Two Many Options for Mother's Day

I'm not sure what I will do when we live abroad in the world in some place that doesn't celebrate July 4th, Independence Day. I like that holiday. It is one of those magical rainbow type days when I can start drinking whole bottles of wine or jugs of frozen margaritas at way too early in the morning and no one will can judge me because today is the 4th of July, god d^mn it! But, alas, I think it'd be pretty country-centric to think that anywhere else would want to celebrate my Independence Day so I'll have to get over rather quickly that not everywhere will celebrate the holidays that I celebrate.

Dominican Republic celebrates Independence Day just on their own day... February 27 However, sometimes there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, literally. They celebrate Mother's Day but since they celebrate a different day than in the U.S. this could only mean one thing:

TWO PRESENTS!!

And what good is two days of presents when you don't know what you want. So today, I'm writing for Wanderlust and Lipstick and sharing with you some totally fabulous gifts for the abroad Mom. But I gotta say, any mom would love these.

 Don't believe me, check 'em out... and let me know which two you want for Mother's Day!

Photo Credits:

Map: Kate Ter Haar (changes made to original print by Drinking the Whole Bottle)

My Total Truths #7 - Words are Powerful (And the Jukebox Plays...) #TunesdayTuesdayHop

Each one of us has inside of us our own truth. My Total Truths is a series based on MY truths; a list of things that I know to be true. What are your total truths?

# 7 - Words are Powerful

Words matter. The writer in me knows this as an essential truth. They don't always have to be neat or pretty or elegantly spoken; they can be simple and rough around the edges but no matter what words you choose to say they are always heard. So think about the ones you choose to be spoken. I don't understand people who toss words out of their mouth like spitballs in a middle school classroom, without thought or much attention but then grow upset when they are called out on those words. When you say something, when you use words you offend, encourage, affirm, accept, neglect, negate, humiliate, liberate, comfort and reassure, compliment, challenge, or enrage. Be ready to accept whatever words you speak. They are powerful. They can evoke revolution and throw over governments. They have won over hearts and flattened souls.

Writers know this... musicians know this too. (Well, some.) Lyrics are words made more powerful to a rhythm. Although, Dave Matthews makes it insanely hard to choose just one song with lyrics that move me, my first choice would undoubtedly be from his Before These Crowded Streets album, a song called Don't Drink the Water.

The song with its already powerful musical arrangement could seem a bit dark if you don't know what DMB is singing about but the lyrics force down your throat an overlooked truth, one our country rarely talks about; that the development of our country was made at the expense of its native inhabitants. It poetically sings about a dark time in our nation's history when colonization caused near extinction of the Native American population. But the reason it is so powerful is its point of view:

"Interestingly, the song is written from the perpective of a typical white man, who comes to a new land where he hopes his dreams can come true, only to find that there are people living there already that 'don't fit into his idea of paradise, so he asks them to leave.'"

The opening words sound playful like an adult playing a silly child's game. It's eerie, really, the way he talks to "them" making it known what will happen like a parent giving commands. "So you will lay your arms down. Yes, I will call this home." But perhaps what I find to be the most powerful line(s) are when he asks:

What's this you say?
You feel the right to remain
Then stay.... and I will bury you.

Powerful words that show no compromise. Words that show no room for disagreement. Words that tell a story, that send a shiver down my spine every time I hear them.

This song is one of the most genius-ly written musical creations ever written. I say that with honest words, words I would defend to anyone. DMB finds away to make his commands sound like requests to his new neighbors. He makes the commands of the "typical white man" so sound and reasonable while still attacking with words.

Words that are powerful. Words that make you listen.

It is longer than typical songs but totally worth every minute! You might never hear music in the same way.

Come out come out

No use in hiding

Come now come now

Can you not see?

