The Death Knell of my Nonprofit Career

It’s not often that I am completely caught off guard, but this definitely took me by surprise.  It was a normal Thursday, a little chilly compared to the rest of the week, but still good bubble weather.  I stopped at Target on my way in (as I do about once a week) since my friend Bella was in dire need of caffeine, and since I needed snacks for my drawer it was no hardship.  I got my desk in order and promptly dove into the large stack of financial aid applications.  In retrospect there were a few things that should have tipped me off that something was not right.

I suppose I need to provide a little bit of background information.  I worked for a non-profit organization that works in conjunction with other organizations to strengthen and build communities.  Every employee and volunteer needs to pass a criminal background check since our organization works with children and potentially sensitive information.  My last few weeks have been occupied by processing mounds of financial aid application, and hundreds of product request forms.  I had been sending out emails by the hundreds, asking for additional information in order to process the applications, and I began getting responses in the beginning of June.

 

Hold your vote

I have had no less than two fights with my husband this week, about two completely different things. The first argument was after his visa appointment; when he went to the consulate they told him that he needed to pay for the appointment and bring all the appropriate documents with him. He accused me at the top of his lungs of not telling him to bring the documents I sent nor did I mention he would have to pay for the appointment. It says in the last six or seven messages I sent him before the interview that he needed to print all the attachments to bring with him and that the money was in the account to pay the $230 appointment fee. It was a pointless argument since he retrieved the paperwork and they allowed him to interview later that afternoon (thank God). Thankfully Alberto is not one to stay angry very long and Lord knows I can't stay made at him because he is, after all, just a man.

The second argument was in regards to our darling daughter Ashley. She was in class when she took a pair of scissors and began cutting her hair. Since to the best of my knowledge they do not cover hair-styling 101 in Kindergarten these days, she was caught and the teacher emailed me about the incident. There was a picture of the small pile of hair under a chair as well as a picture of Ashley herself with the most hangdog expression you could ever imagine. Since this was just an interesting point in a child's life, I posted the story on my Facebook page with the pictures her teacher had sent me.

Is there a Doctor in the House?!

My worst nightmare came to pass; we had to bring Ashley to a doctor yesterday after passing what was probably the longest day of my life waiting for Alberto to come home.  Sunday night the diarrhea started, Monday morning I bought her Gatorade and started the BRAT diet, however by Tuesday afternoon she was burning with fever and refusing to eat because she felt like she was going to throw up.  Ashley, who is normally a ball of energy, was listless and spent most of the afternoon sleeping.  The Madrina came home first and stopped in to see me as was her habit and said we needed to bring her to the doctor as soon as Alberto got home.  We jumped on him the minute he walked through the door.

Ashley moaned and cried pitifully during the entire ride to the pharmacy that partnered with a doctor much like the Minute Clinics back in Minnesota.  We paid the 25 peso consultation fee and sat down in the uncomfortable plastic chairs to wait for the Doctor.  I could feel the heat radiating off her legs and Alberto recoiled in shock when I set his hand on her knee so he could feel it too.  Just then the Doctor came to the lobby to bring us back to the exam room.  As we sat talking to him about the symptoms and what she ate the last few days, Ashley continued to cry softly while poor Alberto broke into a sweat with each little noise she made.  The doctor focused on what she might have eaten asking very direct questions on whether she mostly ate chicken, pork, or beef and if we’d been anywhere outside of Mexico City.  I ran down a list of food I’d seen her eat, what she’d drank, and where we’d been including the meal we’d had at McDonald’s the other day much to my husband’s irritation.

RIP George

Our first weekend in Mexico was nothing it not eventful.  Alberto made sure to warn me that we would be getting up very early in the morning because we stayed the night in Mexico City instead of driving straight to his mother's house from the airport as he'd planned.  When the alarm went off at 5 am I awoke to find myself more or less pinned to the bed by my snoring yet adorable husband.  I can't remember the last time I slept in a twin-sized bed but thankfully having less space makes it harder to be a bed hog.  I remember many nights where I would wake up clinging to the edge of our full size bed to keep from falling off, and having to wrench the blankets away from Alberto so I wouldn't become an ice cube by morning.

I kissed my husband lightly on the cheek and snuggled closer to prolong the simple pleasure of waking up with the man I love.  He stretched as he woke and I saw the moment when he realized that I was really there lying in bed with him.  A beautiful smile of contentment spread across his face and mirrored my own smile.  We looked over at Ashley who was still out cold on the couch and I had to chuckle at the look on Alberto face.  The best way to describe how Ashley sleeps is to think of the child pose in yoga, which is very comfortable and all that but I don't think I could sleep on my face all night.  We decided to leave Ashley in her pajamas and let her sleep during the trip.  It was time to get up and dressed so we could load my suitcases into the van.

