in which our heroine gets her panties in a wad for nuthin'

My best friend's daughter celebrated her 4th birthday yesterday. Since the kidlet usually goes to his daddy's dad's house on Saturdays, we decided (well, he wanted to, and I reluctantly agreed) to invite him along. I figured this would be a gesture of good will and family harmony, especially since we've actually been getting along pretty well lately. Plus, he knows S. very well--we all shared an apartment in Mexico together, in his hometown lo those many years ago. I brought the kidlet to his dad's on Saturday morning, as usual, with an agreement to pick them up at 4pm. Shortly after three, as I am shopping for a present for the birthday girl (yeah, yeah, very last minute of me, I know), my cell starts its cute little vibration thing. Since I am speaking with the sales lady, and I don't recognize the incoming number, I reject the call--I am just so polite that way. Later, when I check it, I see it's a VM from V. who says they are out, have just started eating, and won't be available for me to pick them up until 5pm. I am furious. Furious. I didn't want to invite him to the damn party, he's being rude, this is an important event to the kidlet and to me, why can't he for once organize his life a little bit? blah blah blah etc. I am going off. I am remembering why I decided that I couldn't live in holy matrimony with this man anymore. I am recalling how no one drives me crazy quite like he does.

I can tell by the number he called from that he has borrowed someone's phone and so I can't get ahold of him. Therefore I leave a pissed off VM at his house, knowing he won't hear it. After awhile I calm down a bit, and leave another VM at his house saying I'm not quite so pissed anymore. At about 4:15, he calls me. They are rushing to get back to his house, I should meet them there. So,I drive over and pull up in front of his apartment and wait. I have brought along the latest New Yorker for exactly this purpose. In a couple of minutes father and son come walking up, all out of breath. The kidlet is sporting a new haircut, and they both look pretty cute.

"We need to go in and change, and I have to wrap a gift, give us 15 minutes" says V.

"OK, fine. Whatever." I respond, holding tightly to my righteous indignation.

After a bit, they come down, the ex smelling of cologne, and the kidlet in fresh clothes. They are carrying a silver-wrapped package. The kidlet's dad is complaining that he had to wrap it really fast, and he didn't have time to do it very well, and he feels bad about this.

"The birthday girl won't care," I tell him as we zoom off. As we drive, I am starting to feel sympathetic towards him. He is probably somewhat nervous, he hasn't seen S. in forever, and there will be a million people there he doesn't know (though this is a large Mexican party, with yummy homemade Mexican food--a situation entirely familiar to him in that regard), it is always kind of awkward to be doing things with your ex wife, etc. As is our custom, we don't say too much during the drive. I make some small talk about the kidlet's kindergarten experiences, but that's about it.

Finally, we arrive at the party, a little over an hour late. We walk up to the gate, we peer inside the yard, and guess what is happening? No one is there. There are some tables set up, some paper plates, a couple of large pots, folding chairs, but no party is in progress. V. glares at me. I shrug my shoulders. Of course, this is Mexican party, no one is going to show up on time, except of course, we gringas--the only guests there before us are my other white girlfriends. I got my panties in a big huge wad for nothing, and now the righteous indignation belongs to V., who is so upset with me, that I decide to bring him a beer, something I refused to do when we were married because it so represented the subserviant Mexican wife thing.

V. proceeded to tell anyone who would listen how I rushed him to get here, not even letting him wrap the birthday present properly (which, by the way, the naughty birthday girl opened without permission about five minutes after we arrived), and look what a bad person I am for having purposely put him through all of that rushing and stress, all for naught, blah blah, can you belive these gringas?

I did the only logical thing one could do to save the afternoon: grabbed the hostess and headed off for the liquor store.

Comments

[jill]

I learned a long time ago bringing your man a beer solves many issues. There are much more subserviant things to worry about like, laundry, dishes, ironing, blow jobs, pulling weeds, I'll bring a beer any day! ( not that bj's are bad or anything)

[Cowtown Pattie]

Oh, but I love having a moment of Righteous Indignation... and a dinner of crow most likely always follows my folly.

[anita]

Some think that those we have loved previously know best how to "push our buttons" for they have installed said buttons themselves and know the precise locations.