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Currently, in my peripheral vision, I can see Ali’s dinner plate contaminating our otherwise pristine kitchen counter. As you can imagine, this is bothering me to no end. But I’m not going to say anything. Nope! Not one word. Because tomorrow is Ali’s birthday and my gift to my husband this year is to be understanding and patient.
For a whole 24 hours.
- My husband can hang pictures. Properly. Utilizing a level and a ruler.
- My husband yells, “Get on or stay off? Get on or stay off!?!” when encountering freeway traffic because he knows I like to control anything and everything, including the routes he chooses when he’s behind the wheel.
- He says generous things like “Why don’t you go buy yourself some decent clothes so you don’t have to stand in your closet for 30 minutes cursing?” (Yes, why don’t I?)
- He lies to me, on an as-needed basis, saying things like:“You’ll get a job you love, it’s just a matter of time. And until then you do a GREAT job taking care of Maya. You are a good mom.”
- He puts up with me. No explanation needed.
Bonus Gift #3: I’m not going to say a word about the reappearance of the orange sweater. Nope! Not one word.
My generosity knows no bounds.
backwards
I am a conflicted individual. I love to tell people it’s dumb to care what others think and yet I find it nearly impossible to stop caring what other people think.
Take yesterday for example…Maya and I were spending quality time at the park (read: I was reading Heart of the Matter while she played with all the germ-infested kids) when Maya picked up a piece of chalk and started drawing hopscotch tiles.
Do you see them? The backward numbers?
My thoughts after seeing this scary sight:
- My God is Maya dyslexic?
- Holy sh#$ we need to go home and STUDY.
- Half of Maya’s school is at the park and if other moms see this they might wonder why a first grader is still writing her numbers backward.
I thought about whisking Maya away before anybody realized she was the culprit. But then I realized it was only 3:15 pm and the thought of having to single-handedly entertain Maya for the next 5 hours seemed more difficult than doing damage control.
So then I decided to try to erase the numbers with the toe of my shoe. 5 minutes later I had bright blue chalk all over the pretty Repetto shoes I bought in Paris and the offensive numbers were still crystal clear.
I was standing there like an idiot, brainstorming alternatives, when I heard a mom scream: “If you throw sand at your sister one more time I’m going to make you sorry you were born.”
My kid might not be able to remember which way her numbers go but at least she’s not dangerous. And I haven’t had to threaten Maya’s life yet. So maybe we’re in better shape than I thought?
tea time
Maya’s afterschool classes don’t start until next week. So, in an effort to entertain her until she’s someone else’s problem, I’ve been taking Maya to do random things like have afternoon tea.
It was there that I saw her: a very pretty mom chatting up her 2 little girls. And I envied her. I envied her perfect hair and her ability to seamlessly interact with her children without skipping a beat. Because here’s the thing: I do not enjoy eating out with Maya one-on-one as we have nothing to talk about.
- What did you do at school today? Nothing.
- How is your tea? Good.
- What do you want to be when you grow up? A window-washer. (Still? Seriously?)
Apparently, it’s only when Maya doesn’t have my full, undivided attention that she has a million things to say and interrupts with the utmost urgency. But when it’s just us? Silence.
I feel bad for admitting this but I kind of wish Maya was old enough for an iPhone so that we could both pull them out and surf the Internet as we enjoy our scones. In silence.
So I’m thinking an iPhone for her 7th birthday in March? Followed by a high tea. Any thoughts?
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 