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Chicago Shakespeare Theater Presents Shrek the Musical; Awesome for the entire Family!
Recently, we took our children to see Shrek the Musical at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater on Navy Pier.
Our girls have been waiting to see this production since they knew it was on Broadway. Unfortunately, we live in the Midwest and so we have been waiting patiently for Shrek the Musical to come to us. Luckily, I’ve had the pleasure of working with the Chicago Shakespeare Theater for about 4 years now. Our daughters have been to many performances at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater but never have we seen a production like Shrek the Musical. It was bold, bright and outrageous; everything any child or child at heart would want in a production.
Just like the movie, in a faraway kingdom turned upside down, things get ugly when an unseemly ogre, Shrek, not the usual expected handsome prince, shows up to rescue a feisty princess, Fiona.
Throw in a donkey who won’t ever shut up, a hilariously small bad guy with a temper, a fire breathing dragon who needs some love, a cookie with an attitude and a whole bunch of other fairy tale misfits and you’ve got a story that calls for a real hero.
I was really concerned how an onstage adaptation would measure up to an animated movie but let me assure you, it exceeded my expectations in every way. The characters were rich and vibrant, passionate and colorful, and even though they were not cartoon characters, they were larger than life.
Every actor in the production lived and breathed their character. The characters were multidimensional and lovable. I felt like I was part of a fairy tale. If you’ve ever been to a Chicago Shakespeare production, you know that the stage and theater are small and intimate and you feel like you are part of the story, part of the production itself.
I’d advise anyone who lives in the Chicagoland area to bring your whole family to Navy Pier this summer for this heartwarming, 75-minute musical adventure based on the Academy Award-winning film. It recounts the story of a swamp-dwelling ogre who goes on a life-changing adventure to reclaim his once-secluded home.
Accompanied by a wise-cracking donkey, this unlikely hero fights a fearsome dragon and rescues the cursed Princess Fiona. On this fairytale journey, Shrek discovers the value of friendship and realizes that true love is more than skin deep.
Following each performance, audience members are invited to meet the cast in the theater lobby. We did and my girls, and my husband, were thrilled to have their photo taken with Donkey.
In my opinion, make a day of it! We had lunch at Harry Caray’s and walked the pier. It was a beautiful July afternoon in Chicago. The girls rode the merry go round and we made some memories. Then we picked up some Garret’s popcorn and headed home.
If your children liked the Shrek movies, they will adore the stage production. I don’t know that I have ever been quite so captivated by performers. Shrek the Musical calls for big, larger than life character to deliver a larger than life story and this production pleasantly exceeded all of my expectations.
Shrek the Musical will be running at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater from now until September 1, 2013. Tickets are $25 for adults and $18 for children 12 and under.
Disclosure: The Chicago Shakespeare Theater provided me tickets to the production for review but all opinions are my own.

2013/07/21
A Photo’s Worth a Thousand Words
Discosure: This is part of a sponsored collaboration with DiMeMedia and Shutterfly, however, all opinions expressed about photo books are my own.
How important is a photo to you? They say a photo is worth a thousand words. When I think of the most precious possessions I own, I immediately think of the people I love. These people that I am honored to call family and friends, they mean everything to me. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words and every single photo I own holds a memory of someone I love. This is why I love to give and receive photo gifts.
In the past, I’ve made mugs with our girls’ smiling faces on them for my husband. I’ve filled countless frames with photo collages for grandparents. This year, I decided that I wanted some special photo gifts for ourselves because nobody loves and adores those two little faces more than I do.
I made a photo book to keep on our coffee table filled with pics of our family adventures and important moments from the past year. I’ve decided that this is going to be a new tradition. While I’m at it, I decided to do one for my dad too.
My dad shares my passion for family and photographs. Since I was a small child he was documenting all of our special moments on film. These days he’s retired and spends about 6 months of the year in Mexico, his homeland. Spanish is his first language, He’s spent my entire life adapting to us, learning to speak our native language. He has always been thrilled when we make the effort to speak in Spanish to him.
So you can imagine how excited I was to find out that Shutterfly mi vida now offers an easy, creative and convenient way to share family milestones. Now, it’s even easier to share these with my papi with the new Spanish applications (complete with ñ’s and accents). This makes this gift even more precious for me to give and him to receive.
I took me a couple hours to go through the photos and organize the book but in the end, the result was priceless. My copy is sitting on my coffee table for anyone who stops by to pick up and look at all of the beautiful adventures we lived this year’ our trip to Nashville and the week at the beach in Maine. There are photos of the first day of school, new ballet shoes and first communion. Every moment that touched my heart this year made it’s way into that book.
It makes me smile to know that while I’m here looking at my photo book, my dad can be in Mexico looking at his when he misses us. Somehow that makes us all feel closer. Thanks to “Mi Vida Shutterfly” he can cherish those moments in his native language.