There's no place here

What were you expecting

Not room for both

Just room for me

So you will lay your arms down

Yes I will call this home

Away away

You have been banished

Your land is gone

And given me

And here I will spread my wings

Yes I will call this home

What's this you say

You feel a right to remain

Then stay and I will bury you

What's that you say

Your father's spirit still lives in this place

I will silence you

Here's the hitch

Your horse is leaving

Don't miss your boat

It's leaving now

And as you go I will spread my wings

Yes I will call this home

I have no time to justify to you

Fool you're blind, move aside for me

All I can say to you my new neighbor

Is you must move on or I will bury you

Now as I rest my feet by this fire

Those hands once warmed here

I have retired them

I can breathe my own air

I can sleep more soundly

Upon these poor souls

I'll build heaven and call it home

'Cause you're all dead now

I live with my justice

I live with my greedy need

I live with no mercy

I live with my frenzied feeding

I live with my hatred

I live with my jealousy

I live with the notion

That I don't need anyone but me

Don't drink the water

There's blood in the water

Can't stick around for this week's party??

Next week's theme will be...

What song makes you sing out loud in public?

**Don't forget to link up your post below & visit some participants to see what they're jamming out to!**

Mission: 

Tunesday Tuesday was created to bring people together through music while discovering some new jams for your playlists. Every Tuesday the linkup is LIVE here at DTWB and at The Patchwork Paisley, MrsTeeLoveLifeLaughter and Structure in an Unstructured Life 

Host Follow Links:



          Meg                                                                     Jen                                                    Beth                         Tiffany

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Don't Drink the Water Quote cited from Dontburnthepig.org

An InLinkz Link-up

The Part of Travel that isn't Fun

Since the end of March all the way through April, our little family has been on the go. We've had grandparents galore visiting as well as my BFF from home which rocketed us into major travel mode, zooming around Dominican Republic in our trusty steed, SpaceWagon. I understand now why April is Stress Awareness Month. So to celebrate the end of Stress Awareness Month, I combined my travel woes with some less stress travel tips for Expat Village.

Check out my less stress travel tips here.

Road to an Imperfect Life: Week 4 & 5 - Spring Break and the Bunny

Should I feel bad that I might be the only mom on my FB feed that hasn't dyed hard-boiled eggs, stuffed plastic ones full of prizes, or taken a picture of my kids with the Easter Bunny? Cause I kinda feel bad but I kinda don't. It's kinda like that hashtag #sorrynotsorry. Except it's more #tootiredtobesorry.

Since last week was Spring Break, the family and I traveled to Cabarete, an active beach goer's paradise. Wavy beach, laid-back town, kite-surfing capital and lots or nothing to do...  your choice. In our perfect life we would have had two cars to get us there, but since we are talking about our imperfect life, I should mention that in order to save our somehow always dwindling money we didn't rent a second car. Instead we crammed in to our SpaceWagon - yes that is her actual name and it is as glorious as she is - 4 grown ass adults, 2 babies complete with car seats, 2 dogs, 2 pack and plays, and the baggage that accompanies that many people. And that's why the SpaceWagon is awesome. We all fit.

Our first evening of vacation started with Rafa waking up every hour or so needing to be put back to sleep. This kid is a monstrous sleeper so when she woke up saying, "Gripe ~ cold." I knew we were in trouble. I don't remember a night - inclduing her newborn months - that she slept this miserably or that I did. It was one of those nights that only a mother could understand. Tired, rundown, wanting to be held and that was just me. Poor Rafa couldn't get comfortable either.

And this was the first night of our vacation.

I shouldn't say it like that because really any beach vacation as imperfect as it could be will always be - in its own way - perfection, unless there's a tsunami. There was lots to enjoy like our perfect breakfasts at Cabarete Coffee Company or our scrumptious shrimp dinner at Papi's in their special curry sauce, or the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous day we spent with the family of one of Husband's student's. It is one of my favorite things about living here - this idea that business and pleasure are so interjoined. In the states, I would never dream of accepting an invite from parents to visit their beach house. Here it would be considered rude not to. And somewhere between the fresh ceviche they made us and the gin and tonic that Dad concocted for me with his tailored Gin bar or citrus and rose-infused gins and the third bottle of champagne we uncorked I thought, Gosh... this is pretty good for an imperfect life. ;)

The car ride home - 4 hours on a Dominican highway - as new as it is - always reminds me of why I don't like traveling on this island. It's long. And boring. There are no rest stops with promises of Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts or even Carl's Coffee (whoever Carl is) So for 4 hours I sat in the third row of our glorious SpaceWagon edged between a suitcase and one dog waiting fruitlessly to be transported back home. And by the time we got back home Saturday evening, I was done. Done with vacation. Done with packing and unpacking. Done with sleeping in a bed with sheets that made more sound than thunder. Done with Rafa's cold and the stomach bug that my father got, that then my mother got which was the reason I gave up my bed that night and slept in a recliner. D-o-n-e. Hashtag that! #done.

