who ignore me and angst about acne. There are others filled with practically illegible script from all the years I spent working as a reporter and chicken scratch became my signature. I might be grateful one day that no one but me can understand the rantings and ramblings. If my daughter is anything like me, she will snoop where she's not supposed to. So, just like the journals I start and seldom finish, I abandoned this on-line journal.
I've asked myself why a few times...I think it's mainly because as a journalist, I tried very hard not to fall into what in newsrooms we call "navel-gazing.'' Urgh. Those columnists who write great, boring lengths about their old sweaters and snarky kids. It's something I must get over if I am to join the modern world of small business owning...and if I hope to connect with families like myself, who are struggling somewhere in mid-America to raise little bilinguals.
Another reason: Business is up. We're boxing up Spanish baby t-shirts and shipping them out daily. Big que rico, there.
So, a quick update:
There have been very many days I have failed in the mission of filling my daughter's grey matter with the rhythm of Spanish. There have been more days than I care to count that I speak to her in Spanish only when I am highly enojada. (I can think of so many other bad Spanish words to use. Hot, fiery, words that convey much better just how pissed this toddler's madre can get.)
Overall, we're doing commendably well. While Maria prefers to answer in English, she will give me the Spanish answer if I ask her nicely. She also sings nursery rhymes in Spanish and she has fallen for Handy Manny, Disney's new Hispanic handyman. (Why? Why? Why, a Handyman?. He's sweet and all, but really, por favor!) So, while we're not big on TV here, I admit that I use Dora, Diego, Max, Emmie, Maya, Miguel and now Manny as examples of "Mira, ellos hablan espanol como tu!'' She seems to like the connection and it allows me to show her that folks beyond the nice lady at the taqueria down the road speak her mother's language.