I’m currently on a flight to Los Angeles with Maya and her potato.
A potato you ask? Why on earth does Maya have a potato?
Well because a very smart doctor friend of mine suggested that holding a potato somehow helps those who have motion sickness.
I have no idea how it works.
I don’t really care how it works.
(I am admittedly curious what TSA thought of a potato in our carry on, but I suppose they’ve seen stranger things.)
All I know is that since we left our NYC apartment 4 hours ago I’ve made sure that Maya has been holding this potato as though her life depends on it.
And the fact is that we are currently 2 hours and 8 minutes into this flight and Maya hasn’t complained that she’s feeling sick EVEN ONCE.
So a big thank you to my friend Sam whose suggestion has allowed me – for the first time since Maya was born – to actually think that there is hope for Maya’s motion sickness.
In the form of one of my favorite vegetables no less.
Rest assured that I’m still armed with various airsickness bags just in case this post jinxes everything. But until then?
It’s all about the potato.
There are few things more painful than shopping for clothes with Maya. This is because:
- She’s inherited her father’s indecisiveness.
- She has zero concern for time constraints.
- Her love for neon colors goes against everything I know.
- Maya insists that everything is either too tight or too scratchy*, which makes trying on clothes exhausting.
*Maya recently started cutting off any and all clothing labels and tags. Since her Hello Kitty scissors aren’t the sharpest, this has led to holes in just about everything she owns. Which has led to Ali lecturing me that Maya has no clothes and why can’t I replace her holey clothing?
–>There are FEW things more annoying than this lecture.
So on one hand, I admire the fact that Maya can wear her hot pink Nike’s with her orange Target dress without caring she’s offending my sensitive color palate.
I also think it’s great she doesn’t let her watch rule her world, like I do.
But last week, when we were in Chicago and Ali insisted we buy Maya new snow boots? A process that took almost an entire hour? I wanted to scream “For the love of God, will you just MAKE A DECISION?”
I’m still recovering from that painful shopping expedition. It’s been a week.
All that’s left to say is that I fear the teenage years.
As organized as I am, you’d think I’d have a plan in place for Maya’s school holidays. But really, they just throw me for a loop. EVERY TIME.
Luckily, however, Ali is in town, which meant he and Maya were able to celebrate Columbus Day together this past Monday.
It seemed Ali was a bit overwhelmed by the idea of spending 12 hours with Maya though, because prior to me leaving for work he asked if any errands needed to be done.
He’s never asked that. Ever.
Instead of verbalizing the smart ass comment percolating in my head….
(“Of course there are errands to be done. There are always errands to be done. I mean for one thing, have you not noticed the refrigerator is echoing it’s so empty?”)….
I handed him a grocery list with instructions to buy organic EVERYTHING, and then left to battle the crowds at Grand Central.
At work, however, my sarcasm dissipated and I began to feel quite unsettled.
Mainly because Ali + the Grocery Store + Maya yield Frankenfoods like Cookie Crisp and Doritos.
And also because giving up control of even mundane things like the grocery list stresses me out to no end.
As I trekked home I talked myself down from a panic attack.I told myself that even if Ali bought non-organic peas and Fuji apples instead of Gala, I was going to survive.
So guess what Ali bought?
Absolutely nothing. He and Maya went to Shake Shack, Cold Stone, played video games, and went rock climbing instead.
I think Maya’s caught on to the fact that I do not like to share.
Especially not my food.
Not even with my 10-year-old child.
I know this because she’s been testing me.
Yesterday, for example, we were at lunch, and the instant my salad arrived she asked (with a sly smile) if she could have one of the 5 tiny shrimp that dotted my plate.
Here’s what I wanted to say:
No you cannot have a shrimp. Because you have an enormous burger and fries right in front of you that you’ve barely made a dent in.
And since this $20 salad is the size of my fist, and I will most definitely be hungry 5 minutes after consuming it, and I don’t eat red meat and thus can’t have a bite of your burger, and I try to avoid french fries and thus can’t have some of your fries, I really do not want to give you one of my precious shrimp.
I hope you understand.
Luckily I shut my big mouth, counted backwards from ten, and then said: “I suppose.”
So yes I lecture her constantly about sharing her toys and food and whatever else. And yes I’m being rather hypocritical and selfish by not sharing myself.
But sometimes I just have nothing left to give and all I want are my 5 sad, overpriced little shrimp.
