I think I may need some Happy Pills

I have a friend (No, really…. this is about my friend), who keeps getting really worried about the end of the world (BTW – Thank you Mayans. First you gave us the ‘zero’ and then for predicting we are going to be ‘zero’ in 2012!!). As soon as she calms down and stops worrying…one of her (Oh so nice) co-workers brings up the subject again….and the worrying begins anew.

I have figuratively ‘talked her down from the ledge’ (as she has done many times for me), by telling her she’s stupid. (This is also her method with me…we are obviously not the ‘hug and kissy’ type). This method of the Cher ‘slap’ with a ‘Snap Out of It!’ chaser….works well for us. Extra points for those who know what movie I am referring to….

Now, I just told you all of that to tell you this…..

For the past couple of months I have been grinding my teeth, not sleeping through the night, feeling scared and over all anxious about everything!!. I don’t feel depressed, but I can’t seem to shake the anxiety. It started when I was told my baby (Mia, my Pomeranian) is dying. I keep thinking something bad is going to happen all the time. WTF!

If I had an opponent in front of me I would take the best martial arts stand I could remember from the many Kung Fu Theater movies I watched as a kid and shout ‘You want to fight? Well, fight me damn you!!’ However, there is no real opponent in front of me, unless I took in the mirror.

Here are some examples of some of the thoughts that go through my brain:

1. Whenever I hear a noise outside – someone is stealing something or trying to get in.
2. During these rains – I am just waiting for my roof to leak
3. While visiting my mom for Christmas – I worry that my house is going to be invested by mice when I get back home.
4. At work – I feel like I am not doing enough and I am not smart enough
5. In public – exposed
6. In my house – Like I am missing life
7. My niece - Everytime she goes to the bathroom I wonder if she's doing drugs

You see what I mean….Coo Koo!

I guess I can sit here and whine to you a little more, but what I have decided to do is ‘Snap Out of It!!’ Here is how:

For every negative thought I have, I come up with 2 or 3 positive ones.

1. Noises outside – If someone wants something I have…go ahead and take it, I have insurance. You want to break in to my house? You have a Mexican/American woman who may or may not know Kung Fu and 2 Pomeranians to deal with…so there!!
2. Leaky Roof: Bring it on…like I said, I have insurance!
3. Mice (non-existent as they may be) – If you are going to live in my house, you are going to pay rent..you little bastards!
4. Work: I am smart enough…I have figured stuff out that I didn’t know I COULD figure out.
5. In Public: I just make sure I look good while feeling exposed. Hold my head up high and think of Chaka Khans ‘Ain’t Nobody’ as my theme song.
6. In my house: Learn to relax and enjoy my time at home with my babies, as well as make an effort to go out and enjoy my time outside my home. As well as watch some PORN….(just kidding, just making sure you are paying attention!!)
7. My niece:  I know she's not on drugs (because everytime I sneak in on her she is only on the toilette listening to her ipod. (I know, I know...I've only done it a couple of times))

Has this worked? Yes, it has. I guess when people say it takes work to be happy, they are not wrong (darn hippies!). The blessings God gives me are my happy pills. I just have to wake up and realize they are there for me to use.

So, bring it on you stupid Mayan’s (If you are SO smart how come your civilization was lost? HA!). You too LIFE….I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOU!

…….I wonder where I can find some ninja stars and some nun chucks??

Christmas in New York

Yeah...I wouldn't know anything about that, because I spend most of my holiday's with my parents in a city I call the 'Armpit of Hell' in the summer, and the 'Frozen toes of Satan' in the winter. 


Yesterday, my mom and I went to the biggest mall in town (at which 99% of the cities population was also at). I love spending time with my mom, but I really, REALLY dislike going shopping with her....and here's why. She had me looking through racks and racks of sweaters to find the all elusive 'holy grail' of perfect sweaters that she needed for a chrismtas gift. When we finally found it (25 minutes later), she realized that she already had a present for that person and she didn't need it after all. UGH!!

All this while calling me (and by 'calling' - I mean yelling at me across the store in front of many, many people) 'TESORO'!  Which means 'treasure' in English (her nickname for me). You might think this is sweet (and it IS sweet...darn it!), but not when strangers turn around and look at me like I am her 'Special Needs' child and she is burdened to care for me even though I am an adult woman. UGH!

Today, she asked me to take her to the most Mexican supermarket this side of the Colorado river. My niece had asked her to please make her Menudo for Christmas and that's why we were there. Before we were even in the door, we were met by a chola wearing black eyeshadow and white lipstick (I am truely not making this up!). I wanted to stare but everyone knows you never look a 'chola' in the eye....unless you are ready to throw down!

