Our Large Problem

Clara and I are hanging out in the US yet again this year (we've got to take advantage of the fact that Clara doesn't have to pay for an airplane ticket yet . . . that, and a friend's wedding). Anyway, I'm stumbling across some interesting comparisons between my life in the US and my life in Mexico.

Lately, a number of Mexicans have been proclaiming, almost proudly (strangely enough) that Mexico is now officially ranked as the second fattest country on the planet--after the United States, of course. A number of Mexicans have proclaimed that they ARE the fattest nation on earth. I put them back in their place. Yes, I'm from the US. We have to win on everything. While Mexico certainly has more than its fair share of overweight people, it's got NOTHING on my country when it comes to obesity.

Ironically though, since I've been in the US this week, I feel like I've been bombarded with health/consumer information. So many magazines sport cover models who have lost over 100 pounds in weight (and I am so happy to see them there instead of the celebrities who need to fatten up a bit). Magazines, newspapers, the TV news, and community organizations feel like they can't tell the public enough to go out and take a walk. Walk, walk, walk--it's the new miracle excersize! (Kudos to Allen County, Indiana, for investing in a series of walking trails--one which goes right through my parents' new neighborhood . . . I can't get out there enough.) Eat fiber, drink water, buy veggies from the farmers' market--the barrage doesn't end. Nor do the fat-free, salt-free, gluten-free, carb-free, sugar-free options in the grocery store. Dear heavens!

At any rate, I've been overwhelmed with the amount of health information from every channel. And it's apparently been long overdue, or we, as Americans, would not be in the shape we are.

Mexico, on the other hand, seems to be, once again, still stuck in the sixties. As often as I hear solid information about how people should cut calories, go for a walk, eat more vegetables, I hear at least as many rediculous theories. For instance, the peach diet--eat nothing but peaches and you'll achieve your ideal dress size. Right. Cut out tortillas and watch your waistline shrink. OK, there may be some truth to this one, but tortillas, especially corn tortillas are full of good nutrients and even a bit of protien . . . call me crazy, but skip the pop and chips and things might really start moving in the right direction.

More than anything though, the only reason that I can see why Mexico is #2 instead of #1 in worldwide largeness per capita is that it's still necessary for most Mexicans to walk at least a little bit each day. In the US, we've made it so that it's nearly impossible to walk to any kind of store, recreational area, school, etc. (Unless one lives in a large, urban area, I assume.) In Mexico, at least where I live, it's inevitable that I'll walk to either the butcher, the corner store, the tortilla store, the post office, the bank or the park almost every day. (OK, we were smart and chose to live downtown.) But, even when I lived in smaller towns or in areas that weren't quite so centrally located, I walked a lot--basically because I walked to work every day. Unless I wanted to wait 10 minutes each way to sit on an overcrowded bus, I walked. It just made more sense.

But in the US, at least where I grew up, it was next to impossible to walk anywhere without getting run over. Slowly, things are getting better. But not quickly enough.

So let's just hope that Mexican city planning (what's that?) never follows the direction that the US took. Unless they're just bound and determined to beat the US in something.

I can think of better goals.

Second Thoughts

For a few weeks now, one of my favorite families in Saltillo have started jumping through the hoops to get them moved to the US sometime in the next year. For quite awhile, I've been quite happy living in Mexico. But now, talking with my friend, I sometimes think, "man, _____ would sure be nice, if we lived in the US." Or, "if we lived in the US we could do ________."

I'm starting to get the itch to move. And the US was sounding real good. Until yesterday.

Do I really want to move back to a country that is so very against immigration that they refuse to let smart, hardworking young people (who have lived in this country longer than they've lived in their country of origin) even begin the process to become citizens? Do I want to live in a country that refuses to let openly gay people protect that country in the armed forces?

These weren't radical bills, people. Why on earth did they not pass?

Or, why were these two very hot issues lumped together in the same piece of legislation? I am trying to understand why the overall issues are so hotly contested, but these particular bills? Again, they weren't exactly radical. They seemed like no-brainers to me.

But obviously not to the majority of the population.

It's time to figure out what's going on. For the life of me, I can't figure out what is so very terrifying about about these 18-year-old immigrants or gay soldiers. They're out there. They exist. They're already part of our country (and a very important part, too). Why are they not allowed to live their lives out in the open like the rest of us?

I can't explain how disappointed I am.

Clearly, plenty of you do have some very strong objections to this. So let's talk. I'm not going to change your mind and you won't change mine, but let's at least try to figure out where we're coming from.

We can't go on like this.

Lili--Make Sure Your Parents Watch This!

Warning: This post is just a glorified email for my family (particularly my father-in-law). Videos don't email well.

Clara has been making the goofiest sounds and sentences for a week or two now. But last night she strung a bunch of new syllables together and came up with abuelo! (grandpa) And then she repeated it over and over.

Of course, as soon as I whipped out the camera, her version of abuelo became less and less identifiable. But at the end of the video, I think she says it well again.

Being super-excited, I wanted to pass that on right away. For most of the video, it is me talking, trying to get her to repeat me. But she DOES say it! Really, she does!

You Know You Live Too Close To The Border (Part II)

I've never really enjoyed country music. However, in 2004, my roommates in Morelos would listen to a compilation CD that had two country songs on it. And I loved those songs because they made me think of home. Mexico enjoys more than its fair share of gringo pop and hip hop, but country music is unheard of.

Or so I thought.

