The pressures and realities of raising bilingual kids

One of my reasons to move to Puerto Rico was so my kids could learn Spanish. A Bilingual school – or even a monolingual Spanish school – was extremely appealing. We found the perfect one.
Over the years, I’ve kept my list of short and long term goals in a binder. Repeatedly my lists include “become fluent in Spanish”.
If my kids and I don’t learn now, I’ll be adding “get over regret of lost opportunity to learn Spanish” on my future goal lists 🙁

Fast forward to now: two and a half years into our life here. My Spanish has improved exponentially and the kids continue to amaze me. But the trouble of having a bilingual ‘goal’ is that it’s completely ambiguous. Does that mean carrying on a conversation? I can do that. Keep up with a rowdy group of Spanish speakers at a party? well… depends on the topic but maybe next year I can check that off. My heart feels it means I can think and speak in Spanish without mapping out my sentence in my head. Converse quickly without thinking, mentally conjugating, and self doubting. And THAT seems a long way off. However, if you ask people who are monolingual English speakers, they would probably say I’m fluent enough.

As for the goal of my kids speaking Spanish? Even more subjective. They are little sponges, and so far haven’t resisted learning Spanish. I feel ebbs and flows, frustrations and pride. In Wisconsin I was around ONE other bilingual toddler (English/Italian). Here…sometimes I feel like every kid is more bilingual than mine.  And they all practice their English with my kiddos.  That’s why I like to hang out with the twins who speak only Spanish and French. Well, I also hang out with them because they’re really nice… 🙂

All these ideas cloud my mind daily. Nearly every time I say something to my kids in English the back on my mind tells me it’s a wasted opportunity to say it in Spanish.  Then the front of my mind realizes that I speak a ton in the subjunctive tense (ex: You should’ve finished your dinner, then you wouldn’t be hungry now.  I swerved the car otherwise I would’ve hit the dog) and I don’t know how to say my sentence in Spanish. I could take a moment a minute to muddle through it, check on Google translate, but by that time my kids have moved on, or dropped their crackers all over the car, or asked/demanded my attention for something else.  You know. Parenthood en general.

I’m a member of a parenting advice website, and on their facebook page a mother posted this:

While it doesn’t echo exactly what I feel, the sentiment behind never unclenching, feeling tense, and never fully present rings true. If I’m trying to use my full brain to think in a second language, then my full attention is not on my kids. If I’m letting my language practice slide in front of them, then the little voice sings, “wasted opportunity…” annoyingly in my head. Shut up you idiot. I’m doing the best I can.

I do appreciate the fact that they know WAY more Spanish than I ever did growing up.  And I need to remind myself that even if they aren’t babbling non-stop to their Spanish-speaking friends (which isn’t their personality anyway) they are developing a foundation for the language.  We use Spanish vocab for many routine parts of our lives – bedtime routine, school related routines, and they watch cartoons in Spanish.

And they are more and more bilingual every semester. I’m really proud. I want them to be able to take local classes, play with kids on the playground and know what their classmates are saying. So they don’t feel ostracized.

I’ve drafted this blog post over the last 4 months, and since then I’ve quit the bilingual parenting website. I did get good use out of it, but the $20 per month subscription made me heavy-hearted and regretful, and reminded me of when I got behind on school work.  Not a good feeling.

The website of advocated the one-parent one language approach if possible. Great! Trevor can speak English to them and I Spanish all the time!  ACK! THE PRESSURE! No way. Voluntary stress is not my hobby of picking up. You see, I need to ignore my little, nagging inner voice about only speaking Spanish when I answer my kid’s life questions, explain to them why we don’t steal or that we need to respect personal space, how long people live, etc.  Speaking Spanish to people who clearly understand English much better seems so artificial especially when I’m trying to create loving, connecting moments with my kids like when they ask why someone shot Martin Luther King, Jr. I just need to speak English then.

It’s a process not a race.  Daily I release anxiousness, guilt and stress about the pace of progress for all of us.  What’s the use of feeling those? They are not motivating, but debilitating.  And make me a worse mother.  This is not just a language journey but a life journey as well.


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Museo del Mar

A cute little Maritime Museum is located right in Old San Juan. We needed to pass some time before the air show last fall so we checked it out. 

Real pieces of eight!

Pirate stuff. What’s not to love?

