From the moment I found out I was having a second daughter, more than two years ago, I’ve dreamed of my little girls playing together.
I grew up with two younger sisters, and I have years of happy memories playing kickball in the backyard, playing paper dolls for hours on Saturday mornings, and pretending to go to gymnastic camp (thank heavens we didn’t have a dining table for years, so we could cartwheel across the dining room to our hearts’ content).
I couldn’t wait for my girls to have similar experiences.
I’ve never been super into babies. When I see a baby, I don’t squeal in delight or rush to hold it. I mean, they’re cute – they’re absolutely adorable – I just was never the kind of girl who had baby fever.
When my son was a baby, I kind of couldn’t wait for him to move on from that stage. I had a rough time adjusting to new motherhood, and I don’t think I fully grasped how fast it all goes. Now my youngest is a year and a half old (and my oldest is 3!) and I am wishing for time to slow down.
I grew up in New York City and was raised by an overprotective mom trying to do her best with raising two kids in a foreign land. Born and raised in the Caribbean, my mom had been here for about two years when my brother came along, and I was born six years after that.
By the time we were old enough to go trick-or-treating, she was familiar with the United States, but not familiar enough to let us go knocking on doors asking for anything—especially not candy.
We live a few blocks from a kite park, and we were so excited when we found out they were having a kite festival this past weekend. Lately, Andres has been fascinated with airplanes, and every time he spots them in the sky he starts yelling “avion, avion,” (which means airplane in Spanish). So we knew he would be equally as excited to see a bunch of kites in the air.