A Flurry of Events

cuties on christmas eve

our snowman is cooler than your's.

that is what you call love.

i took the xmas tree down today and have begun the long, arduous task of decluttering our home. today, my husband wants to sell the house and move to washington dc. key emphasis on "today." you see my husband changes his mind on a daily basis about where our future home should be. one day it's mclean. the next, it's reston or centreville. we even dabbled with living in spain, italy, latvia and iran! i wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow he'd like to move to korea (his food of choice).

there is something so freeing about throwing stuff away. with each item of junk, i feel lighter. for example, i have no problem throwing away my daughters' art work, unless they're absolute masterpieces. on several occasions, she has noticed her art in the recycling bin and proceeded to remove it and scold me. one of the many benefits of having a 2 year old is that you can deflect blame onto them. "oh D, *shaking head* A must have accidentally disposed of it."

i don't think anyone else in my family is this way. certainly not my parents. last year, i attempted operation declutter the azani home and it was an utter disaster. i probably spent one week of my life cleaning out their home - from closets to bookcases, from dresser drawers to those bathroom cabinets that store god knows what from god knows when. of course, i had to ensure that my parents were nowhere in sight. my dad was in iran at the time and my mom would go to work 8 hours a day. the house was gleaming. it looked like a staged home, ready to be placed on the market. the fruits of my labor probably went stale after a week. my dad returned from iran and i was bombarded with questions: where is this? where is that? did you throw this away? i can't believe you planned to donate this?! when i arrived at my parents' house the following weekend, they were back to their old ways. after much huffing and puffing, i came to the realization that pack rats can't be expected to change over night, unless they absolutely want to and view their stuff as a barrier to peace and tranquility.

we had a lovely xmas. alex got me a kindle. the home screen reads, "alex's kindle," but i pretend not to notice. the new yorker, where have you been all my life? D now has the easy oven i coveted as a child and i think i'm more eager to bake stuff with it than she is. her aunt bought her a cupcake maker. as you can see there is a theme here and i have absolutely nothing to do with it. ahem. let me quickly change the subject. D will also add tae kwon to her resume. her dad is most excited about his dainty daughter becoming a slayer of all things with penises.

D's birthday is next week and we've opted to have a small family party as opposed to last year's 3 birthday parties! i have promised to bake cupcakes for her kindergarten class, brownie troupe, and latvian school. oh my! we plan to buy her a real bike from a real bike shop. :)

i signed up for a zumba class. i've heard great things and look forward to shaking what my mama gave me. i'm going to make a genuine effort to eat sweets in moderation and to exercise more in 2010.

A has been talking up a storm. the stuff she says is pretty incredible. oh, and speaking of storms - alex went on his solo vacation and after a mere 3 days alone, was trying to end his trip early to come home, when the snow storm hit and cancelled his flight 3 times! i think lessons were learned and certain people who shall remain nameless were more appreciated. :)

Got Mail?

A and her beloved Mimi

most recent pic of the girls with their cousin

you're not going to believe this: my 5 year old is the proud owner of an email account. i know! crazy, isn't it?? what was my husband thinking? never did i think, i would have to compete with my daughter to get on the computer to check email in the morning. at least not for another 8 or so years. today, i woke up at 7:30am, and found miss D typing away...

T: good morning, D, what are you doing?

D: oh, checking my email.

T: i glance at her inbox and girlfriend has 67

new messages! granted they're almost all from her grandpa flooding her inbox with pics of alex as a cute, chubby baby, but still...

D: mom, how do you spell ____? and these questions persist for a good 10 minutes.

alex had the bright idea of opening D a gmail account, to help reinforce spelling, reading, and writing. and it seemed like a great idea in theory, until she started asking me a million spelling questions...i am trying really hard to be patient, but some of the questions are really unnecessary.

D: how do you spell inga?

T: D, it's right in front of you, see where inga wrote her name at the bottom of her email to you... :)

D: oh yeaaaah....

T: mmmhmmm.

so we've had to place some limits. no checking email until bed is made, clothes are worn, breakfast is had, teeth are brushed, and mommy is asked, "what can i do to help?" did i mention she is a pro at using my iphone, making calls, perusing through pictures, watching videos and listening to music? i just can't believe how tech savvy she is. i'm pretty sure when i was her age, i was still enamored and preoccupied with big bird and elmo. i can't believe my kid was never into sesame street. "that show is for babies, mom," she says with utter disdain.

while on our way to the gym, i had had enough of listening to the itsy bitsy spider, so i ever so inconspicuously change the music and my new favorite song, lady gaga's bad romance, is playing and D asks:

D: mom are you sure lady gaga is the only one singing? because i definitely hear two people singing at the same time in some parts of the song. i just can't believe my 5 year old is using lady gaga in a sentence. i know her uncle is shaking his head right now. :p

in other news, alex is on day 3 of his vacation. the kids have been video chatting with him and miss him a lot. in fact, last night dina had a "nightmare" (after being in her bed for a whole 2 minutes) "because she missed daddy so much," and proceeded to watch the rest of so you think you can dance with me. also, daddy is in the process

of remodeling our basement bathroom and i'm truly impressed. i even got down and dirty and helped install some of the floor tiles. here is a pic for those who require hard evidence.

