four letter words
In keeping with the double standard that is typical in the Din household, my husband is allowed to throw around such choice words as duck f%#$er, but I am not allowed to swear.
I’m not too upset at Ali’s decree, however, because I agree that swearing is a tacky habit – especially for a girl. But sometimes, no matter how hard I try, these little four letter words escape my big mouth.
Like last week, when Maya and I were nearly mowed over by a Toyota Hybrid (note to L.A. Hybrid drivers: being more fuel-efficient than me doesn’t give you license to be a bad driver) as we were crossing the street. Suffice to say that I had to explain “Mama doesn’t always make the best choices when she’s mad. Don’t ever repeat that word. Ever.”
And then of course there was yesterday when the guy who came to deliver my new plants insisted on discussing Maya’s only child status. Yes, the freaking plant guy was giving me a lecture about how only children are no bueno. I kid you not.
“Please,” I begged as he started in on me. “Let’s not talk about it.”
How funny is this? Maya found this book at the library herself.
But in the typical fashion of someone who knows it all, he wouldn’t drop it. And of course a four letter word slipped out. And of course I felt tacky. And of course there was nothing I could do about it.
And of course it’ll happen again.
On the plus side? Unlike my husband my swear words don’t involve animals! And around here that’s something to be proud of.
6′ X 9′
In my black and white world, you are either born with a creative gene or a practical gene – never both. Since my Excel-loving self was obviously born with the latter, I often feel inadequate when it comes to situations that require creativity. And decorating? It’s at the very top of that list.
As much as I try to deny it, I have a bad habit of allowing myself to be swayed by others’ opinions. You don’t think my Z Gallerie artwork is unique enough? Okay, I’ll take it down. You don’t think dark brown is a good color for the den? Okay I’ll go with a beige. You don’t think my over-priced rug was worth it? Hmm? Really?
MYOB.
But then last week I realized that it’s dumb to worry if people think my red throw pillow clashes with my blue one. And if I want a turquoise chair then I should buy a turquoise chair – even if it might not be what a decorator would choose.
Maya's new doll cost almost as much as my new chair. I wish I was joking.
This week I’m taking a big step: I’m going to purchase a 6′ X 9′ rug for my living room despite everyone telling me I should get an 8′ X 10.’ Why? Well because at I’m 35-years-old and I should be able to pick a rug without needing another person’s stamp of approval.
Right? Tell me I’m right.
i don’t want to know
Within 10 minutes of returning home from work last night, Ali managed to not only criticize the way I was filling out Maya’s stack of 1st grade emergency forms but also insulted the dinner I labored over.
I am proud to note that I did NOT fly off the handle and instead dug deep within to find the strength to let his transgressions slide.
Why? Well because I felt a bit sorry for him. I mean, what could be worse than working all week and then having to leave for a four-day business trip that would span the weekend?
So when Ali asked if I could pack his carry-on, I swallowed my bitchy “God also gave you two hands” comment and went to work rolling 4 of the 50 pairs of identical khaki pants that were hanging in his closet.
As I packed, Ali enjoyed half a dozen Oreos interjected with his trademark thoughtless comments:
- “Don’t forget my swimming trunks. The hotel has a really nice pool.”
- “The food is supposed to be pretty good at the resort.”
- “Oh, and can you pack a casual polo as well? I’ll need something to wear after my massage.”
My husband can be so naive and clueless that sometimes I want to help him lie to me.
Help me help you Ali…help me help you!
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 