notes…lots of notes…
At 6 am on Saturday morning:
- Maya woke up with a bundle of energy, 5,000 questions, and an obnoxiously loud voice.
- I woke up with a headache and a mile long To-Do list.
- Ali realized things were going to get ugly and quickly beat a hasty retreat to a “work meeting.”
Maya: “What are we doing today Mama?”
Me: “We are writing your thank you cards,” I told her. “All 25 of them.”
Things started out peacefully. As I researched addresses and made labels, Maya ran with her creative side and decided to make shoe-shaped cards out of construction paper. Ten cutouts and an hour later we were having some serious quality control issues.
Me: “You can make crappy cards Maya but I’m just going to make you do them over. And we’ll be here for another 6 hours doing them over.”
We agreed to scrap the homemade card idea and pulled out Hallmark’s best instead. Two more hours later and comments like:
Maya: “Are we finished yet?”
Me: “If I hear one more complaint out of your mouth I’m returning every single gift. Every. Single. Gift.”
And then at last. We were finally done.
I’m not going to lie…it was painful. And I think it goes without saying that I would have rather cleaned the kitchen 5 times over than spend 3 hours writing thank you notes. But Maya will not be that kid who doesn’t acknowledge each and every gift she receives. Or worse…Maya will not be that bratty kid who sends a misspelled 100 character text thanking someone for their gift.
True story.
fairy tales
I am not a feminist by any means.
So while I respect those who want to change their own flat tires and pump their own gas, I want to do none of these things. That’s one reason why I got married. I suppose it’s unfortunate then that my naive self didn’t realize Ali would stop being a gentleman a mere six months after we got married.
Anyway, my point is that I have no problem falling into gender roles when it’s convenient for me. And yet…I get all riled up every time Maya asks me to read her a fairy tale.
I mean really Cinderella? I’d love to read a sequel to see where you and your handsome prince are now that you’re trying to afford a couple of sniveling kids in a crappy economy. And to the Princess in The Princess and the Pea? How can you be on board with a man who allows his mom to throw sneaky tests your way to see if you’re worthy of her son?
Anyway, you’re probably thinking, “These are classics Ameena! Kids are just supposed to enjoy them with the belief they aren’t reality.” Maybe you’re right. But can a 7-year-old girl differentiate between a fairy tale and reality? Can she understand that she should rely on her brains and not just her looks?
I’m not sure. But I’m not taking any chances.
So the fairy tales that somehow make their way into Maya’s room are going to continue to mysteriously disappear and will be replaced with books based on characters who aren’t completely reliant on a man who wants to save them because they’re pretty. Because my pretty kid is way too smart for any man to rescue her.
And a final word to the Princess from The Princess and the Pea: Your shady MIL sounds like a real b@#$h. If I were you I would run away. Far, far away…
i have no execution
Every year, as Maya’s birthday approaches, I tell myself that this is the year I’m going to go all out for her party.
And then timeline goes something like this:
5 weeks until the event: I’m fired up and I have a million ideas of cool things I want to do to make the event special. I start discussing themes and games and revisit all the articles and pictures that I’ve kept aside throughout the year.
4 weeks until the event: I start perusing the Internet to see how to make my ideas come to fruition. I strategize. I make lists. I think about reaching for my credit card to order some stuff but then I realize I have a ton of time before Maya’s birthday. So I get on Facebook instead.
3 weeks until the event: I look at the calendar and my lists and think, “Wow, I should totally start shopping for some of this stuff.” Instead, I start complaining to Ali about how I have 100 things to do and how I feel overwhelmed. He tells me we both need a break. We turn off our computers and turn on House Hunters International instead.
2 weeks until the event: I start thinking that I shouldn’t have smirked when Ali offered up Chuck E. Cheese as a venue.
1 week until the event: I tell my mom that none of my cool ideas are going to happen because I didn’t plan very well and now there isn’t enough time. We both pretend that my mom taking over comes as a big surprise.
7:45 am on the day of the event: I spend a ridiculous amount of time doing the one thing my mom gave me to do.
The event: The party turns out great because of my mom, my MIL, and an army of caterers and servers who step in to take care of things. I spend the entire afternoon taking credit for the vision of the party and I point out (to anyone who will listen) the one thing I actually executed.
My sign is pretty impressive huh?
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 