Last year it was a trip to the Renaissance Festival, Daddy-Daughter kilts, and a full Irish spread for dinner. This year our highlight of the week was taking Buttercup to the pediatrician for her 4-year well check 8 months late, bribing her love back with a new doll after the vaccinations, and The Husband gets leftovers for dinner because I don't feel like cooking.
I'm also still deciding whether or not I feel like putting my bra on.
While I sit here typing this, The Husband is calling his blonde-haired and blue-eyed Irish-Canadian mother to wish her a Happy St. Patrick's Day before being passed to his Mexican born father of Hopi Indian and Italian descent to talk about cars or guns or something manly. After a bit, my Mirish-Canadian, Hopi Indian, Italian Princess will beg her daddy to hang up so she can play with him before he goes to work and I pack her up for a play date at her friend's house.
Which, unfortunately, means I need to put a bra on.
Until then, a history lesson for you: Mirish isn't a term I made up. In fact, there's quite a lot of hyphenated Mexicans of Irish descent around, including half of my cousins and half of the Mexican population in Detroit. Irish surnames are still quite prevalent in certain parts of Mexico and a movie called One Man's Hero starring Tom Berenger tells the story of the Batallón de San Patricio (The St. Patrick's Batallion), in which the largely ethnic Irish U.S. deserters fought alongside the Mexican Army during the Mexican-American War of 1846-1848.
I say Mirish. In Spanish you say Irlandés-mexicano or Hibernomexicano. And the Irish say Gael-Meicsiceach.
Happy St. Patrick's Day, y'all.
Also? Thank you to Wikipedia for helping me look like I know what I'm talking about.