What’s your favorite photo of and who would you like to share it with?
2015/12/04
Most Binge Worthy Halloween Shows to get Your Fright On
It’s Halloween and all things creepy are going on in my house. Halloween is our favorite holiday. We love to be scared and dress up as a family. Each year, we try to up our Halloween game a little bit more from the previous year. This year we let the tween chose the costume theme and drumroll please, thanks to her love of all things Cirque du Soleil Kurios and a binge watching of Steampunk’d, we are all going to be dressing steampunk this Halloween.
Now, that would all be awesome and good except for one small faux pas. All three of we girls in the family ended up with the exact same costume. Yep, you heard me right, I’m going to be “that” mom this Halloween. I swear I’m not trying to hold on to my fleeting youth by dressing like my tween.
It just so happened that the 9-year-old and I got the same dress, just slightly different because it was the only Steampunk costume around that didn’t look pornographic on my boobs. Hers has a mesh covering on the neckline. The tween went completely off script and ordered a costume from some obscure costume shop…she missed the fine print about it being located in China! And that my friends are why that costume has still not arrived (don’t order costumes from Light in the Box..unless you’re planning on ordering in July if you want it by Halloween.)
So today after school we made a detour to Spirit Halloween and guess who else is now wearing the same costume as her little sister and her mom? Did I mention that I am mortified? My husband the Steam Punk gentleman and his three steampunk triplets! How embarrassing, right? Now, how do I rock this damn costume better than my tween? Because it has to be done. I can’t be outshined by an 11-year-old!
But before all this costume drama unfolds this weekend, this weekend I will be binging on all the Halloween shows I can fit into my days…sort of like the way you binge on Halloween chocolate on Halloween night after the kids fall asleep. You know what I mean, don’t play innocent.
If you are looking for some great Halloween favorites to binge watch on Netflix here are a few I’d recommend!
Horror Series
Containment, Stranger Things, American Horror Story, IZombie, Scream, The Walking Dead, Penny dreadful and The Vampire Diaries.
Classic Horror Movies
Children of the Corn, Curse of Chucky, The Amityville Horror and HellRaiser.
Halloween for the Family
Hotel Transylvania 2, Addams Family, GOOSEBUMPS, Girl Vs. Monster and Practical Magic.
What’s your favorite Halloween movie or show?
Disclosure: I am a Netflix stream team member but all opinions on best Halloween movies are my own.
2016/10/26
Be a Better Parent Challenge – Day 19 – Let the other parent parent
Yesterday’s Be a Better Parent Challenge – Day 18 – Get happy!
was fantastic and timely. I was feeling a little overwhelmed by the big K that was looming for today but I embraced it. We had a special last couple of days,with play dates with some of our favorite friends and Bella’s favorite meal. I was happy to be having these moments with her, living in the moment and trying to avoid dwelling on the sadness that I knew I would feel when she started kindergarten. So, I put on my big girl panties and I got HAPPY! How did you do?
Today’s Be a Better Parent Challenge – Day 19 – Let the other parent parent
I’m positive that this challenge would be much easier for me if my husband was home more so that I’d be used to having another parent in the house, but it’s very hard for me to keep my mouth shut and let him do his parenting job when he is only here on weekends. The sad thing is that he is a very hands on Daddy, truly one of the most awesome Daddies that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. My husband is a testament to the term Father, seriously. Everything that I can do, he can do too; kiss boo boos, snuggle at bedtime, read stories, calm fears, rub legs riddled with growing pains, mend hearts broken by the pains of growing older and realizing the ways of the world. I trust him implicitly with the kids, so it’s not that I’m worried something will happen, but when I’m here, and I hear some of the things he says, or his reaction to some situations,or whatever it is that I’m listening to from the other room, it’s very difficult to keep my mouth shut ( refer again to my control freak nature).
If the kids were in imminent danger, or he was wrong I would certainly say something. But they never are and he’s usually not. Just because we parent differently doesn’t mean his way is wrong; its just different. He and I talk a lot about what is acceptable reactions to the girls behavior and what is not. The biggest problem is me relinquishing control, especially when I am in full control the entire week long. But, I will admit, sometimes on the weekend when I am super spent from the previous week of doing it all on my own,I want need the Big Guy to come in and rescue me. I guess the answer to my own request is to let him.
I do believe that there is a fine line, particularly when one of the parents is escalating, for the other parent to step in and remedy situation; take over the lead in the situation. That’s what I believe co-parenting is; two people working as ying and yang to help their children survive until adulthood:) When I’m about to lose my ever loving mind, I really want the Big Guy to step in and give me a breather and reign me back down to earth.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen very often as I’d like because the big Guy is gone. When he is home he tries to take control so that I don’t have to…always be the discipline tyrant. Really,sometimes the best co parenting is the Big Guy saying “Go take a break, I got this! ” We’ve been together so long, that he recognizes the crazy in my eyes almost immediately. He gives me the nod ( which means remove yourself lady you are about to lose your shit and you’ll feel really guilty if that happens) and I try and go.I think stuff like that can save both parents from unnecessary outbursts.I just he was around more to save me more.The Big Guy, my hero.
