radio
I love to say that I don’t care what anybody thinks about me…but we all know that’s kind of a lie. So I’ll admit to wondering what certain people think about me. It annoys me that I care but I do. And some things just can’t be helped.
Anyway, that’s why I’m impressed when I come across someone who really doesn’t care what people think. And Ali? He’s one of them.
Last week, for example, my husband wore his classy Virgin America earphones while we enjoyed an afternoon at the park (read: we made Maya run laps to burn off her sugar high). As far as I could see, Ali was not listening to music, wasn’t watching a video of any sort, and if cheap gray plastic earphones were part of a new fashion craze I’d apparently missed the memo.
As I watched Ali from afar, seemingly oblivious to the odd stares he was receiving, I wondered why he had no problem bearing a very strong likeness to Cuba Gooding Jr. in Radio
Now if the tables had been turned and Ali had said something about what I was wearing, I would have immediately:
- Resented his comment.
- Believed his comment.
- Felt hideous until I could have taken said item off.
- Given away said item.
As we drove home from the park, my mind continued to process the situation. At which point Ali randomly threw me a bone. “I wore them because it was cold and they kept my ears from hurting.”
Is my husband out of his mind? Of course. But a tiny part of me has to admire the fact that he doesn’t care that I think so.
the lemon law
When Ali’s car wouldn’t start again three weeks ago, I felt really bad for him. Because aside from his beloved car, his laptop, a daughter who vomits like it’s going out of style, and an opinionated wife who never shuts up, what else does Ali really have to live for?
Not much.
So like I said, I felt bad. And that’s why, as Ali waited forever for a special tow truck with a crane to lift his car, Maya and I piled into my car (pajamas and all) and picked him up. Without complaint.
Me: “I think your car is a lemon Ali. You need to talk to a lawyer.”
Ali: “Yeah, maybe.”
The second time Ali’s car stopped working I was a little less sympathetic. Mostly because it was Saturday morning, I had an urgent salon appointment to get to, and thanks to tandem parking Ali’s car was blocking mine. (Those of you who color your hair understand the full extent of this situation.)
As I waited for Ali’s new BFF – the tow truck driver – to pay us a little visit again, I shared my untimely thoughts:
Me: “You need to talk to a Lemon Law lawyer Ali. Like today.”
Ali: “Why are you stressing me out?”
Yesterday marked the third time in three weeks that Ali’s car refused to start. Yes my friends, I had to leave work and deal with Ali’s car situation again. I had a litany of complaints:
- Why are you paying for a car that doesn’t work?
- The fact that they told you, “They can’t replicate the problem and that things have to get worse before they get better” is bull$@#$.
- Does the dealer think you have NOTHING else to do than to hang out waiting for a tow truck to rescue you once a week? You need to march down there and roll some heads.
- Does the dealer think that I have NOTHING else to do than to keep picking you up when your car won’t start? Heads MUST roll.
- You are too nice. Nobody responds to that anymore.
- Did I mention you need to hire a lawyer! Or am I just talking to myself here?
Ali: “I talked to the lawyer. Now will you leave me alone?”
And now I feel bad. Again.
finger placement
9 minutes. That’s how long it took Maya to type the first sentence of her book report.
My thought process during that time:
- Wow. It took more than 60 seconds for Maya to type 1/3 of the book’s title.
- I bet she has no idea it’s taking every ounce of control not to wrestle the computer away from her.
- The teacher said that utilizing a computer for this project was optional. So why isn’t Maya giving me an option here?
- We’re still not done with the title and it’s nearly minute 4. At this rate we’ll be done with the other 5 sentences in approximately 6 and one half hours.
- I am a terrible mother. I should be applauding my child’s perseverance. What’s wrong with me?
- I hope her fingers aren’t sticky.
- Stop thinking so negatively Ameena and give her a compliment! “Good job with your finger placement on the keyboard Maya! Great work.”
- Oh…here’s Ali with a camera ready to document things. Because what could be funnier than thinking “Let’s take a picture of Ameena when she’s in sweats and is ready to smack somebody?”
- Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
- I wonder if Maya would notice if I started thumbing through Marie Claire?
- Minute 8 and we have “A Visit to the Art
” so far. That’s it Maya….just type out Galaxy and tell me you want me to do the rest. Please.
So as expected, Maya asked me to type everything after the title. And as expected I felt relieved. And then moments later I felt totally guilty at my thought process, my lack of patience, and my complete disregard for her attempts to be independent.
As expected.
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 