I have no issues with my partner’s close relatives, but the fact that his family doesn’t live in the same country as we do can sometimes be a great way to strengthen the bonds of our unit. I also live far away from most of my family members, except for my mother who lives two hours away. We both think it is good that we are somewhat independent from the well intended comments and advices most relatives always carry with them in a “carefully crafted handbag”, ready for any circumstances that may arise with our children, or if we are planning to buy a house or build a boat and cross the pacific. We do miss and quite often crave a babysitter, or a grandma who can cook to make babies nap like they do in most Latin American and European countries.

Being untouched by the watchful eye of my in-laws has been a double edged sword reality. The things we try to avoid the most are sometimes the things we need more often than we like to admit. This seems to be a statement that keeps repeating itself in a constant loop. The job you took, thinking that it could move you forward in life ended up being a nightmare, and buying the car of your dreams can empty your pockets out, leaving you with a shiny piece of metal and no gas to take it through the Pan-American highway until the road meets the Darien Gap.

The truth is that as much as we like to stay away from our in-laws the more the need of their presence arrives. How can you benefit from the “dancing fever” Cubans suffer from if you can’t go dancing with them? My thought exactly, you must engage your Latino partner in a competition between their intellectual hungry minds and the memory of Plaza De La Revolucion´s concerts, where thousands will congregate not for Fidel but for the pure joy of dancing casino, the biggest get-together ever, like my husband told me.

It is a must to have a “watchful eye” around, or you will not be able to recharge and find moments of simple cool downs as often as you like. Last time we went to Habana, we got so used to having more than eight people at times playing with our children that now that there is no one, the vacuum created by their presence is felt. We are thinking about creating an ad with this title: “Looking for a Cuban family to move in with us”, or perhaps just relocating to Habana altogether.

It may make more people happy if we all go there for longer periods of time, and instead of having one baby sitter we could have fifty-two, while engaging in an interesting advice recollection of ideas for future possible outcomes. You gotta love my Cubans, they do know how to be part of someone’s life. The smell of coffee and the sound waves from the radio was enough to have a morning of world news discussion. The perfect diversification of breakfast happens when two or more languages are spoken surrounded by the scent of coffee beans and bread and butter. Breakfast has become such an enriching event since I meet my husband, that for both of us it is of high importance to make the time to spend thirty minutes together each day before either one of us leaves into the world. The only issue is that our little wolfs are so wild that it’s almost impossible to repeat those morning long dialogues anymore. So we have decided to go and steal abuela Lili from our relatives in Habana.

Regardless of how much we love our independence, it has come to our “final business table memorandum”, the proposition to add a full-time Cuban family to our household, otherwise we won’t be able to take our dancing-language learning-night yoga classes-family routines serious. The last time we went alone to the movie theaters was in seven months ago, so now you understand why we have been calling the 1-800 Cuban family for rent services so much.

So, this is yet another beautiful reason why I am glad to be a member of a cross-cultural relationship. If we want, we could have babysitters for each day of the month, free of charge. Who wouldn’t want to take care of our kids while snapchatting about international families and how beautiful their children are. It’s good to be independent, but being part of a cross-cultural family wins this race. We were meant to travel in packs. Or so I believe.