+1
My husband is a social media pusher. And I am sick of it.
First he wanted me to sign up for Facebook. “You are the only one in the world not on Facebook. Literally.”
I signed up.
Next came LinkedIn. “You MUST do it. For your career.”
I signed up.
Then he insisted I sign up for Twitter. “Did you know that there are 100 million tweets sent each day? How can you have a blog and not be a part of that?”
I signed up.
And then a few months ago he insisted I sign up for Google +. “It’s the next big thing. You have to jump on it or you’ll be left behind.”
So I succumbed again because if there’s one thing my husband knows, it’s everything technology related, right?
Well guess what I’ve concluded? Google + is officially the most useless waste of Internet space out there. And in protest of such a ridiculous social media platform I’m going to make it a point to never +1 anything.
Now that I know my husband "likes" HP I can move forward with my life.
PS: I ran this post by my husband to see if he was okay with me offending Google and he gave me the so-called thumbs up. He also suggested I “Address the monopoly of Apple’s Evil Empire next.”
I think someone’s a bit jealous.
the places we will go
Listening to Maya read is like pulling teeth.
I realize the above statement should be filed under, “Did Ameena really write that?” And yes, I concur that there should be limits to my honesty.
But for the love of God! I want Maya to earn her free grease-laden, fake cheese-topped personal pan Book It! pizza as much as the next dedicated mother, but I’ve been going crazy with Maya’s ongoing 200-minutes-a-month reading assignments.
Okay, now before you judge know this:
- When a word has more than 5 letters Maya often just makes something up because she is too lazy to sound out words.
- She chooses books that are super long, just to piss me off.
- She purposely holds the book at an odd angle, so that I can’t see the pages properly – thereby ensuring that I can’t correct her made up words.
- She starts whispering halfway through the book, presumably (again) just to shorten my life by a few years.
It goes without saying that I LOVE silent reading time.
I know that Maya doesn’t do any of these things when she’s reading at school. Or to my mom. Or to my sister-in-law.
Although, I won’t even begin to address what she puts Ali through.
So is this just her little form of rebellion? Is she “testing her boundaries” to “see how far she can push us?” Because if so, I sort of wish she’d try to sneak out of the house to party with her friends instead.
Now that I can handle.
maybe?
It all started with a pair of pants.
More specifically, a pair of khaki pants that someone threw outside their closet last week and onto the floor of our bedroom. This was passive-aggressive code for: “It’s high time my wife visited the dry cleaner.”
Now normally I am on it. But I just haven’t had a whole lot of time lately, especially since I’m working more than ever. So the pants remained on the floor.
Then things were added to it. Lots of things. Sweaters, ties, shirts, and more pants (but not the orange sweater, in case you were wondering).
And the pile grew.
Eventually the pile was so large that I had to steer a couple of feet out of my way just to go from my closet to the bedroom hallway. But the pile remained.
Until finally, a whole 7 days later I picked up the huge pile and hauled it to the dry cleaners.
This was the pile...in better times.
So what’s so remarkable about a pile of dirty clothes you’re wondering? Well two things actually:
- I didn’t scream, yell, nag, or even address the pile with my husband. For 7 days. How’s that for impressive?
- I got a text that the dry cleaning was picked up. By Ali. And I didn’t even have to ask!
Maybe good things do happen to those who wait. Which means that maybe, after we’ve been married another 11 years, my husband will actually stop throwing his s@#$ on the floor and expect me to take care of it.
Maybe?
While I'm not going to win Mother/Wife of the Year Award anytime soon, I haven't killed anyone yet or shot myself in the head. And that, my friends, is how I calculate success these days. 