So today, do your best to let your co-parent (if you have one, that is) parent the kids in his/her own way. And if you have criticisms or issues, wait until after the kids are gone (or asleep) to discuss them.
Tomorrow, Bella wants the Big Guy to take her to school by himself. She draws her strength from her Daddy, when she is filled with trepidation. I will let him do his parenting thing and I will be happy that he can comfort her and be her Daddy, just like only he can be.
2010/08/19
Other People’s Children
I’ve come to that point in parenting where my daughter looks at me like I don’t know anything. In one way, I feel insulted because…hey, I know things. I have documentation and degrees that prove it so. But in other ways, I am in complete agreement with her.
Some of the stuff kids face today, I don’t know anything about (there was no Internet when I was their age…. thank God) but mostly it’s the same shit, different decade.
Hey, little girl, I’ve been where you are. It’s been awhile but some things you don’t forget. The tween and teen years are like bad shoes, they leave a scar and you don’t soon forget the trauma they’ve caused and if you do, just take a look at that scar.
And so we’ve come to this point in parenting where, I’m not sure I much like other people’s children.
Oh, no, I’m not talking about your child. I’m sure that your child is (all caps) AMAZE-BALLS (wait does anyone even say that anymore? Probably not. Scratch that.) Your kid’s probably awesome. But the rest of these kids, I’m going to be honest, they are straight up assholes 97% of the time. I know this because I did a study. I’ve been researching for the past 12 years and yep, kids are dicks.
My girls have always been pretty friendly but, even if they hate to admit it, their best friend is each other. This is exactly as I was raised and exactly as I planned. Brothers and sisters are the first friends that you can never get rid of. No matter what stupid shit they do, you have to have one another’s backs. #builtInBestie
The thing is it’s been that way for as long as they’ve been alive. They’ve had friends at school but even when their clique was small, no matter, they had one another. I saw this happening and tried to redirect the direction but I watched them segregate themselves with their inside jokes and shared experiences from their classmates. It wasn’t a bad thing but I felt maybe some variety might not be terrible. After all, there is just the 2 of them.
But in the last couple of years, I’ve noticed them making more friends outside of the friends they share and themselves. Honestly, I’ve taught them to take in the broken-winged birds because I feel like they are lucky to have one another so if you see someone who is alone, go be nice to them. I also teach them, and if you are a long time reader of The TRUTH you already know this, you can’t control how people react to what you do. You can only control how you behave and what you put into the world so put good out there. But that’s it. You can’t make someone appreciative or make someone care. You can just do good, do you and the rest is between them and God. That’s also where I insert the reason why we don’t judge. Not our business. Let people be happy.
But not everyone is like that. My girls are perfectly content with each other on most days but they have made these other friendships. It’s hard to make the jump from a sister to a friend. You expect that same loyalty and love and it is not a given. Not ever.
I see my daughters placing trust in others and it’s like watching your toddler walking towards a cliff. You want to stop them. You can see the train wreck coming from a mile away but you won’t always be there to save them so you have to let them learn. You can try to guide them with your wisdom*ahem* but I can tell you from recent experience, it doesn’t always take. It almost never does.
This happens all through parenting and it always shocks me and I find myself wanting to push other people’s kids down flights of stairs because, you toucha my kid (even metaphorically) I breaka yo face. (Remember those stupid signs from childhood road trips? I’m sure they are somehow not PC. No? Get off my grass.)
Anyways, Houston we have a situation. First let me start by pointing out the fact that tween girls love nothing more than the sound of their own voice, except for drama and attention from other tween girls. Everything is so BIG!
I feel like it’s my job to teach my daughters some of life’s greatest clichés like “Beauty is pain” (been drilling that in since birth) and “rise above”, “Kill ‘em with kindness.” But all that shit is easier said than done, especially when your tween is crying because some “friend” is “being mean.”
Remember when I said earlier that I do know some shit? I do. Because I’ve been the kid who got her feelings hurt and I’ve definitely been the bully (to my little brothers and sisters for sure) and I may have even had my moments as a mean girl in college. The point is that I.HAVE.BEEN.THERE! Right where they are.
This kid, my daughter’s “friend”, this is her third strike and like baseball, when you strike out three times in my eyes…fail me thrice and b*tch, you are out. This kid loves drama, she thrives in it and if it doesn’t exist, she will create it via 3-way calls, text sharing and good old-fashioned lying behind people’s backs. She’s pretty good at it but girl, I’ve got your number.
