so many questions…
I know I’m not the only mother who has a child that is prone to motion sickness.
I know that most mothers don’t fear vomit as much as I do.
I know that 10 years is long enough to become accustomed to being barfed on.
I know that children feed off their parent’s energy and Maya probably wouldn’t feel obligated to throw up all over me constantly if I could just be less stressed about the whole thing (funny how she’s NEVER thrown up on Ali).
At the premiere of “The Trials of Spring” – a film I’ve been working on for the last 9 months.
I know all of this and yet I was on pins and needles during our flight to LA last week, as well as during the remaining hour it took to battle the freeway home.
You don’t even want to know my mental state during our 3+ hours traipsing up and down the 405 freeway the following Monday.
FaceTime with Maya…We both look half asleep. Why doesn’t FT have filters?
Ultimately my 3 days in LA went relatively smoothly and I left the traffic-ridden city without incident.
But the question still remains: When will vomit and I be at peace with one another?
15 years
I vividly recall standing in my parent’s garage, approximately 15 years ago, screaming the following at Ali, via telephone:
“You CANNOT invite any more people to the wedding. We already have 410 guests. If you invite one more person, they’ll have to take your seat, because the seating chart is DONE.”
(If you are wondering, I was in the garage because our house was full of wedding guests and I couldn’t find another quiet space to scream at Ali.)
Lunch at Quality Meats, where the meat isn’t actually quality.
Fast forward to today, our 15th wedding anniversary.
We went out to lunch to celebrate. (My food was fantastic but Ali sent his steak back twice and then finally sent it back for good.)
We didn’t get each other any gifts. (No jewelry or light bulbs, for which I am grateful.)
I cooked dinner. (I figured we might as well have a bad meal at home instead of paying for one like we did at lunch.)
So the day was fairly uneventful. But the good news is that I didn’t scream at Ali today.
Although it’s only 7:12 pm so there’s still time to remedy that…
just ask
According to a recent statement by my husband, “If you want help all you have to do is ask for it.”
So last night, I asked.
Me: “Can you please put the dishes into the dishwasher? I have a splitting headache.”
Ali: “Sure.”
And off to the kitchen he went.
Weekend pictures…at The National for breakfast.
I was amazed….was it as easy as that?
Did I just need to ask him to help out more?
I mean, were the last 15 years of my life unnecessarily difficult because I’ve been wanting my husband to take initiative, instead of simply spelling it all out for him?
Lunch at Village Taverna…
Of course I had my doubts. And so after Ali was done I went into the kitchen to inspect.
All of the food was still out (of course) and there were naan crumbs everywhere (of course), but for the most part the dishes appeared to have been dealt with. Even the pots and pans!
I was impressed. Truly.
Until I realized that all of the pots and pans were in the dishwasher, which not only screams laziness, but which is a direct violation of Calphalon’s somewhat complicated and useless lifetime warranty.
Walking on 5th Avenue…
So I suppose that next time I want help I need to be sure to say:
“Can you please put all of the dishes in the sink into the dishwasher, minus the pots and pans which need to be hand washed? And then cover and put the food into the fridge. And wipe down the counters with the eco-friendly cleaner in the beige spray bottle that is directly under the kitchen sink. You can use the white dishtowel with the flowers printed on it. It too is under the sink. And then shake out the dishtowel crumbs in the trash can and put everything back in the cabinet.”
It hardly seems worth it.
Which I suppose is his point?
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 