A trip long overdue

I'm not sure I want to go back home to the frozen north, but only because I'd have to travel with my darling Ashley again. She started whining upon arrival at the local airport shortly after my dad dropped us off. It was kind of cute actually because he really wanted to help me with the luggage despite the fact he's not strong or coordinated enough to be of any real assistance. I told him to stay in the car while I wrestled with my 2 checked bags, 2 carry-on bags, and each of our "personal" items. I was already irritated because I was up until midnight waiting for my sister-in-law Aide to show up with whatever it was I was supposed to bring with me, which in turn became my second checked bag. It didn't help that I had to rearrange everything to bring my largest bag to exactly 50 pounds to avoid a fee for overweight luggage, and my carry-on was an overstuffed duffle bag. I had separated my electronics for easy removal from my carry-on and my toiletries were in my largest checked bag; my goal was to not be "that person" who holds up the line at security.

Our first order of business was discovering the location of our terminal, after which my priority became brunch. We went to this pretentious French bakery/cafe and ordered the only thing on the menu that appealed to me - a breakfast quesadilla. I should have known better, I mean the menu stated that all of the ingredients (including the whole-wheat tortilla) were organic. I was served an nearly tasteless plate of barely edible food, for which I was charges $12. Ashley insisted that I remove the green stuff (wilted and overcooked spinach) and the following conversation occurred:

Just give me a push

I am often amused by the males of our species and today I witnessed something that ranks pretty high on the usual scale.  I was walking back to my desk from the kitchen, minding my own business, when I walked past a window and became engrossed in the drama unfolding in our parking lot.  Exterior scene, nearly empty parking lot at mid-day.  A scruffy-looking man in his mid 20’s and his car, a Honda hatchback that has seen better decades, is visible through the window.  It appears that he is having car trouble.  Enter the curious employee.

‘Scruffy’ had the door on his car open and was pushing the disabled vehicle across the parking lot.  The end destination was apparently the very busy street right in front of the building.  He pushed the car into the street, jumped in the driver’s side seat and attempted to start the car.  When nothing happened Scruffy seemed more concerned that the engine still wouldn’t turn over instead of the amount of traffic whizzing by mere inches from his bumper.  After wildly gesturing his frustration at the willfulness his car was demonstrating for one and all, Scruffy got out to push the car back into the parking lot.  It was at this time a male coworker noticed the disabled vehicle and rushed over the help push the car back into the parking lot.  After a few moments of discussion, Scruffy and his new apprentice pushed the car across the parking lot and back into the street.

Remember When

I was driving on the same route I take to my full-time job Monday through Friday when I was assaulted by memories.  It was so painful that I thought about filing charges, but the police would think I've lost my mind.  I've driven that same stretch of highway so many times since Alberto left that I couldn't possibly count.  The memory itself was probably triggered by the fact something appears to be wrong with my car yet again, big surprise, but the incident that came to mind is from about 7 years ago...

#$^%ing Tuesdays

You know how I hate Mondays right?  Well, I loathe Tuesdays with every ounce of my being because anything bad that could happen will happen on a Tuesday.  Murphy’s Law is the guiding principle on a (tues)day in the life of Deza.  That’s why I try to move through the day pretending it’s either Monday or Wednesday; if I don’t think Tuesday thoughts, I might make it out unscathed.  This Tuesday I was not so successful.

At FedEx this morning I managed to take a 30 pound box to the head, with the corner of said box missing my right eye by a matter of inches.  I may develop a shiner yet, but if I do it’ll be so pitiful that people will think it’s a makeup malfunction.  Even if I managed to get a black eye everyone who knows me would assume there was a mildly amusing story behind it since Deza isn't the sort of person that gets into fist fights or bar brawls.  The most impressive bruise I’ve had to date was a rather detailed rendition of a tire tread on my thigh, which was refreshing since I actually knew what would have caused that particular contusion when typically I have no clue how the injury occurred.  Normally I put it down to the fact that I’m hilariously uncoordinated and have the unique ability to trip on a line drawn with chalk on the ground.

