maybe?
It all started with a pair of pants.
More specifically, a pair of khaki pants that someone threw outside their closet last week and onto the floor of our bedroom. This was passive-aggressive code for: “It’s high time my wife visited the dry cleaner.”
Now normally I am on it. But I just haven’t had a whole lot of time lately, especially since I’m working more than ever. So the pants remained on the floor.
Then things were added to it. Lots of things. Sweaters, ties, shirts, and more pants (but not the orange sweater, in case you were wondering).
And the pile grew.
Eventually the pile was so large that I had to steer a couple of feet out of my way just to go from my closet to the bedroom hallway. But the pile remained.
Until finally, a whole 7 days later I picked up the huge pile and hauled it to the dry cleaners.
This was the pile...in better times.
So what’s so remarkable about a pile of dirty clothes you’re wondering? Well two things actually:
- I didn’t scream, yell, nag, or even address the pile with my husband. For 7 days. How’s that for impressive?
- I got a text that the dry cleaning was picked up. By Ali. And I didn’t even have to ask!
Maybe good things do happen to those who wait. Which means that maybe, after we’ve been married another 11 years, my husband will actually stop throwing his s@#$ on the floor and expect me to take care of it.
Maybe?
i didn’t know that
Maya: “Mama, can I have a trip to Hawaii for my 7th birthday?”
When Maya asked me this question a few days ago, my first instinct was to embark on a long lecture about how spoiled she is, how she has no regard for money, and how she is totally out of line for asking something so ridiculous.
But then I realized that I have nobody to blame but myself for this outrageous question. After all, it’s not like she’s taken herself to New York and Paris.
Me: “Maya, did you know that some big people don’t ever have the chance to fly on a plane?”
Maya: “No, I didn’t know that.”
Me: “Well it’s true. And that’s just one of the many reasons why a 6-year-old should not be asking for a trip to Hawaii.”
Maya: “Okay. Sorry Mama.”
At this point I was congratulating myself for not flying off the handle and screaming at Maya. For not lecturing her about how lucky she is. For not taking away her toys or sending her to her room in an effort to teach her a lesson. And then…
Maya: “What about for my 16th birthday? Can I have a trip to Hawaii then?”
I didn’t even answer her. Instead, I made her get the broom and sweep the kitchen floor. Just because it seemed like the right thing to do.
a good fit
I apologize in advance but I’m about to complain. A lot.
Yesterday, after getting up at 4:30 am and hitting the gym, making breakfasts and lunches, cleaning the kitchen, going to work all day, and then battling traffic, I got home only to find out that our new nanny of two days decided to quit. Apparently she didn’t think that “she and Maya were a good fit.”
This confuses me because aside from me, who doesn’t get along with Maya fabulously? Nobody. That’s who.
I promise these are the last of our trip photos...Me and Maya on the Champs-Elysees
Anyway, after seeing our “new” nanny out, Ali informed me we had no food in the house. “Not even eggs. Or hummus!”
I barely held back a “Heaven forbid you actually step foot into a grocery store” comment, put on my sweats, and walked down to Trader Joe’s.
Ali and I at Cafe Divinio in Barcelona. Not sure why I can't smile like a normal person.
Ali was still on his computer when I returned home. And he was still ignoring Maya. So I put the groceries away, gave Maya a bath, and got her organized. As I dragged my tired self back to the kitchen, guess what I saw?
Ali sitting in front of the TV.
Breakfast in Madrid: My kid eats broccoli and smoked salmon. What else could Nanny want?
I tried really hard. I swear I did! But my big mouth just wouldn’t stay shut.
Me: “So I guess dinner is going to make itself?”
Ali (not even looking up): “I’m open to eating whatever you want to make.”
Really, my husband’s generosity knows no bounds.
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 