HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!


(Troy, Spot the Pit Bull and his baby, Bambi)


"But isn't she divorced...?"

My mind registered this question at lunch yesterday, when a friend of mine mentioned that she would be making such-and-such for Father's Day. I remember thinking to myself, "Now why would she be preparing a Father's Day meal for her ex-husband? I thought she hated his guts!"

And then it dawned upon me. She wasn't talking about her ex. She was talking about her REAL father.

To most people, this would seem painfully obvious. But I had lost my own father seven years ago so to me, Father's Day was all about my husband, LORENZO.

When I realized my mistake, a quiet emptiness settled into my heart. An emptiness tinged with envy, I'll admit. This particular friend was older than me, in fact, she already had two grown daughters in their twenties. Yet she still had her father with her. Life can be so unfair at times.

Still, it could be worse. At least I had a wonderful husband to celebrate with today, and celebrate we did, albeit simply. Lorenzo had work scheduled later tonight, so our usual out-of-town jaunt was out of the question. Instead, we spent the morning lying in each other's arms, talking and snuggling and talking some more. Later, we watched DVDs while Lance and Troy swam with their friends in the back yard. And when Daddy dozed off for his afternoon nap, Mommy got busy cooking.

In honor of my late FATHER, I made ropa vieja for dinner. Ropa Vieja, which literally translates to "old clothes", is a Cuban dish of shredded beef cooked in onions, peppers and tomatoes. It was one of the last meals I shared with my Dad at Cafe Havana in Malate. (Actually, it was his order, but as his eldest daughter and dinner date, I had the privilege of mooching shamelessly off his plate!)

Ropa Vieja is best prepared with fresh ingredients, but I was able to find a simpler recipe online which called for picante sauce. The best part of it is that I could devote the time I would otherwise spend chopping the onions, peppers and tomatoes into actually shredding the beef, which is the most time-consuming step of all. Unfortunately, I did not have plantains handy, but we did have Spanish rice, so Lorenzo's meal was still semi-authentic.

I am now writing this late in the day, so before it is over, I would like to greet my wonderful husband, Lorenzo, and thank him for being the same kind of father my Daddy was to me: always kind, always loving, always smiling, with a never-ending supply of hugs and kisses. No wonder my kids are so in love with him!




Happy Father's Day, Babe! I am so happy that our children, Lance, Troy, and Reanna, all have the privilege of calling you Daddy. And I am all the more blessed for it.

We love you soooo much, R.

WILD BOYS




I stumbled upon this picture of my little boys, taken at the SACRAMENTO ZOO a few years back.

No, that's not a lighted poster they're standing beside. It's a real live, real HUGE tiger, posing for our camera, at the other side of the glass.

He looks so docile and tame that I am reminded of one of God's promises:

"The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion will feed together;
and a little child will lead them."
Isaiah 11:6

Now isn't that just beautiful?

HIS STORY




Ladies and gents, I am proud to share with you Lorenzo Troy Sereno's preschool project, his very first story:

"Once upon a time there was a pyramid in the sand in Texas. Then people came to see what's inside. But the alarm turned on in the morning. Then they were in trouble, and they had to go home. Then they built a pyramid of their own, by themselves with their play blocks."


Not bad for a 4-year-old, don't you think?

I guess it pays to seal in those creative juices really early!

MY LITTLE RAY OF SUNSHINE




I would like to thank everyone who dropped by to greet me for Mother's Day.

I would specially like to thank those of you who noticed my weight loss. Bless you guys... (...and your 20/20 vision!)

I'm sorry it took me this long to acknowledge. Mother's Day weekend was very hectic for us, since it was also the weekend of Reanna's second birthday. Here she is, looking like the perfect senorita in her birthday dress!




I had to snap that picture really quick, because it wasn't long before she was out of that dress. I don't blame her, considering how hot it was that weekend!

And I won't even bore you with the lengths it took to find anything Barney! Reanna adores Barney, so I wanted to surprise her with a Barney birthday cake. You would think they'd still have Barney cake decorator kits around, considering how popular he is with the preschool set, but no such luck. This was the best my suking bakery could come up with, which still wasn't too bad, I think.




I also lucked out with the singing Baby Bop, finding her after looking for what seemed like hours. But the delighted smile (and the accompanying squeal) was well worth the effort.




Reanna's kuyas lucked out too, snagging presents of their own. Lorenzo and I have always given the other siblings "un-birthday" presents, so nobody gets left out!




Just looking at my two big boys, Lance and Troy, beaming and tanned after their afternoon swim, brings me back to simpler times when they, too, thought Barney was the coolest thing in the universe. Even my oldest son, Max, loved Barney, and he's now 13.