what? you don't wear hello kitty pajamas to lay down tiles?

i dragged myself to the gym today. i hadn't been in a few months. and i felt great afterwards and have begun the slow and arduous task of losing some weight and getting fit before our trips to iran in march and hawaii in july for a friend's wedding.

i haven't been to iran in 8 years! most of my family there has never met my kids. i can't wait to return to the motherland to see family, eat pizza (yes, eye ran has the best pizza i've ever had - even better than italy!), drink smoothies (sheer-o-moz), buy jewelry (you have no idea), and just walk the busy streets surrounded by the faces and voices of my people.

my resolutions for 2010 are:

1. drop 15 pounds

2. speak more farsi at home

3. become a teacher

4. get A potty-trained

5. practice more patience with the girls

6. sell the house and move to DC

7. take one class for me and learn something new

happy holidays!

First Comes Love, Then Comes Marriage, Then Comes A Third Baby in a Baby Carriage?

The Honeymoon Phase - please ignore my bushy eyebrows if you can.

a rare pic of me pregnant - (the front side is too scary). please note the hideous birkenstocks i wore for 9 months due to ginormous swelling of feet and ankles.) not fun!

and then there were three...

is there room for one more?

if you know me, you know about my love for movies. i must have been an actress or a movie critic in another life. on friday, my dad and i saw 2 movies - back to back. and we even paid for the second movie too! what better way to not get sucked into the black friday madness? the first film we saw was nicolas cage's bad lieutenant. eva mendez also starred (i'm way prettier- ha!) and it was okay. nothing spectacular and i'm a little baffled as to why my trusty rotten tomatoes gave it a whopping 85%. the next movie we saw was the road. the storyline seemed interesting. the movie surpassed my expectations. one reviewer writes:

"...see it for the simplest of reasons: Because it is a good story. Not because it may be important. Not because it is unforgettable, unyielding. Not because it horrifies. Not because the score is creepily spiritual. Not because it is littered with small lines of dialogue you will remember later. Not because it contains warnings against our own demise. All of that is so. Don't see it just because you loved the book. The movie stands alone. Go see it because it's two small people set against the ugly backdrop of the world undone. A story without guarantees. In every moment — even the last one — you'll want to know what happens next, even if you can hardly stand to look. Because The Road is a story about the persistence of love between a father and a son..."

viggo (don't you just love that name?) mortenson is incredible and i stand corrected regarding his acting talents. the little boy was amazing as well. enough about movies. the point of this post is to tell you that the itch is back. no, not the itch to become a soap opera actress. the itch to have a third child. ok, let's be honest. the itch to have a son. when i returned home from the movie, i immediately emailed alex:

i think i want to try for a boy, quick before i change my mind!

i then began to search the web for sure fire ways to conceive a boy. here is what i learned:

1. apparently chance is on my side - statistically there are 51 boys for every 49 girls.

2. the shettles method says that a couple should have intercourse no more than 24 hours before ovulation and no more than 12 hours past ovulation (this seems way too complicated for this lazy chick)

3. deep penetration from your partner will deposit sperm closer to your cervix, allowing the more aggressive Y sperm to get a head start in fertilization. ahem. no comment.

4. change your diet to include red meat, salty snacks, and soft drinks (no problemo!)

5. let your partner initiate sex and focus on his pleasure. legend says if the man climaxes first, you'll have a baby boy. legend can kiss my ass.

6. schedule your love making sessions for odd numbered days of the month. (can you picture me filling out our calendar and penciling in "love making session" every other day?)

7. have sex at night, preferably when there's a quarter moon in the sky. (seriously people? a quarter moon? i should have been one of "them" and taken astronomy in college dammit.)

8. have as much sex as possible, since boys are conceived during the "honeymoon phase" of a relationship (the people who wrote this must have had kids out of wedlock or given birth exactly 9 months after their wedding)

9. have the man drink coffee before sex, since this causes the sperm with Y chromosomes to become more active. (it's a good thing alex loves coffee!)

it's such a huge, no turning back decision. do i really want to put my life on hold again? do i really want to travel with 3 kids? (and put my grand travel plans on hold for another 4 years, cause people with kids under 3 should really stay home) and shuttle/chauffeur around 3 kids?? do i really want to go through 9 months of the hell that i call pregnancy? do i really want to deal with diapers, poop, burp cloths, baby gear (darn! i already donated most of anais') all over again? do i really want my little baby anais to suffer from middle child syndrome?! *shudder*

my true fears are:

1. will the baby be healthy?

2. will our parents be able to babysit 3 kids at once when i am in desperate need of some me time? (which is usually every weekend)

3. will i go insane?

4. can we afford a nanny?

5. if the plan fails, can i survive raising 3 teenage daughters?

6. will i have to sit through 4 more years of latvian school? did i just admit that out loud?

so if you see me ordering a T-bone steak at a restaurant, you'll know why. if you see me shoving coffee down alex's throat, you'll know why. if you see a quarter moon and alex and i all of a sudden have to jet, you'll know why. if you hear me complaining about back problems on even numbered days of the month, you'll know why. if you see alex walking around with a limp, you'll know why. if you see alex and i all lovey-dovey with each other, holding hands, and blowing kisses across the room, it's because we're trying to recreate the honeymoon phase of our relationship, etc. etc.

if you don't see any of the above and find me teaching shakespeare in a school classroom or frolicking in the sands of spain with my girls (with my new and improved flat belly), you'll know i decided to stick to the status-quo.

it's now or never...

