Mi Familia Loca

It is the first day of first grade and Mama walks me to school like she always does. She is wearing a long flowing dress with bright purple flowers on it. I see Billy and Ted, the meanest boys in my grade, and they are laughing and pointing at us. I don’t think Mama notices. She plants a big kiss on my forehead and I wish she wouldn’t have. I wait until she leaves, then I wipe the lip gloss from my forehead.
“Ella has to get a big fat kiss from her mommy!” Billy says to Ted and they begin to giggle loudly.
“Yeah, I bet she talks just like her mom, too.” I feel the tears building up in my eyes and I try so hard not to cry. But it doesn’t work. I run to the bathroom and stare in the mirror.
Mama doesn’t talk like all the other people I know. She sounds different, has to think real hard before saying the right words. I leave the bathroom and find one of my friends that I haven’t seen since the last day of kindergarten. We walk to the classroom together and Billy and Ted are in there already. I wish they would go away. I sit as far away from them as I can.
When school lets out, I walk out to the front of the school. Mama always waits for me there. She can always tell when something is wrong. I can’t ever keep my tears a secret from her.
“Ella, que te pasa?” I can see Billy and Ted and they are making kissing noises. My eyes begin to water. “Nothing is wrong, Mama.”
Mama wipes my eyes with a tissue she pulls from her pocket. “Now, tell me,” she says. I say nothing. “Okay, you can wait till we get home.” She takes my hand and we begin to walk home.
Our house is long and skinny with wheels underneath it. Cats like to hide under there and I sneak up and grab them. I don’t have any brothers or sisters so I put my doll clothes on the cats and pretend I’m the big sister. My dog, Puppy, is too big to wear the clothes. Inside, Puppy jumps on me, almost knocking me down. His tongue licks me on the mouth and it feels gross. “Puppy, ewww!” I run from him and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
Mama is standing in front of me with her arms crossed. “Ella, are you going to tell me why you were crying in school today?” she asks. Instead of telling her the truth about why I was crying, I decide to tell her a lie. But it’s okay because it is just a little lie. “The meanest boys in the whole first grade were making fun of my shoes.” I say, pointing to my new pair of pink mary janes.
“Don’t listen to those silly gringo boys, they don’t know nada.” Mama walks to the refrigerator and takes out a carton of orange juice. She pours me a glass, “We need to go to the tienda, Ella. Before your Daddy gets home. We don’t have any flour para las tortillas.”
I take a big drink of juice, “Okay, but first I want to change my shoes.
Mama and me leave to go to the store. We have to walk because she doesn’t know how to drive and even if she did, Daddy took our only car to work, so we would have had to walk anyways. Maybe Daddy can get us bikes. We buy flour, milk, beans and rice. On our way out of the store, I see a little girl and her mama selling Girl Scout cookies.
“Would you like to buy some Girl Scout Cookies?” the girl asks. I want to because they are the really good kind, the ones with peanut butter in the middle. Mama stares at her for several moments and finally tells her, “Sorry. No more dinero.” They look at Mama like she is stupid. I want to tell them they are stupider, but Mama grabs my arm and leads me away before I can say anything to them.
Once we get home Mama gets ready to make tortillas. She gets out a big, shiny metal bowl and puts a bunch of flour in it. After, she puts some other stuff in it. It looks like the paste I used to eat when I was in Kindergarten. Mama mixes and mixes and it must be hard work because it takes such a long time. When she is finally done mixing the dough, she breaks off little chunks of it and rolls them out on the counter with a wooden rolling pin until they are big and round.
“Mama, how come my tortillas don’t look pretty like yours?”
“You just need to continue to practice and one day they will be perfect.”

Mama likes to watch soap operas in Spanish while she cooks. Her favorite is Otra Dia Mas. I don’t know why it’s her favorite though because she always cries when she watches it. Daddy told her not to watch those crazy soap operas because she always cries when she watches it. She doesn’t ever listen to him though because when Daddy goes to work, that’s all she watches. I think Mama likes to cry. I tried watching them with her one time. But they were talking too fast. I couldn’t understand what they were saying.
After Daddy gets home and we are sitting at the table eating the tortillas I helped Mama make, Daddy tells her about a special school that is starting here in town. “It will help you with your English,” he says. I wonder is she’s going to go school with me. I don’t want her to because those gringos might start saying stupid things again and it might make Mama cry.
“When you are done, you will be like a whole other woman,” Daddy says. I don’t think Mama wants to go to school because she doesn’t say anything about, just watches us eat in silence. I want to cry because I don’t want a whole other woman, I want Mama.

