Nacho Night

Looking back, I see that it was the simple things that made love grow in my own family. I realize, too, that simple is entirely relative. Simple is not simple for everyone. Nacho night for me was simple and it was the cornerstone on which my husband and I built our home. Nacho night. Our Sunday lunch.
When I think of nacho night, the simple way we entertained ourselves comes to mind. When we found ourselves all six in the car together, someone would invariably start the “what would you do for a million dollars” game. I know you know this game. “Who would lick the entire floor clean in Mercado’s restaurant for a million dollars? Who would throw our dog, Boofers, off a cliff for a million dollars? Who would consent to live in a foreign country for the rest of their lives never to return to the United States for a million dollars? For a million dollars, Dad, would you get out on the roof of our house on busy O’Keefe Road in only your “whitie tighties” and your tool belt and stay for 3 hours promising to wave at every single car that drives by?” Oh, the conversations that would entail from these questions! The simple entertainment was the best. Nothing needed to be plugged in, nothing needed to have earphones, no batteries were required, no one was right or wrong, and no one had to be in a particular seat. Simple. The questions would vary and I am reminded of nacho night because of one particular variation. On one family jaunt, the question of the day was, “If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?” James delivered his answer unequivocally and without hesitation. It was nachos, and the answer for him was simple. Lately I have wondered at the confidence in which his answer was delivered. As I have made the effort to look back at who we were, it is simple to see the reason for his conviction. Nacho night let me feel every ounce of love that was sent my direction from my husband. Nacho night let my kids feel the depth of what it was that held us all together. Nacho night was simple. Nacho night was huge. Thinking about nacho night helps me to heal.
To set the scene for nacho night conjure up the image of three toddlers wrapped in towels. Their hair would be dripping wet and they would be running into the kitchen followed closely by their Dad. The youngest child would be slung over James’shoulder in a towel. Squeals and peals of laughter would always accompany bath time with Dad and this bath time ritual would set the mood for the rest of the evening. I would be busy grating cheese, chopping tomatoes, or lining a tray with chips and would almost miss the look I received from him. The look cast my way from those beautiful blue eyes would convey more love and anticipation than any words could capture. I knew that nacho night was our night. Without fail he would steal a taste of the guacamole and I would feign annoyance. And then, he would give me a kiss to gain forgiveness. That was simple. There is not a doubt in my mind that our kids felt the love that was strengthened each and every nacho night. Simple entertainment with huge benefits. After one kid heads straight for the paper plates and one is on the counter helping to smash the avocados and two spread out the softies for our pallet, the feast in ready. Sit by the fire. Tell us a story. Conduct stare downs. And, pass the nachos. Our kids would fall asleep on the pallet confident in the love that we shared for not only them, but for each other. One by one we would take the kids to their beds. It was simple. No babysitters, no worries about leaving one baby crying, no extra expense, but lots of love. Adult nachos were after the kids were taken to their beds. Onions and jalapenos and margaritas and a great big helping of love. The rest of the night was ours. Who couldn’t live the rest of their life on that?