A Humbling Experience or Two

i had really Great Expectations of myself.  but, i am so pissed. failure is a really hard pill to swallow. i took my praxis II: english content knowledge, language, and literature exam and really blew it. there were 120 questions on the exam and i ran out of time and randomly bubbled in the last 20 questions. i never thought i'd be *that* person. i don't get the results for another 4 weeks, but i'm pretty confident of my less than stellar performance. The (rude) Awakening:  i may have delayed my new goal by 9 months. (i checked they don't have a summer program.) i might as well wear a big S on my chest like Hester in the Scarlet Letter. a big S for STUPID. i never timed myself while taking the practice exams. i'd do 20 questions here. 30 questions there. la di da.  my Don Juan of a husband woke up at 6:00am to take me to this test and had to put up with my foul mood for the remainder of the day.

i'm really embarrassed. i mean fuck. i can pass the virginia bar with little to no studying (shhh don't tell my mom who took care of my kids for 3 weeks so that i could "study.") but i can't pass this shit?! i was amazed to hear that the girls around me were taking the exam for the 5th time!! is me memorizing who wrote Gulliver's fucking Travels really a reflection of the kind of teacher i plan to be?  ok. enough of the allusions. i mean really - how was i going to casually slip in A Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock?  

i'm still crossing my fingers for a miracle.  and i guess i have to keep studying for a possible retake in january. this has been a humbling experience. maybe i'm not the rock star i thought i was and maybe i need to invest in a damn stopwatch.

in other news, i recently won the best wife of the year award. next month, my husband is taking an 8 day vacation without his loving wife and kids.  it started out being a bike trip with me and the kids.  it was crazy impractical, but that's what he loved about it.  i was to attend spinning classes 5 days a week in preparation.  he then came to his senses and asked if he could go it alone.  i will admit, i was a little hurt at first.  my ego was a little bruised. (and damn it this was the push i needed to lose some weight!)  why would he not want to spend his free time with yours truly?  he wants to take a vacation from moi?  the nerve! the hurt turned into resentment.  if anyone should take a solitary vacation around here, it's me! and the resentment dissipated. and in it's place came understanding.  my husband works his ass off and his free time is mostly spent with me and the kids and if he wants some time to himself to bike 40-50 miles a day, he deserves it. 

there are a few caveats (i didn't become a lawyer for nuthin): 

1.  he has to travel within the U.S.  i'm sorry, but i cannot rely on the foreign police to help me find my missing/kidnapped/spandex-wearing husband. 

2. he must call me twice a day to let me know he is alive and well - scratch that. alive and miserable-from missing me so much.  

3. we will go to hawaii and spain in the summer, just me and him.

   

Man Gribants Est (I'm Hungry in Latvian)

i had grand plans tuesday. i arranged for my dad to drive down to virginia to care of the kids so that i could take my beginner latvian class. i arrived at my sister's house (my sanctuary in MD) at 2:00pm, after making my obligatory trip to mama lucia and yogiberry (a girl's gotta eat). i receive a phone call from GW, letting me know that the class has been cancelled tonight due to a family emergency. i was bummed. i was excited to start the journey of learning another language. and did my husband think i was the coolest, awesomest wife for taking on this endeavor? did he support me and encourage me and look at me with pure love in his eyes? 

this is what i had envisioned:

T: honey, i have a surprise for you.

A: what is it, my love?

T: i'm going to learn how to speak latvian!! i signed up for classes!

A: *eyes tearing up.* *getting all choked up* you. did. this. for me?

T:  yes, of course, for you. (and for me so i can know what exactly my mom-in-law is saying to you when it's just the 3 of us in a room and it's like i'm not there) but yes, for you darling.

A: i'm so touched. you're amazing!! thank god, you agreed to marry me.

this is how it really played out:

T: guess what?! i signed up to take beginner latvian. there will be 6 sessions at GW.  i'll need you to take care of the kids 3 tuesday nights and my dad will help out on those nights you're working. isn't that great?!

A: this sounds totally inconvenient.  we already know how to communicate in 2 languages with one another - why do we need to add another language?

T: *blank stare. totally deflated.* this is clearly not the reaction i was going for. i was expecting a passionate kiss, ok fine - a pat on the back. jesus. a high five or a thumbs up sign at the very least.

maybe he'll appreciate this once the class is over and i'm whispering sweet latvian nothings in his ear. maybe then, he'll see that this was my way to show him that i love the guy and want to learn more about where he's from and what he's all about.  i also like the feeling of doing something for myself. it's not belly-dancing (which i would really love to learn) or photography, but it's still being in a classroom environment and learning something new. i really miss that. and i know this sounds crazy, but i am really looking forward to going back to school to pursue teaching. being a mom is fantastic and fulfilling, but it definitely doesn't hurt to do something for you and have a goal to strive for.

i got to catch up on 4 episodes of curb your enthusiasm, which totally helped lift my spirits. larry david reminds me a lot of my husband. maybe that's why i love him so much...

