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.

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:

1. When a word has more than 5 letters Maya often just makes something up because she is too lazy to sound out words.
2. She chooses books that are super long, just to piss me off.
3. 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.
4. 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.

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:

1. I didn’t scream, yell, nag, or even address the pile with my husband. For 7 days. How’s that for impressive?
2. 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?

When Maya asked me this question a few days ago, my first instinct was to embark on a long lecture about how spoiled she is, how she has no regard for money, and how she is totally out of line for asking something so ridiculous.

But then I realized that I have nobody to blame but myself for this outrageous question. After all, it’s not like she’s taken herself to New York and Paris.

Me: “Maya, did you know that some big people don’t ever have the chance to fly on a plane?”

Maya: “No, I didn’t know that.”

Me: “Well it’s true. And that’s just one of the many reasons why a 6-year-old should not be asking for a trip to Hawaii.”

Maya: “Okay. Sorry Mama.”

At this point I was congratulating myself for not flying off the handle and screaming at Maya. For not lecturing her about how lucky she is. For not taking away her toys or sending her to her room in an effort to teach her a lesson. And then…

Maya: “What about for my 16th birthday? Can I have a trip to Hawaii then?”

I didn’t even answer her. Instead, I made her get the broom and sweep the kitchen floor. Just because it seemed like the right thing to do.

Yesterday, after getting up at 4:30 am and hitting the gym, making breakfasts and lunches, cleaning the kitchen, going to work all day, and then battling traffic, I got home only to find out that our new nanny of two days decided to quit. Apparently she didn’t think that “she and Maya were a good fit.”

This confuses me because aside from me, who doesn’t get along with Maya fabulously? Nobody. That’s who.

I promise these are the last of our trip photos...Me and Maya on the Champs-Elysees

Anyway, after seeing our “new” nanny out, Ali informed me we had no food in the house. “Not even eggs. Or hummus!” 

I barely held back a “Heaven forbid you actually step foot into a grocery store” comment, put on my sweats, and walked down to Trader Joe’s.

Ali and I at Cafe Divinio in Barcelona. Not sure why I can't smile like a normal person.

Ali was still on his computer when I returned home. And he was still ignoring Maya. So I put the groceries away, gave Maya a bath, and got her organized. As I dragged my tired self back to the kitchen, guess what I saw?

Ali sitting in front of the TV.

Breakfast in Madrid: My kid eats broccoli and smoked salmon. What else could Nanny want?

I tried really hard. I swear I did! But my big mouth just wouldn’t stay shut.

Me: “So I guess dinner is going to make itself?”

Ali (not even looking up): “I’m open to eating whatever you want to make.”

Really, my husband’s generosity knows no bounds.

Here’s what I won’t miss:

• Having to order bottled water at meal times. After 9 days and approximately $150, I am very much over the European bottled water monopoly. L.A.’s polluted tap water? Yes please.

We headed to an Indian restaurant in Madrid. Rice and dal are the perfect foods when you need a vacation detox. Which I did.

• Wearing all black ensembles. Did I ever mention my packing strategy? 99% of the stuff I pack is black – this means I don’t have a problem getting dressed in the morning and it maximizes coverage against Maya’s vomit. But after 9 days I’m very excited to have access to my entire closet again.

Shrimp, caviar, and mango salad at La Rotonda in Madrid. I will never acquire a taste for caviar.

• Having to ask Maya, “Are you going to throw up?” every five seconds. As you may be able to tell, my world revolves around Maya and her barf. Sad but true.

I had one bite of this lava cake and realized I might as well hook myself up to an IV of sugar - it was that sweet. Ali polished it off with no problem though.

• Eating at ridiculous times. Who eats dinner at 9:30 pm? I don’t get that about Spain. I need to eat by 7:30 pm otherwise I feel disgusting going to bed on a full stomach. Is it just me?

This was the calm before the storm because Maya threw up very shortly after I took this photo. And I had a feeling she would.

• The scarcity of butter. I love butter. I actually sometimes just eat it straight up – I know how gross that is but I can’t stop. So you can imagine my frustration in Europe where they grudgingly hand you a dainty sliver and get annoyed when you ask for more. My butter dish and I are reunited – and it feels so good.

I blame my Indian father for this ridiculous logic.

Afternoon tea at the Ritz-Carlton in Madrid.

So I’ve gone from simple breakfasts at home consisting of protein shakes to eating lavish plate after plate of things like smoked salmon covered with cream cheese and capers. Scrambled eggs loaded with butter and salt. Samosas. Pancakes. Fresh mozzarella. Dried figs and raisins.

