Al Tambor, sweet, simple and happy

We live in the surrounds of Music City so it should be no surprise to hear me say that people here sing. It’s genetic. Even at the most casual of gatherings the instruments come out (and sometimes it’s just spoons and a harmonica) and everyone from the most unassuming soccer mom to the most sad-sack old guy belts it out. I’ve heard better voices on people at potlucks than on the radio. At times I have fantasized about getting a voice coach just so I can do more than clap.
But no. This Mami can’t sing. Even 15 years among the natives hasn't helped.
And while Maria has of late begun to make up songs and sing about whatever she’s doing - “We’re going to eat and then my Mami’s going to give me milk’’ or “I love to jump, I love to jump, I love to jump!’’ - it appears the little one may not be winning an Academy of Country Music Award either.
But, bless her for singing. It’s a blast to hear her and while the two of us sound like a chorus of injured frogs, we sing all day.
The last few days we’ve been singing Al Tambor. The truth according to Google says it is a Panamanian song. We first heard it on a Jose-Luis Orozco CD. I love it. It is a sweet, fun and simple song and you change the name according to the audience.
Everybody now:

“Al tambor, al tambor, al tambor de la alegría,
Yo quiero que tú me lleves al tambor de la alegría.
Al tambor, al tambor, al tambor de la alegría,
Yo quiero que tú me lleves al tambor de la alegría.
Maria o Maria, Maria amiga mía,
Yo quiero que tú me lleves al tambor de la alegría.
Al tambor, al tambor, al tambor de la alegría,
Yo quiero que tú me lleves al tambor de la alegría.”

Long-winded way to talk about our favorite Spanish books

It took eight years to convince my husband to have a child. When we would talk about this maybe baby and I would argue it would bring us “comic relief’’ he would say this child of ours - if and when he consented -- would have to behave, not watch TV and speak Spanish. (We’re batting 1 out of 3). So, it really has been at my husband’s encouragement that we make Spanish a focus. Credit where credit is due. It would be very easy to slip into whatever-ville if he were not here to support the effort.
So, when pregnancy finally happened - just weeks prior to the tenth year of our marriage - we started asking bilingual friends in Tennessee (yes, there are others) how they managed to pass on the palabras. Two people who gave us great advice are originally from Costa Rica and Mexico. Both are married to Americans from the South. They told us I should speak only Spanish to our child and that I should read only Spanish books. It’s how the linguists say we should do it too.
The guy friend - a tall and imposing figure - also said he makes his children repeat in Spanish whatever they say to him in English.
“They eventually figure ‘Oh, this guy is going to make me repeat myself, so I might as well just say it in Spanish first and get it over with,’’’ he explained.
I have chosen not to force the Spanish in that way. I am not big and imposing and honestly, my kid is too hard-headed for that.
But, the point of this post, is to say good Spanish baby books have been a godsend. Gracias, Amazon! Somehow we discovered books for tiny babies like this one, which I have read to Maria since she was barely human. Even then, she loved looking at the pictures of other babies.
As she got a little bigger we started using the fabulous My First Spanish Word Book by DK Publishing and though she is now 3, we still read these books. They support our vocabulary. I say “our’’ because I learn new words right along with her. (Other favorites here and here.)
All this is on my mind because there’s a little half-Cuban 4-month-old in New Jersey whose Tia is getting ready to buy books for. Lots and lots of Spanish books that her dad can read to her and tune her ears to understanding her flan-loving, pork-roasting, salsa-dancing, crazy-making familia.

If you have some favorite Spanish kid books to list, I'd love to know.

Almost Three

Three years ago today the contractions began.
Thirty-seven hours (24 au naturale porque soy una mula) and an emergency c-section later, our hairy, cone-headed wonder introduced herself to the world with a cry so loud and so definitive that the memory still shakes my marrow.
Feliz Almost Three to Maria Felice.
Mami’s going to go cry now.

Toddler Spanglish

Forgive me for a potty post, but there seems no way to tell this story without the details of what we were doing.

Dad: “Did she poop?’’
Me: “Yes, didn’t you see her shaking?’’
Maria: “Mami, I wasn’t maraca-ing.’’
Me: “What, Maria?’’
Maria: “I wassss-n’t ma-RA-CA-ing! Like this...’’
And she proceeds to do an interpretative dance that can only be described as the two-fisted constipated shake. Scrunched face and all.
Me mata.