Allergic Allegory

I have known for many years that I suffer from seasonal allergies, so it must have been some desire for suffering that compelled me to get retested this year.  I was last tested in the summer of 2007.  I remember the two weeks prior to that appointment as pure torture since in order test allergic reactions, a person must go 14 days without allergy medication.  Do you know what it’s like to have random people ask you if you are ‘really sick’ or need ‘help’ constantly?  I swear that everyone within a 5 mile radius either thought I had some disease or was on drugs due to my continuously bloodshot eyes.  I’m glad I warned HR and my supervisor ahead of time otherwise they might have staged an intervention.  It’s called seasonal allergies people; I’m not deathly ill so please simmer down.

This morning was the test, and honestly the days before the test were not as bad as I remembered from last time.  Truthfully, I haven’t had a bad allergy season since my darling daughter was born and the results of my test reflected greatly reduced or non-existent reactions.  My allergens include dust mites, mold, some grasses, various farm animals, and evil incarnate.

The one true evil in this world has a name:  Felis Catus, aka Mittens, Milo, Jinx, Garfield, or the domesticated CAT.  They always know me for what I am, an allergy sufferer, and they delight in provoking a reaction.  I avoid the shedding devils at every opportunity, however I cannot escape them.  They have turned many of my poor family members into mere servants, catering to their every want and need.  They have exiled me from many homes as I cannot breathe in the presence of pure evil.  Today I was issued a challenge to face my tormentor with the help of a common steroid inhaler to combat inflammation of the lungs.  My other option is to visit those houses in an anti-histamine fueled haze in which I behave like a doped up stoner.

I believe I am ready for the next confrontation with the enemy.  The battlefield is yet undecided but the day is an often celebrated holiday known as Christmas.  Someone in the family is hosting Christmas, and all but one household harbors at least one slinking dander farm.

Bring it on kitty… I got this.

Excerpts from a Pet's Diary

Ciao

Quiz Time!

I’ve gone and stolen Lisa’s June quiz from her blog From one Country to Another, I hope she doesn’t mind!

1. How did your hubby pop the big question?

There was no question popping for us.  Alberto had just been bailed out from ICE Detention by yours truly, when I peed on the stick that changed everything.  It was about 2 days after he was home with me when I finally took a pregnancy test.  The symptoms were there before Thanksgiving; however they got forgotten and ignored during my epic freak-out over his arrest.  Together we made the decision to find an attorney and go through the process, and the first step was getting married.

I bought the marriage license, made the appointment with a judge, and bought myself a ring.  Alberto showed up at the appointed time and place; and we were married on a Thursday afternoon during my lunch break.

2. What Jewelry do you wear daily?

I always have three pairs of earrings on; 2 pairs of hoops, and a pair of Mexican fire opal studs.  I have my cadena with my medallion of the virgin, confirmation cross, and locket. Currently I have my wedding ring and a right hand ring on, although I often will wear the ring bought me for our 6 month anniversary. 

Safe & Sound

Alberto was deported by our beloved government on Wednesday, August 1st.  He left the US on a government plane and flew 2,000 miles away from the family we created together.  I was frantic when I didn’t hear from him at all on Wednesday.  I finally got ahold of him on Thursday afternoon when I called la Madrina’s / Madra’s house.  He had arrived from the bus station less than 15 minutes before I called, and I have never been so relieved in my adult life.  He didn’t call me from the bus station after landing as he’d promised, because someone told him that some of the payphones in the bus stations are rigged to save the last number dialed.  Unscrupulous people can call that last number dialed and extort money saying the person was ‘kidnapped’.  Sneaky little bastards…

I know that Alberto is an adult and he knows how to take care of himself, but I felt the ice block in my chest begin to crack and melt from the moment I was able to talk to him.  Maybe it’s simply the novelty of being able to call and talk to my best friend whenever I want.  I had to smile when he told me his priority after a shower and clean clothes was to searching out a taco cart and a haircut.

F13

I woke up late, which just sucked because I needed to wash my hair.  I forgot to put my work clothes in the dryer last night, and just about everything I had was in the washer.  So I dried one outfit while I shower, and when I got dressed, the zipper on my pants broke.  The little tab thingy just came off!  No big deal right?  Wrong – this is the one pair of pants that had to sew a lingerie hook to attach the zipper since it will not stay up!  I threw another pair of pants in the dryer, and when to see if I had something else I could wear.  I decided to wear my dress with leggings, but wait a second, where is the camisole that I need to wear under it?  Luckily the pants were dry enough to wear by this time but I couldn’t find a clean work shirt.  I grabbed one from the hamper and went to get Ashley out of bed.

