"bye bye baby bunting, daddy's gone a hunting...

to catch some education and stability to wrap baby bunting in."

I'm not really sure what the Politically Correct upgraded interpretation is of old lullabies my mama used to sing to me, or why they never acknowledged a mother's work and why I didn't ask more questions when I was younger.

In any regard, your father set out on his journey that he committed to before he and I ever met, or ever knew there would ever be a you. He enters his third year at the University of Chicago now more committed than ever to you and his pursuit of being the best provider he can be as a father. Your ambuela and ambuelo and I all said our goodbyes with proud smiles and quiet tears and many kisses on the forehead. At the airport we waited standing at the gates until the last recognizable sign of daddy had been lost in the crowds of busy people going busy places. We'll visit Chicago someday soon when he graduates.

We all spent a gluttonous summer of adoring you while adapting to learning how to not just support you but each other as well. This summer has been a painful lesson of evolving to the needs of life and neglecting the wants.

Dear Mariana, while I am often overwhelmed at your genius curiosity, your beautiful voice, your strong determination, your shining approval I am sometimes also overwhelmed at the many many responsibilities of parenting and schooling. I've never felt so terribly insecure and determined all at once. Everyday there is a long list of things to do that never quite resolves itself into a satisfied picture of success. But each day I am working to improve myself. I often remind myself to relax and spend time with you, tell you about the day and the struggles and the hopes; and like a muse you always leave me feeling relieved and inspired afterwards. One day at a time I build myself up to be someone you can be proud of, because one day you will be the cheerleader at my graduation.

When you were younger I signed for you more vigilently the basic needs and worries, I wanted us to understand eachother. Now in an ASL class I am sad that I let these better intentions fall to the wayside. Sometimes I sing to you in signs, it seems to relax your fussy pants moods. When I get better I'll try signing this one to you, daddy can sign along.