Leaving on a Jet Plane…
The signs were all around us…my jaded child was becoming even more jaded.
Friday before school – “Mama, don’t I look pretty today?”
Friday, on the way to school – “Why are you driving in the left lane you stupid person!?!”
Friday, during the kindergarten Thanksgiving feast – “I am thankful for my toys. And I guess my Mama.”
Yes, as much as I love to vacation sans Maya I realized that I would be remiss as a parent if I didn’t take my self-absorbed, temperamental, and materialistic child out of West Los Angeles for a little while.
So we hopped on a plane and are currently in New York City. This trip serves two purposes:
- I hope to convince Ali to move to the East Coast where I obviously belong, and
- I hope to give Maya a dose of non-Hollywood reality.
How do you keep a kid busy for 5 hours? You pump her full of cartoons, carbs, and sugar.
But seeing as I just heard a cab driver yell, “Get the F@#$ out-of-the-way, dumb$hit!” I now realize that Maya’s dose of reality might include coming home with a whole new vocabulary.
Whatever.
I’m headed to Bloomingdale’s to dwell on it. And to buy some new shoes.
I Am Quirky, Not Odd.
I have very odd eating habits.
- I like to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner at their traditional times.
- Dinner can be no earlier than 6:30 pm, otherwise I will snack the rest of the night away.
- I am physically incapable of eating between meals.
- I can’t eat for at least an hour before or after going to the gym.
- I can’t go to sleep for at least a 2.5 hours after dinner.
- I cannot mix countries, e.g. I can’t eat a piece of lasagna and fried rice at the same time. You can only imagine how taxing Las Vegas buffets are on my already fragile mental state.
Most of the time I like to refer to my eating habits as “quirky.” Why? Well because quirky people are admirably eccentric while odd people are just…odd.
It's obvious Maya didn't inherit her lovely eating habits from me...
Ali, on the other hand, can eat anything at any time and in any place. Just yesterday for example, he ate all of the following, from 5:30 pm – 9:30 pm.
- Leftover noodles courtesy of Maya’s Panda Express dinner
- Spaghetti with green beans
- Chocolate Chip Banana bread
- Tea
- Oatmeal with flax and granola
In between number 2 & 3 Ali hit the gym for a 20 minute “workout.” And then 10 minutes after number 5 he went to bed. So basically, he violated each and every one of my rules.
I don’t define Ali’s habits as quirky though, I define his eating habits as bizarre. And slightly disgusting. Why? Well for one thing it’s true, and for another it makes me feel better about myself.
And shouldn’t that be my main priority?
The In-laws
I am fairly certain that no other Indian daughter-in-law has ever said what I’m about to say:
My in-laws are fabulous.
Now before you jump to conclusions – my jaded friends – please note that I am not trying to earn brownie points with them as I am sure they don’t read this blog. I know this because if they did read my blog they might not be so nice to me, seeing as I make fun of their son on a bi-weekly basis.
Anyway, I had a less than stellar week which drastically improved when my father-in-law handed me a gift card to Net-a-Porter.com. Just because. Naturally I had no other choice than to redeem the card in a matter of minutes.
Yes I took another fuzzy picture. But this time I can blame the poor quality on Ali's iPhone as we still don't have a camera.
And naturally I had no choice but to select the gift wrap option. Because sometimes there is nothing better than receiving a wrapped box in the mail, even if you already know what’s in it.
I won’t ruin my good fortune by mentioning what terrible customer service Net-A-Porter has. I also won’t lament the fact that I have to return my beautiful but small Tory shoes for a store credit because Net-A-Porter doesn’t have the size I need.
Because mentioning things like that would just be me being ungrateful. And I am anything but ungrateful.
Right?
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. 
FANCY THAT FANCY THIS 