An great opportunity to teach your kid about maritime war tactics

 Clean, well done, bilingual placards,informative, inviting bathrooms. You should go! You only need about 30-45 minutes to leisurely see it all. 

Baño signs

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Abandoned airplane

Continuing our pursuit of all things aviation we finally found the elusive abandoned airplane in Aguadilla. I say elusive because a Google search yielded spotty information as to the whereabouts and how-to’s of how to view this ghost of a plane. So here’s the scoop: 

Park at this Puma station and walk into the fenced area next to it. Ignore the no trespassing sign. Wear socks and closed toe shoes because the grass can be long. But the plane itself is only about 50 yards from the road! 

There’s even a sturdy ladder near the back. We took turns ascending, even the kiddos.

I wasn’t going to climb into the aircraft at first because there was a high creep factor. But there was graffiti aplenty inside so I knew I wasn’t the first to risk it. And well, I can model safe behavior for my kids another day. Haha. In I went.

Trevor encouraged me to investigate the cockpit. Gee, was the folding chair part of the original design? Haha The creep factor increased exponentially here but the faint smell of urine didn’t let my mind reel out of control.

I immediately started brainstorming a photoshoot here. Oh yes, that would be cool.

For anyone who wants to research the origins of this plane, here’s the placard:

My Mom



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March Marbete Madness

Every year you need to get a new sticker for your windshield. It requires an inspection of your vehicle and waiting around. It’s dreadful. But last year my neighbor helped me out so this year I felt prepped. And I was certain that I didn’t have any toll road fines and my daughter was now in school so I shouldn’t end up crying at the DMV like I did the first year. Let’s go!

Inspection station

What’s a couple more minutes of waiting for the inspector to help move something out of the gas station?

There’s a marbete inspection spot at a gas station near the mall. It’s a glorified tent. You pull in, give the guy the papers your insurance company sent you in the mail, hand him a pile of official looking papers from your glove compartment (cause you can’t understand which one he needs exactly). He disappeares into his little office. Then he reminds you that you have until the 31st to get this done (in other words, why are you doing this in the 8th?) 

Five minutes later you pay and you realize that the ‘inspection’ didn’t even include him looking at your vehículo whatsoever. No light check, no exhaust check like the last two years. Maybe I look like the type that maintains my car well? (This explains a lot about why there are so many cars with blue plumbs billowing behind them on the road even tho yearly ‘inspections’ are necessary. 

For reasones I don’t understand the gas station can’t give my my new marbete sticker. I have to go to the CESCO (DMV). I knew this, so there I went. 

The parking lot was delightfully empty-ish but my optimism was squashed when inside I saw the line I needed was still 17 people deep. No prob. I had an hour before my yoga class

Fast forward a half hour and a lady hands me a triplicate form to fill out. Ok. I do. Then she looks at one of my many papers and tells me I need to go to another line to get a new paper. NOT THIS AGAIN! Since there is no one in that other line I don’t panic. That dude just needs my license then prints me a new sheet. I have no idea what this is for. 

Door to the office with signs reminding people to use manners haha

But I skip to the front of my first line and finally get seen. I wish I could take a photo of this office. But there’s about three signs admonishing anyone from using their phones or taking photos. There’s also a sign that reminds people that the magic word is gracias and that it’s polite to say disculpe when interrupting someone. Hahaha!

The lady at the desk informed me that I didn’t need to fill out the form in triplicate that I was handed so that’s now my souvenir. She also told me I have until the 31st do so this. (Why so early gringa?) I paid with my Visa, scoot outta there. I can now look forward to scraping off my old marbete. 

Only an hour and half of my time! And no tears! A success!

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Guilligan island

Trevor and I recently stayed at the Copamarina Resort in the south. My Dad and step-mom took care of our kids for three days. Yay! For $10 a person, the resort will ferry you over to the little Guilligan’s Island. Not a three hour tour, haha. A 7 minute ride. 

The main attraction is the mangroves and all the fish and coral that surround them. Just wanting to check it out for future visits, we didn’t have snorkeling gear. But we did enjoy watching the schools of fish in the very clear, and strong currented water. There are no facilities here except baños. Plenty of shade, no beaches to speak of, so get in the water and swim around!
Mangrove trees were interesting. Overall, I don’t think I’ll bring our kids here until they are. Enter swimmers and can do a bit of snorkeling. But I’d love to return with Trevor and full face snorkel masks!

