the surface
I did a lot of important things this past week.
Things like making Ali a lunch, at his request. I made it and I put it in a bag by the front door, right next to his laptop. And then I threw the untouched lunch away when I got home from work because he forgot it.
Again.
Another important thing I did this week? I finally downloaded Instagram.
In addition to wasting food this week, I also did a non-scheduled load of laundry so Maya could wear a particular shirt, I sourced a new dry cleaner because per Ali “The cleaner is destroying my clothes,” and I also endured numerous demos of Ali’s newest toy – the Microsoft Surface.
I did all of these things without sarcastic comments or eye rolls, I might add. Which just proves that although I incessantly complain about how I don’t like doing things for my family, I kind of don’t mind. Most of the time.
I also attended a very cute baby shower. (Not sure what’s going on with this oddly-toned Instagram?)
What I do mind, however, is when I ask a member of my family to do something for me and they don’t flipping move.
Example: Friday Night @ 8:30 pm
Me: Can you do me a favor and find my phone?
Ali: Sure.
A fabulous buffet.
5 minutes goes by and Ali shows no sign of moving. Another 5 minutes and there’s still no sign of movement in the room. With the exception of my blood pressure which has shot up approximately 50 points. Faced with the choice of losing my temper or getting up to find my phone, I get up to find my phone.
Ali gets up at the same time, runs in front of me so he can reach my phone first (because now it’s apparently a race), and says: “You really need to work on your patience you know.”
Cake pops. So pretty.
Yes I do need to work on my patience – no argument there.
But the next time my husband asks me to make a lunch for him I’ll continue to play on the Microsoft Surface. When he complains that he’s getting late for work, I’ll caution him to have patience. Then, when he leaves for the office, I’ll race into the kitchen and make his lunch. That way I can just throw his lunch in the trash before I leave for work instead of after.
Sounds like a plan to me.
breakfast cake
Maya and I haven’t been getting along the last few weeks. I attribute this to the fact that she’s currently afflicted with the “Total Disregard for Parent Instruction / Second Grader Smart Ass-ness” syndrome.
Just a few days ago, for example, I yelled at Maya for a good five minutes when I learned she had cake for breakfast.
Me, Nadia, and Maya at my brother’s 30th: At his friend’s place in Malibu.
I did this knowing that Maya eats healthy 99% of the time and thus a little cake in the morning isn’t the end of the world. I did this knowing full well I used to sneak ice cream for breakfast when I was old enough to know better. I did this knowing I need to learn to pick my battles.
When Part One of my rant was over I expected Maya to attempt to appease me with her usual half hearted apology. Instead she said, “So can I have cake at San’s birthday tonight?”
So began Part Two of my rant. Which I’ll spare you.
What to get the brother who has everything? Art. You probably can’t tell but the image is actually a map of NYC, which I (obviously) think is pretty cool.
I hadn’t planned to tell Ali about the cake situation, but when Maya brought up the topic as we drove to my brother’s birthday, I had no choice but to share the details of our child’s sugar addiction.
I prepared myself for an annoying speech from my husband about why I need to stop being so strict (somewhat true) and how Maya and I will never get along if I don’t let the little things go (very true). But instead he surprised me with this:
Ali: “What kind of a person eats cake for breakfast Maya? A person who doesn’t have any sense in their head, that’s who. A person who doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong. Why would you do something like that?”
The offending cake. Pretty sure Ali snuck Maya some when I wasn’t looking.
To say I was taken aback at Ali’s reaction is an understatement. And I tried my best to make sense of it:
- Were we actually on the same parenting page for once?
- Or (the more likely scenario) was Ali just pretending to care our child started her day with 500 grams sugar so that he wouldn’t have to hear me wax on about how we need to present a united parental front. (With united defined as both of us agreeing with any and all of my parenting concepts and strategies.)
I have no idea. But ultimately Ali’s reasons were irrelevant since his speech made no impression on Maya who replied with, “So I just want to know, can I have cake tonight? Yes or no?”
And they say sugar isn’t addictive…
making lunch
Last Sunday I had a conversation with my mom about how I never get sick. So three days later I got horribly sick.
I attribute my sickness to two things:
- Being cocky enough to verbalize that I am above sickness.
- The fact that Maya got sick one day before me and – you guessed it – threw up on me a number of times.
Normally, when I’m sick, life goes on. I go to work. I take care of Maya. I keep up with my obsessive cleaning schedule. I mean, we’ve already established that I am not John Din, right? But this time I hobbled home from work, dropped onto the sofa, and didn’t move for 48 hours.
I woke up with a start at 5:30 am on Thursday morning, consumed with the fact that I had to make lunch for Maya. I had visions of walking to the kitchen to do just that, but I could not get out of bed. That meant that for the first time EVER (and I swear I am not exaggerating) Ali was left to his own devices with regards to getting Maya ready for school.
I got off the sofa AND changed my clothes so we could take a family picture for Eid.
Around 11 am I woke up again and gave Ali a call at the office:
Me: “Please tell me you didn’t forget to make Maya a lunch?”
Ali: “I did not forget.”
Me: “What did you give her?”
Ali: “A boiled egg. And broccoli.”
Me: “Anything else?”
Ali: “Yes. Some seaweed.”
I wish I could say that I was so impressed with Ali’s efforts that I decided not to say anything about how random her lunch was and how Maya would be starving and thus in a bad mood when she got home from school. But really, my big mouth stayed shut because I was too sick to put a smart ass comment together.
Ali brought Maya home around 4 pm to change for her 4 pm tennis lesson. (No, that makes no sense to me either). During the five minutes he was home, I watched him bang things around, snap at Maya about leaving her backpack in the middle of the hallway, and then randomly throw the trash (that never happens) muttering something I couldn’t hear but can only guess wasn’t exactly complimentary towards me.
Me: “Why are you in such a bad mood?”
Ali: “Because I just keep rushing from one thing to another today. There’s a lot to do.”
Really? I had no idea.
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 