Then I moved north. Country was played in the parking lot of the grocery store, on the street, the university radio station--everywhere. (Mixed in with the pop, ranchero, and hip hop, of course.) In a number of ways, it's clear that this state used to be a much larger state, named Texas-Coahuila. Because hanging out here, I don't feel like I'm quite in Mexico. And the little bit of time I've spent in Texas, it didn't feel quite like the US. Texas-Coahuila is just a region of it's own, I guess.

You Know . . .

You know you live too close to the border when the Sunday newspaper comes complete with a Toys R Us ad. In English.

Nearest Toys R Us? Three hours away in Laredo.

Nice.

La Dentista

I can't explain how happy a good visit to the dentist can make me. But I'll try.

First, it helps to know what it's like to visit a bad dentist. For the first 30 years of my life, I had no idea what a less-than-perfect dental checkup was. After moving to Saltillo, our dental insurance was finally in order when I was 8 months pregnant. It had been at least 3 years since I had seen a dentist. Therefore, when the dentist told me that I had my first cavity--no, not my first cavity, but SEVEN first cavities--I was not completely surprised.

The cavities were filled when Clara was about 5 months old and it was a pain I chalked up to equaling childbirth. Obviously, I'm a little irrational when confronting pain. In retrospect, it wasn't near that bad. However, the Novocaine wasn't working 100% on the left side. It's an experience I'm hoping I'll never have to repeat.

Therefore, getting all the damage of 3 years of dental neglect and a calcium-sucking pregnancy out of the way, I was expecting a glowing report after my next cleaning. However, thanks to new insurance, I had to look for a new dentist. As I wasn't a huge fan of the man who filled my cavities (although he did appear very competent), I was looking forward to the change.

I called for an appointment at an impressive, US-style clinic downtown. Awed by their multiple consult rooms, state of the art equipment, receptionist, and magazines, I was getting a little giddy. And the dentist wanted to replace my ugly gray fillings with white resins. Sweet. If insurance covered most of the cost, that sounded great!

But, by the time my consult was finished, the dentist found SEVENTEEN cavities that he thought should be filled with resin. SEVENTEEN! That's about one cavity for every two teeth! For me, who's never had a cavity in my life before. At least, until I moved to Mexico and started seeing Mexican dentists.

Yeah, and the total of my 20% copay was well over 3000 pesos--equal to a month's rent! And that was with insurance included!

I canceled the appointment for my fillings and consulted the yellow pages again.

And I stumbled across Dra. Mariza Valdes Valdes. Dear heavens, I love her.

Yes, I have to go all the way across town to visit her. However, instead of insisting on filling all my cavities, she commented that they were tiny cavities. She recommended just watching them to see if they get any bigger. Or to perhaps use sealants, like on kids' teeth, to keep them in check. But she didn't want to damage the surrounding healthy tooth by drilling out those tiny cavities. Yes--someone who makes sense!

After my second cleaning with her, we're still just on watch with the cavities. And she has an ultra-sound wand to clean my teeth--so weird, so messy, but my teeth come out so clean. It's got an irritating, high-pitched whistle and sprays water all over my face ("the bath comes free", she told me). But it's the cleanest my teeth have ever felt.

I think I even convinced Mario to visit her.

Anyone in Saltillo, if you want the name of shady dentist (so as to avoid him), I'm happy to pass that information on through email.

I Want . . .

We got home at almost two o'clock after the ladies' Bible study at the Gringo Church (aka, Saltillo International Church). Everyone brought delicious cake, cookies, and egg dishes to share and this morning we just sat around forever and a half, chatting the morning away. So nice, as we haven't gotten together since school got out. Therefore, we left late. And then I got caught in the after-school traffic. Grrr . . . Someday I'll wise up.

Clara managed to get a 20 minute nap while stuck in traffic, and most Wednesdays, she thinks that's enough. I disagree. My plan to convince her to rest for an hour or more is to feed her, throw her in the tub/pool and then, to bed.

As soon as we walked in the door she got antsy. "Do you want to eat?"

Immediately, she put her finger to her nose to signal "please" (or yes, as the case may be).

I started scrambling an egg. (She's more of a lady than I am and didn't gorge herself on the cakes and cookies as I did.) When I turned on the burner to melt the butter for her egg, she got whiny all over again.

"Are you sleepy? Do you want to go to bed?"

Affirmative.

OK, what is it that she wants? Of course, at nearly two o'clock, she probably is both hungry and sleepy. But sometimes I catch her by asking her questions beginning with, "do you want . . . ?" and whatever it is that I ask her that she wants, she'll say, "Oh, yeah--that would be great!"

All her life, I've been a big believer that she understands what I'm saying. However, part of me wonders if she just hears the word "want" and thinks, "yep, I want".

And really, don't I do that, too? The power of suggestion is strong. Last night, Mario went to the grocery store by himself (oh, so dangerous), and as soon as I saw the bottle of Coke he brought home (knowing he was planning on making himself a cuba libre with it), I developed an overwhelming urge for a cuba myself. I never would have thought of that on my own. But oh, those little triggers.

Also, part of me is itching for something new. There are a number of stores for rent near us, a few that would be perfect for a bakery. Oh, how I want to run a bakery! Sometimes I think over the idea in my head until it seems like the most idyllic situation in the world. (Daydreams don't leave room for irritating realities.) Then, I sit back and think, "wait--I have a very small daughter, and I've always really wanted to be able to have the opportunity to stay home with her."

This opportunity is presenting itself now. Three years from now, when she's in school, is not the time for me to decide to stay home with her.

Like Clara, I want . . . I want. I apparently want any good idea that's presented to me.

But one thing at a time.