A Hen House Happening

Saturday morning was spent selling Los Pollitos t-shirts at a holiday sale.
The sale, put on by crafty mamas, was just four hours, but my getting ready was four days in fits and starts - folding, boxing, counting, packing, hauling. Worth it though. The long hours of work on this business - and the moments of “Ay Dios Mio, what did we do?’’ - melt away when a new mom, or a sweet grandma grab a little egg box and laugh and coo. It feels even better when they say we are geniuses, but I’ll take what I can get.
The best part of Saturday was meeting two elegant and great-smelling Latinas who came to the show. They were so gracious and charming and so very much a reminder of home. One was from L.A. and visiting a son who lives here, while the other has lived in nearby Kentucky for a few decades. Kentucky, people. And she still has that unmistakable chispa and cache.
The Kentucky mama said she didn’t speak Spanish to her children, now grown, because you just didn’t do that then. You blended, you passed. She congratulated me for trying with my own.
“Yo trato,’’ I told her.
Keep trying, she said.
A “Pachanga’’ tee is now in Kentucky, in the possession her little granddaughter.
So worth it.

Gratitude = Gratitud

If I had a theme song it would be “Gracias a la Vida.’’ It sounds like the kind of song one plays at a funeral and I have, indeed, told my husband that should I kick it before he does, that’s what he should pipe in. A little dramatic, but I am a Leo.
I bring this up because it is the season of giving and gratitude, my most favorite and spiritual time of the year. It seems so right that my daughter - what I am most grateful for -- was born so close to Thanksgiving that sometimes her birthday falls on the actual day.
I was not always so grateful. And goodness knows I can be a surly cow. But, get kicked in the head a few times and you learn to be grateful even for the tears.
So today’s post no tiene nada que ver con el español but rather with taking a moment to say gracias a la vida…for familia, friends, health, hearth, pollitos, mi princesa…and for eyeliner. Always eyeliner. (I’m a Leo, remember.)
What are you grateful for today?

OK, next post, something not so heavy.

Dang

Oh, Jebis.
Today’s revelation: Not only am I teaching Maria to speak Spanish, I also now have to “unteach” her to speak Southern.
“Mami, it’s ri-ight hear-ah,’’ she said today over and over and over again.
We were putting a puzzle together and she made that syrupy sweet __ and OK, kinda cute __ exclamation each time she found the right piece. I corrected her several times. Didn’t work. She extended quite a few other monosyllabic words today.
We have noticed the twang increasingly creeping into her words lately. But, today the sleeping giant awoke.
¡Que mescla!

Crisp Fall days in the Boonies

We pick a lot of acorns around here. We count them and inspect them and toss them. Sometimes we hug them. We also carry them around in pockets, nets and baskets that sometimes get infested with worms and make me wish for the simplicity of a Miami mosquito.
Acorns have been banned from the house since Maria put a basket on the kitchen table and said "Look, Mami, pasta!''

The Spanish word of the day: Acorn = bellotas. (Challenge: Try working that into a conversation on South Beach.)

And now, a word about una amiga you too should meet

The moment the carseat clicks into place, Maria says: “Mami, my FAV-rit!’’ She isn’t talking about me. It is a shorthand command for “Turn on the car stereo and hit play on the CD. Now.’’
What she wants is Boca Beth, the woman whose cheery voice I hear every time I drive and also in my head when I am doing things like brushing my teeth, reading the paper, and stirring the sofrito. She has become my Muzak.
Boca Beth produces bilingual CDs and DVDs. The cool thing about them is that the songs repeat the English word right along with the Spanish word, so it matters not what you speak.
Since we got the Boca Beth CDs and DVDs this summer, we’ve been singing and dancing while learning days of the week, the Spanish version of Five Little Monkeys and doing the “mueve y baila, move and groove with me!’’
They’re catchy, award-winning tunes - and not in a poke-your-eardrums-with-a-pencil Barney kind of way - and they’re well worth a look if you’re seeking music that will add to your kid’s habla habla.

Find her at Boca Beth

Cosquillitas

From the back seat:
“Mami, I tickled myself.”
"Fun, Maria. Hey, how do you say tickle in Spanish?”
Nod in the negatory.
“Se dice cosquillitas.’’
“Mami, I cosquillita-ed myself.’’

(I promise the girl knows the word though. What Spanish-speaking mother of a toddler doesn’t use “cosquillitas’’ on a regular basis?)

Paying for palabras

We are going to a pre-school open house this weekend to check out their Spanish immersion program.

When I told my mom and aunts this program costs a chilling $9,000 a year, one of my aunts told me I was crazy and said: “Pagate tu los $9,000 al año y hablale a esa chiquita en español tu.’’ (Translation: Pay yourself the nine grand and you talk to that kid in Spanish.)

Cubans. They do state the obvious.