If you give a mom a margarita, then she’s probably going to want a heap of chips and a vat of salsa.
As she brushes chip crumbs from her chest and wipes salsa off her chin, the tastes and smells will evoke fond memories of the debauchery and depravity of a long-ago girls trip to Mexico.
Distracted by reflections of beaches, swim-up bars, and cabana boys, she’ll drop a glob of queso onto her shirt.
She’ll scrub it with a napkin, hoping to have it blend inconspicuously with the existing smears of baby food and spit-up.
As the spot fails to disappear, she’ll notice her unkempt appearance with feigned surprise, and vow to buy some new clothes, get a facial, and take a shower.
On her way to the laundry room to tackle the queso spot, she will stumble on a hot wheel and curse loudly and emphatically.
As she picks up the hot wheels,legos, and action figures, she’ll notice a big crusty booger smeared onto the coffee table.
As she scrapes away the nasty nostril nugget, she’ll break a poorly manicured fingernail and wander off in search of a nail file.
This will remind her of her favorite nail polish and she will rush off to find it, desperate to maintain a hint of femininity and sexuality.
She’ll hunker over her dry, over-washed hands to apply the polish and will probably spill the bottle half way through the first hand.
At this point she will notice her sore, twisted ankle is starting to swell and she’ll probably go to the freezer for an ice pack.
Just as she sits down to rest her injured foot, she’ll get a phone call from the school nurse.
She will listen with worry to the tale of a corn kernel stuck in a tiny ear canal, and will then make the journey to the doctor’s office to dislodge the invasive niblet.
While she restrains a screaming youngster and the doctor approaches with formidable, shining instruments, she will hold back her own tears and do her best to be a strong, encouraging, comforting mommy.
She will return home, niblet-free child in tow, to discover her husband trying in vain to wipe away the spilled, dried-up nail polish.
When he asks her why she didn’t clean up her mess, the dam will burst and the previously restrained tears will burst forth in a salty torrent.
He will just stare silently at her, bewildered and perplexed, as she babbles incoherently about her difficult day.
And chances are, if he’s a good husband, he’ll offer her a margarita.