She broke my daughter’s heart for the first time, last spring, then again this summer and now, again yesterday. It’s like a damn ballet blister that tries to heal but she keeps picking at it and pulling at it until it bleeds. Well, I’m done watching my kid bleed. F*ck that cliff. Mama’s about to be a parachute and we are going to jump off that cliff. Make that cliff our bitch.
This kid likes to talk a lot of shit about everyone. She gets some kind of weird pleasure from dangling people on strings. Snip.Snip. NOPE.
My kid got hurt and if you think mama bears are just for toddlers, you were sadly mistaken. I won’t go all into the details but let’s just say that if you can’t trust your friends, what’s the point? If your friends don’t have your back and they enjoy hurting you, why bother? A friend is someone who loves, supports and cares for you and in return, you do the same. As my daughters were taught in preschool, to have a good friend you’ve got to be a good friend. I believe this. Of course, if my kid’s being a good friend and you are being an asshole, you are a waste of time and vice versa. All friendships are not meant to last forever. You move on not drag it out and try to punish the other person for caring about you.
I’m trying to teach my daughter that the best reaction to an attention and drama seeking bully is to ignore her. Of course, when you are a kid your first natural instinct is to cry and try to hurt them as much as they hurt you. The thing is you can’t fight fire with fire when you’re fighting with the devil.
My daughter was so annoyed because how dare I tell her not to respond when she was so clearly insulted and attacked. So, I told her to give it a couple of days. This angered her even more. She insists that I am trying to protect the other child when in fact, I am trying to protect her. We’ve all been there when our emotions have gotten the better of us and we say things we wish we hadn’t said and we let the other person get the upper hand by seeing us distraught and crying. Then they know….they won. I’m looking at you every ex-boyfriend ever.
I insisted that she ignore her for a couple days. That drives attention seekers insane. And then in a couple days, if you want to end the friendship, by all means tell her you don’t want to be her friend.
The thing is I don’t care about this other kid. She’s not my problem. She is a hair away from being pushed down a flight of stairs if she hurts my kid again. Just kidding, I don’t advocate violence against children. I just want my kid to keep her composure when she is bringing down the hammer. Shatter her. She’s earned it. But don’t let her see you sweat. Smile and pretend it doesn’t matter to you at all.
What would you tell your daughter in this situation? I’m new to this age and these situations. I know I can’t be there to protect her forever but I feel like I need to be there to support her and keep her from getting completely destroyed if I can guide her in any way.
2017/11/28
Oh my Mommy heart.
Yesterday was Sunday.Sunday’s are bittersweet around here. They are simultaneously filled with big breakfasts, mass, lazy days of Halloween decorating, cuddling, mostly just being together. Unfortunately, for us, it is also always filled with certain goodbyes and impending sadness.
As most of you know, the Big Guy has been working out of state a lot of the time. This leaves me an overworked, stressed, spread much to thin Mommy.The girls are hyper emotional, dealing with some issues of abandonment, missing their Daddy, and testing my boundaries. The Big Guy is working his ass off,lonely and missing his family.It’s a pretty raw deal all the way around but we make the sacrifice, well, because we have to. It’s not ideal but it’s what needs to be done..right now.
The good great fantastic news blessing is that he has finally gotten a permanent position with a great company. Which means soon we will all be in the same zip code.Obviously, that is AWESOME! But in the interim, until spring when we can put the house on the market, after the Nutcracker has been performed, after kindergarten graduation, we have to live for our weekends together because its all we have. We spend our days marking time until the next time we can all be together. It’s quite pathetic all the way around. Don’t get me wrong, we have been doing this for about 8 months and we have established a groove. About once about every 3 months, I have a major emotional breakdown. You know, things get too overwhelming and I just can’t go on any longer alone. I make it to the weekend and then he says something like, “I need you to move with me now …so you can work and I can watch the kids at night.” Normally, that would be no big deal but for some reason under these circumstances they instigated a complete breakdown. First, I felt insulted that he didn’t think I was working, then there was the whole he only wants us with him so that I can work, then I was broken by the fact that I am missing him terribly..in my heart, in my arms, in my bed and he is missing…my revenue? Then he told me, that he has been telling me for weeks that he misses us and wants us to be together. I’ve been stuck on autopilot trying to survive this situation. I am trying to do what is best for the girls, for our family…not what is necessarily good for me. Of course being together would be better for me. I could share the parenting, share the load, share my life but in my mind it’s not a feasible option, so why entertain it? But he said that he felt that him missing us was not enough of a catalyst for me, so he figured since I am so concerned with our finances that he would coerce me to relocate early by threatening financial ruin.
Of course, I had a good long cry on a Sunday morning. You know of the cathartic, sobbing, hyperventilating, can’t breathe, very ugly, body shaking variety and all he could do was hold me. But it was nice to have him here to hold me. We both regrouped and moved on. We went shopping, had lunch, blanketed the neighborhood as a family taking our Bella to sell her candy bars for school, visiting with all the neighbors, Then we came home and put up our giant blow up witch in the yard and pretended to be like every other family on the block. But it was still Sunday. There is no denying when its ourSundays, the sadness is palpable and becomes almost smothering around 5:30 pm. We can pretend we are normal until then.