I hope that doesn’t make me a terrible person. But if it does?
I suppose I can live with that.
I love Instagram, but will admit that I (like many others) often only share the highlights of my day (mostly good food that I do not cook).
Rarely do you see a picture of my not-so-great moments. But trust me – there are many.
So in keeping with my attempts to keep this blog honest, I thought it would be nice to share some of the not-so-great moments of our trip to Paris last week:
- Maya refused to speak in French which was a huge part of the reason we planned the trip.
- After threatening her with her life she finally came up with one sentence, and I believe it had something to do with requesting more guacamole.
- At Chipotle.
- Judge me as you wish – I deserve it for letting her eat Chipotle in Paris. But I just didn’t have any more fight left in me.
- Ali discovered Google Translate’s camera function and spent the trip obsessively holding his phone up against everything saying, “Can I translate that for you?”
- I wanted to throw his phone into the Seine.
- Until I needed Google Translate’s camera function to figure out if my prepackaged salad had cheese in it.
- Yes, I ate a prepackaged salad as I enviously watched Maya devour her tacos.
- Sometimes I wish I didn’t have such strong principles.
- It rained and was freezing cold for the duration of our trip. Until the morning we left, of course, at which point it was sunny and 85 degrees.
- Because of the rain we did a lot of indoor things including a visit to the beautiful Baccarat museum where Ali and Maya yawned incessantly.
- Maya said she wanted to see the Mona Lisa instead, at which point Ali declared the Mona Lisa “a waste of time.”
- Honestly, I don’t understand the appeal of the Mona Lisa either so I didn’t fight him (unusual for me). Feel free to judge me again.
I won’t bother to bullet point the status of my hair on the trip (frizzy thanks to the rain), another minor bout of food poisoning (must stop eating smoked salmon), or my constant nagging that Ali and Maya pick up their s@#$ so I stop tripping all over it.
In conclusion I have to admit that I love the escapism of Instagram as much as the next person. But sometimes it’s nice to put things into perspective. Yes?
Since arriving in London two weeks ago, my scone consumption has spiked to record highs and I’ve been eating jam straight up with a spoon.
(If I’m being honest, I actually eat jam with a spoon outside of London too. I began this classy habit as an attempt to replace my chocolate habit and now I’m not sure which one is worse.)
Anyway, in an effort to regain control over the scones and jam, I decided to make a carb-free, sugar-free dinner a few nights ago.
Unfortunately I had no choice but to ask Ali to pick up some potatoes (an acceptable carb in my book) at Marks & Spencer, because Maya and I couldn’t get there before they closed (because we were eating scones, of course).
Me: Can you pick up baking potatoes on your way home? They come four in a bag.
Ali: Four what?
Me: Four potatoes.
Ali: In a box?
Me: No, in a BAG. A BAG.
Ali: Hmm. I’ll FaceTime you from Marks.
At this point I should have given up. But in lieu of quitting I decided to employ sarcasm instead.
Me: No, don’t FaceTime me. Or call me. Or text me. As a matter of fact, I won’t look at my phone for the next hour. You can navigate Marks & Spencer. I know you can! Come home with the potatoes. Or not. Either way I can’t talk about it for one more second.
Guess what happened?
- Ali brought home 4 potatoes.
- In a bag.
- I didn’t get a call asking me any questions.
- I didn’t get a text asking me any questions.
- He didn’t FaceTime me.
- I made homemade fries and scrambled eggs. And they were fabulous.
A happy ending for a change?
Last week, while in Los Angeles, Ali received a Fedex from Florida containing his laundry.
Confused? Well so am I.
Here’s what I know:
- Supposedly another woman didn’t send these items.
- Apparently Ali forgot his dirty clothes while at one of his ubiquitous conferences, and the Hilton in Orlando so kindly forwarded them along. At their own expense.
- Not only did the Hilton forward his abandoned laundry, but they CLEANED everything first. At their own expense.
I also know that since Ali’s Fedex delivery, my husband has left additional dirty clothes in Los Angeles and a few pieces in New York (he was there about 24 hours).
We are now in London, where there are piles of identical khaki’s, all of questionable dry cleaning status, EVERYWHERE.
I have loads of questions, a few doubts, and lots of complaints (of course) but in order to minimize your boredom, I will just say this:
I have so much love for the Orlando Hilton. So much love.