i feel guilty. all the time.
Maya competed in her first triathlon last Saturday.
I wish I could say that I was there, cheering her on, but I wasn’t. I wish I had a good excuse why I wasn’t there but I really don’t.
Here’s a not-very-good-excuse instead: After a week of juggling a sick husband, Maya’s never-ending homework (I learned just how geographically challenged I am), and a bad hair week, I simply didn’t have the energy to get myself across the city by 5:30 am on a chilly Saturday morning.
Maya at the event…that I missed…
As expected:
- I felt guilty about this as I ate breakfast.
- I felt guilty about this as I searched Instagram with keywords like #nyc and #breakfast.
- I felt guilty about this while I attended a baby shower.
- I felt especially guilty about this when I saw Maya’s medal and pictures.
Obviously I’ll feel guilty about missing Maya’s triathlon for a long time. No big surprise there.
I didn’t make it to the race but I did take Maya out for sub-par pizza to make up for it…
But here’s what’s interesting…Ali didn’t go either. Instead, he woke up, had a leisurely breakfast, and sat in front of the TV for several hours. And I’m 99% certain he doesn’t feel the least bit guilty about missing the event.
How does he do it? How?
a bright idea
Every year, my husband asks me what I want for my birthday. And every year I say, “Please don’t get me anything.”
I don’t say this because I’m setting Ali up for failure, and I don’t say this because I’m selfless. No, I say this because it’s the smart thing to say.
From Maya: My favorites from TJ’s. The best gift ever.
I know you think I’m being dramatic, but I promise you that I’m not. And in a second you’ll see why…
Here’s how things unfolded last week (no pun intended) after I opened my birthday gift from Ali:
Me: “Light bulbs. You bought me three boxes of light bulbs.”
Ali: “They aren’t just light bulbs, they’re eco-friendly light bulbs.”
Me: “It’s my birthday and you bought me light bulbs.”
Ali: “Don’t you remember the last time I changed the light bulbs in the living room and you said, “That was the best gift ever?”
Me: “It was a figure of speech! Tinged with a good amount of sarcasm.”
Maya: “See? I told you Mama wouldn’t like them.”
From my Mom: A cookbook ever from my favorite actress ever.
Instead of realizing the error of his ways, my husband continued to try to make his point. He pulled up a chair (in lieu of a ladder) and started replacing the first of three living room lights that had gone out.
But, as expected, he got tired halfway into his project. So after a few minutes he abandoned the chair, the light bulbs (old and new), all of the packaging, and collapsed on the couch in our still dimly lit living room.
From my Brother: A Tory Burch gift card.
And from my Husband (after an intervention from my friend Nadia): A bracelet
I’ll let you guess who cleaned up the mess.
37
Today I turn 37.
As per my husband, “Your birthday crept up on me this year.”
I realize this is code for, “I currently have no plan for celebrating your birthday and I don’t know what else to say,” but I have to agree that yes Ali, it did creep up this year.
As a matter of fact, the last few birthdays have crept up on me too. As has the arthritis in my right knee, the sun spots on my forehead, and my fondness for saying, “I just don’t get this younger generation.”
But as much as I like to give Ali a hard time, the truth is that I don’t particularly care about my birthday. Mostly because I just don’t like to be the center of attention.
(And for convenience sake, we’ll blame this on my severe case of the middle child syndrome.)
At an early birthday lunch at True Food Kitchen…one of my favorite restaurants in LA.
Obviously this is ridiculous, especially seeing as I splash my life all over the Internet. But somehow I fear the awkwardness of people I know staring at me while they sing me Happy Birthday far more than sharing my many shortcomings with complete strangers on Twitter.
It makes no sense. But today, on my birthday? I’m hoping you’ll let it slide.
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 