Laughter is my coping mechanism. It would have to be with seven kids running around, wouldn’t it? There can be a lot to cope with at my house. Friend, let me tell you, that at any given moment life can throw me a choice;  laugh or cry.  I’ve learned to choose the laughter.

In the spirit of that laughter, let me give you a bit of insight on our family.

We are crazy.

All of us.

Extended family most certainly included.

My husband and I are a perfect blend of Latino meets Red-neck.

My side of the family keeps empty plastic “cool-whip” and yogurt containers and calls them “Tupperware.” My dad wears nothing but flannel. They collect black VHS tapes recorded off the TV; filled with a decade of “60 MINUTES” and “M*A*S*H” episodes and God-knows-how-many other Disney specials from the 80’s, such as “Fuzz Bucket.” Growing up, I actually believed you pronounced the “p” in “pneumonia.” I even argued with the teacher one day as a kid.  We had a beat up camper trailer on our front lawn until well after I moved out. We got our first computer when I was 16. My mom did everything humanly possible to prepare for Y2k, including hiding bathtub sized water barrels in the backyard. Along with a portable toilet. In their subdivision.

It’s easy to see the weirdness in my family now that I’m on the outside looking back. I had a great childhood. And now I’m doing my best to ensure that my own kids need therapy one day to overcome my faults and quirks. That’s part of being a successful parent; making sure your kids need professional help one day.

Although my hubby (let’s call him Mr. Diaz) is not 100% Latino, my husband’s family does everything with a Mexican flare.

Here’s what I’ve learned after 16 years with Mr. Diaz;

No matter what a Mexican does, a party comes with them.

It’s in their blood.

When you’re a blended family of Red-nex-icans, it’s perfectly normal to have a family member show up at your only child’s first birthday party with a keg of beer. And a piñata. And six guys all named Paco, Jose and Carlos, whom you’ve never met. Same goes for weddings, funerals, graduations and childbirths. Because parties don’t discriminate.

Fast-forward fourteen years of marriage and seven kids later, and this is where we are today.

We are a blend of two different worlds that smashed together and stuck. The personalities in our home all stand out and make each of us unique. Without a doubt we are weirder than most. We are a loud, rambunctious group of home-educating, church-going, garage-sale-shopping, tortilla-eating Red-nex-icans.

And nobody here speaks a lick of spanish.

Bless it.