At 5am, when I had to get up to drive my parents to the airport, I felt more dead than alive. Even the streets matched my outlook. The sky was still dark, the streets were quiet. Not a soul on the road... well almost and the sadness of taking my parents to a place that would fly them away from me. Major imperfection to this life.

By 7 am Easter morning, I had no room for a bunny and it's eggs. You know what I had room for? My couch. And I felt a little crappy about that. Shouldn't I be hiding pastel-colored eggs and posting adorable bunny-eared pictures of my kids dressed up in beautiful Easter gowns? Cut yourself a break, I reminded myself. I do Christmas BIG and birthdays BIG and right about now that's all the BIG I could muster. Does it all ahve to be BIG? Do I have to post all of my BIGness to Facebook? And well, doesn't that just bring me back to why I started down this Road to an Imperfect Life because looking at everyone's newsfeed of their Easteryness made me feel all small and bad mom-like. So I'm giving myself a break this time, a pass, a passover (I couldn't help it. That joke was there for the taking, Husband.)

Sometimes you have to tell the bunny to hop along because your due for a nap. #sorrynotsorry, bunny. Maybe next year. Or maybe not.


Oh. Week 5 that's easy... our nanny called out Tuesday and I woke up Wednesday with a migraine. An all day Wednesday that flooded into Thursday and imprisoned me into the 4 walls of my bedroom for entirely too long migraine. Migraines will always be the devastating car crash on my Road to an Imperfect Life.

But I keep driving.


Photo Credits:
Cabarete Beach Town Jeff Space Ritual
Cabarete Kite Surfing - Swell Surf Camp

Moving Abroad + Family - Does it Work?

Last week, I wrote for Wanderlust and Lipstick about moving abroad as a couple and how it isn't as easy as people think just because you have a partner in tow. This week on W&L, I take a look at moving abroad as a family. In my experience, it has been a good one, one of the better decisions I've made.

The windshield wipers were on. I remember that detail. The doctor had just given me the news I already knew since nausea and complete exhaustion weren't my M.O. In the last month, I had gone over this so many times: if I was pregnant we would stay, if I wasn't we would go. So what was the problem? We were staying. I mean, moving abroad with a family? That's crazy, right?

Having children is scary and exciting all on its own without adding another life-changing factor into the arena like for example, oh gee, I don't know, moving overseas maybe. You may feel like you have to check living abroad off the bucket list once you have children, but what if you didn't?

Here are some things to consider if you are thinking about moving abroad with your family.

Click here to read In the Know: Moving Abroad with a Family

The New Adventure and Thoughts to Consider when Moving Abroad as a Couple

In the last few years of blogging, I have often talked about the people I've met along the way, my fellow travelers, and it occurred to me that those of you who have read my blog, who have come along on my journeys through my first years of marriage and motherhood and address changes are just as important in my journey as the people I've met in person. You are also fellow travelers. And as I embark on a new (blogging) adventure, I want to make sure to keep you all journeying with me.

A few weeks back I started writing for Wanderlust and Lipstick, a travel website that I've followed since before I ever really thought about blogging. I will be posting for them twice a week so my posts here at Drinking the Whole Bottle will slow down a bit but I'll still hopefully be sharing several times a week either through DTWB or Expat Village, my blog through Wanderlust and Lipstick.

This past week, I shared some thoughts on things you might want to consider if you're a couple moving abroad. I know that when Husband (Then Boyfriend) and I first debated moving abroad we considered none of these things. Because we were stupid. Thank God for stupid. We might not have had the cojones to make the leap if we hadn't been blissfully stupid.