To get Mama read for school, Daddy and me go to Wal-Mart. We get her some notebooks and some pink folders. I picked them out because pink is my favorite color. I think Mama will like them. We also get her a present.
“It is a surprise,” Daddy says. “So she will feel special on her first day of school.” I smell bunches of perfume, but I don’t know which one to pick. Daddy likes them all. I end up picking the one in the pink bottle with a big flower on the box. Mama likes pretty flowers.
On the way home I ask Daddy, “How come you don’t talk funny like Mama?” Daddy doesn’t say anything for a second, finally he answers me.
“Well, Ella, your Mama grew up in Mexico. They speak Spanish there and she is having a hard time learning English.” Daddy explains. “I lived in Mexico too, but I also lived in California for several years, and that’s why I already know English so well.”
“Does that mean that Mama’s gonna lose her talk? Daddy laughs, “No, sweetie, your Mama will always have an accent. But she will be able to communicate better with others.”
When we get home Daddy and me give Mama her surprise. I think she likes it a lot because she gives Daddy a big kiss on the lips, like the people on T.V. do. She hugs me. “It’s mi perfume favorite.”

Mama’s special school is a night. When Daddy gets home from work we eat dinner and then drop Mama off at her classes.
“Good luck,” Daddy tells Mama. “I will pick you up in two hours.” Mama doesn’t look too happy though, she gives Daddy a funny look. “Ella, you be a good girl for Daddy.”
“I will Mama. I hope your teacher is nice.”
We get home and Daddy and I take Puppy for a walk. He’s a big dog so Daddy has to hold on to the leash. I tried to once, but Puppy started to run and I dropped his leash and Daddy and Mama had to chase him all around the trailer park. It’s kind of lonely without Mama, doesn’t feel the same. I think Daddy feels it too.
Soon, it is time to pick Mama up and Daddy asks, “How’s was it? Did you like it?”
“Yeah, Mama,” I say while giving her a hug. “Was your teacher nice to you? Or was she mean and give you lots of homework?”
“It was okay. There are only eight students in the class.” Mama turns to me, “No, the teacher didn’t give me lots of homework, just a little bit.”
“That’s good that the class is so small,” Daddy says. “That way, you each get more attention from the teacher.”
“I suppose.” Mama sits with her arms crossed the way she does when she gets mad at me.

After Mama goes to school a few times, she seems sad, sadder than ever. I ask Daddy, “What’s the matter with Mama? Why is she so sad?”
“She isn’t sad, Ella, she is just frustrated.” I don’t really know what that means, but it can’t be too good since she usually ends up crying because of it. Daddy and me start to watch Bugs Bunny on T.V. Puppy is sitting on the couch next to me and Daddy is sitting on his most favorite chair, a big ugly brown one that is so squishy I can’t get up when I sit down on it. One of Mama’s school books flies across the living room, almost hitting Daddy on the head. Daddy goes to see what’s wrong and I can hear her screaming.
“I don’t ever want to go back to that escuela!” The yelling is so loud my ears start to hurt. I stay on the couch and bury my face in Puppy’s fat belly and cover my eyes. Mama runs off to her room and slams the door shut. Daddy pounds on it, “Open the door!” But Mama doesn’t open it for a long time. Daddy comes back into the living room. I’m too scared to say anything. He sits on his chair with his face in his hands.
Mama finally comes out and Daddy goes to talk to her. “You have no idea what I’m going through!” She throws her hands up in the air, and for a second I think she might hit Daddy but she doesn’t. “You don’t understand anything. Do you know how hard it is for me to be here? I miss my people, my country.” Daddy tries to hug Mama, but she doesn’t let him.
I thought Daddy and me were Mama’s people. They yell some more and Daddy screams, “No matter how hard it is, you have to go back.” Mama covers her ears with her hands, but Daddy keeps on yelling. “You need to learn to speak like the people that live here!” Tears pour out of Mama’s eyes. I want to go to her and kiss them away like she does mine. It makes me sad too. I have never seen Mama cry so much. She falls to the floor and Daddy wipes her tears with his hands. He gets on the floor with her, holding her close.
“It’s all going to be okay.” He says and he rubs her back. Mama’s cries become softer and softer and they finally disappear.

Mama has piles of pictures she likes to show to me. One of her favorites is of her in a pretty purple dress. She is standing next to her Mama. “Do you see this lady, next to me?” she asks. I nod my head yes. “That lady is your abuelita.” Hmm. I didn’t even know I had an abuelita. I have never met her. I kind of don’t want to because she looks like she might be a little mean. Her hair is in braids and he is wearing red lipstick, the kind my Mama gets mad at me for putting on when I play in her makeup.
The next picture Mama shows me has lots of mountains on it.
“This is where I come from.” Mama points to a big mountain on the picture. I didn’t think people could come from mountains. I thought people came from the sky with the big birds with big mouths and they left you at your Mama and Daddy’s front porch. She keeps looking at the pictures and some of them make her cry. I think Mama cries way too much.
At dinner, Daddy tells Mama, “From now on, I don’t want to hear you speaking any more Spanglish.” I ask Daddy, “What’s Spanglish? Does Mama have it?”
“Spanglish,” he says, “Is when you mix Spanish words with English words and it doesn’t sound right.” Mama doesn’t say anything while we finish eating dinner. She just sits there quietly eating.