****

update:  i got an email yesterday that the latvian class has been totally cancelled. the teacher had some issues, which i'm sure are completely legitimate, but dammit, i'm really disappointed. oh well. they may offer the class again in spring...

Oh, I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

you know when you're having one of those days that everything goes wrong and all you want to do is curl up on the couch and drown yourself in a sea of strawberry mochis? (mochis are my latest sweet discovery - and if you don't know, you better ask somebody. shiiyet. ok fine. go to your nearest trader joes NOW!) you feel like total shit and the whole world is mad at you, no worse - disappointed in you? you're sitting alone watching last night's episode of the biggest loser and crying hysterically? well, i was having one of those days today...until i checked the mail. and received the most amazing gift from my incredible friend [girlfriend got A+s (emphasis on plural) in law school; that is rare and enviable.] five years ago, she surprised me with the most beautiful quilt for D and has done it again, making the most lovely quilt for A. i'm so touched. no one has ever done anything this special for me. i'm in awe and at a total loss for words...

thank you hilary. you have a heart of gold. i love you.

A's Quilt

D's quilt

Sushi Talk

conversation between husband and wife over dinner:

A: *raises three fingers in the air*

T: *blank stare* 3 what? 3 more days until something? 3 weeks? am i missing something here?

A: a third.

T: a 3rd what? car? bathroom? telephone line? help me out here.

A: no! a 3rd kid. he points to our 2 year old, who is looking irresistibly adorable as she draws

pictures of kabob on our extra sushi ordering list. [he's trying the old - look how cute she is, don't you want another, she's about to grow out of the toddler phase trick]

T: downs a shot and half of hot saki.

T: only if you can guarantee me a full-time nanny.

A: i've been thinking about it and i would love for us to get a latvian au pair.

T: as long as she's over 40.

A: no way! she's gotta be under 30.

T: honey, is this nanny for you or for the kids?

A: blank stare followed by nervous laughter.

T: ne paldies. [latvian for: no thank you.]

******

halloween is just around the corner: i've included some pics from last year, that are totally unrelated to the post, but cute nonetheless. :) this year, D will be a flamenco dancer and A will be a pumpkin fairy (again!)

Beware: Curfews May Lead to Increase in Promiscuity

(this one's got 'i'm going to give my mom hell' written all over her face)

(when i was a teenager, my mom cursed me and said, "i hope god gives you a girl exactly like yourself." translation: i hope your teenager will be a belligerent, argumentative, pain in the ass.)

growing up with strict persian parents is one thing. being the first born of strict persian parents is a whole other ball game. can i sue my parents for past wrongs? i'm sure there is no statute of limitations. there certainly isn't one with sex offenses. and what they did to me is bad. really bad. almost on par. ok not really. but, i wonder if i would have legally emancipated myself like that romanian gymnast or drew barrymore, if i had known what the hell that phrase meant when i was a teenager. here are a list of my gripes:

1. 11pm curfew in high school

2. midnight curfew in college (they wanted to protect me from car accidents with drunk drivers)

3. no sleepovers in high school (they thought a friend's dad or brother would molest me)

4. zero love life in high school thanks to the no talking to the opposite sex policy (they deduced that conversing on the phone is like the gateway drug to having sex)

5. living at home with my parents for all FOUR years of college, thereby resulting in:

6. no dorm experience ("vaay live in dorm when you live ther-tee minutes from es-kool, makes zee-ro sense taraneh jan.")

7. no apartment living experience in college (see above)

8. no study abroad experience in college

9. no frat party experience (come on - i had seen the movies and had always dreamt about getting really drunk at a frat party and making out with a dreamy, blonde frat boy - i had also imagined myself with really big boobs in this scenario, you know you did too!)

my little sister should really shower me with gifts on a monthly basis or at the very least remind me of my awesomeness on a daily basis - for the nice, easy, smooth road i paved for her with my very own blood, sweat, and tears (literally).

1. my little sister slept at a friend's house every weekend in elementary, middle, and high school! ("have a vonder-fool time dar-leeng!")

2. she had a plethora of male friends, who called the house, and had full on, pleasant conversations with my dad. [this is the same dad who barked, "don't ever call here again" to one of my guy friends who called about a homework assignment once and nearly made him shit his pants]

3. she lived in the dorms her freshman year ("it is not safe to de-rive home late after studying at de libary all night")

4. the cool apartment style dorms her sophomore year ("it is good to not have roomate")

5. she lived in a sorority house her junior year ("dis is good for resume and so-ro-retee do good tings for community, yes?")

