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Thursday, May 17, 2012

A Father's Mothers' Day Pickle...

LeBron made me do it?
Anyone who knows me would say that I'm not one to complain about sports on TV.

However, I would like to know whose hair brain idea was it to schedule my favorite baseball team (NY Mets) and the first game of the Miami Heat’s second-round playoffs against Indiana on Mother’s Day?

My wife always tells me that I lack self-control. I have no discipline. And, she’s right!

Putting the Mets and Heat on TV (and the Washington Redskins, UM and Notre Dame football for that matter!) is like putting Bill Clinton at the Tu Candela bar in Cartagena (sans the party animal Hillary).  I was bound to be tempted. I was bound to fall from my wife’s grace. And ultimately, I did.

The day started off promising enough, by the time I got back from Walgreen's, where I had to gone to get the gift bags to wrap my wife’s and mom’s gifts (I knew I was forgetting something!), our two daughters had already wished my wife a happy mommy's day.

My four-year-old son, on the other hand, had to be coaxed into bringing my wife her gift, when I got home, because he said he was “too cold” (and preferred being under his covers in the living room watching The Avengers cartoon!).

After the gift opening (the tissue paper I wrapped it in said, "Happy Birthday," Oops) and thank you kisses, we got ready for church and after Mass, went to a Mother's Day brunch at my wife’s cousin’s house, where we go almost every year and are treated to an amazing spread of food, mimosas and familial bonding (So far, so good).

Since my parents couldn’t make it to the brunch, we had made plans to meet for a late lunch with them and my mother-in-law at a little French restaurant in Coral Gables (although, after my morning gorge, I could have held out till dinner!).

Meanwhile, in between food fests, my wife wanted to go home and exercise (she’s pretty obsessed; not even a break on Mom's Day!).  Everything is still going good.

In fact, while my wife exercised, I got a chance to watch the Mets. Yes, I di-id. Hey, I know it was Mother's Day but my wife was doing what she wanted to do. It's not my fault, if in the process, I got to do what I wanted too!

We had a great lunch, although, I just ordered lobster bisque (there's nothing like trying to maintain my svelte figure by having a creamy French bisque with heavy butter and chunks of lobster!) and had everyone’s leftover pomme frites (sounds less fattening than the American version!).

The Heat game had started and was playing on a TV in the restaurant but since it was my wife's special day (and I was recording the game at home), all my attention was on my wife and family.  Scoring points and I hoped the Heat were too!

However, after getting home from lunch, things started getting a bit dicey.

It all started with my wife. That’s right, I'm blaming her! When we got home, she wanted to go for a run (after her early afternoon Brooklyn Bridge Boot Camp). Perfect! You go girl!

After all, it was Mother's Day, right? This is what she wanted to do.

Since the Heat game was being recorded, I finished watching the Mets’ game. I should have known it was foreboding when the Mets collapsed in the final two innings and ended up losing on a walk-off grand slam (a couple of my friends, who are Marlins' fans, had a little fun texting me lovely messages)

But, after getting back from her run, my wife went to take a shower and by that time, it was early evening and I was already watching the Heat game.

I lost all consciousness. Outside of quickly bathing my son, making a frozen pizza for the kids (my wife wasn't going to cook!), picking up the dishes and putting the kids to bed (all the time hitting the pause button on the remote so as to not miss a single play), I spent the rest of Mother's Day, watching the Heat beat the Pacers.

Let's see; gluttony, sloth, greed.  What other deadly sin could I have committed that day?

Somewhere after the kids had gone to bed, as I was merrily watching the fourth quarter and having a beer (wasn’t it Mother's Day?), I looked at my wife, who had just come in from our garage, where she had gone to get the kids’ school uniform from the laundry (which she hates doing!), and she looked at me and I swear I saw her sigh, as if to ask, “What did I do to deserve this?.”  At that point, I thought, “Oh, boy. I'm in the dog house tonight.”

I'm telling you, it was like Bill being put with the Secret Service guys at Tu Candela. As St. Paul would say, "The mind is willing but the flesh is weak."  It just wasn’t fair.

I  have a lot of making up to do.  Then again, my wife may thank me one day.  Being married to me may be like going through Purgatory.  In the end, she may go straight to the penthouse...




[pic credit: Mike Ehrmann/ Getty Images]

2 comments:

Robert said...

Ah yes...a man's dilemma. I "solved it" by going to a restaurant with my wife and mom that was showing the Heat game. Not only that, my mom asked the restaurant staff to put the game on the nearest TV to our table. Not trying to make you jealous but pointing out how lucky I was (oh well, at least I tried to justify my taunting). ;)

BTW...like the blog's new look.

Carlos Espinosa said...

Thanks.

It took me forever but after many many times of going through the process and then deciding I didn't like it for months, I finally decided to make the change and adjust it as I needed.