So, we walked in the door and this is what went down:

Mom: "Go get me some chives, garlic, and some cilantro while I go stand in line for the tripe."

Me: "Si Mami" (I have to call her 'Mami'...otherwise Mami gets mad)

Mom walks back to the butcher area .....

My niece and I grab all the stuff and walk back to find her. As we approach the butcher counter we hear..."Client Zero! Client Zero...you are next!' (No one claims to be 'zero'). 'One'...calling number 'One'. What we don't see is my mom. Where can she be?

Then we see her coming back from the pre-packaged meat counter with a number in her hand and fire in her eyes. It turns out she is the elusive client 'Zero' that didn't respond.

Me: 'Mom if you're 'zero' they just called your number and you didn't respond."

Mom: " That's because that idiot told me the Menudo was over there...and it isn't."

She proceeds to the butcher counter (with ticket in hand) and tells them she is client 'zero' and that some idiot told her the menudo was over in the pre-packaged meat counter. She then schooled them on customer service and then asked for 7 pounds of tripe. The little Mexican guy behind the butcher counter just looked at her with blinking eyes (like a thing just born) and did as she asked.

Moral of the story: I may not be able to spend my Holiday's in New York shopping on 5th avenue, but at least I get to spend it with my sweet Mexican 'Mami' learning how to stand up for my rights (while imparting customer service lessons) to unsuspecting butcher boys.

Life cannot be sweeter.

Merry Christmas! Feliz Navidad!

Raised by a Mexican Mother

A few weeks ago a co-worker and I got onto the subject of mothers. She shared a little of her story with hers and even though my story was not the same, I could see threads of what it’s like to be raised by a Mexican mother.

My mother was a great mother. She had me when she was 21 years old (When I was 21 I barely took care of myself and was living with 3 room mates who had a basket of condoms by the door for when ‘friends’ came by). Needless to say…I quickly moved out.

My Mexican Mom’s Parenting Skills:

Saturday mornings: We would watch cartoons for a little while and then we had to do our house cleaning chores. Nothing was allowed under the bed. We were responsible dusting, vacuuming, bathrooms and our rooms. I believe this is now called ‘Child Labor’ and I am pretty sure they have laws against it …

Outcome: I have a clean house and nothing stored under my bed.

Laundry: My mom ALWAYS yelled at us when it came time to do laundry because she had to sort it and do it all herself. Of course, when we tried to do it we would get yelled at for not doing it ‘like her’ and thus not doing it right!! Either way…there was yelling involved.

Outcome: I replace my white socks twice a year to make sure they are white (I am still not as good as my mom when it comes to laundry)

School Clothes Shopping: With my brother this was easy; he was extra slim, with me… not so much. Plus size clothes for little girls were not available in the 70’s. Thus my shopping trip would end up with my mom yelling at me for being so fat and me crying. Making my brother shake his ‘extra slim’ head and say ‘Too Chubby’. This would eventually end up with me wearing ‘old lady’ looking polyester wear to elementary school. (This is another reason why the 70’s sucked!!).

Outcome: I have been complimented for my great fashion sense. A childhood with horrible clothes makes you want to dress nicer as an adult.

McDonald’s: Only on birthdays!

Outcome: I still don’t like going to McDonald’s all that much….

School Lunches: Bean burritos. No ‘Wonder’ bread bologna sandwiches with Oreo cookies for us…Thanks mom!

Outcome: Lean Cuisines

Punishments: My dad only physically punished us when my mom told him he had to. Otherwise she would doll out the punishment by making us sit kneeling next to the wall with our hands up. She admitted to us later that she would sometimes forget about us and find us asleep hugging the wall. This is now called ‘child abuse & neglect’….just in case you are wondering.

Outcome: I had the skills to raise my niece when the time came….and I too was creative with my ‘punishments’…nuff said.

As an adult, I admire my mom very much. I have never seen her start something without finishing it and doing it to the best of her abilities. She can start sweeping a spotless floor and somehow make it look cleaner than when she started. She was a brave woman who came to a country without knowing the language and worked had to give us a better life. She hid the fact that we were really poor from us by providing for all our needs the best she could. Even though our clothes were from the second hand store, they were clean and well taken care of (see Laundry above). For Christmas, my parents barely had enough money for presents, let alone for a Christmas tree…so she started the tradition of the ‘Christmas lamp’. We would decorate our floor lamp and place our presents under it.

Even though I am not an ‘official’ parent, I can see now that parents aren’t perfect, they just do the best they can. My mom did her best with the circumstances life handed her. (Did some of her ‘parenting’ lead me to seek counseling later in life…Yes, but that is another story).

Bottom line: I had the best mom (Not Mrs. Cleaver…better!) and as it turns out (after speaking to one of my friends) Korean moms aren’t that much different. Who knew!