It is always bittersweet for a mother to see her children growing up right in front of her eyes. Pretty soon, Barney and Blue's Clues will give way to Dora and Diego. Even now, Troy (my former baby) can't wait for Reanna to get big enough to fit into a "Stephanie" costume so she can match his "Sportacus". (That's "Lazy Town" lingo, for those of you who don't know!)

So for now, I have resolved to hug my daughter just a little bit tighter and hold her just a little bit longer...before the Barbies and Disney Princesses take my place on her bed!




This is why I just don't get so-called "children's" shows like the irreverent-bordering-on-rude SpongeBob and the overly-made-up Bratz, which somehow compromise the very innocence we wish to preserve in our kids. We don't need to hasten the growing up process. Childhood is fleeting enough as it is. (sigh!)

Happy Birthday, Reanna!




Promise Mommy you won't grow up too fast, okay?

LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER


(Soxx and daughter Pharaoh)


To all mothers...



...and to all daughters
(who will themselves become mothers in time)...

Happy Mother's Day!

OF BAGS AND BIRTHDAYS




Don't you just love this birthday cake my family surprised me with?

Once again, the BIRTHDAY SEASON is upon us. It officially began last month, when my husband's family threw a party for the SERENO March/April celebrants. Actually, it was my mother-in-law's birthday, but they were nice enough to include everyone else, hence the two cakes in this picture.




I couldn't resist taking a shot of my little girl, hovering over our Winnie the Pooh cake in her kikay dress. Reanna loves dressing up. This early on, she's already exhibiting an unmistakeable penchant for shoes, the more the merrier! She also loves walking around with Mommy's purses, instinctively going for the more expensive ones, like the Prada limited edition you see here.




Like all warm-blooded females, I like shoes. Unfortunately, my feet have this irritating habit of changing sizes on me every few babies or so, and now my closet's upper shelf is devoted to boxes of Guccis, Pradas and Bruno Maglis, not to mention one lonely pair of Rodolphe Menudier stilettos, hermetically sealed in individual shoe bags, all of them two sizes too small. Believe me, opening my closet is an exercise in frustration. Nope, shoes simply don't do it for me anymore.

But purses? Now that's a different story. On the other side of my closet is a more welcome sight: my handbag collection, housed in individual cloth bags, neatly arranged in a row. Here lie my Pradas, starting with the little black spazzolatto number I bought in Leeser at P.C. Hooftstraat in Amsterdam, the grandmere of them all.

Now I happen to be very particular in choosing my purses. I like them structured, and I don't mind paying for the engineering either. For this reason, I never got any of Miuccia's nylon creatons. I did, however, stock up on her leather goods, with two more spazzolatto numbers, in black and chocolate, and two in nappa (cream and navy), rubbing seams with my baby blue bamboo Gucci and my trusty Louis Vuitton bucket. All of these are close to a decade in age, but believe me, these babies are well-preserved.

When Lorenzo and I moved to the States to raise our family, I was introduced to the sturdy practicality of American leather goods. In 2001, Lorenzo bought me a black Dooney & Bourke cabrioleather pyramid bag with a matching wallet, checkbook and make-up case for my birthday/ Mother's Day/ our anniversary. I ended up losing the make-up bag during a Chuck E. Cheese junket, but the rest of the set is still in use and I tell you, the bag alone is so sturdy, my husband swears you can use it as a pail to carry water. "Pwedeng ipang-igib 'yan!" he jokes.

This bag has been with me for over five years now, and it's served me well, day after day. Too well, in fact, that I never really had reason to use any of the other bags in my collection.

Until now.



First things first. I can't tell you the story of my latest baby without at least giving a brief history of her birth.

Picture this. Monday, March 27. The day before my 38th birthday. After giving Reanna her evening bath, I come down to discover an empty house. For some unknown reason, Lorenzo and my two boys had flown the coop. The reason for their mysterious disappearance would later surface, looking exactly like this:




Yes, the THREE LORENZOs surprised me with mini-roses, chocolates, presents and an adorable Hello Kitty birthday cake. Oh, and let's not forget the balloons: Lance chose the pink one, Troy chose the lavender, and Lorenzo chose the huge mylar one which happens to be so me: a giant handbag with the words "Stylin' Mom", proving without a shadow of doubt that the best husbands do know the way to their women's hearts.

...



That balloon woke up something primal within me. My inner primadonna, long kept dormant, was silently unleashed, instinctively going on the prowl again, as if on autopilot. And now, with my husband's blessings, my baby got a new bag. (Well...to hold, anyway!)




Presenting my new church bag: a Coach signature demi. This one actually sports a matching signature trifold wallet inside that costs even more than the purse itself. Go figure!

