Being Mexican-Enough

Another little surprise that they don't tell you about when you call in to inquire about adopting parents is the Parental Moment of Clarity. The PMC is that exact moment when it finally dawns on your parents that this role of nurturer that they've worked years to acheive... and have now accomplished... and are now exhausted from it... is permanent.

This is forever, but more importantly, it is also constant. Think about those 2 words for a moment. Forever and Constant. In my 3 months of having parents those 2 words stick out in my head more than anything. There are no breaks, no time-outs, no mulligans, do-overs or 2 out of 3s. This is it... and it's going to be like this forever... or for at least 17 more years when I can legally divorce myself from my parents and move in with my 26 year-old, ex-babysitter, tatoo artist girlfriend.

But I digress...

My point is that everybody better get along with each other okay because this is it. This is the hand that you have been dealt and you are expected to be able to deal with it and stick to it. Luckily, the parents I adopted have turned out to be pretty good. They don't complain much and I've got them pretty much wrapped around my finger... especially Mommy. She's frustrated because she doesn't get to spend as much time with me as she would like. She's jealous of my He-Man Super Studly Manly Man Weekends that I have with Daddy (he named the weekend) while she's working on her TV Show. She wishes she could join us. She wishes it was already November so she could be home with me all day, every day. She wishes she could spend every minute of the day with me.

Daddy always tells her to be careful what she wishes for... whatever that means.

But back to this whole Forever thing. Forever aslo means forever in the same house.
Anyone who's ever had a roomate will tell you that co-habitation is no walk in the park. Sharing your space with others is hard enough when they're just visiting... but when it is a permanent arrangement, you better be ready to compromise... a lot.

You have to get used to each other's little annoying habits. For example, Daddy has finally come to terms with my little habit of ignoring the $300 worth of toys designed to stimulate my interest and maintain my focus that he has laid out on the floor in front of me because the only thing in that entire house that I want to play with at that moment is the little black cable coming out of his lap-top computer. And the game that I want to play is one that I invented, it's called: Yank The Cable Till You Hear a Loud Bang.

And I have come to terms with one of Daddy's annoying habits. His obsessive need for me to experience everything that he experienced when he was a kid. He calls it my Jedi Training but I got the low-down from Mommy. He's not training me to be a Jedi Knight. He training me to be just like him... and he's no Jedi Knight. He's more like a Ted Knight.

"Spalding!!!!!"

You see? Just the mere fact that I know that name and that stupid quote is proof of his silly Jedi Training. Daddy and I watched Caddy Shack last weekend and The Apple Dumpling Gang the weekend before. Both great movies, but not exactly my idea of the ideal way to spend a sunny saturday afternoon.
Another thing that Daddy obsesses about is breakfast. Apparently, back in Mexico, breakfast is considered to be as sacred as the tequila. Daddy says that in Mexico, families gather at the breakfast table every day and start their day the right way. He says that it is a tradition that he will bring into our home... so that we may live in harmony as the Mexicans do.

This is where Mommy reminded him that he is not from Mexico, but rather from Texas. South Texas my Daddy said, correcting her. It's still not Mexico, Mommy said jokingly. You're not even a 100% real Mexican, she teased. I'm Mexican-enough for my son, said Daddy laughing.

I think that's the secret to it all. I'll gladly sit through a million of Daddy's 99% authentic Mexican Breakfasts as long as he continues to want to make them for me. My Mommy makes all of my dinnners and then she bathes me and gives me my bottle before rocking me to sleep while she sings to me. They don't have to be perfect... they don't have to be flawless. They just have to want to be here. They just have to really care.

They just have to be Mexican-Enough.

Whachu Talkin Bout Willis?

Esteban Joel, Colombian Killer Robot zeroes in on his next victim. She will need to be seduced. Activate: smoldering eyes effect.

KILLER ROBOTS FEEL NO LOVE!