If you are moving abroad as a couple, having a partner could seem like an easier way to take the leap: living costs might be cheaper, you have less worries about making friends since you already have at least one, and you have a sounding board to navigate a new place. There are many upsides to moving abroad with another person but there are more things to consider than just having an InstaDinnerDate.

If your travel partner is not a significant other

Moving abroad with a friend could be Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants meets Eat, Pray, Love - complete with gushy friendship moments and yummy heapfulls of shared pasta bowls. Or it could also go very, very wrong. When I was graduating high school, my best friend and I, who were both attending the same college, thought the obvious good idea was to room together. It nearly ended our 20-year friendship. Luckily, our friendship won out but we didn't speak for almost a year. What we didn’t know then was that just because a friendship is strong doesn’t mean it can survive such intimate circumstances. You will be asking a lot of this person. A lot. One of you might make friends easier than the other. Your taste in friends - besides each other - might be very different. One of you might want your apartment to be a place of solace. One of you might want it to be Hot Spot Central. One of you might like adventure, another more of a homebody. Point being, if you are going to move abroad with a friend, make sure – double, triple sure – that you both want the same things.

Continue reading about things to consider when moving abroad as a couple at Expat Village on Wanderlust and Lipstick.

Road to an Imperfect Life: Week 3 - The After Baby, Baby Hair

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I found out that your hair falls out after you have a baby about 3 weeks before I had my first baby. No time to change my mind now. A friend I had recently made dropped that golden nugget of information on my lap and since I hadn't read up on what to expect when I was expecting, I had no idea this was a thing. Apparently postpartum hair loss is "a thing" and it has something to do with resting hairs and growing hairs and estrogen levels dropping. I was happy to know this before it started otherwise with the handfuls of hair that were dropping from my scalp like dead Autumn leaves I might have thought I was going bald.

I was lucky with my hair loss (not something I thought I'd ever say) because it wasn't erratic. Yes, a ton was falling out, but at least it was falling out evenly so there wasn't one spot that was more noticeable. Besides Follicle Mountain that emerged in my drain after every shower, I wouldn't have even really noticed if it hadn't been for when that hair - the baby hairs, the after baby, baby hairs - started to grow back.

Although they were always there like shifty teenagers trying to sneak out, the baby hairs weren't too noticeable when my hair was down. But I live on an island and a hot mother-effing island. So for most hours of the day, my hair is up: high ponytail, low ponytail, high messy bun, mid head ballerina bun - there is variation to my updo but up is up. I leave it down occasionally but long hair down on a hot island is as comfortable as taking your wet bathing suit off to pee. Not comfortable.

With my hair up most of the time, the after baby, baby hairs look like they are out to party. Wayward and unruly they curl and stand in whatever direction they choose. They don't like to be told what to do, damn rebel hairs. They have their own revolution going.

But here's the thing. Santiago turned 1-year-old about two weeks ago, so I don't know that I could officially say that I have a baby anymore. I remember so clearly his little babyness - like it was yesterday that we slept with a low-dimmed light on in our bedroom so that when he woke up in the middle of the night we didn't have to fumble around for him. But it wasn't yesterday, that was a year ago and since he is no longer a baby and we aren't certain we are ever going to have a third child, this might be it for me as far as babies go. And the only thing I have left to remind me of babies are these hairs, these after baby, baby hairs.

These tresses are more than disobedient strands, they are proof that I had a baby not so long ago. Proof that even after you have a baby, the battle with your body still wages. Proof that having a baby is only the beginning and that months - shit - yeeears later you still have battle scars. And scars mean you survived something.

Imperfect lines that say you came out of something scratched up but victorious. 

These imperfect hairs remind me of what this body can do, that it can take 18 months of changes and a year of roller coaster hormones and 3 years of (hair) loss and still grow back... stronger.

And the Jukebox Plays: Tunesday Tuesdays - Using the "Bop" to Help Katrina Victims

Mission: 

Tunesday Tuesday was created to bring people together through music. Every Tuesday the link up is live here at DTWB and at The Patchwork Paisley, MrsTeeLoveLifeLaughter-

AND  Beth from Structure in an Unstructured Life!

Host Follow Links:





       Meg                               Jen                              Beth                       Tiffany

Can't stick around for this week's party??

Next week's theme will be...