The Big Guy has been trying to stick around until after the girls are asleep, to help me out with bedtime /Missing Daddy meltdowns.God bless him. Of course, last night Bella went right to sleep after only a brief tantrum. But Gabs, oh my Gabs, she was nodding off in my lap as the Big Guy kissed us goodbye. We were both a little emotional because we have had to say more goodbyes in the last 8 months than most married couples do in a lifetime together. Right as he walked out the door, Gabs lifted her head and did a demonstration of my breakdown that morning.Wailing and screaming. ” Me miss my Daddy! Me want my Daddy!” After about 30 minutes,I finally calmed her down. Of course, we had 3 repeat performances last night..each time she stirred from her slumber. I tried to soothe her each time, but when a baby wants Daddy..a Mommy is a poor substitute. I just kept feeling that horrible lump in my throat( that I know so well) and a pain in my heart…my poor breaking Mommy heart!
2010/10/11
Bella in Wonderland
Every year since Bella has had a birthday party, it’s always been a really big deal. I believe it has something to do with the fact that when I was little I seldom remember having a party.So,when it comes to my girls, we love to celebrate the party in a big way. I mean, who doesn’t love a party? I am fully aware that the Bellapalooza of 2009, when she turned 4, was a bit excessive. I do recall something like 4 parties being had in a one week span of time. There was the family party on her actual birthday, the Fancy Nancy tea and spa experience with her fellow ballerinas, then there was the birthday play date celebration and last but not least the extended family and traveling friends party. It really was Bellapalooza but it was so much fun & Bella has since referred to her birthday week as Bellapalooza.
The cakes made by the Big Guy!
This year, Bella was adamant that she wanted a Alice in Wonderland birthday party.This girl always wants a theme that is “not available” in stores. Of course you can’t find party favors for Alice in Wonderland, so we improvise..as always. But this year, I was determined to keep the party to 1! After 6 years of birthday parties, I’ve come to the realization that the party is about the birthday girl having fun..the rest is not important. So, after much searching and creativity, we found just the right decorations. It was a small party with all the immediate family and a few friends and classmates.
Obviously, Bella dressed as Alice.She dresses in costume for every theme party.
The Wonderland aspect of this party was really the friendship and family. Bella was over the moon that her friends from school and her play date friends were all there to celebrate with her. She was also over the moon because her Grandpa Manny, my Dad, who normally comes and serenades her on her birthday ( this is a long standing tradition in our home. He has serenaded me and my sisters every birthday with Las mananitas (traditional Mexican birthday song) since we were born. Bella was absolutely devastated that he would be out of the country for this birthday party) called from Mexico to play the guitar and serenade her.All was right with the world!
Bella (Alice) & her best friend.By sheer coincidence, he came as the Mad Hatter (her favorite character).*Awwww,swoon*
Party was a huge success and birthday girl was over the moon! The.End!
Wonderland punch!

2011/03/17
Pumpkin Spice Cheesecake Recipe
Pumpkin spice cheesecake is the epitome of autumn to me.
It encompasses all that is amazing about fall; the colors, the smells, the tastes and triggers the memories of coming home, being home and being loved.
Every fall, the world transforms into a menagerie of splendid shades of greens, yellows, ambers, browns and reds. The leaves are dying, but to me, it feels like the world is coming to life in all it’s vibrant glory. I was born in the fall and it holds a special place in my heart.
I live for the crispness of the cool autumn mornings, the soft afterglow of that illuminates the world on an autumn afternoon and the sky, ever clear holding court with all the stars in the heavens. There is nothing that I don’t like about autumn.
I love the warm colored clothes that we pile on layer after layer. I love the sound of leaves crunching beneath my feet as I walk through the park. The smells of chili and soups being made. I love my children running towards me with slightly red noses for hugs after school. I love cuddling in close to the Big Guy to stay warm. There isn’t really too much that I can say bad about autumn. I love it all.
I enjoy those last moments of clarity before the chaos of the holiday season begins. When I think of fall, I think of all the good things that are about to transpire; my birthday celebrated with loved ones, sipping coffee and making real connections with all the amazing friends who live in my computer at conferences, back-to-school, Halloween, pumpkin carving and trick-or-treating with my little girls, giggles echoing into the crisp night air.
I think of my niece’s first birthday party, I think of Thanksgiving and all of our family ( both sides) talking, laughing and bonding while the smells of turkey and pumpkin pie waft through our home. I get the warm fuzzies knowing that in just 3 short months, after months of rehearsals, my daughters will take the stage to perform in the Nutcracker. My heart is full and it leaps with joy each time they perform.
