Twin Puerto Rican Unicorn Girls
My brother-in-law and sister-in-law are the “Chosen Ones” in Poptart’s family. They can do no wrong. Poptart and I are the politically incorrect sheep. I really have no idea why. It’s not like we walk into Poptart’s parents house and drink all their booze, freebase in their kitchen, and charge up outrageous phone bills calling phone sex sites. We are just as cool, if not cooler than my siblings-in-law are. To be perfectly honest, we are a hell of a lot more fun. But no matter the situation, the rules don’t apply for them.
We always switch off the holidays each year with the families to make everything fair. Thanksgiving with my family, Christmas with the Poptarts, and the next year it’s reversed. Considering I HATE the holidays, this to me is just torture. One Christmas a couple of years ago we were with Poptart’s parents at their home in Santa Fe. First off, we are all staying together in one house in the middle of the desert. The closest town is about 20 miles away, so we eat every single meal with each other, watch TV with each other, and stare at each other for entertainment. This nonsense goes on for days with no chance of parole for good behavior. I can be well behaved for a short time, but after a while the filter between my brain and my mouth starts to develop small leaks. I think these leaks may be one of the reasons Poptart and I are not the favorite children. You see, the leaks are contagious. Poptart and I tend to feed off of one another and once we get going it is almost impossible for us to stop the tomfoolery. We just can’t help ourselves.
So it’s finally Christmas morning, which to most means “Yay, Christmas!” To me, it means I’m one day closer to freedom. Poptart and I are standing in the kitchen drinking our morning coffee in our PJ’s when we ask my father-in-law when Christmas starts. “When everyone gets dressed,” he says. Sternly. Looking around, there are only two people still in their pajamas and I’m pretty sure you can figure out who those two are. If this were any other person, he’d be wearing what was left of my morning cup o’ joe. But he’s Poptart’s dad. So I grit my teeth, force a smile, and march my ass back to the bathroom to get “purtied up.”
Cut to two years later. Christmas morning in Santa Fe. This time, the Chosen Ones are there with our 8-month-old nephew. As my sister-in-law and I were both in the kitchen in our PJ’s, I asked my mother-in-law when Christmas is going to start. I didn’t want to make the same mistake again. She said in about an hour. Okay…I’m all over this like hair on a monkey. Time to impress the in-laws. I get dressed in a nice white shirt and black pants. As I’m blow-drying my hair the hubby comes in and tells me that everyone is seated and waiting for me. What the hell? By my clock, my hour is up in 2 minutes. So I’ll be ready. In 2 minutes. “Have them start without me. I’ll be there in like two minutes,” I say. What’s the big deal? Poptart goes back out and sits down at the table.
“What’s the hold-up?” my father-in-law asks.
“Stacy’s getting dressed,” Poptart replies.
“Uh-uh,” Poptart cut him off. “If you recall our last Christmas together, Stacy and I were given explicit instructions on what was required of us in order for Christmas to begin. She is now following those instructions. To. The. Letter. We’ll wait.”
I finish up my hair and I’m running about three minutes late. Now my in laws are old school. We all sit down together for meals and we have a seating arrangement. Not just for special occasions, but for every meal we eat and it’s always the exact same seats. So I walk out and of course no one is eating because they are all waiting for me. Awesome! As I go to sit down I look across the table and there they are. The Chosen Ones are still in their PJ’s. WTF?
“Heeeey! Why don’t they don’t have to get dressed?” And my mother-in-law’s response was, “They have the baby.” Oooooh. So now I get it. The kid exemption. It’s not only good for taxes but also good for Pajama rules. Man, we have to get one of those!
Three years later. Thanksgiving. We now live in Houston where my in-laws live. Thanksgiving dinner is at 3:00, so we’re supposed to show up at 2:00. But now we have a child of our own, and she doesn’t understand the concept of schedules. So we’re running behind, but not too far behind. At 2:08, my father-in-law calls us on my husband’s cell.
“Where are you guys? You were supposed to be here at two.”
“We are turning in right now,” Poptart replies. Official time of arrival: 2:10 pm.
I honestly don’t think we’re that late. And we have the kid exemption on our side, right? We’re golden. We sit down and start to visit with the parents. We visit, and visit, and still no sign of Poptart’s brother. It is now 2:58 p.m.
“It’s 3:00,” Poptart observes.
“Yes,” says his mother.
“You called me when I was 8 minutes late. They’re an hour late, and I haven’t seen either of you reach for the phone.”
“Well, they have the two boys,” my mother-in-law responds. Ah-ha. The old “two kids in the right pocket” play. I’ve seen it a thousand times.
To give you a little background, Poptart’s family is known for only having boys. Poptart used to brag that there have only been 3 females born in the last 5 generations on his side. Not anymore. Skylar makes that 4. Boo-Yah! My brother-in-law and sister-in-law may have two boys, but we have the Sacred Girl. We finally have them beat at something. We win! We win! We win!!! So we have held our precious ground for three years. Until…my sister-in-law gets pregnant again. And what is she pregnant with? You guessed it. A girl. Oh crap!!! There goes our only leverage. Back in the doghouse for me and Poptart. Having just learned the news that we had lost our only advantage, I wrote this Facebook post.
MD: I just found out that my sister-in-law is having a girl. For many generations the Poptart family has only produced boys and our little sweetheart was the only girl. Until now. How in the hell are we going to compete with this? I’m going to need to have twins, or a Unicorn, or maybe a Puerto Rican. I’m not sure it can be done.
Selena: Have twin girl unicorns that are Puerto Rican.
MD: Selena, I think you may be on to something here.
Jason: I lived in Puerto Rico for 13 years. I also have a Viking hat with removable horns. Do I get to help?
Selena: Jason, you will have to be tested for Unicorn production ability.
MD: Oh Jason, I think you would be of great help. It would be an added bonus if you could fly and if you knew the square root of 8952367125145.
Jason: I have accumulated many frequent flyer miles and know how to make nice with the Sky Waitress. Oh, and 2,992,050.66 is fairly close to the square root.
MD: Done! We have a deal then.
So I’m assuming the next holiday will be much like the last. Except now not only will they be allowed to be in their PJ’s and late, but they will also be allowed to freebase in the kitchen. Something I’ve always wanted to do.
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