Hot Tamales

  

I picked up the kids on Monday and they piled in the car and I asked them about their day. They chatted about AR tests and lunchtime. Then my 7 year old got all excited and said, "Mom, there is a letter in my bag for you." She dug through her book bag and pulled out a sheet and handed it to me. "We are having a celebration on Friday for Cinco de Mayo and we need to bring my favorite Mexican food." What the heck? I thought. I wish I knew about this last week before my weekend grocery trip. "What is your favorite Mexican food?" "Ummmm.....tamales. I want you to make tamales." What? "You have never eaten tamales in your life." She shrugged, "But I want you to make them. All you need is corn husks." Who does she think I am? An over-achiever? Maybe in some alternate universe. I can see myself now. In this universe, my name is Catherine or Marie or Claire. A name that is delicate and reminds you or crisp linen and Chanel No. 5. I live in this house in my alternate universe:

 

Can you see me now, in the kitchen? I would be in a floral shirt dress and a frilly apron. My hair is pulled back neatly in a bun and a strand of peals rests carefully around my neck as I lovingly hand- make tamales for my daughter's second grade class. When they are done, I line them one by one in a very expensive dish that I purchased at an excursion to Williams-Sonoma and I slide it into my monogrammed casserole carrier. I head out the door and admire my rose bushes that line the picket fence on my way to the drive. I get into my Volvo station wagon.

I turn on the radio and hum along to a Glen Miller song while I drive to the school. I walk into the school like I am walking on clouds. I wave and smile at all of my mom friends. When I get to the classroom, I serve the children the home- made tamales on special Cinco de Mayo plates. I lay the plate down in front of my daughter. She's wearing a Lilly dress and cute little yellow Jack Rodgers and has a big bow in her hair. I touch her cheek and kiss her head and say, "This is all for you, darling." She will look up at me with a sparkle in her eye and a big smile, "Thanks, mama. You're the best......"

Then I snapped back into reality. "No, I can't make tamales. First of all, I don't even know where I could find corn husks and I have to make something ahead of time because I'll be out of town on Friday." She sighed. "Can't I just buy a bag of Doritos? They serve them at Taco Bell now." That's my kind of treat - cheap, quick and easy. "No, mama." She pouted. I told her we would try to get some ideas from the internet when we got home.

We sat together on the couch and went through a ton of recipes. Everything that I suggested that seemed kind of easy, she would say, "No, that's too plain." Finally we settled on arroz con leche. That meant that I needed to find time go to the grocery store, which is never an easy feat. I ran out at lunch and went to the grocery store to get the ingredients. The cashier was ringing up everything and held up my jar of cinnamon sticks. "Did you know these are $8?" Ummm....yes. Did she think I couldn't afford them, or something? Just turn the knife, lady. I found these plastic shot glasses and tiny little condiment spoons that were so cute. All the kids were bringing in food, so it was a perfect little sample size.

Last night, after a LONG day I made the arroz con leche. I was a mess. I was wearing my husband's 15 year old faded, holey sweat pants and a bleach stained tank top. My hair was in a messy pony tail and I had bags under my eyes. I was disheveled as could be. I was trying to stir the arroz and load the dishwasher and sign homework all at once. I had stations set up in the kitchen that I was just rotating through. I stirred that crap for 40 minutes. I was soooo tired by the time it was done. I covered the pot and went to bed but knew I would need to be up well before 6 am to spoon it into the glasses. I got up before everyone and scooped the arroz con leche into the glasses. They looked so cute.

My daughter came down stairs and I showed her the finished product. "Can you sprinkle some cinnamon on top?" Sure. I went to the spice cabinet and what do you know - I was out of ground cinnamon. There would have been ground cinnamon in my alternate universe. She began to cry. "I'm sorry, sweete." She said, "Well, can we buy little tiny Mexican flags to put in there?" Give.me.a.break. "No, I don't have time to go on a goose chase for miniature Mexican flags." She threw her arms up in the air and looked at me angrily. "YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE, MAMA!!!!!" I was like:

She stomped off. I stood alone in the kitchen for a moment and I thought to myself, You should have just purchased a bag of Doritos.

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