After a glorious debut, it now sits quietly in a favored part of my closet, getting acquainted with the European side of the family. But she won't have to suffer claustrophobia too long. Next week she is scheduled for another spin, when we go back to church, this time to celebrate my mother's birthday.

Yes, my MOM is flying in from New York for a visit. She has chosen to celebrate April 14, the Big Six-O, with me, for which I feel truly honored. Even as I type this, she is getting ready to board a plane headed for California. I'm so excited. I can't wait to see her.

But for now, as I anticipate her arrival, I would like to send a few last-minute words of thanks, to JAY and JET, for the lovely e-card, to Ms. Dina, for the birthday greeting, to my wonderful KIDS, for my birthday surprise, and to my husband, LORENZO, for making every day brighter with his special brand of thoughtfulness.

Thank you so much. I love you guys!

CALL HER IRRESPONSIBLE




Yes, YOU, with the green Dodge Neon and the vicious black dog.

Earlier today, we drove to Mervyn's to replace a sheet set that was all the wrong dimensions for our California King bed. Little did we know there would be a harrowing ordeal at the end of our destination.

We parked right in front of the store, and Lorenzo got out of the driver's seat to let Reanna out of her car seat. Lance and Troy had fallen asleep in the rear, so we decided that I would go in with Reanna while he waited in the van with our sleeping boys.

I was retrieving the sheet set when I heard Lorenzo give a surprised yell. "That dog bit me!"

"What dog?", I thought. I didn't remember hearing a bark, or even a growl. And then I saw it. A black dog, obviously agitated, sitting in the passenger side of the dark-green Dodge Neon sedan parked beside us, its windows rolled down by about six inches. My husband was staring at the beast with mixed anger and disbelief. His next words chilled me to the bone.

"That could've been Reanna..."

And I thought my knees, instantly reduced to jelly, couldn't weaken any more. I checked the bite area, relieved that there was no blood. And then I rushed into the store, breathing a prayer of thanks that my husband was carrying my daughter in his other arm. Mervyn's Guest Services quickly called the cops and paramedics, who got there in no time. They also paged the owner of the Dodge Neon, who came out of the store just when the paramedics were examining the bite mark.

She seemed more concerned for her dog that anything else. It wasn't until after one of the paramedics sarcastically pointed out that they were there to treat my husband, and not her dog, that she even remembered to ask if Lorenzo was okay.

"This dog is like my family, she has never done this before." I take that with a grain of salt. The dog was obviously troubled. You can see in these pictures that the dog chomped off a good-sized hole towards the back of Lorenzo's left sleeve. My husband didn't even know there was a dog in the next car, and he was obviously bitten after he had walked past it. This was clearly a case of an unprovoked attack, with no warning whatsoever.

Now, Lorenzo and I happen to own a dog as well, and we sometimes take Spot the Pit Bull with us in our van too, but only when it's cool out so we can leave him, leashed securely to the front arm rest with the windows cracked open by a couple of inches, and he would still be comfortable. This person's car was completely parked in the shade. There was absolutely no reason for her to leave her windows wide open, especially since her dog was roaming around freely inside of it, unleashed. This was just courting trouble, pure and simple.

And then, as if to add insult to injury, she tried to downplay the whole incident. Lorenzo, a former bodybuilder, has firm, taut arm muscles, so the dog's teeth couldn't latch on to anything but his shirt. Lorenzo was fortunate, nay, blessed, that he was able to walk away from the ordeal with just a minor scratch and bruising. Even then, I don't wish to imagine what the outcome could've been had he shifted even an inch to his left.

"Oh, you can hardly see it," the dog's owner stated dismissively.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing! If it was I who had driven earlier today and I who had walked past that open window, I've no doubt my injury would've been a lot worse, given the flabby state of my arms. That dog could've bitten a chunk out of me.

Or worse, my daughter.

"It didn't even break the skin."
"Yes, but it could've been worse. A LOT worse."
"No, it couldn't!"

I could feel my anger boiling over, and I let her have it. How dare she talk that way when her irresponsible behavior could've resulted in my 20-month-old daughter being maimed for life, or even worse? I shudder to think of what could've been, had Lorenzo been carrying Reanna on the arm that was bitten.

Maybe if she was a bit more contrite and willing to admit her fault, we could've chosen not to file a case against her. But she was arrogant and haughty, and totally unapologetic. After we were assured that the dog wouldn't be put to sleep, we decided to press on with charges. Maybe after she's ordered to pay a fine for her infraction, she'll finally realize that she was at fault. As it is, it's hardly a slap in the wrist.

At least as far as I'm concerned!