And Now...

There are songs that you love to hate. For me that song is Celebration by Kool & the Gang. Cna't tell you what it is about that song that makes me want to drill my eardrums out so that I never have to listen to that song again, but if you ever wanted to torture me - think Clockwork Orange torture - all you'd have to do  is play that song over and over and over again. I'd tell you anything you wanted to know.

But this week we are asked to name a song we hate to love. That song that you know you should hate because it is that bad but you can't help but find it a little catchy. My choice seems so obvious that I wouldn't be surprised if we all chose it.

It's this:

But here's a quick story I love about just how catchy and hated this song is for people:

In 2005 after Hurricane Katrina swept through parts of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama like a giant wielding a broom devastating New Orleans beyond rational belief, schools across America began raising money to donate to the victims.

One school in Pennsylvania came up with a tune-tastic way to make money... fast.

As I heard the DJ tell the story on a New York radio station, this school decided that they would play MMMBop, brother band Hanson's hit in 1996 on the loudspeaker of the school. Every day. At the beginning of each day. And before classes. And throughout lunch. And in between classes during every passing. The idea was to annoy the students so much that they would pay to stop the music - to "Stop the Bop" as they called it.

Genius. If each student donated $5 to "Stop the Bop," the school would raise $3000.

So to this I say:

Hanson,
Thank you for creating a song so catchy and so annoying that a school could raise funds on the principal of ending your play time.

As for me, I gotta say, I'm not sure how much I would have wanted to "Stop the Bop."

**Don't forget to link up your post below & visit some participants to see what they're jamming out to!**

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An InLinkz Link-up

When Mami has to Deal with a Big Girl Bed

We've talked about this in logical terms (for months... and months):

In order to make this room a play room, they have to share a room.

Would two cribs fit in one room? 

Would we also be able to fit the queen sized-bed in that room? 

Probably not.

So if we got rid of that bed where would we read to them?

Ok, so we could get rid of one crib and move Rafa to a big girl bed?

But what about naps? 

Would Rafaella nap in a big girl bed? 

Would Santiago nap with her in the same room?

And how about Rafa? She's gotta make the biggest move.

Will she like it - this "big girl bed" thing?

Because she loves her crib so much. 

She feels safe in her crib with her GiRafa pillow.

...but she does drop clues sometimes about sleeping in a bed.

For months, we deliberated, discussed, and then decided. And then when we had finally decided, we un-decided. Rafa stays in her room in her bed and Santiago in his too. No one moves yet.

If I'm honest, I made these decisions (time & time again) from a sentimental, illogical place. (Yes, it's the same place that I make many decisions from; the corner of Overly-Sentimental Irrational Mother Drive and Illogical Emotional Lady Ave.) I wasn't afraid she'd fall out of the big girl bed or that my sleeping would be sacrificed at the altar of a big girl bed. I was afriad of what the big girl bed meant. A big girl bed meant one step closer to her being a big girl. A big girl bed meant she was my little girl one day less. A big girl bed meant she no longer needed the literal (and imaginary) walls of security.

Waaaaaaah! Sniffle. Tears.

As much as I joke that I'm ready for these kids to be old enough so that I could (take your pick):

I don't like the speed in which these two are growing. Who do they think they are, growing so fast? She's ready for a bed, really? I suppose she's ready for college too. Why not just move her out of our home and have her contribute to a 401 plan. (Sorry, ended up on that corner again.)


I started prepping her all day. Telling her that tonight she was going to sleep in her bed. I changed the sheets to a previously never before used bed and set it up with a comforter and pillows and blanket - a proper bed instead of the jumping/landing zone it was before.

The evening was the same as always but tonight after her bath and her pajamas and her screaming, "I LOVE YOU, PAPI," to daddy who is putting Santiago to sleep in the room down the hall, we laid down in her bed, her big girl bed. For the first time in over a year, I was unsure of what to do at our bedtime routine. I didn't want to freak her out with something new so I asked without asking if she wanted to lie in her bed so that she thought but kinda knew she didn't have a choice (confusing parent tricks).

"Rafa. Let's lay in your bed?"
"Ok."
Whew... that part was easy enough.

