when your mexican holiday goes wrong

all i wanted was the day off.

it started out ok. it was early morning. everyone was asleep and i decided to catch up on the few episodes of oprah i'd missed. i was 10 minutes into last friday's show when tommy came in the room and said, "wanna go to breakfast with me?"

"what do you mean? i asked.

"i mean, let's throw on some clothes and go eat breakfast."

"with everyone?"

"no. just us."

i looked at the television screen and then back at tommy. a good wife would turn off the tv, put on clothes and go eat with her husband.

i hate being the good wife.

so i put my clothes on and we drove to the restaurant to eat. we ordered our food and food to go for our 4 sleeping children we'd left at home.

we had a nice time. of course i was in a hurry to get back. after i was finished eating, i pushed away my plate and gathered my things. i hadn't meant to be so blatant about it, but i wanted to resume 'dia de la slug' and this was cutting into it.

i looked up and tommy was still eating. "you in a hurry?" he asked.

i put my stuff back down on the booth and said, "no. take your time."

so he did. we talked and talked. i could tell he really wanted to engage in conversation. it had been about a week since we'd done that. after 30 minutes of catching up with each other, he asked, "you ready to go?"

so we drove back home to find all four kids lying in our bed, watching cartoons.

chaos ensued when they saw us and they jumped off the bed and yelled, "finally! our food's here!"

from there i started the laundry, emptied the dishwasher, helped the e-man change into yet another outfit, and prepared yogurt surprise for 4 different people.

it was only 9am.

around 10, tommy handed me a sheet of paper. i looked at it and then back at him. it was some sort of menu. at the top it read, BREAKFAST OPTIONS.

i won't type the whole menu here because my head might explode, but i'll give you a sampling:

• 1 cup of quinoa, rinsed and drained
• 2 cups plain almond milk
• 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
• pinch of sea salt of koser salt
• 2 medium peaches or 1-1/2 cup of frozen peaches
• 2 tablespoons of flax seed (ground)
• 2 tablespoons of chopped hazelnuts

so i looked at my beloved, somewhat confused, and said, "what's this?"

"these are some options of what i'd like to eat every day."

i handed him back the menu and said, "good for you."

he pushed the menu back towards me and said, "that copy is yours."

what the....?

"why do i need a copy? i'm not eating that. i can't even pronounce some of the things on that menu. what the heck is a quinoa anyway?"

he seemed to be getting annoyed. "no, it's for you so you can know what i would like for you or patricia to make me to eat."

try not to kill him. it's dia de la slug, remember? if you kill him then there's more than likely going to be blood, then a huge mess and then there will be NO time whatsoever to watch oprah. try and remain calm.

he cocked his head sideways and asked, "is this ok? can you do this for me?"

be the good wife. be the good wife. be the passive aggressive martyr. oops. be the good wife.

"sure," i managed to say behind gritted teeth and clenched fists.

and that event seemed to change the course of dia de la slug for me. it just wasn't the same after that. i kept thinking, "when am i going to have time to run if i'm preparing alien food? where am i going to find these obviously made up ingredients? why is quaker instant oatmeal--peach flavored, no doubt--not good enough?

an hour later, the kids were yelling that they were hungry again. by now it was 11. and all i really wanted now was for dia de la slug to be over with. i trudged back in the kitchen, made queso, heated up leftover pizza, doled out numerous yogurts and cut up strawberries.

it was also the day that ethan pooped every hour. i was constantly in the bathroom with him wiping his butt. after every poop, he'd change clothes. it was exhausting.

in the afternoon, the older girls had soccer practice. it was also my turn to pick up other players. on the way, my 13 year old called me and said, "mom, i forgot i have to bring a historical fiction book to school tomorrow or i'll get a zero."

great.

"give me some titles of some books," i said.

"i don't have the sheet of paper."

"then how are we going to get the right book?"

"i'll call a friend."

good. because i could feel the blood seeping out of my eyes.

i dropped off the girls at soccer, drove home, picked up my 8th grader and then we headed to the bookstore. i refused to go inside. i hadn't showered or bothered washing my face or my hair. i handed her my credit card and told her to hurry. 15 minutes later she came back to the car without a book.

"what happened?"

"there were like no books left. like every other kid from my school were like in there."

side note: middle schoolers say "like" way too much.

so i told her to call the other barnes and noble. she did. no go. i told her to try borders. no luck. we drove back home and she got on the phone and was able to find the book she needed. it was at the downtown barnes and noble. it was also time to pick up the girls from soccer. so we raced downtown. i circled the block while she ran inside and then my 14 year old called and said, "mom, where are you? practice is over." i didn't mean to, but i yelled, "hold your god damn horses--we'll be there in a minute!" she said, "ok, mom, sorry.." and before she could say anything else, i hung up the phone.

these people and their needs. i was so over it.

finally, after dropping off the girls that didn't belong to me at their houses (which came after going thru the drive thru at sonic for milkshakes and also picking up dinner for my family from the mexican restaurant) we pulled in my driveway. it was 6pm.

dia de la slug hadn't exactly turned out the way i'd planned.

ethan was whining from not having a nap. he followed me around the house crying. harley was complaining that she was starving and she wasn't thrilled with what i'd brought home for her to eat. tommy entered the room then and said, "what's going on?" both kids turned on me then. they whined, cried and complained to him. (this is where it gets good) he looked at me and said, "why don't you give them what they need. YOU'RE THEIR MOTHER and it seems like their needs are not being met."

i swear to god i had to literally will my body not to thrust forward at him, thus punching him in his ward cleaver like face.

"I BEG YOUR PARDON!?!? THEIR NEEDS ARE NOT BEING MET? WHICH ONES? WOULD THAT BE THE ONE WHERE I WIPE ETHAN'S BUTT 3 TIMES BECAUSE HE INSISTS I'M NOT GETTING ALL THE POOP OFF? OR WOULD IT BE THE ONE WHERE HE SCREAMS AT ME BECAUSE I CAN'T PULL THAT THIRD PAIR OF PANTS OVER THE OTHER TWO HE'S ALREADY WEARING? OR WOULD IT BE THE ONE WHERE I PREPARE EVERY FOOD ITEM IN THE HOUSE AND IT STILL ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH? WOULD IT BE..."

he waves his hands in front of my face and cuts me off saying, "alright, i get it."

but i was on a roll. "tommy, you have no idea what all i do or have done--just today. sometimes i feel so unappreciated."

"so do i," he snapped.

well, i'd just about heard it all.

but i didn't want to fight with him. i wanted to punch him, but i didn't want to fight with him.

so I apologized and left the room before i changed my mind and kicked his ass. oh, you laugh, but i could have. i had my mojo working overtime.

i went in the kitchen, poured a tall glass of red wine, and went in the bathroom and turned on the water in the tub. ethan ran in the room, peeled off his clothes and said, "we can play my toys in the bathtub." so we did.

all i wanted was the day off.

oh well, i'll try again next sunday.