Autumn reminds me that Christmas eve is right around the corner. A night spent playing charades, exchanging hugs and hearing stories told to my girls from the lips of their Great Aunt Maxie and their Great Grandmother of their childhood in Canada. Seeing all that love and watching our girls excitedly force themselves to sleep contrary to what all the excitement of Santa dictates, knowing that the next day, there will only be more warmth.
I love receiving the homemade gifts that my girls hand make with love each year because I know the time, effort and love that goes into every second of it’s making. I love watching their faces as they open their gifts. The laughter and excitement. I love the big breakfast of gravy and biscuits or creme brûlée french toast. The smell permeates our home like an old familiar friend. And from there it’s another couple weeks of family, food and love and that is what these first crisp mornings of autumn remind me of.
I’ve already started craving all the autumn dishes, the warm fuzzy feelings, and so here is a recipe sure to make your stomach and your heart happy. It will satisfy.
International Delight Pumpkin Spice Cheesecake
Ingredients
For the crust
- 2 cups of graham cracker
- 1 stick (8 tablespoons) butter, melted
- 4 tablespoons sugar
- 4 tablespoons brown sugar
For the filling
- 12-ounces cream cheese, softened to room temperature
- 10-ounces pumpkin puree
- ¾ cup International Delight pumpkin pie spice creamer
- 1 1-ounce package cheesecake-flavored instant pudding mix
- 10-ounces of sweetened condensed milk
- 1 12-ounce container Cool whip topping
Instructions
1. Place the graham cracker crumbs in the bowl. Add the melted butter, sugar and brown sugar and combine.
2. Spoon the crumbs into individual plastic cups (or into a 8 x8 casserole dish). Place in the refrigerator to set while you are preparing the filling.
3. In the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, beat the cream cheese until light and creamy.
4. Add the pumpkin, pumpkin pie spice creamer, and pudding mix. Beat until completely mixed, scraping down the sides and bottom of the bowl to ensure that all ingredients are combined.
5. Add the sweetened condensed milk and mix again until thoroughly combined.
6. Change your stand mixture attachment to the wire whisk. On slow speed, fold in Cool Whip.
7. Allow the mixture to sit in the refrigerator for about an hour to firm up.
8. Spoon pumpkin mixture over the graham cracker crust and refrigerate until ready to serve.
9. Garnish with drizzled caramel for an extra decadent dessert or with a dollop of whipped topping.
10. Serve with a smile and enjoy.
What is your favorite thing about the autumn season?
This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of International Delight. The opinions and text are all mine.
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2014/09/24
That Time I Had to Hide in a Bathroom Stall with my Daughter
Ever think about what it really means that we are parenting in a world where it’s completely necessary to teach our children what to do in case someone enters the the building with a gun? Something happened last week that left me more than a little freaked out. I haven’t talked about it on here because I didn’t know where to start. I wasn’t sure that I even wanted to talk about it because then I had to admit that it was real.
But then in the news I read that a couple people had been shot and murdered at our local Texas Roadhouse. It was a Sunday night. It’s a family restaurant. Can you imagine going out for dinner with your family and being caught in crossfire? Can imagine what you would do if you were sitting there with your child?
We’d all like to think that it would never happen to us. That mass shootings, or a madman on the loose with a firearm, happens someplace else; anywhere else. It just doesn’t happen here because then we would have to face our greatest fear every single time we walked out of the door. We’d have to accept that every moment outside the bubble of our home puts those we love most at risk. So we push it down, way down. We throw caution to the win and we don’t let the “terrorists” win (the terrorists being crazies with guns). But sometimes, it does happen here. There. To you. It can happen to any of us.
Last week, I was at the mall with my daughters and my mother-in-law school shopping. The sun was shining. The guys were at a thing and us girls, we were just having a relaxing day of buying things we needed to back-to-school and “mannequin shopping” (as my youngest refers to window shopping) for those things on our wish list. It was a day like so many others but not quite. We had no idea what was about to transpire.
We had hit all the stores we needed to hit and were hitting Sears as a last ditch effort to find the correct size in uniform shirts and shorts for my tall and thin children before we were going to let the girls go someplace they actually wanted to go…Claire’s and Justice. After much searching, we finally found some uniform polos that would work. As we neared the register, the littlest one tells me that she needs to go to the restroom. Of course she does, she always has to go to the restroom. I think she is secretly surveying all the bathrooms in the world. She’ll probably start some amazing yelp like service for toilets when she’s a tween but I digress. This is serious shit and I’m getting off track.
My mother-in-law stays in line with my oldest to pay and the little one and I go to the restroom. In case you were wondering, my girls are 9 and 11-years-old and, no, I still don’t let them go to the restroom unaccompanied because I simply don’t trust people. She went to one stall, while I went to another (hey, that’s progress) and then it happened.
