Compliments.
Why am I utterly incapable of accepting a compliment?
I was at Trader Joe’s (yes I realize that most of my stories start out with those 5 words?) when a male cashier pointed to Maya and asked me, “how old is your little sister?” Um, seriously? And while he looked on, bewildered, I listed the reasons his compliment didn’t make any sense:
- I am 34 years old.
- Maya is 5.
- Even if I look 10 years younger (and I hope I do) Maya still couldn’t be my younger sister.
I’m sure he regretted opening his mouth in the first place, as do most people who throw a nice word my way.
"Maya's dress? Yeah, it's cute. My mother-in-law bought it for her. I only buy Maya Target's best."
Here is what one can expect when one attempts to be nice to me:
- Oh you like my shirt? I totally picked this up at Target – it was super cheap! $14.99, deal of the century.
- Seriously? You think my hair looks good? I only have my Japanese straightening guru to thank! He is the only man who can tame this nightmare into submission.
- The lasagna was good? I’ll give you the recipe – it’s so easy a monkey could make it!
I’ve read etiquette books! I’ve read self-help books! I’ve consulted classy people who know about classy stuff! And yet I still say things like, “You like my blog? Really? I can’t believe people are interested in reading the random things I write on my blog.”
Starting today I will not feel arrogant for accepting a compliment. I will not feel the need to reciprocate with a (insincere?) compliment. I will not over share details about prices and straightening gurus and monkeys who cook Italian food. I am going to try to say “thank you” and move on.
Yeah, right.
I am Selfless…Sometimes
I’m not what you’d call the selfless type. I mean, I refuse to let Maya drink from my water bottle, even when she is about to fall over from heat exhaustion. I’ve also been known to hide desserts in the back of the freezer to ensure that Ali and Maya will never find it. And I’ll admit to lying when it suits me:
“Maya, we’re all out of chocolate. I told you a million times!”
You know that as soon as she went to bed I dug out a secret stash.
But this weekend I made the ultimate sacrifice. Not only did Ali dig into my Anthropologie stash to shell out $70 X 3 tickets to see a kid’s show, but I sat through 90 minutes of Dora the Explorer. Halfway through Ali and I looked up from our iPhones to exchange the following:
Me: I wish I could shoot myself in the head.
Ali: I wish I could hand you a gun.
If you think Ali's excitement seems forced you should have seen mine. I'll spare you.
Carson Daly was sitting in front of us and I’m pretty that if asked, he would have happily utilized the gun that Ali so generously offered up.
I will permanently have nightmares about Dora in her pink shorts and orange top singing “Swiper No Swiping!” at the top of her lungs. And if that doesn’t scream selfless, I don’t know what does.
Kidney for Sale
Confession #1 – Maya goes to public school because I was too lazy to endure the tedious process of applying to private schools.
Applications, interviews, recommendation letters…I just couldn’t muster up the energy.
Confession #2 – Maya goes to public school because we didn’t want to have to sell a kidney to pay her tuition.
Prior to this decision I was trying to figure out how to auction off an organ without violating Ebay’s rules when Ali made a valid point – why on earth would we take out a second mortgage so Maya could learn her ABC’s?
After I recovered from shock that Ali and I were on the same page for once, I decided to head to Anthropologie to spend Maya’s tuition money. But a sudden deluge of donation demands stopped me in my tracks.
This is what was requested, all in the last 3 weeks:
- $900 for the “Enrichment Activity” fund.
- $250 for the “Save the Teacher” fund.
- $75 for the “Field Trip” fund.
- $15 a month for milk (and no, it’s not organic)
- $10-$15 for the class snack once a month
As if that wasn’t bad enough, I found this in Maya’s backpack:
While I completely understand that fundraising goes towards things that will benefit Maya at some point or another, I refuse to sell my friends and family $9 rolls of wrapping paper and trans fat filled chocolates.
Since I don’t want Maya ostracized because her mother has principles, this leaves me with only one option – I will be writing yet another check!
Let me know if anyone is in the market for a healthy kidney. In the meantime I’m off to go through Ebay’s Terms and Conditions.
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 
