home alone
As you may already know, last week was remarkable because I left Maya alone with Ali (or Ali alone with Maya?) for the first time ever.
This bears repeating: for the first time ever.
While dodging text and emails, I also saw my mom…
Things obviously started out rocky, beginning with an email asking how to use the washing machine.
This email came in while I was in flight and had no Internet (thanks to the fact my United Airlines plane – circa 1955 – didn’t have Internet capabilities, or much else for that matter).
Had lunch with my friends – including Nadia….
This email was sent despite the fact that I washed every article of clothing, every sheet, and every towel in our place, prior to leaving.
This email was sent despite the fact that our washing machine – also circa 1955 – has so few options that even Maya could operate it.
Ate at a few of my favorite restaurants including Gulfstream (salad and biscuits) and Petros (early birthday lunch with friends)…
When I didn’t reply fast enough on this laundry emergency, because apparently not having Internet access is just not a possibility in Ali’s realm (he obviously doesn’t fly United), I received a text asking “If I saw the email re: laundry.”
Yes, yes I did. I also saw the email and/or text re:
- Maya’s request for four desserts instead of three.
- Her insistence that she didn’t want to go to art class and therefore didn’t have to go to art class.
- The fact that someone forgot to purchase bananas and bread.
- Etc.
- Etc.
And took a walk with my SIL (nicest person in the world) on the beach.
I could go on for hours but I’ll spare you.
The good news is that I flew home last night (on an American Airlines plane that did have Internet!) and everyone is still alive.
Re: the state of the kitchen, my orchid, and the hamper? Well that’s a whole other story.
an abstract pizza (maya guest post)
Last week my mom made pizza for dinner.
This may not seem remarkable to you but then again, you probably don’t have a perpetually empty fridge.
As an aside,* I’m not sure why our empty fridge seems to be such a problem? My mom would likely blame this on something really dumb, like the vortex. But when all is said and done, I think the truth is that NYC grocery stores give her massive anxiety.
Can’t really blame her on this one though, I mean who lines up outside of a Trader Joe’s in sub-freezing temperatures? Seriously, I need my frozen tandoori naan and fish sticks as much as the next person but not at the risk of freezing my toes off.
(*That was a long “aside.”)
This would be a good picture of us but my mom cut me out of the picture, likely because otherwise her hair wouldn’t fit. I know her tricks!
Anyway, back to the pizza. So my mom struggled with the pizza dough for a bit, but even I was impressed with the finished product – it was the most perfect rectangular shape!
(We’ve never even seen a real circle around here so you’ll understand my shock and awe.)
Even more surprising was that she was able to make a professional looking pizza, despite the fact my dad and I kept trying to annoy her with comments like, “When is dinner going to be ready?” and my personal favorite, “I’m so hungry my stomach is eating itself right now.”
Dinner @ Capital Grille: Fries, Steak, Sea bass(?). This restaurant is totally overrated and a gigantic waste of money. The fries were good, although my mom didn’t touch those. I think she’s regretting it.
So the pizza was sitting on the stove cooling, along with the pizza cutter my mom bought from the $1 section at Target. (Another aside: if my mom exclaims one more time how well her $1 pizza cutter has held up over the past 5 years, I might lose it.) And almost immediately my dad and I lock eyes and instantly know what we have to do.
So when her back is turned, he takes the pizza cutter and hacks in. I mean, he cuts the most random pizza shape you can imagine! It’s abstract on a whole other level.
And then I take over and cut a random triangle from the very middle of the pizza, making VERY sure it’s not a 90 degree angle. Since my mom loves nothing more than a clean right angle, I aim for more of a 48 degree angle with completely uneven sides.
Lunch at Jojo’s: Warm Chocolate Cake, Pancakes, Passion Pavlova, Vegetable Salad. My parents conveniently dropped me off at art and then enjoyed this meal.
When my mom finally turns around and looks at the pizza, I see her OCD going haywire! She’s not saying a word but it’s very clear she’s struggling internally with her “Need to let things go,” and the idea that she “Must allow me and my dad a little bit of autonomy if she ever wants us to grow up.”
It was hysterical.
But then what happened next wasn’t so hysterical – because she uttered words that shook me to my core. “I have to go to LA for a few days at the end of the week. I’m wondering what you two are going to do about dinner while I’m gone?”
She’s never left me with my dad before for more than just 12 hours. Ever. I am SO SCARED.
Not sure what else to say.
another coat story
A few months ago, when things started turning a bit chilly, a co-worker observed my wool coat and proceeded to share a few words of wisdom with me:
“I know you just moved here from LA so I’ll just be blunt about it: you’re going to need a better coat. It needs to be big and puffy. You should buy the longest one you can find. It must have a hood.”
“It doesn’t matter what it looks like. Why? Because you’ll be warm. And soon enough, that’s all that’ll matter.”
Nothing too exciting happened this week, except that Maya and I didn’t fight as much as normal.
I laughed. Walk around in an ugly coat? I don’t think so.
But then temperatures hit the teens, at which point I realized my J. Simpson coat wasn’t going to cut it.
And so the search began:
- I Googled intelligent things like, “What is warmest coat on the market?” and “Warm coat with a hood.”
- I read reviews like my life depended on it.
- Maya and I even battled the Macy’s coat section. (Let’s just say that we came out empty-handed, and although it’s been a while, we’re both still trying to process that gruesome scene.)
Actually, we did fight about her math homework. And the fact that she won’t turn the flipping lights off when she leaves a room.
And then I found it:
• It’s very puffy.
• It has a very large hood.
• It is trimmed with very un-stylish faux-fur.
• The inside is covered in a hideous leopard print.
• It’s too big for me.
• It was on Super Sale at Macys.com.
Oh, and we also fought about the crumbs she leaves ALL OVER THE PLACE. But aside from that? Not too much fighting at all.
Bottom Line: It’s straight up ugly. And if you see me in it you’ll likely agree.
But don’t feel sorry for me and my faux-fur! Just know that my coat is made of something akin to titanium.
And for the 4 miles I traverse each day? That’s all that matters.
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 