maternal tamales

today I made twenty tamales de birria

I took almost all day, and the kitchen was thrashed

I sent ten to the neighbors, whose dad had just died. Six beautiful kids, and they all knew birria

I sent four to the neighbors that love tamales, I don’t know them that well, and they weren’t home, but I left it on the doorstep anyways

I ate one, but I didn’t like them, because I’ve never had birria. I don’t know what it’s supposed to taste like

My husband requested it, from a video he saw

He ate two, and then three more for dinner

I made plain bean ones, and cheese, for my kids

my five year old, Wylie hated it. She cried and said it was disgusting. Sometimes I think she has ARFID but she has no problem trying new candies.

My baby, Taiga, and Rainer were impressed, but only with the bean ones.

I don’t talk to my mom, but I talked about her a lot today.

I learned generosity from her, and I prize it

A lot. I know she learned from her mom, and my Grandmom from hers.

I know when Wylie sees me wrap up tamales, and tamales, and tamales the way I watched my mom wrap presents, and presents, and presents the night before Christmas

The bags hidden under her bed of little things that would be good presents would come out, and we’d stay up late and tape and wrap

presents with no name on them, just wrapped clean, with mitered corners. There would always be surprise guests, and they would get a present too. Their name, Sharpied hurriedly with a flourish from the bathroom.

Generosity, you either have it or you don’t. It can’t be taught once you’ve grown up too much. Family culture, I guess.

my brothers girlfriend told me once, “your whole family makes me want to share. You guys always share.”

“Makes me want” is different than “taught me how”

“generosity”, engraved on the ring I raffled out to my first business during pandemic. The tightest ass woman won it. I wonder if it’s changed her. Idk. I don’t think you can learn it.

Generosity. It’s something you do for you. You give up on reciprocation early in this game, but the more rare you see that it is, the more you value it in yourself.

it becomes the gift you give to yourself, you GET to be generous. All that I give is given to me.

How lucky am I to bring food to a funeral, by happenstance, really. How lucky am I to feed an army, having known what it’s like to be part of an army? How lucky am I to see six smiling faces? How lucky am I to leave tamales on the doorstep of a distant friend. “We don’t know each other but you will know how much love went into this.”

Wordless. No reaction shot. It’s a gift to me

Mary Oliver said “May I be the tiniest nail in the house of God. Tiny, but useful”. That’s how I feel with tamales.

I want to get a tiny nail tattooed on my face, under my eye.

I wish I could give my mom these tamales. I wish I could leave her on FaceTime while I smear masa from coast to coast. I wish I wasn’t alone with my cumbias. I wish that she knew that when I write about her, I write like this, and she didn’t have to be afraid. But I have told her, and I have shown her, and it’s still too scary for her to know she’s being written about.

So I make tamales with the internet on FaceTime instead. I share them with my neighbors instead. I write you, late at night.

When my Grandmom died, all my mom wanted from her house was a picture on the wall that said “it is well with my soul”

Idk. Making tamales for TikTok and writing about what I learned from my mom to the internet

it’s well with my soul.

happy Mother’s Day.