Miffed

Miffed. Annoyed. Frustrated. Fuming. Not happy.

Just some of the words that come to mind when trying to describe how I’m feeling right now, though ‘pissed off’ is probably the best word to use.

Why you ask?

Simple: I had to try really really hard today to NOT strangle my daughter’s hairdresser.

Let’s backtrack a little.

Lilly’s preschool starts tomorrow and the perfectionist in me thought it’d be a good idea to get her hair trimmed at the hair dressers instead of doing it myself (like I always do) because I didn’t want to risk messing it up.

I’m sure you can see where this is going.

Yup, the hair dresser managed to mess up Lilly’s hair. The silly woman wasn’t being careful and managed to take a chunk out of Lilly’s bangs, right in the middle of her forehead! I nearly screamed out loud when it happened, but there was nothing I could do; the damage was done.

So yes, I think it’s safe to say that I’m a tad miffed at the moment, and trying really hard not to go back to the hair dressers to murder that dolt of a woman.

On the bright side, at least Lilly is too young to care about a bad haircut and is as happy as ever, so there’s that.

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On rainy days and making new traditions

I love the rain, and I love rainy days. I love the quiet introspection, the feeling of comfortable solitude and the smell of wet dirt in the air.

Once I became a mom though, I quickly realized that the whole ‘quiet introspection’ aspect wasn’t exactly possible with an energetic 3 year old practically bouncing off the walls demanding attention.

So now, rainy days are more about messy indoor play rather than quietness or solitude, but oddly enough I don’t think I mind at all.

Who needs solitude when you have a feisty little mini-me to keep you company!

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Lilly loves wearing her ‘traditional’ Pakistani clothes, even though to her, it’s more a costume than a normal outfit. It’s funny how what was ‘normal’ for me growing up is more of a fun Halloween-esque costume for my daughter, but at least she likes it! Learning about the actual culture will have to come with time.

On Night Lights and Living Vicariously through my 3 Year Old

As a parent, you learn new things every day. Some you learn through research and experience, while others you just sort of stumble across by pure chance. It was during one of these epiphanies that I realized something ridiculously obvious: childhood is just an endless stream of ‘phases’ stuck together in a haphazard manner.

Kids are perpetually going through ‘phases’ and if it’s not one thing, it’s the other. Telling yourself that it’s ‘just a phase’ is all well and good till you realize that even if this particular phase ends soon, another will inevitably take it’s place and the cycle will start all over again.

So lately, Lilly has been going through a ‘fear of the dark’ phase, which to be honest really took me by surprise. I know of course that many kids are afraid of the dark and it’s practically to be expected, but Lilly really used to not have a problem with it. Heck, she refused to sleep unless all the lights were off! Now though? She refuses to go to bed unless there’s a light on and I stay with her till she falls asleep.

So to save my sanity (or whatever’s left of it at least), I decided it was time for a night light. I used to love night lights as a kid, and my inner child practically squeaked at the idea of going night light shopping again.

Isn’t it just the prettiest thing ever? Lilly simply adores her new night light, but honestly, I think I’m even more in love with it than she is.

Thought of the Day

When Lilly was born, I couldn’t wait for her to start talking so I could hear her say ‘mommy’ in that cutesy little baby voice, and when she did said it for the first time it was the best feeling in the world.

Now that she’s almost 4 though, I wish that she would maybe say ‘mommy, mommy, mommy’ a little less because after the 4,320th ‘mommy’ of the day, I’m about ready to pull my hair out.

I need more caffeine and little less noise in my life.

Write a Book or be a Unicorn: How do I Decide?

Three year olds are fickle creatures, and that’s a fact. One day something is their absolute favorite thing in the world, the next it’s the worst thing you could ever offer them. Is rice with peas their absolute favorite food? Not anymore, now it’s akin to poison as far as they’re concerned. Do they love the color purple? Wait till you buy that pretty purple rug for their room and suddenly they never liked purple and have no idea why you thought they did.

My almost four year old daughter has recently discovered the world of ‘what I want to be when I grow up’ and in true toddler fashion, what she wants to be when she grows up will change depending on her mood/the time of day/the color of her dress. Yesterday she wanted to be a magician when she grew up, the day before it was a doctor, while the day before that it was a unicorn. We’ve entertained every possible (and a fair share of impossible) things she could grow up to be, from astronaut, to detective, to witch, to princess, to tiger, so I think it’s safe to say she’s still a tad undecided.

Today though, we have apparently decided that we want to write a book. The catch? She doesn’t actually know how to write, or read for that matter. A minor problem but we found the perfect solution: mommy will write the book as dictated by Lilly while Lilly concentrates on drawing the pictures. After all, everyone knows the pictures are the only part of the book that matter, right? All I can say is, at least it’s a little bit more realistic than ‘unicorn princess’ from last week.

Don’t be THAT Guy

Like most (sane) people in the world, I believe misogyny and sexism are wrong and are issues that need to be addressed. That’s a normal stance to have. Sometimes though, you come across that special personality that is not only anti-misogyny, but deep within the realm of look-at-me-I’m-so-NOT-misogynistic-I-totally-deserve-an-award-for-this.

Unfortunately, these people are usually men. Annoyingly know-it-all, look-at-me-I’m-so-progressive men.

You know the kind of person I mean: the king of guy who will condescendingly inform you that appreciating your husband for taking on all the housework while you were unwell is silly because it’s your husband’s JOB to do so. Or that being a stay at home mom is somehow unfair to you even if you CHOSE to stay home and no one is forcing you to do so. Or that he’s such a progressive guy just because he doesn’t dictate his wife’s clothing choices.

Um, ok, so it’s not ok for me to appreciate my husband when he’s thoughtful and considerate but it’s ok for you to smugly announce how you AREN’T a giant misogynistic ass in your best I-totally-deserve-an-award-for-this voice?

Dear mister I-am-so-not-a-misogynist,

Not being a misogynistic ass does not earn you any medals, it just means you’re a decent human being. And buddy, if you feel the need to perpetually highlight how not misogynistic you are, you probably aren’t as awesome as you want people to give you credit for.

Nor does it give you a free pass to point out all the ways in which I , as a woman, am not making the right choices/am not indignant enough about imagined slights/am not ENOUGH of a feminist. Don’t loudly insist that I’m wrong to appreciate my husband doing the dishes when I was too tired to finish up because ‘its his job to do the dishes!’ Showing appreciation when someone is considerate does not make me an oppressed female you jackass, it just makes me a normal human being. And FYI, I expect the same sort of appreciation from my husband for everything I do, even if it is my ‘job’ to do so.

Equality of the sexes doesn’t mean everyone should be doing everything all the time, it means equality of choice, equality of opportunity and equality of access. My husband and I are equal because we both respect each others choices, opinions and preferences without letting our biological sex dictate what we each ‘should’ be doing. I have the choice and opportunity to work but I choose to be a stay at home mom and am grateful we can afford such a choice.

So please, don’t tell me what I SHOULD be doing, feeling or expecting, don’t pretend to know better than me what I want or prefer, and for god’s sake stop pretending that you’re doing women everywhere a favor by NOT being a misogynistic ass (which, by the way, you’re just lying to yourself about: you are a complete misogynistic ass).

End rant.