Some nice people let us try their full face snorkel mask. Sold! Put it on my birthday list…

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Aguadilla bowling

I took the kids bowling while Trevor was in Barcelona last fall. We usually go ice skating Sunday mornings. Not wanting to skate without our entrenador (coach) we opted for another relatively obscure sport.

Straight outta the 80s, this alley was completely empty on a Sunday morning. Score! The kids got their 6 pound balls, their little slide for rolling the ball, and the gutter blockers down. In search of an appropriate ball for myself, I picked a 12 pounder. To which the employee suggested I might want something lighter. Wha? No, I’m good.

Later I’d find out that my daughter  was much sicker than I thought she was. She let me take her bowling turns while she curled up in the chair. Ok. I like bowling!

Ordered a pizza. Told it will take 45 minutes because they have to clean the oven. Uh. Alright. Employee tells me I handle the 12 pound ball well. I tell him my daughter weighs 37 pounds and I lift her up with a one arm swoop. Jeez buddy. Girls aren’t weak.  I eat watermelons bigger than 12 pounds.

Slowly more bowlers arrived. A family settled in next to us. I scooted the slide over there way in case they wanted to use it too. Then I saw that they brought their own shoes and bowling balls. They are our doppelgängers of the bowling world! That’s how we look at the rink with our own ice skates.

This facility also has tiny mini golf, tiny bumper cars, and (I assume) tiny laser tag.

The mini golf course. Better than nothing I guess.


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Our poor mirrors

Since moving here more than two years ago, I’ve had three side view mirror incidents. Now I’m done, right?

Yeah. Nothing like a morning shake up. Actually, I’m positive this happens all the time of these narrow mountain roads. Several times now I’ve seen the cars in front of me pass within inches of each other’s mirrors. And there are countless cars driving around with ‘naked’ side view mirrors. Or none at all. 

The second mirror incident happened here, at our gym parking lot. Just a little scratching against a concrete pillar as I reversed. These stalls are narrow!
The first mirror incident occurred not long after he moved here. A garbage dumpster was hanging out into the street and my passenger-side mere got completely tore off. As in, dangling by a wire. Oops. 

So if bad things come in threes I should be done now right? I’m sure that time I was slowly squeezing passed another car outside a school and our side view mirrors just kissed each other doesn’t count.

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Depósitos en el banco

I always feel a little bit guilty when I go to deposit my rent into my landlord’s account. Why? Let me explain how people use the bank here. They use the bank to pay their utilities and obviously do things like deposit their paychecks and withdraw money. I have a feeling they do a lot more because the lines are always forever long.

Except they have an express lane for simply paying a deposit. And that’s what I use to pay rent. I always feel a little bit guilty passing up the eight or 10 people who are waiting in the longer line but if that’s the way the bank has set it up then who am I to go against the flow? 

And I am eternally grateful for this process. Because I always come with my deposit slip already filled out. The bank might be the fastest place that I ever get in and out of. Just don’t ever use the drive-through. More about that later. 

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SPhoto chuckles

Teehee wisconsin smiley water tower

WI State Fair

Can’t make it more obvious! Found at a swing dance in Huntsville


Gas station humor en route to Airventure in Oshkosh



wait, does this club asking for donations work with animals, legos or robots? ?


aw man, Trevor. Hope you weren’t planning on getting any work done today

Wait, if you cut the mango like that, aren’t you just selling me the seed???

There wasn’t a door on the driver’s side either

Just park in the middle of the entrance. No prop

They forever have mail to send.

They forever have mail to send.



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Foto randoms


Embedded trash – keeps a neighborhood pretty. Lawn mower’s nightmare

Why does a pizza place need it’s own boat?

This pizza place must do booming business. And I highly doubt they’re paying royalties for that minion.

The kids show ‘Michael Recycle’ demonstrated how to recycle your Victoria Secret catalogues and old Vanity Fair magazines. I could see the cleavage from the balcony.

I’m sure the Taino natives would laugh at their name being thrown about at grocery stores – where you can inflate your own balloon and do your makeup in the Salon Taino.

Cheetos left out for 20 minutes at a party = stale Cheetos

When you try to get rid of old clothes and your 4 year old wants to squeeze into a 12 mo pajamas


wordpress won’t let me rotate this…but this was a fun sign to read – facts about the planet Uranus…hahaha





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