tiger mom (maya guest post)
Things got ugly with my mom this week, and I’m not exaggerating.
I knew it was coming though…the writing was on the wall. Because in addition to my mom coming home from New York (which always puts her in a bad mood), she’s been engrossed in “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother
And to make matters worse? I got an “F” on my math test.
I keep asking my mom if we can have dinner at Crustacean, mostly because I know she thinks its overpriced and the service is “quite horrendous.” I love annoying her.
Well technically, I didn’t get an “F,” I got a “1.” This is because some important person did a study on how number grades are less harsh than letter grades, and since it’s super important to protect my delicate psyche, they did away with letter grades!
Cool, huh? So really, my mom was kind of lying when she put on her saddest expression and told everyone who would listen, “I can’t believe Maya got her first “F! And she’s just 8.”
But I was smart enough not to bring THAT up.
There was no time anyway because my mom was already doing damage control. She took away my TV time, cancelled all my play dates, and even told me I couldn’t have dessert! She did this last thing even though I heard her lecture my dad last week about how he should never use food as a reward or a punishment because that may lead to serious problems when I’m older.
See? I had my listening ears on. Just like she always tells me I should. I guess my dad didn’t though, because he didn’t point out her hypocrisy. Or maybe he was just scared to?
Seabass @ Crustacean, Famous Garlic Noodles @ Anqi, Cod and Sweet Potato Fries @ Lala’s. (Apparently my mom needed some feel-good carbs.)
Anyway, back to my bad grade. So the thing is that I don’t really care if I can answer 30 addition problems in 60 seconds. My dad agrees. I know this because I heard him tell my mom, “My parents never got mad at me for my grades and look at how I turned out.”
My mom nodded like she cared but I’m pretty sure she disregarded my dad’s opinion like she usually does. She was too busy planning her strategy, which I’m sure incorporates Tiger Mom’s theory that it’s not a parent’s job to make sure their kid likes them, it’s their job to make them work HARD.
So the good news is that school is over in exactly two months. The bad news? It’s going to be a rough two months with Tiger Mom hovering. Wish me luck.
a little shopping
I’m sure I’ve already mentioned that I’m not much of a shopper. Ali is even less of a shopper. Together we are two people who should NOT go shopping.
And yet we did exactly that last week.
Our shopping excursion was the result of the following: I was in NY and had some time on my hands, I had a gift card to Saks 5th Ave burning a hole in my wallet, Saks was only a 5 minute walk from our hotel, and since Ali had no more meetings, calls, or unanswered emails left to address, he insisted on joining me.
Scallops at Dos Caminos (delicious), Salmon at Whym (delicious), Breakfast at Raffles (not delicious), Crabcakes at Tre Dici (delicious)!
The painful 45 minutes went something like this:
Me: “What do you think of these jeans? Is the texture odd?”
Ali: “They look okay to me.”
Me: “Do they look good or just okay?”
Ali: “Is there a difference?”
Me: “Yes there is. The difference being that I don’t want to have a complex every time I wear them.”
Ali: “I’m not overly thrilled with them, if that’s what you’re asking. But if you like them then go for it.”
On our hotel room’s balcony, amazing glimpse of a landmark, at Rockefeller Center
I’ll spare you the rest of our lengthy dressing room conversation and jump to the ending instead: I bought the jeans even though I know I’ll question my decision every time I wear them. I did this mostly because I knew there was a high probability I wouldn’t see the inside of a Saks again for months.
So if you ever see me wearing a pair of black, faux-suede jeans? Don’t be surprised if I awkwardly hit you up for your opinion.
we left her. again.
In keeping with our goal to win Parents of the Year, Ali and I dropped Maya at her grandparents. Again.
So we could escape to New York for a few days. Again.
In a cab at JFK. Messy hair all around.
Prior to our departure, I put on my dictator-hat and shared a few rules that I wanted Maya to adhere to over Spring Break:
- Make sure you change out of your pajamas. Every day. No excuses.
- Have a fruit or vegetable with every meal. And no, French fries don’t count. And no, I don’t care if potatoes are a vegetable.
- Don’t forget to finish your social studies project before the week is over. Yes I packed it in your bag. No, I don’t care if it’s not due until April 5th.
- No more than 30 minutes of TV a day. And only things that are on the DVR. I don’t want you watching commercials and asking me for things like Pop Tarts and Lunchables.
- And while we’re on the subject of food? No cake for breakfast. I mean it.
At The Stanton Social: Snapper tacos (The Best), Pizza, Veggie Slider, Cauliflower with Raisins
I’m not sure why I bother with my list of instructions seeing as Maya will basically do the opposite of all of the above. I know it and she knows it.
And apparently Ali knows it. Because the only thing he told her before we left was as follows: “I set up the Xbox in the living room. Make sure you use it. It was a lot of work to get it connected.”
On the bright side, at least the Xbox will get her out of bed?
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 