FANCY THAT FANCY THIS

I decided not to buy Maya a gift for her birthday this year.

I came to this decision because Maya still hasn’t opened the sewing machine I bought her for Christmas. The one that she’s always wanted. The one that she had to have.

Balloons. It’s all about the balloons.

This sewing machine – in it’s original packaging – taunts me every time I walk by her closet because:

• It was a giant waste of money.
• It’s taking up much needed closet space.
• Few things trouble me more than wasting money. Or space. (I know I say this about everything.)

I also decided not to buy Maya a gift because I couldn’t think of a single thing to buy her.

No pizza and cake for Maya’s party…instead she requested spaghetti with meat sauce, salad with avocado + balsamic + olive oil, garlic bread, and chocolate fondue. Her elevated palate fascinates me.

Me: Instead of buying you a gift I want to take you somewhere. Where do you want to go?

Maya: Dos Caminos.

Me: Anywhere else? Maybe a show?

Maya: No. I just want to go to Dos Caminos.

Apparently all it takes to make my child happy on her birthday is lunch at a sub-par Mexican restaurant. A restaurant that features unfriendly service and $26 guacamole.

Maya’s friends bought her books, which are the BEST gift.

Although I can probably fly to Mexico for the price of the guacamole at Dos Caminos, I’m not going to complain for once.

Mostly because Dos Caminos won’t ever taunt me from Maya’s closet, and that in itself is a gift.

I went into last weekend with much trepidation, knowing that with Ali out of town it was up to me to entertain Maya for 48 hours.

You’re probably thinking, “Must you worry about everything Ameena? She’s not an infant for crying out loud. Just put her in front of the TV.”

At Central Park…funny how we head to the park when it’s 45 degrees or more here, but in LA we wouldn’t step food outside unless it was 60 degrees or more.

(Side note #1: I despise turning on the TV before 8 pm. It somehow depresses me.)

(Side note #2: Nothing makes me feel like a worse parent than when I see Maya zoned out in front of the TV. Except when I see her zoned out in front of the iPad. Or zoned out with Ali’s phone in her hands. — > This one tops the charts.)

Maya on Ali’s phone – because heaven forbid she actually sits still on a train.

Ultimately the weekend went fine.

Since the key to keeping Maya happy is to feed her, much of our time involved restaurant lunches, cookie and donut making, and one hectic visit to Trader Joe’s (20 minute line – nuts).

We also went to Michael’s – a store that I just don’t understand- to buy useful things like green fondant.

The weather was great so we hiked through midtown (6+ miles) and then hit up the library and Barnes & Noble.

We wandered through Grand Central.

Messy hair made several appearances. Clearly utilizing hairbrushes wasn’t an important part of the weekend.

We didn’t fight. Nobody was injured (although I nearly fell on my face while rock climbing at the park). The TV didn’t get turned on until after 8pm, and even then, just for half an hour. I even got some work done Saturday night.

I’m not sure why I work myself into such a panic about dumb things like keeping Maya busy, but somehow I do.

Wish I could say I’ve learned my lesson, but we all know I’m already worrying about this weekend…

I wasn’t particularly concerned with turning 40. Until Ali plastered the walls with foil signs that read “Happy 40th Birthday!”

Lunch at Quilon…one of our new favorites in London.

Yes I know he meant well. Yes I know I should appreciate his efforts to decorate more. But I’m just throwing it out there that the number 40 looks VERY large and ominous in printed form.

Plus one sign was substantially crooked. (Sorry, I couldn’t hold that back.)

We took this picture at the end of lunch….when I was less angry about Ali being SO LATE.

As I waited for Ali to join me for my birthday lunch I concluded that I really don’t feel 40.

(Side Note: My husband was 25 minutes late to lunch…nothing new there. Sorry, I couldn’t hold that back either.)

At the Corinthia Hotel for tea. I think Ali mentioned it was my birthday so he could eat my free dessert.

Okay, so I mostly don’t feel 40. Especially if I ignore my:

• bad knees
• wrinkles
• gray hair
• unpredictable temper (not sure if this has anything to do with age but it seems to be getting worse)

At the Wolsley where Ali and Maya scarfed down scones. I scarfed down jam.

In any case, my wrinkles, gray hair, and bad knees are limping onwards to 50.

This means that Ali has exactly one decade to learn to be on time. And to use a leveler when hanging a foil “Congratulations, you’re over the hill” sign.

Final birthday dessert at Scott’s in Mayfair.

I’m not holding my breath.