The best smoked salmon - at the Westin Madrid breakfast buffet.

Jam straight out of a tiny jar – no bread needed. Digestive biscuits. Nutella on a spoon. Churros with chocolate – sorry, I don’t understand the appeal of this dessert! Spanish donuts. Too much tea and coffee. Freshly squeezed orange juice.

Sitting under this beautiful stained glass in the hotel restaurant each morning didn't exactly make me want to stop eating.

When we reached Madrid I realized I had to stop. I had to stop before my clothes stopped fitting and I was faced with a whole new set of problems.

The hotel definitely felt like a palace...so pretty.

So for breakfast today I had a piece of toast, a kiwi, and a glass of water.

I felt like I let my dad down but at least I didn’t feel sick to my stomach.

Our living room at the Westin Palace Madrid.

Ali, on the other hand, consumed a bowl of fruit, an omelet stuffed with avocado, a bowl of cereal, 2 croissants covered in raspberry jam, a sourdough roll, a glass of both orange and pomegranate juice, and 2 cups of tea loaded with sugar. All at one meal.

How much you want to bet he hasn’t gained an ounce?

Ali: ”I’m not paying 25 Euros per day per device for Internet.”

Me: ”You say this every time we come here. I understand that the cost is ridiculous, but it is what it is.”

Park Guell in Barcelona

Ali: ”It’s 6 Euros more here per day than it was in Paris. They are robbing us!”

Me: ”We paid 30 Euros for 5 shrimp last night. That works out to about $10 per shrimp. The Internet is a bargain when you think of it in those terms.”

Maya getting a crepe lesson at the Ritz-Carlton in Barcelona

Ali: ”I have to figure out a plan B.”

Me: ”Do whatever you need to do. All I know is that I need the Internet so I can do work. Make it happen.”

Gorgeous lobby at the Ritz-Carlton...one of the nicest hotels I have ever stayed at.

At this point Ali took off to the lobby muttering something about an Ibahn monopoly – so I can only piece together what happened next: Ali hopped on someone’s unsecured network and then Skyped with his office’s offshore helpdesk. Together they concluded they could make Ali’s laptop a hotspot!

After patting each other on the back – virtually of course – the hot spot came to life.

Ali: ”Now we can connect your laptop, my laptop and the iPad all at once!”

New Year's Eve at Cafe Divinio in Barcelona

Forget the Sagrada Familia and Park Guell - obviously having Internet on 3 devices for the price of one is a feat that not even Gaudi could ever surpass.

Walking after dinner at our favorite restaurant Al-Ajami

Really, I have to commend myself for keeping calm. A few years ago an episode like this would have had me in tears! But this time I held it together pretty well.

I held Maya’s barf bag too. I also held her hair back, cleaned her up the best I could, refrained from yelling at Ali to keep his “useful” suggestions to himself (why does he insist that drinking water is the cure all to everything?), and I somehow kept my own gagging to myself.

Oh, and I ignored the glares of other disgusted passengers (yes, Mr. Business Traveler in the Gucci loafers, I timed her motion sickness so she’d vomit on landing. Just to annoy you).

Giant Christmas tree at the gorgeous Galeries Lafayette

Now here’s where things got sketchy: What to do with Maya’s dirty clothes?

I obviously couldn’t pack her ruined clothes in my luggage and I had no plans to hand carry such items through customs, into a taxi, and then into our hotel room.

Window display at Printemps

So with no other options I put Maya’s spare outfit on and left the dirty stuff in the custody of Air France Flight 069.

I know. I totally contradict myself. I mean, why do I fear throwing away food but I have no problem throwing Maya’s perfectly good shirt and sweater into the trash? I make no sense sometimes – I realize that.

Maya sat down in a chair at Printemps and was asleep 5 minutes later.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about being a parent it’s that you just have to let some things go.

And so I did.

I wanted to know:

1. Why a normal person needs four knives to put a snack together.
2. Why Ali criticizes my cooking concoctions but thinks it’s okay to eat a sandwich containing honey, peanut butter, jelly and butter?
3. Why my husband ate this sandwich an hour after he devoured the homemade waffles, scrambled eggs, and hash browns I slaved over?
4. If it simply doesn’t occur to my husband to put his dish (and four knives) in the dishwasher.
5. If he thinks I enjoy cleaning the kitchen 10 times a day?
6. If he thinks I’m a nag. Because I think I’m a nag.
7. If he even has a clue that I took this picture.

As I’m sure you’ve guessed, I got no answers for Christmas.

But as you read this I am on a 11 hour flight to Paris right now. So I guess we’ll have plenty of time to discuss.