I was washing my hands while she was still in the stall. I was chatting to her, letting her know that I was waiting outside the stall door. She was cracking jokes and laughing, as she is known to do. She is a really silly kid. I love that about her. Then we heard it, something off in the distance outside the women’s restroom door. Something like I’ve never heard before. It sounded like a child tantruming and very agitated but it was clearly an adult man. I could hear the tension escalation and nearing us.
I was really confused because when we had walked into the restroom, through the furniture section, there were three seemingly normal grown men sitting there. Yet, this howling, agitated screaming and shouting was getting louder and louder and I could hear arguing. My heart was racing. Oh my God, what’s about to happen?
These are the moments in parenting where you find out who you really are.
So, I started rapping on my daughter’s stall but I wasn’t saying anything because I didn’t want anyone outside the bathroom to know we were in there. I didn’t want to call attention to our location. Then in a panic, I whisper shouted, “Gabi, let me in. It’s mommy.” She did. I could see on her face that she was terrified. I tried to calm her with my eyes but I knew the voices were getting closer and louder and even more agitated with each step.
I pushed her to the back of the stall. I told her to be quiet and make herself small. Hide as best you can in a stall. I had no idea what was coming through that door. I feared it could be a man with a gun. I was terrified but not for me or my safety, but for my daughter; my littlest girl. All I could think of was those poor men trapped in the bathroom at Pulse nightclub in Orlando.
I readied myself for the worst. I positioned myself in between the door and my child and I braced it with all of my weight. I was looking through the crack in the stall when a huge, mentally challenged man came bursting through the door. He was pacing back and forth and hitting himself in the head; clearly agitated. He was hitting the stall door next to me. No one else was in there except for him and us. I wanted to cry and scream for help but I had to stay silent and keep my composure. He was out of control and not in his right mind.
Then, an elderly woman, I’m assuming his mother, burst into the bathroom. She grabbed him and tried to subdue him. Her eye caught mine looking through the slit in the stall. I’m sur she could see the terror in my eyes. She was tiny and he was massive. I wanted to help her but he was twice my size and while her concern was her child, mine was my own child. We stayed in there, silently hiding from this man for what seemed like forever. I’m sure it was only a few minutes.
I heard her talking to him with a mother’s love and trying to calm him down. She pulled him into the handicapped stall next to us. He was still screaming and howling and I could hear him hitting himself. I couldn’t even breathe but I had to stay strong for my daughter. Then, I heard the mom shut the stall door and tell him, “just stay here with me and breathe for a minute,” and I knew it was our chance.
I quietly opened the stall door, checked to make sure it was safe and slipped out with my daughter safely tucked behind me. I was a human shield, just in case, he flew back out of the stall agitated. My daughter was trembling, as I held her close to me. We got outside of the door and finally exhaled.
And there sitting, laughing, were the three grown men. The same men who watched me walk into the restroom with my little girl. The same men who saw this mentally deficient, unstable man flipping out and proceeded to watch him enter the restroom where my daughter and I were at, all the while doing nothing. The same men who watched as a frail, tiny elderly woman went in to face a huge, agitated and angry man. They laughed. My daughter was trembling and they laughed. The only reason I didn’t stop and say something to them was because I didn’t know if that man was going to come running out of the bathroom, still unstable. My priority was getting my daughter to safety. Instead, I went to the cashier and they sent security.
This is the world we live in. The world where grown man do nothing while a child is in danger. A world where no one, other than this man’s mother, thought it was enough to check on him, even though he was screaming, yelling and hitting himself. A world where my little girl cried when we got home because she was too scared to answer the door at first and she felt guilty. A world where my first thought was that someone was coming in to shoot us.
The sad reality is we’re parenting in a world where any of us can become a victim of gun violence at any time.
2016/08/19
Mental Health is the Cure to Generational Trauma

Estimated reading time: 7 minutes
Today is World Mental Health Day and I’m here for it. I’m here to tell you that I crawled on glass to get mentally healthy so that my girls could casually and nonchalantly get the help they need without stigma or hesitation. You see, when I was growing up, everything was “rub some dirt on it” and “just calm down” and “ADHD? My kid doesn’t need meds for ADHD, she’ll outgrow it.” No one thought that mental health is the cure to generational trauma. Seeking mental health help was about as taboo as sodomization. Yep, I said that too.
Growing up the daughter of a depressed, introverted mother with a people-pleasing complex and an alcoholic father prone to fits of rage, tumultuous was an understatement. Most of my childhood felt like I was stuck on a tiny, deserted island prone to excessive erosion and every day was hurricane season and when it wasn’t hurricane season, it was surely typhoon season. Any wrong step in any direction could surely make this house of cards childhood crumble.