6. studied abroad in spain her senior year ("dis is very good ex-per-eeyence for you!")

as you can see, my parents evolved. (hmmm...or maybe they felt really bad that my sister has a dairy allergy and overcompensated with freedom and no discipline. that can't be it! i had asthma dammit - i couldn't breathe! she couldn't eat ice-cream. which is worse??? strike that.)

yeah yeah - i know the oldest always goes through hell. and parents have either come to their senses or have given up the fight with the second and third born. but i'm still very bitter. (shocking!) i will admit this - when you have your own kids, you kinda start to understand where they were coming from. you start to realize that your parents were not the crazy, heartless, cruel people you thought they were. you start to understand that the world is an unsafe, unpredictable place filled with lunatics and rapists.

i wasn't allowed to get my license until i turned 17. i thought it was the end of the world and that god had dealt me the shittiest hand when it came to being born. i think about dina driving around in 11 years at the tender age of 16 and i'm like, oh hell no! i open up the metro section of the washington post and am obsessed with reading the little blurbs that describe accidents involving teenagers who have lost their lives. it happens almost every day! should 16 year olds really be on the road? blaring their music, texting their friends, and talking on their cellphones?? i think not.

despite the world being a scary place, i know that if i raise my child to be a mature, responsible, smart, and sensible person - it's ok to let them go. dina can go to stanford and live in the dorms. (she just better know that i will move to cali with her and buy a place within a 5 mile radius.) i know that my parents were concerned for my safety and well-being and thought they were doing what was best for me. but when you become too restrictive and suffocating, you run the risk of your kid turning into a crack whore. they were lucky i didn't rebel and turn into a slut. that's because they had done a good job of raising me. (and because i'm a people-pleaser - ahem. not in that way - i like to please authority - you know be teacher's pet, my parents' favorite, etc.) so i will try to remember the hell i went through when it comes to the battles that are sure to come my way during my girls' teenage years. i will try to be more open-minded and less controlling. i will try to be less oppressive and more tolerant. i am an over-bearing persian mom (it's in my blood), but i'll make sure to let the cool, mellow american side of me shine through.

We Don't Need No Education...

goodbye criminals. hello teeny-boppers. i will no longer answer to a judge. i will have to kiss up to the principal. i'm leaving behind words like mitigating circumstances, incompetency, the alford plea, and possession with intent to distribute and familiarizing myself with dangling modifiers, sonnets, denouement, and oxymorons (god i love that word). i'm trading in black's law dictionary, the federal rules of evidence and the constitution for farenheit 451, the scarlet letter and 1984. i'm removing restitution, rehabilitation and punishment from my vocabulary and replacing it with romanticism, transcendentalism, and existentialism. farewell benjamin cardozo and thurgood marshall. i'm with shakespeare, dickens, and keates now.  folks, i'm switching careers.  

it's a little scary. am i making a huge mistake? will i be any good? will the students like me? will i win teacher of the year or be the laughing stock of high school? will the teenage boys hit on me? will the valley-girls eye me up and down, grit and say whatever? are there teacher cliques? will i befriend the cool psychology teacher or sit in the corner of the faculty lounge with the geeky/socially-awkward physics teacher? am i going to have to chaperone a prom or homecoming? will i be grading a million papers while watching project runway and wondering what the hell have i done? will the parents annoy me? will i have to fail some kids and distribute some Cs and Ds? what if i see a cheerleader giving the stink eye to a sophomore whose taking prednisone for asthma and can't help the chubby cheeks and acne? ahem. (memories...all alone in the moonlight) oooh can i give out detentions? (oh it's personal and it's payback time bitches).  am i going to have to get cliffnotes again for books i don't understand and don't care to read?

i love reading. i love writing. i loved teaching to law students as a TA in law school. i love editing papers. i mean i really love it. there is nothing more satisfying than taking a red pen and crossing stuff out and drawing arrows and these things: {     } and question marks all over a paper (ok i lie - a tres leches or slice of pumpkin cheesecake is more satisfying, but i'm talking brains not belly right now). i also really like the idea of being home at a reasonable hour with my kids. i really really like the idea of having summers off, winter break, spring break, and all the other holidays (i heart jewish people and dead presidents and notable historical figures).

i can't wait to give a pop quiz. and dole out parts and make students act out macbeth. i'm joking. i do think our teachers are underrated, underpaid, and unappreciated. when i look back on life, my teachers and professors had the most lasting and profound impact. i hope some day people will look back and remember miss. azani as their favorite high school english teacher. that would make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and may just trump the high i get from biting into a heath bar. fyi: definition of heath = a tract of open and uncultivated land. synonym = moor. how ya like me now?  

if you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding. how can you have any pudding, if you don't eat yer meat?!  what is it with me and song lyrics lately? it's a great song nonetheless. (that's a great word too.  i'm going to start using it in every day conversation.) carry on, class. 

You and Me Baby Aint Nothin' But Mammals...

okay - so west virginia is no wyoming, but we still managed to have a nice, relaxing time. after 4.5 hours of driving and 389 "are we there yet?" questions we finally arrived. the house we stayed in was beautiful, but it was in the middle of nowhere. at night, alex would set up booby traps (note to self: look up the word origin for "booby" trap) at each entrance into the home, for fear that someone would kidnap the kids in middle of the night. on our first night, my husband left our room at 2am and slept with the kids. i asked him, what if someone kidnaps me and there is no one to protect me?? it was dark, but i'm pretty sure i saw a shoulder shrug. thanks honey. i love you too.

we were informed the day before we left for the trip that there would be a TV and dvd player, but no cable. my husband, who was going to the library to return some books, was assigned the task of renting some movies for the week. we spent each night, watching national geographic videos. i was hoping for movies along the lines of the diving bell and the butterfly, but should i have really expected this from the man who took me to see the beavis and butthead movie on our first date? now you'd think watching national geographic movies would be highly educational for our 5 year old. but boy did we have to do some major damage control.

