space
At 2,300 square feet, our condo is more than adequate for 2.5 people. The absolute best thing about our place? It has 4 bathrooms. This means that I can keep my interaction with Maya’s toothpaste covered sink to a minimum.
To whomever came up with this brilliant floor plan? Thank you.
Aside from my much-loved bathroom and closet I really have no space that belongs to me. Unless you count the small desk I consider my “office” in our den/Maya’s area to make a giant mess.
I will admit that I am pretty selfish with the 25 square feet allocated to me. But in my defense, one has to be selfish around here – it’s survival of the fittest. That’s why I’ve made it pretty clear that I don’t want anyone:
- Putting their dirty little feet on my desk. (Yes, this really does happen.)
- Sitting in my chair.
- Eating at my desk.
- Placing even so much as their pencil on my desk.
- Sitting under my desk. (Sigh.)
Apparently I have to add yet one more rule to my list…I do not want anyone standing next to my desk while simultaneously working on their computer, loudly chewing, and talking on speakerphone for 15 minutes straight.
Does he not see the dirty looks I shoot at him? Or does he just choose to ignore them?
No, I never thought I’d ever come up with such a lengthy and random rule either. But 10 years of marriage and a high-maintenance family will do that to you.
a “niys” mother’s day
When I was a kid and played house with my cousin, I was always the “childless professional.”
I’m not surprised that you’re not surprised.
I’d like to say that my feelings towards children changed in my teens but really, the extent of my maternal instinct was me screaming at my little brother to go wash his hands every 10 minutes.
A new orchid. And a new iPhone. The best gift of all? Ali's jealous. Of the phone!
When I was in my early twenties, I finally held a baby for what was probably the first time. It was awkward. And after 20 minutes I was secretly thrilled to hand the baby back to its rightful owner.
The baby was thrilled too.
But then suddenly I was 29 and the first 5 years of my marriage had flown by. And my father-in-law kept saying, “It’s time you and Ali settle down, buy a house with a yard, and give me a grandchild.”
Tea time at my mom's.
The house thing? It never happened. And seeing as I go into a panic just thinking about it, it probably never will. As for the grandchild, I’m still not sure why I acquiesced. Maybe because my father-in-law never asked me for anything else. Maybe because I thought…it’s now or never.
In any case, it’s been 6 years and as much as I bitch and complain about Maya (Often unnecessarily. Often to ensure a funny blog post. Often for real.) I wouldn’t trade her for anything.
A "niys" card.
What I’m trying to say, in a very roundabout sort of way, is that I never had a burning desire to be a mom. But I’m happy to be one. Just don’t ask me if I’m going to have another. And please don’t insist I’ll change my mind when I tell you I won’t have another. Ever.
A good hair day. And a kiss.
Because no matter how “niys” Maya is, and how much I love to “hag” her, it just isn’t going to happen.
Ever.
and those are just her flats
It pains me to admit this but I think I may be jealous of my own child.
I know, I know…my parenting skills have reached a new low. I need to seek professional help at this point. I realize this and yet I find that I am jealous…
- Of Maya’s hair – Straight out of the bathtub her hair is silky and fabulous. Whereas I need my Japanese straightening guru and a gallon of Pantene to make my hair…presentable.
- That Maya is far more social than me – While I basically had to give my kindergarten friends my ice cream money for them to hang out with me, Maya is pretty much a magnet for everyone. And they buy her the ice cream.
- That Maya is an expert fundraiser! I hate to solicit money. I am terrible at it! I will avoid it at all costs. And yet Maya was able to raise no less than $310 for her school’s walk-a-thon by calling 14 family members in the span of 25 minutes.
So there I was, walking around the house today with messy hair, feeling anti-social and in need of someone to buy me ice cream, when I ran into this:
A Pile of Sheer Madness.And guess what? I didn't buy Maya a single shoe in this photo.
So now I’m jealous of Maya’s flats. And yes, these are just Maya’s flats, which means she has a whole other pile of shoes.
Anyone feeling my pain now?
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 