We read a book titled Siempre. I thought it appropriate for the night. When it was done she asked me for her tete.

"Do you want your pacifier now, Rafa?" I was willing to stay in there as long as she needed.
"Si," she confirmed. So I got up to get her pacifier and brought it back. And she continued, "Quiero mi tete. Para dormir aqui en la cama. Como la gente. --- I want my tete. To sleep here in the bed. Like the people."
"Ok, Rafa," I laughed

She asked for "Música I Love You" which is what she's named the lullaby I sing her 3 or 4 times repeatedly. After singing her lullaby only once last night, she was already snuggled into the pillow like the north pole to the south pole of a magnet. She muttered, "I love you mucho mucho," her cue that she's good to go and that I was, in fact, also good to go.

I knew if she fell asleep that she would be asleep for the night but I secretly hoped she would get up and need me to tuck her back in, that maybe she wouldn't like her big girl bed or being a big girl because then that would mean she wanted to stay my little girl. Irrational, I know. But no such thing happened. I was so proud of her last night and so sad for me.

This morning, I heard, "MAMI!" and a door slam at the exact same time. I jumped out of bed and opened my door and there she was in the hallway, not sure where to go since she had never just walked out of her room alone before so these walls appeared totally different then she had ever seen them. So out she walked confused but happy. Beaming with happy about her first night in her bed. And then she ran down the hall to me.

Turns out she's still little enough to run into my arms and that just because she doesn't need her literal walls of security doesn't mean she doesn't need these arms of security.

Road to an Imperfect Life: Week 2 - Images of Frustration Exist Too

I almost broke my nose yesterday.

Correction. My daughter almost broke my nose yesterday. On accident. No, not really. Kind of on purpose. 

I can't argue with many moms on the playground when they look at my daughter who is more an observer kind of kid rather than a jump-er kind of kid and say, "Wow. She's so calm." Truth is when they see her, she is calm. But when she's home, in the comfort of our people, calm is a train that left the station a long time ago.

Yesterday, calm didn't just leave the station, it mother-effing went off the rails and crashed into an oncoming train. 

I don't even know how it started. That's not true I do know. The mother-effing iPad and "fotos" that's how it happened. She woke up and the day started like every other day but within an hour she spotted the iPad on top of our bookcase. All the way, up top, as if it was hidden because it was. She found it anyway. 

When I told her she couldn't play with the iPad like I usually do in the mornings, she went to our nanny, who also said no because her mother JUST SAID NO. Our calm little train exploded and screamed, from the gut, at her loudest of levels directly IN our nanny's face. Lock down Time out #1.

Time out means me dragging her into her room and locking the door until she calms down and then says I'm sorry. Sounds easy enough except she's my daughter. Apologies don't come easy. Eventually when both conditions are met we leave the room but I should have known where yesterday morning was headed since Time out #1 ended by 8:15. 

The morning continued. I made breakfast like I always do. I told her to sit in her high chair like I always do. I bribed showed her her juice like I always do because normally this works to get her in her chair quicker. She gets OJ once a day for breakfast so it is an easy get-in-your-chair treat. She wins. I win. Sometimes it is a bit more work, a bit more of a struggle but eventually I pick her up and take her to her chair without too much difficulty. 

Yesterday was different. I sat her in her chair and she kicked a little and whined a bit but she was conserving her energy for this: When I had her in the chair that she obviously didn't want to sit in, she pulled her head full of curls as far back as she could, wound up and threw her 8 pound skeleton at my face, clocking me with her colossal head in the nose. Her head that had always been in the 95th percentile at the doctor's office - so it's big! - just took to my nose like a Gallagher sledgehammer to a watermelon. 

For a minute, I thought she broke it. For a few hours I had a headache. 

She is a sweet child... usually. That's the child most people usually see, the one that I post pictures of on Facebook because those are the easy pictures to post. I don't think these pictures show that I'm some great parent that has all the answers they're just quicker to post: the ones where she looks adorable and smiley and not like a sledge hammer. But these images exist too: the ones of her not listening to her mother, the ones of me having less patience than I wish I had, the ones of both of us screaming and crying and being less than perfect. 

And the road continues...