Day 1: Lions

D: "mommy, what is that boy lion doing to that girl lion?"

Alex quickly responds, "he's giving her a piggy-back ride."

D: "can i have a piggy-back ride right now?

Alex: "you most certainly cannot!"

Day 2: Zebras

D: "look guys - even the zebras are giving each other piggy-back rides."

us: "piggy-back rides sure are fun!

Alex: "mommy loves piggy-back rides."

me: "ahem...shut up alex."

Day 3: Rhinos

D: "rhinos give piggy-rides too!! that is so cool! that must hurt the other rhinos back. they are heavy."

Alex: "mommy is heavy too. she hurts my back during piggy-back rides."

me: glare. followed by middle finger (when the kids are looking away of course), followed by mental note: no piggy back rides for daddy in the foreseeable future.

anyway, a fun time was had by all. some highlights: i can't look at another marshmallow until the year 2020. i beat my husband bowling. dina got bed bug bites all over her legs. i ate freshly caught fish from the river and was paranoid all night that i was going to die from some fish-borne disease. i am the UNO queen. my husband has picked the last 3 three vacation sites and being the awesome wife that i am, i have obliged him. it's pay-back time. i'm thinking hawaii in july...sans kids.

"It's All Relative in West Virginia"

well hello mr. bison.

latvians heart birch trees

i'd rather be shopping - j/k!

my ideal vacation = white sand, clear blue water, hot sun, massages, fantastic book, delicious food, dancing, beautiful sunsets, jet-skiing, burnt nose and cheeks (i'm olive skinned and wear blush 24-7 people), the best desserts, sleeping in, and NO KIDS (i love them, but can't i get a week free of diapers, poo, cheddar bunnies, questions, the berenstain bears, nose-picking and daily laundry?)

alex's ideal vacation = running, hiking (for miles), fishing, canoeing, rain, bugs, rush rush rush (my husband cannot relax and is a very impatient man. he complains constantly about my walking pace - which i swear is normal. he has told me numerous times that emails addressed to him by me must be short, succinct, and get the point across in the first sentence. but i digress...), delicious food (the one thing we can agree on), waking up at the crack of dawn, WITH KIDS.

tomorrow we leave for west virginia: the land of incest and rotten hygiene. i hope i haven't offended any loyal west virginian readers. to make matters worse, i will have zero access to television, the internet, and decent restaurants and i will be forced to hike (probably in the rain given my shitty luck with weather and vacations) for miles - with 2 whiney kids who enjoy walking as much as i do (on a scale of 1-10, i give the act of walking a 2.5 - unless there is a worth-while destination such as a movie theater, a haagen dazs parlor or a loehmanns at the end of the tunnel.) the only thing keeping me sane right now and preventing me from entering a deep depression is the prospect of eating smores. i will make it my mission to eat smores for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. fat ass? flabby arms? cellulite? double chin? pssssht. it's my fuckin vacation. afterall, i have to blend in with the hillbillies. ouch. *shaking head* i'm so ignorant. blending in again. ok ok, my work here is done.

the pics above are from our trip to jackson hole, wyoming. my initial reaction when i heard we were going there: shock and mortification. i'm not going to lie. it was a truly magical place.

dare i say west virginia will be the same?

Driving Miss Dina

a mother's work is never done. we are life coaches, personal shoppers, stylists, housekeepers, nurses (bed pan = diaper in my book), butlers, chefs, and personal assistants to our kids. i have a new job title to add to my resume: chauffeur. dina goes to school 7 days a week. here is her schedule:

monday - K, ballet

tuesday - K, soccer practice

wednesday - K (don't be fooled - I have to drive A to her program on Wed and Thurs)

thursday - K

friday - K

saturday - soccer game, farsi school

sunday - latvian school

since alex has a crazy, inconsistent schedule - much of the chauffeuring duties fall on me.

(note to self: next time you decide to marry a doctor, make sure he's a dermatologist - he'll be home by 5pm every day, never be on call, and you'll be wrinkle-free.)

i can't even imagine what would happen if i ever got a DWI or had to amputate my right leg. my poor kid would not be well-rounded and thus not get into any good colleges, and possibly reside with me forever. *double shudder* (note to self: lay off the vodka on girl's night out, unless you've hired your own chauffeur.)

12 years ago i saw a fortune teller in iran, who told me that one of my future kids would be a soccer star (never mind that this same person said i would give birth to a boy and a girl). so i'm thinking my little soccer sensation could be D. she shows some promise in the video above. i have a feeling A is going to be a wrestler or football player - but she could be my ticket to a college soccer scholarship, because D is just so dainty.

as a parent, you live vicariously through your kids and sign them up for activities/sports that you wish you had done as a child. mom and dad: thanks for the gymnastics, ice-skating (mom's dreams), violin, piano, and santoor (dad's dreams), but they really weren't my thang. my dreams for the girls: guitar or piano, basketball, soccer, art, persian dancing, karate and languages.

i have to introduce the girls to everything (exhausting myself in the process) and eventually let them decide what they like best. as kids get older, some of the roles i mentioned above will certainly diminish. (you better believe my duties as a housekeeper, butler, and stylist will (this last one i will forego kicking and screaming). but i know that for the next 11-14 years of my life, i will be a driver to my kids until they get their licenses. i may even have to buy a van down the road (*shudder*) - as a 3rd car of course if i want to partake in some car-pooling action with other moms in my boat. (are you loving the transportation references?) i can't even think about incorporating A's future activities into my daily schedule, for fear that i may have a thelma and louise moment and drive my car over a cliff (unless of course i meet brad pitt along the way.)

