There’s never been a more stressful Mother’s Day in my life. I was filled with anxiety the entire day and as a mom I shouldn’t have been. I should have been lounging by the beach or paddle-boarding. Instead, there I was … scrubbing toilets, up to my elbows in Comet, trying to be the bigger person.
.
I hate being the “bigger person.” But I decided to go ahead and do it. It was Mother’s Day and apparently giving birth to me was tough, so whenever we have an exchange of sassy words this has always been my role — even if it wasn’t my fault.
That’s the way it is with old school moms. They are set in their ways. Even when they’re wrong, they’re set in their ways. You’re trying to live your life and here they come with their ways and then they go too far. They crossed the line. They know it. You know it. They know you know it, but they don’t admit it out loud. So you’ve adopted the role as the “bigger person”. You don’t want to continue with the awkward moments and uncomfortable silences, especially on Mother’s Day.
So I grabbed my Mr. Clean latex gloves and got to work … like the Latina Cinderella. I was trying to do everything as quickly as possible. I swept. I vacuumed. I Swifted. Upstairs. Downstairs. On the stairs. I threw out the trash, cleaned the kitchen, scrubbed the toilets, and washed the sinks. It was smelling pretty Fabuloso in there.
I even went out in the middle of my cleaning duty to pick up some fruit decorative basket from Edible Arrangements. My sister purchased it and wanted to know if I could save her the delivery rush fee and pick it up myself. So I did.
I put the presents, the fruit arrangement, the card, and the flowers on the table. She should be walking in shortly.
Once it was all done, I sat and the kids walked through door, ready for dinner. We wait. And wait. And wait. I’m starving. My dude is starving. The kids are playing with Legos. I call mom she’s on her way, but is curious as to why I’m asking. Curious?
What do you mean curious? Aren’t you starving? It’s passed your early bird special dinner time.
I already ate.
Ugh.
We grab the kids, put them in the car and drive to Ernie’s, the local Mexican Cuisine restaurant.
The waiter strolls up, ready to ask if we’d like anything to drink. Before he even makes a suggestion for the special of the day I say:
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Margarita, please.
He smiles and walks to the bar. After the appetizers are done and my glass is empty, would you like another?
Yes. Definitely.
Two margaritas and the day is forgotten. Nothing like two margaritas to help you enjoy the present and forget about the past five hours. Chips and salsa. Enchiladas. Flan. Mariachi music in the background. Good ambience, no meltdowns and two margaritas. There’s nothing that this combination can’t fix.
Giddy up!
The Wish Factor 