45 minutes
I try so very hard to begin the day on a calm note.
I wake up at 5:15 am so that I can do yoga, 15 minutes of Headspace, email catchup, and maybe even fit in a batch of muffins if all the stars are aligned.
This schedule is no problem during the dark days of winter when I literally have to haul Maya out of bed.
(Side Note: I don’t need to haul Ali out of bed because he flies west during the winter months).
But these days, with the sun rising at 5:38 am, Maya and Ali are often awake quite early. Which means they more often than not lumber into the living room with the grace of a football player to:
- turn on the electric kettle (Ali)
- ask what they should eat for breakfast (Maya)
- ask what they should wear (Ali and Maya)
- ask Siri, at the top of their lungs: “What is the temperature in NYC today?” (Maya)
Why why why?
So I realize that Ali and Maya live here too, and they have every right to get up and move about and ask Siri all of their annoying weather related questions in whichever tone they feel is appropriate for a conversation with the iPad.
But if I can’t even get 45 minutes of quiet at the crack of dawn, so that I can begin the day calmly, where exactly does that leave me?
Not calm. That’s for sure.
bagels
Ali just returned from Montreal, where he was on a “work trip.”
I use quotes here because:
- Ali’s work trips – which often involve destinations such as Turks and Caicos and Hawaii – are always the cause for much suspicion, and
- I like to overuse quotes.
Generations…My mom came for a visit…
Per my request he returned with two Montreal bagels, which sadly tasted identical to Starbucks bagels.
Rest assured I’m not implying Ali forgot to buy my bagels and then purchased them at Starbucks at JFK or anything. Just making an innocent comparison.
Picnic in Central Park…
Additionally, Ali returned with a Go Pro Camera “for Maya,” which was obviously NOT per my request.
Me: “May I list the reasons that Maya does not need a Go Pro Camera?”
Ali: “No you may not.”
Me: “Will she even know what to do with a Go Pro Camera? I mean, she’s 10. Plus she’s been half-assing her homework lately and isn’t making her bed properly. Pretty sure she doesn’t need to be rewarded at the moment.”
Ali: “Let’s make the camera a reward for doing better in school. She can use it on the weekends.”
Weekend trip to Roosevelt Island…
I went with this because I’m trying really hard NOT to dictate how Maya should be raised. After all, parenting is supposed to be a joint effort, right?
Unless of course it involves making her meals, washing her clothes, helping her with homework, or being a disciplinarian, in which case I’m definitely a single parent.
Cherry Tree (I think?) + Maya at the NY Botanical Gardens.
So yesterday, with much flourish and excitement, he presented Maya with the camera.
Maya: “Thanks Dad but I don’t need a Go Pro Camera.”
Just as I’d thought. She also didn’t need more than a few bites of her Montreal bagel either, which she quickly deemed bland and chewy.
Which sounds suspiciously like a Starbucks bagel to me…
the thank you note process
We recently closed a huge chapter in our lives…and can all breathe a huge sigh of relief.
Every Single Thank You Note Related to Maya’s Birthday Has Been Mailed.
Maya wanted to celebrate her birthday with people more important than her parents, so we headed to Madame Tussaud’s where we hung out with Albert….
Think I’m being dramatic? I’m really not.
And if you had to follow up to make sure your 10-year-old executed 30 grammatically acceptable thank you notes, you’d understand why.
A very pretty girl named Anne…
So this process really shouldn’t have been so hard. Especially since I basically handed Maya all the information on a silver platter.
1. I compiled a list of every gift and the gift giver’s name.
2. I provided the address of every gift giver.
A really tall guy who plays basketball (sorry I have no idea who this is)…
All Maya had to do was create the note, address the envelope, slap a stamp on it, and place it in the outgoing mail.
Here was the problem though: Maya remained in LA on Spring Break for 10 additional days after I returned to NYC for work.
That meant that by default, Ali had to guide this process along.
Some guy from Mad Men (sorry I don’t know who this guy is either)….
Which obviously meant that the entire process came to a standstill.
Why, you ask?
How could the process possibly be stalled when I’d provided all the necessary pieces of information in my very detailed, well-formatted, and thorough list?
A Bollywood star…
Well because I FAILED TO LEAVE ALI AND MAYA 30 ENVELOPES.
An of course there isn’t a single store in Los Angeles that sells those.
And my hero Steven.
In conclusion, getting Maya’s thank you notes out the door was as difficult as brainstorming a solution for Ali’s coat.
Since I’m trying to look at the bright side, however, I’m pleased to report that Maya’s notes are in the mailbox and NOT on the floor.
So, there’s that.
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 