Doing vs. Getting it Done

**now a word from our sponsors: the entrepreneur in my husband thinks some of you will actually click on these ads to the right and make me some money. i love how all the ads have something to do with poop. awesome. as you were.

motherhood is the hardest job i've ever had. there are days i wish i was "working" again or back at school taking final exams and writing essays. (why did i ever complain? it was all a piece of cake compared to this) and you know what i've slowly come to realize. just because i have these thoughts, doesn't make me a bad mother. the reality of motherhood is not at all what you see in commercials and movies, where mothers are emanating this glow while breastfeeding (it sucks) or playing on a see-saw with their kids (makes me wanna vomit). those hallmark/kodak moments definitely happen, but not every single day.

i used to feel an enormous amount of guilt about ever feeling ungrateful about my situation, because i made this choice. and i know it's better for my kids. i should feel lucky that my husband's income allows me to stay at home. but motherhood is a lot of work. it requires one to be incredibly nurturing, patient, warm, and giving. i love my kids to death, but i do not love every single minute of every single day that is devoted to their care. i spend much of the day alone, cleaning up and caring for my girls - making sure they're entertained, clean, clothed, fed. kids are attached to your hip, they think they live in a restaurant, barking out orders for pasta or pizza, make mess after mess, demand a lot, and without fail or consistency, cover you in snot, vomit, or shit.

not to mention the fact that it's hard to never have an uninterrupted conversation let alone carry an adult conversation. it's hard to go anywhere for more than 2 hours with kids and when they're with you, they want and need your constant attention (mom i'm bored. mom i'm tired of walking. mom i'm hungry.) sometimes the worst is the day to day routine and monotony of it all. it's the same day over and over. wake up at 7am. make breakfast. feed kids. clean up. play. learn. make lunch. feed kids. clean up. pray for nap. make a snack. feed kids. play some more. mediate fights. make dinner. feed kids. clean up. bath. read bed-time stories (after the 139th book, you inevitably get asked, can you read me one more book?) put kids to bed by 8pm. my 13 hour days with them can be brutal. it's hard to be around anyone for that long.

and just because i'm busy, doesn't mean i'm not utterly bored. some days, i just gotta get out of the house. often times, i get through the day by turning mundane tasks into major events just to kill the time and have something mildly interesting to do. errands become momentous undertakings. i'm proud to say, i've totally lowered the bar of expectations. a day in which laundry is done or the kids' beds are made is a triumph. the highlight of a day becomes a trip to the grocery store (you know all about my love for costco) or farmer's market, going to the gross germ-infested indoor mall playground, going to the park, taking dina to ballet, soccer, latvian school and soon farsi school (oh my).

but i have to remind myself that kids are little for a very short time. my baby just started kindergarten. it seems like yesterday, my husband and i were living in philly in the middle of winter 2 days before D was born and arguing about whether we would walk the 2 blocks home from the hospital after i give birth, or have him pick dina and me up in a car with the car seat. (never let a man decide these things: i could barely pee let alone walk after pushing out a watermelon through my you know what). i read an article a few years ago that mentioned a truism that all parents should heed. the author wrote, "i wish i had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less." i have to cherish this time together, the hugs and kisses, even the poop (ok i think that's taking it too far) and 'can i sleep with yous,' because pretty soon they'll be teenagers and want nothing to do with me and i'll be left spending 12 hour days with my husband. insert commercial-like image: i'm glowing and euphoric as i sit next to my husband and look into his eyes for hours on end. ha!

Till Running Do Us Part

about once a month, i engage in some serious whining. this complaining is usually directed at my husband. this month's topic: my husband's lack of romance. i can't remember the last time he made plans to take me out on a date. against people's court's advisement, i take matters into my own hands. i line up babysitters (the g-units), make reservations, do my hair, and tell my husband we have plans friday night.

**note to guys: just because you marry the girl, doesn't mean you have to stop writing poems (he is going to kill me), surprising us with chocolate on our cars while we're in LSAT class, accompanying us to the movies (oh that stopped 24 hours after we said "i do")

T: "honey let's see a movie tonight."

A: "i don't do movies."

