Who am I?

And who will my children identify with? 

 I read the artical in the Los Angeles Times:
Latino or Hispanic? For many Americans, neither feels quite right.   It got me thinking of my own identity and that of my children.  In the article it states that many still identify with "mexican" or "chicano".  Here is where I differ.  I am born in the United States, Mami is from Ecuador, Sarge was Mexican-American.  So when in school and someone asked if I was Mexican-American I would simply say "Umm...half".  Sarge always made sure that I knew of both of my heritages but here I was having to peg myself as one or another.  Many say "Well you are American of course", which I am but it feels awkward and strange not to identify all of my ancestors. 

America, is a melting pot so I can't be the only one in this predicament. Big Cheese, the kids father is of Mexican-American background.  Technically I guess you can say Thing One and Thing Two are 75% Mexican-American and 25% Ecuadorian-American.  I can totally see why this can get difficult when census time comes or when you fill out surveys and such.  I think that is why I liked the term Latina-American.  I feel like I am not denying my roots and I am embracing my country.

Now here is one for the government to figure out a term for:  My friend Chula and her husband Tosh have two children.  Chula is German and Mexican-American. Tosh is Japanese and Mexican-American.  So then how do you determine that?  Asian-Latino American?

You just have to love the diversity!  You cannot encompass all the different mixes this country has to offer.

Do you have a particular way of identifying your families ethnicity?

Latino or Hispanic? For many Americans, neither feels quite right

Latino or Hispanic? For many Americans, neither feels quite right

Buried in Papers and Tears

Big black bold letters on the pretty colorful envelope that was given to me made me freeze. Figuratively and physically, I just froze holding the large packet.

“FOSTER ELEMENTARY SCHOOL”

My goodness I wanted to cry. I held back because after all, a grown woman crying in a school cafeteria is not conducive to the appearance of a mature motherly type.  Wasn’t it just the other day that I was wiping the drool from Thing One’s chin after all the teething that he was doing?  Didn’t I just wean him off a pacifier?  Didn’t he just learn to say Momma? UGH!  Of course not a tear was shed in the cafeteria, but my soul was crying.  Joy, sadness, and sheer panic settled in the pit of my stomach. 

A part of me was mad as well.  What the heck!  It’s only April! First Kindergarten meeting for early registration is well on it is well on its way in many school districts.  Children do not start school until August and the children and I are just starting to enjoy the longer days of sunshine and I am being forced to think of Fall already.

I am a planner by nature, but this I was not planning to do so far in advance.  Let me keep my baby boy!  Let me snuggle more, let us play silly face longer without the rush of homework or grades looming over us!  Let me play a little longer with my boy with no academic pressure if we are doing the right things together.  He will be buried in paperwork and thinking and growing.  I know this.  I cannot help but think that I am losing a part of him, just like he lost his cherub cheeks over the course of the last year. 

Now, don’t get me wrong I’m a fairly sane woman.  I know he needs to be in school and I know very well I need to let go a little at a time, but no one said it would be easy.  I know he is ready for this and I need to start loosening that blanket of security that I have had him swaddled all these years.  I just hope the school doesn’t mind a few salty stain tear drops on the mountains of papers I am to turn in to them.

Welcome new chapter for both Thing One and I.  Come August we will both be Kindergarten ready.  Or at least he will be. *sniff* *sniff*