a noble profession
Maya said something shocking to me today: “When I grow up, I want to be a ballerina. Or a window-washer.”
That’s all it took to get me to postpone my closet organizing frenzy and dust off Maya’s“Get Ready for 1st Grade” workbook instead. I had grand plans to get through this book when I first brought it home back in June and thus far we’ve completed approximately 12 pages. Out of 416.
After 45 minutes of intensive review I am convinced of the following:
1. I lost a few years of my life this morning.
2. Maya is very smart.
3. She likes to play mind games with me.
She's an aspiring window washer with a refined palate. Today's lunch: smoked salmon, veggie chips, edamame, and cheese.
“No Mama. I think you are wrong and the book is totally wrong. There is no “i” in plain.”
“For the love of God! Mama is hungry and doesn’t have a lot of patience right now. The book is NOT wrong. The letter “i” is freaking silent!”
“Haha. I knew that Mama. I was just testing you.”
I don’t think I can handle another 398 pages of first grade prep. So please tell me, is a career in window washing really that bad?
***Any avid readers out there? I just reviewed Still Missing on my sister site http://www.thefancybookshelf.com/.***
domestic fail
In order to expedite time until sunset, I found myself doing something completely out of character. Are you ready for it?
I decided to iron.
Clearly desperate times call for desperate measures.
The thing is that while I am obsessive when it comes to keeping my house organized, I have zero interest in making sure my clothes are wrinkle-free. And yet yesterday I found myself eliminating creases from the Juicy jeans that have been languishing in our laundry room for weeks because apparently my housekeeper draws the line at ironing as well.
Not that I’m pointing fingers.
Much to my mother's dismay I never purchased an ironing board. Instead I utilize an ugly sheet on top of my washer/dryer. My classiness knows no bounds.
You know what’s interesting? When I registered for wedding gifts (and yes, I handled this very overrated project minus Ali’s help) I must have registered for 100 + items. Can you guess the only registry item that wasn’t fulfilled? The iron.
It was a sign. One that I should have heeded as evidenced by the fact that I burned my fingers twice yesterday. So there I was, hours from sunset, with two burned fingers and a dry throat from yelling obscenities after burning my fingers. And of course I was still hungry.
The question remains: When presented with extra time, why can’t I just sit in front of the TV like a normal person?
is summer over yet?
Are you ready to hear something shocking? Yesterday, a mother at the park said she was dreading the start of school because she was going to miss her kids.
I’m sorry, but WHAT?
The truth is that I don’t miss Maya one bit while she’s at school. Maybe this is because I am working and the time goes by quickly…maybe this is because I believe absence makes the heart grow fonder…or maybe it’s just because I’m thrilled that Maya’s entertainment is somebody else’s problem for 6 hours.
Now before you start feeling bad for my kid know this: Maya is happy to be away from me for a good part of the day, as evidenced by the fact she often asks if we can leave for school early. As in 6:15 am.
I know this isn’t healthy behavior but I’m not going to worry about it too much because I expect Maya’s therapist will explore this further with her in about decade or so. And thanks to my diligent contributions, her therapy fund is in a really solid place right now.
Study hard and become a successful doctor Maya...because at some point your therapy bills will be your problem.
All I know is that I am beyond excited that school is right around the corner. Here’s what I won’t miss about summer.
- The ridiculously early pick-up time of summer camp.
- The non-stop quest to find things to keep Maya busy after summer camp and before bedtime.
- The ridiculously early pick up time of summer camp.
Is it September 7th yet?
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 