Ashley is not a morning person, just like her Mamí.  I forced her out of bed and made her get dressed.  She sat at the kitchen table with a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast while I made her lunch.  Typically she eats breakfast at preschool, but I was running horribly late.  I couldn’t seem find her shoes anywhere and as soon as they were pulled out from under the couch she needed to go potty.  I had about 1 foot out the door when I remembered she needed a towel and swimsuit for sprinkler day.  I finally got her to school only to discover I forgot her water bottle and so I went all the way home to get it.  I got home and checked every single cabinet plus the dishwasher, but it was nowhere to be found.  I filled up one of mine and brought it back to school for her.

Happy Mother’s Day

Today is that one day every year where we are reminded to thank the woman that didn’t kill us during those snotty teenage years.  Hopefully our mothers know how much we love and appreciate them every single day of the year.

My Mother’s Day weekend started on Friday when I attended the tea party given by Ashley’s Preschool.  I got to meet Ashley’s best friend, a cute little girl named Emma who will be going to Kindergarten next year.  Sophie and I exchanged contact information so maybe we can do a play date or something with the girls this summer.  I would like to invite some kids from Ashley’s Preschool class to her birthday party if we actually have one this year.  I feel like I’m being pulled in so many directions that I’m not sure how I would even manage it.  Life was so much easier when I was just an adult, although I have no regrets that I have become a ‘Mamí’.

On Sunday we participated in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure at Mall of America.  My mom, Ashley, and I have been going to this event since Mother’s Day 2009 when Ashley slept the whole time in the stroller.  It is simply awe-inspiring to see a river of people marching along the course.  There are always people in the crowd that stop to hug their moms at the 1st mile marker while the volunteers with megaphones cheer us on from the sidelines.

I hope all of the Mom’s out there have an absolutely wonderful day! 

“A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity take the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to us.”

- Washington Irving

Ciao

A week that I am glad to be done with…

Ashley’s birthday was a good day, although rather disappointing.  No one who said they were coming actually showed up to Ashley’s birthday party, so it was almost a complete disaster.  The day was saved when my sister-in-law came with Kay, so at least the girls had some fun playing together.  Ashley was clingy by the end of the night, so I let her sleep with me.  I didn’t think too much of it when she woke up at 3 am, whimpering and overly warm.  She asked me to take her up to her bed, which I did and she was back asleep instantly.  She woke up crying at 5 am, and then again at 7 am when it finally computed that she was feverish.  I gave her some Motrin and water in a sippy cup before she fell asleep again.

I was wide awake by the time I had rocked my poor baby to sleep at 7 am, but I still decided to lie down awhile as I figured this was not going to be a great day.  We had a wedding shower for my cousin at 1 pm, and I felt comfortable enough leaving Ashley with my dad since she ate breakfast and had been playing all morning.  Around 3:30 I got the call from my dad.  Ashley was whimpering on the couch and she didn’t want to play, watch her movie, or even get up.  It was about this point when we wished I had driven up separately, but we said our goodbyes and rushed home to my baby girl.  I convinced my mom to drop me off at the house first before taking Carol home because I had a feeling that I was needed as soon as possible.  Upon entering the house, I kicked off my flip flops and ran downstairs to get Ashley and she cried plaintively when she saw me.  I changed her diaper and I brought her upstairs so I could give her some Tylenol.  Just as I was reaching into the cabinet for the bottle, she threw up on me. 

A day of cleansing pain and whirling thoughts

Today was difficult to say the least.  This morning was the meeting of our Support Group for women who are married to Hispanic men, and it was my turn to tell the story of us.  I had prepared a story, thinking that if I could detach myself even a little bit I would be able to stay composed.  I minute I looked at the story typed neatly in my hand, I promptly burst into tears.  I told our story through a torrent of tears and emotional pain that I had no way of controlling.  I felt as though I was exposing my damaged soul for all to see, and for once I was not judged.  These women did not shut off their minds at the mention of undocumented immigration, or the situation that ultimately caused the dominoes to begin to fall.  They saw me as a survivor of a succession of shattering events.  They saw a family separated, a fatherless child.  They saw us, the Mendez family.  The simple kindness I was shown as gone a long way to restore my faith in people, and I have to thank my case manager for leading me to this group.

One of the women brought her son who was only 7 weeks old.  He is such a beautiful little boy with big eyes, and Ashley spent a significant amount of time kneeling and watching him.  Every time I looked over and saw Ashley, I couldn’t help but think to myself that Ashley was that size when Alberto left the United States.