A very brave tale

Look at this picture. What do you see?



Yes, a chocolate mouth. But that's not what I'm talking about. Look closer. AT HER EARS. Yes, those are earrings! Ella got her ears pierced today! Now she will be accepted by our Ensenada relatives.
(Joking! Sort of. I mean? We do get looks when we go to Mexico because 1. I'm not wearing makeup and 2. my kids don't have their ears pierced. But we're getting there!)

The thing is, it was actually Marina who was supposed to get her ears pierced because she's five-years-old. But as I'm slowly discovering, we've got a needle phobia on our hands.
When my normally sweet, almost shy daughter sees a needle coming toward her she will scream. Like those people who holler and thrash about in doctors' offices, freaking out the patients in the waiting room.

So to avoid such drama, Marina went on a well-timed trip to the bathroom while Ella sat on the chair and got holes punched in her ears. Marina was not there to see Ella's smile turn into a frown or hear the heaving sobs of pain afterward.

"Don't do it," Ella sniffed. "It hurts."

But Marina went ahead and took her seat. As soon as the very jaded lady at Claire's Boutique touched Marina's ears, however, that was it. She wanted nothing to do with it.

"I'll just wait for another day," she said, and hopped off the chair.

I have a feeling that day will never actually show up.

Feelings

I have this thing I can do where I can distance myself from things. It's not a good or bad thing, it's just sort of how I operate.

As a result, it's very rare for me to get emotional in public (unless I'm watching a TV series made my Jason Katims). Up until Saturday, I could only remember one situation where I got overwhelmed with "feelings." And that was at the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam, so I mean, really, does that count?

But on Saturday I was sent to write about local Sudanese celebrating their new country, The Republic of South Sudan. Just a few months earlier, I had interviewed a few of the Lost Boys who lost their homes and families in the 1990s. Their stories were similar to the ones my grandfathers tell about surviving the Holocaust.

And now these same men were celebrating their freedom.

I walked in and there was canned 1980s African music playing and women were greeting each other in high-pitched native calls that I'd previously only heard on TV. And they were wearing such beautiful, bright dresses and they were so filled with joy that they danced in the courtyard.

At that moment, I became overwhelmed with emotion for the second time.

I imagined this is what it was like when people like my grandfathers heard about Israel. At that minute, I understood. And not in a political way but in a pure celebration of being able to be who you are.

Girl power

Meet my new mascot and friend, Rockanrolla:



Her packaging said she's supposed to help people feel less shy and more like rock stars. I mostly like her because she's got orange hair and tiny headphones. But if feeling like a rock star is an added benefit, I'll take it.

And just in case, my future kindergartner has already reserved Rockanrolla to accompany her on the first day of school.

Five

On the day Marina turned five, she took these photos of herself. It was at the end of a long, birthday weekend extravaganza and she was running low on sleep (still is, actually) but she looks like some sort of bohemian California magazine ad.






We waited many, many hours for the 4th of July fireworks extravaganza to begin. And there was a lot of time for pictures. Here are others.

Mom and first-born are soooo tired.



Usually I think Matt's running shirt is a bit on the unstylish side. But Marina made it look like a piece of street art:



She took close to 30 pictures before she finally managed to capture a seagull.



And she lucked into getting a photo of her dad NOT wearing a Red Sox hat.

The cost of mangoes

We recently took a trip to Ensenada, where a cup of mango sprinkled with chili and lime costs, I don't know, a dollar?

It's one of my favorite treats from Mexico, second only to the sweet lemonade they make with sparkling water.

And luckily for me, they sell Mexican style fruit cups at the farmers market next to my house. Look how pretty it is, they even have the bright tablecloths I love so much:



But, holy mother, you would not believe how much I paid for this. Seriously, take a guess. The first person to get it right wins either a brand new box of fancy "cucumber soothing eye gel" or a copy of Rick Springfield's memoir, "Late, Late at Night." Your choice.

Seriously.

I'll take your guesses in the comments.