Cinco De Mayo

So I had a lousy day yesterday -- just busy with lots of meetings -- and my daughter has been a holy terror. Between throwing tantrums and every other word out of her mouth being "mine!", I had a PMS-induced breakdown last night.

In typical "I need to control everything everything" fashion, I was browsing through the rack of Mother's Day cards at our local Target, with my daughter sitting in the cart and my husband nearby. As I'm browsing through the cards, I see the most adorable card that a little girl should send to her mommy, and I show it to Dork, who proceeds to tell me that that would ruin the surprise if he'd buy me that card, and that he had everything taken care of. (This is coming from the man who, on my first Mother's Day, thought it would be sweet to give me a card 'from my daughter' that talked about farting....so you can see why I feel the need to tell my husband the type of appropriate cards that he should be picking!)

So when I see the cute, sappy card, I start crying and tell Dork that he has no taste in picking out cards and that he just doesn't understand what being a mom is all about...and blah, blah, blah, right in the middle of Target. My two year-old, of course, is just sitting in the cart looking at me and laughing, and my husband then tells her that they should take a walk "since Mommy will be awhile at the cards." That really makes me look like a blubbering idiot, since I'm now standing at the card display crying....and my husband and kid have left, so I'm there alone.

I pull myself together and go browse at the makeup display to take my mind off of what I was doing (and besides, since I'm PMS-ing it, I needed a bit of a shopping fix and figured a few new lipsticks should make me happy). The family meets up with me and we go on our merry way home, and as I'm changing my daughter and putting her in her jammies, I hear Dork rustling around in the kitchen. Turns out that he decides that I could use a drink, and a pitcher of margaritas, complete with chips, salsa, and a salt-rimmed glass, are waiting for me in the kitchen after I put her to bed. Guess it's not such a bad Cinco de Mayo after all, even if I am bloated and bitchy!