Little by little Mama’s talk changes. Daddy seems really excited about it. But I miss her old way of speaking. It made Mama different from everyone else. I don’t think that Mama is that happy about it because she still cries a lot, but only when Daddy is not home.
“When I am done with my classes, you and I are going to take a very special trip.” Mama tells me while she is making tortillas. I get excited because we never go on trips.
“Can we go and see Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck?” I ask, jumping up and down.
“Ella, do you remember that picture I showed you? The one with your abuelita and me on it?”
“Yes, I remember it. You were wearing a pretty dress.”
“Yes, that’s the one. I want to go and visit her, and I want you to go with me, so that you can meet her. She’s never seen you and I’m sure she will be very happy to.”
I don’t really want to go, but I don’t want to make Mama cry. “Okay,” I say. “I will go.”
“We have to keep it secret though,” she says. “Because if Daddy finds out we are going, he will get loco en la cabeza.”
“Okay, Mama. I won’t say anything.”
“You have to cross our heart,” she says.
“I cross my heart.” I hope Daddy doesn’t get too mad when we go.

Mama is almost done with her classes. She still gets very frustrated and mad at Daddy. They get in another fight, only this time, Mama gets so mad that she leaves. I start to cry and go outside to follow her, but Daddy holds me back. “I want Mama!”
“Your Mama needs some time to herself,” he says. “She will come back. Don’t cry.”
Daddy tries to get me to stop crying by giving me chocolate ice cream, but I don’t want any. “It’s your favorite,” he says. Only Mama knows how to make my tears go away. I go and lay face down on the couch. Daddy sits next to me. I wait and listen for Mama to come back, but she doesn’t. I think Daddy begins to get worried too because he gets up and looks out the window. I sit up and watch him open the door. Puppy jumps up on the couch and licks my face, I think she knows I am sad.
“Daddy?” I ask, “When is Mama going to come home?” Daddy paces back and force across the living room.
“I don’t know,” he answers. “Wait a few more minutes and if she doesn’t come back, we will get in the car and go look for her.”
A few minutes pass and she still doesn’t come home. Daddy gets the keys to the car, “Lets go find your mom.”
We find her in the park, sitting on a bench all alone. Daddy tells me, “Stay in the car. I’ll be right back.” At first I think they are going to yell some more so I cover my ears so that I’m ready. But instead, Daddy hugs Mama and she says, “I’m sorry.”

Mama graduates from her special school and Daddy and I get her a cake to celebrate. It’s a chocolate cake with red roses on it. I put a candle in the middle, even if it’s not her birthday. I want Mama to have a special wish. She blows it out and smiles.
“Mama, Mama! What did you wish for?” I ask. She leans in close to me and whispers in my ear, “I’ll tell you later.”
Mama’s wish was for us to leave and visit abuelita. We sneak away in the middle of the night. A friend from Mama’s school picks us up and takes us to the bus station. We get on a big bus, bigger than the one I get on when we take field trips. I don’t like it. There’s a bunch of people on it and they look at us weird. It seems to take forever till we get to Mama’s mountain where she came from.

My abuelita isn’t mean to me like I thought she would be. She gives me a big hug and a kiss. We go into her little house and she shows me lots of pictures of Mama when she was little. Mama looked a lot like me. Only her hair was a lot longer than mine. Abuelita’s house isn’t like mine. It’s much smaller and doesn’t have squishy carpet.
“Does anyone know you are going to stay?” Abuelita asks Mama. She looks at me before answering her. “No, nobody knows.”

A few days pass and I begin to miss Daddy, “When are we going back, Mama? I want to see Daddy and Puppy!”

“Soon,” Mama says. Later on, I hear Abuelita and Mama talking. “We have to leave.” Mama says to Abuelita.
“But why? You told me yourself you are happy here and Ella seems to love it here.”
“She misses her Daddy,” she tells her. Abuelita’s voice starts to get louder, “I think it’s you that really misses her Daddy,” she says.
“This isn’t the right environment for her, she needs to be around other children and if we stay, she’s not going to get a good education.” Mama says, “I want a better life for her.” It gets really quiet, I walk into the kitchen where they were talking. “Mama, I miss Daddy.” She gets up and hugs me, stroking my hair.
“I know, Ella.”
The next morning we say good bye to Abuelita and the mountain. Abuelita cries and Mama does too.
“Good-bye Mother,” Mama says to Abuelita. Abuelita is quiet, and just gives us a small wave.

We finally get home and Mama is scared that Daddy is going to be mad at her.


When we walk into the house, Daddy is sitting in the living room, looking at the T.V. but it isn’t even on. He looks surprised to see us. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Mama. She starts to cry and he goes to hug her. He holds her and doesn’t let go.