i should have just…
It recently occurred to me that Maya does NOTHING around the house.
After some haphazard reflection, I concluded this is due to two things:
- Maya is lazy.
- I find it easier to do everything myself. To ensure it is done right. The first time.
(I realize #2 above is wrong on about 50 different levels. But it doesn’t make it any less true.)
At Tommy Bahama…where it took us 30 minutes to thaw out from our walk in the 17 degree weather.
Anyway, I realized I wasn’t doing Maya any favors when she looked at me in shock and said, “So what you’re saying is that I have to hand wash my plate because the dishwasher is currently running?”
This comment, annoyed the living daylights out of me. I wanted to sit her down and calmly give her the “We all need to help out” speech.
Finding calmness seemed too difficult, however, so instead I channeled my best sarcasm and layered it on:
“Why? Are you going to melt if you actually have to wash a dish? Do you know that when I was a kid I had to set the table, and then clean it off after dinner, ensuring that all dishes were put away, all pots and pans were washed, and the table had been suitably Windexed?”
At Le Pain Quotidien…I suppose it’s no surprise that she doesn’t know how to clean a dish, since we’re always eating out?
I knew then, as Maya stared at me with a glazed look on her face, that she could care less what I did or didn’t do as a kid.
I knew then that I should have just washed her dish because she was utilizing her father’s trademarked half-ass fashion and I’d have to do it over.
I knew then that the water all over the floor was a huge liability and would shortly become my problem.
I knew then that she got water inside my rubber kitchen gloves (heaven forbid she gets rough hands, right?), which just drives me BANANAS.
I knew then that ultimately the whole “lesson” was a waste because after she placed her still dirty plate in the drying rack she then announced, “Daddy, you better come wash your dish and fork because the dishwasher is still running and we all have to do our part.”
I don’t even know what restaurant this was taken in…I guess we eat out more than I realized. And I have a lot more sun damage than I realized too. Should have used an Instagram filter….
I should have just washed the plate.
When will I learn?
it’s not my problem
It’s been a while since we’ve chatted about Ali’s clothes, his messy habits, and my general impatience with it all.
Let’s remedy that, shall we?
Problem #1: Ali had too many coats for our “walk in” closet. (I’m not kidding when I say he has at least 4 times the number of coats I have.)
Resolution #1: I cleared out a section of Maya’s closet to house his collection.
Instead of enrolling Maya in a useless and expensive holiday camp, we actually hung out on Monday! We went to a Meetup, had lunch at Tao, and went to the bookstore for 2 hours.
Problem #2: Ali determined Maya’s closet was “too far” to walk to in order for him to retrieve his coat. (Our apartment is all of 1,200 square feet – NOTHING IS TOO FAR HERE.)
Resolution #2: I purchased a coat rack and set it up next to the front door.
Ali joined us for lunch and remained on a call for most of it. It was fun asking him, “Wait, are you talking to me or someone else?” for an hour.
Problem #3: Ali determined that several of his coats were “too heavy” and posed a great risk that the coat rack would fall. So he’s taken to throwing them on the floor.
(Seriously, he comes in to the apartment, takes off his coat, and literally flings it across the living room floor.)
My brother was in town last week. I was SO HAPPY to see him. (I’m working on this thing where I actually tell people when I’m thinking nice things, it’s working quite well!)
So I think we can all conclude that I’ve been pretty patient. I mean, I really think I deserve high marks not only in “Creative Closet Solutions” but also in “Maintaining Patience When Any Other Wife Would Have Lost Her S@#$.”
And yet, I found the energy to come up with Resolution #3!
Resolution #3: I pulled a muscle shifting the hanging shoe racks to one side of the hallway closet, secured two extremely durable hangers, and hung Ali’s heaviest coats in the hallway closet (a mere 3 yards from the front door).
Maya didn’t want to take this picture. After 45 seconds of patiently waiting, I told them they had another 2 seconds before I put the camera away. We captured this lovely moment as a result.
Guess what Ali did today? He took his coat off the hanger, went to work, came back from work, flung it across the living room floor, glanced at me and said “I need to be reminded that certain coats should be hung in the hallway closet,” and cracked open his laptop.
Resolution: Ali and his coat need to become Delta’s problem. STAT. There is no other resolution.
sugar. lots of sugar.
I was such a broken record between December 19, 2014 – January 1, 2015 that I was even annoying myself.
Minutes before the chaos….
The good news is that my nagging wasn’t related to me “politely requesting” Ali move his (choose any one or possibly all of the following) dishes, sugar, fork, cables, orange sweater, or luggage.
No, my nagging was actually related to Maya’s sugar intake.
Fondue at Haagen Dazs: Maya went CRAZY.
Okay, so you’re probably thinking, my God Ameena, do you ever let up on the poor kid? It is/was the holidays and she is/was in London. Can’t you cut her some slack around the chocolate and clotted cream?
Plus, why are you allowed to carb-overload on scones but she can’t have an extra helping or two of dessert?
Several ice cream cones at Fortnum & Mason. With a side of Sacher-Torte.
Well my answer(s) are as follows:
- I fully believe in a having a double standard when it comes to children.
- Whereas I can eat 1/2 a scone and be completely satisfied, Maya’s tolerance for ice cream can rival that of a 200 pound lumberjack.
- This is a serious problem as she is lactose-intolerant.
- You can guess what results when she feels sick.
- You can also guess who has to deal with the fallout when she feels sick (Hint: It’s not my husband).
But after one too many lectures from my husband about giving her a break, I went against every fiber of my being and let her use her “best judgment.”
Hot Chocolate at Paul: Maya finally slowing down.
Which led to Maya eating 18 scoops of ice cream in one sitting.
Which led to a stomach ache.
Which led to me cleaning up the pleasant aftermath between the hours of 10:00pm – 12:00am on December 31, 2014.
On the bright side, I suppose that even if it was from the bathroom floor, at least I can still say I rang in the New Year in London?
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 