I was prone to stomach issues from anxiety, from a very early age. I remember frequenting the pediatrician’s office and even the emergency of our local hospital often because no one could get to the bottom of my constant pain and diarrhea. The kept up until high school and then I fell into a deep, dark hole of depression. Still, with six kids, a raging alcoholic and a depressed mom…no one really noticed and if they did, they chalked it up to teenage angst and hormones. My eating disorders went unnoticed for years, as did my body dysmorphia, depression and subsequent bipolar.
They say that people can be born genetically predisposed to mental illness disorders but without trauma to activate that illness, they may never develop one. I wasn’t that lucky because if there was one thing I had a plenty of, besides brothers and sisters, it was triggering trauma. Most people who know me today, think I am an eternal optimist. In fact, in my house, the Big Guy and my girls think I’m practically delusional with my “where there’s a will, there’s a way” attitude but when you’re raised with so little, you have to believe that you can to survive the despair.
But back to my depression, it was the kind where you feel like you’re so far deep in a hole that even when you’re looking up all you can see is more black. I was suicidal. I don’t say that lightly but with reverence and honesty. It wasn’t a cry for attention or help. I felt so helpless and hopeless and stuck that I really wanted to just go into a deep, dark corner and disappear. I had thought it out thoroughly. I had several ideas of how to do it quietly, without a chance to be caught before I was done and how to make sure that it was final. I wanted to be dead because living was torturous. It was so painful to live that I just couldn’t see enduring it any longer. That was my existence between the ages of 15-17. The only thing that kept me from doing it was my mom. She never intervened, in fact, she had no idea I was even thinking about it but I knew that if I were to kill myself; it was the same as murdering her so I could never go through with it. Her love, literally, saved me from myself.
Fast forward a few years later and at the age of 27-years-old, I was finally diagnosed with Bipolar 1 disorder. I was relieved. I know some people would be embarrassed or ashamed but I was just relieved to give a name to the brokenness I had suffered since I was in my teens because giving it a name, gave me the courage to face it, process it and move through it. My diagnosis was, in a way, the power to heal and the chance to realize that I was not broken, just bent.
It may seem from reading this that I was sick and then I was better. Obviously, that was not the case. The years in between were the things that drug-fueled nightmares are made of. I was out of control of myself and I couldn’t stop any of it. I was just along for the ride, as my brain chemistry held me hostage and nearly killed me in a myriad of ways while destroying many relationships, obliterating opportunities along the way and all I could do was hang on for dear life.
Meanwhile, I had no idea what was happening to me. I just knew I was impulsive, reckless and irrationally irritable and angry. I waxed and waned between manic elation and extreme irritability almost daily. I blew things up in my mind. I cried a lot. I got angry. I hurt the people I loved with my words, actions and deeds. I was selfish but I thought I was magnanimous. I was narcissistic. I was mean when I wasn’t the sweetest person in the room and you never knew who you were going to get. To be honest, neither did I. To the people who knew and loved me through those dark and twisty times, I apologize and for those who remain, words will never be enough to express my love and gratitude for your love and care.
It took multiple diagnoses, years of behavioral therapy, psychiatric care, a cocktail of medications, a lot of education, a handful of clinical psychology classes in grad school, a shit ton of self-acceptance, a healthy devouring of the DSM and learning to let go to become the woman I am today. I have been practically non-episodic for almost 20 years save for a couple of hypomanic episodes, the most recent during this pandemic. The Big Guy and I are constantly monitoring my moods and sleep habits because hormones and big life changes can trigger an episode. I’ll spend the rest of my life being the guard of my own mental health. To be honest, after recently speaking with a therapist, maybe mom should have treated that ADHD because you don’t just grow out of it. But that’s a story still in progress.
My point is that I had to do a lot of work on myself, really look inward, and learn about my illnesses, embrace them in order to become part of the solution. Knowing my own mental health challenges, I have always been very open and honest about mental health with my girls and, I am always looking for the signs because mine was missed for so long. Mental health is just as important as physical health in our family. In fact, in April of 2020 I put both of my girls in therapy because the pandemic was very negatively affecting their mental health and, to be honest, I’ve always thought that every single human being could do with some therapy.
My girls had no qualms about talking to a therapist. Though we are very open, I know that there are things that maybe they would feel more comfortable with, as teens, speaking with a non-biased professional and I’m fine with that because their mental health is more important than my pride. The goal is to be mentally healthy, comfortable in their own skin and happy. I never want them to feel shame and stigma about a very normal issue that so many people are affected by and avoid getting the help they need.
The thought of my girls lying in their bed at night alone in the dark, feeling such despair that it hurts to go on living like I used to, breaks my heart. So I talk to them about their days and their feelings, sometimes more than they want to and reassure them that I am here for them always and if it’s beyond my capabilities to help, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep them healthy in every single way.
I believe that mental health is the cure to generational trauma but it takes lots of work. How can we make it easier for our kids, and each other, to get the mental health help we need, when we need it?
2021/10/10