T: *blank stare*

back in high school, i was the go to person for relationship advice. i doled out relationship advice like it was my job. carolyn hax who? shiiyet. i had zero experience of course, unless you count my boyfriends in kindergarten, 3rd and 4th grade. as a persian girl, growing up with traditional persian parents, i was forbidden to associate let alone date the opposite sex. that didn't stop me of course. funny anecdote: i remember being on 3 way (coolest invention ever at the time) with a boy and one of my friends. we asked him for his list of superlatives (i.e. best looking in our grade, best body etc.) and guess what? yours truly was voted for sexiest voice on the telephone and most likely to xerox her butt. *applause* thank you. thank you. it's such an honor. [please note: i did gain some redemption 9 years later by actually winning best smile in law school (probably my proudest moment)] so why is it that this self-proclaimed relationship guru is having difficulty in her own love life?

in an effort to shut me up, my husband took matters into his own hands yesterday. want to know what his idea of doing something romantic entails? why it's going out for a run together. with the kids. and where does the romance fit in exactly? he pointed out: jogging side by side of course. silly me. call me old-fashioned, but i would be perfectly content with some flowers (orchids please), chocolate (i'm not picky as long as it aint dark), a massage, 20 minutes of hair-playing, or a hallmark card that reminds me of my awesomeness. running together makes me feel anything but romantic. in fact, it has the opposite effect. in my mind, i'm cursing him and counting down the minutes until this "quality time together" is over. my husband loves to run. he would do a monthly marathon if he had an understanding wife that could tolerate all the training time away from the family. he even bought the above hideous shoes. that's how much he loves running.

so back to yesterday's love affair... i feel way too much pressure going for a run with my husband. i just can't keep up and i feel like i'm holding him back. oh and he thinks i'm some kind of superwoman that can run and simultaneously carry on a conversation. hello! i have asthma. know your family's medical history doc. so after mile 2, he says to me, "okay i'm going to run another few miles and meet you back at the car." wtf? that doesn't sound very romantic. dropping me like a hot potato. i told you i cramp his running style. but i wanted to kiss him right then. soap opera style. i was going to get to turn around, take a leisurely stroll back to the car, listen to my ipod and enjoy some peace and quiet.

T: "sounds good A, see you soon, take your time" and he stops me dead in my tracks.

A: "here you go honey. (he passes the jogging stroller reins to me-mind you there is 80 pounds worth of heavy cargo inside) if you're going to walk back, you might as well get some exercise and take the kids with you."

T: *blank stare* (i'm really good at those.)

oh and guess what loverboy told me this morning, all bright-eyed and bushy tailed:

A: "i think i'm going to do the marine corps marathon in october."

T: taking imaginary gun and pointing it at my head. gulp. "oh, really?"

A: "you know what that means. lots of training. it's only 2 months away."

T: "sounds great babe. i'm sure the kids will love training with you."

A: *blank stare* (now that's a first)

Never Trust a Ho

you know you're in serious trouble, when your five year old (going on 15) asks the following questions:

1. D: what does "untouched" mean? (referring to the song "untouched" by the veronicas)

T: uhh let me demonstrate. come here D. i use my index finger to touch her shoulder. you're now touched, but i'm untouched. get it?

2. D: what is a ho mommy and why shouldn't i trust a ho? (referring to that song, the title escapes me, where the singer says, "don't trust a ho, never trust a ho...shush girl, shut your lips, do the hellen keller and talk with your hips. yeah. real classy. totally awesome lyrics. ha!)

T: a hoe is a dangerous gardening tool D. one should be very careful when using a hoe. *innocent look. gulp. is she going to buy this???"*

D: scrunches face, raises her eyebrows, and gives me a confused look that tells me she'll accept that answer...for now anyways. phew.

3. D: when are you going to download boom boom pow for me?

T: soon D. soon.

4. D: why do girls have boobs and boys don't?

T: uhhh, good question, ask your dad, he's the doctor.

5. D: daddy, did you have a girlfriend before mommy? what did you do with her? (man i wish i was there for alex's response to the latter question. )

i know i am largely to blame. but if you were forced to listen to the itsy shitsy spider, old fucking mcdonald had a farm, mary had an ugly ass lamb, and row row row your damn boat for the past 5 years of your life, you'd resort to 99.5 too. i promise. but my kid is too damn smart for her own good. she is a beast at picking up song lyrics. and she is not just singing for the sake of singing. girlfriend is paying attention to the lyrics, dissecting them, analyzing them, and writing op ed pieces and shit.

looks like i'm going to have to whip out the We Sing CDs again and put a jolly old smile on my face and sing along to hush little baby (while simultaneously daydreaming about daddy buying ME a diamond ring.)

good bye rihanna, black eyed peas, madonna, and miley (kidding! ok fine. i'll admit that 7 things i hate about you song is kinda catchy. shame on me.) i'll reevaluate in a few years.

Get In My Belly

sorry i've been MIA lately. i've been busy traveling, gaining weight, and spending time with my family. i have gained 7 pounds this summer. add to that the 10 pounds of baby weight i never lost giving birth to A. you do the math. and i'm starting to notice it in places other than my ever expanding mid-section. i do double takes when i see myself in the mirror. woah check out that girl's double chin. wait. that's me. my skinny chicken legs are still in tact, but now i'm sporting some serious purdue chick thighs. my husband is constantly pulling on my former stick-man arms and there is at least an inch of fat in his grasps. and god, please forget about my prayers for a J-Lo ass. i was just kidding. (and what i really meant was J-Lo's ass pre Marc Anthony and kids, not preggo J-Lo ass) i want my flat ass (the one my asian friends and i would lament about in high school) back please. and can't i just once be like those bitches who gain weight in their boobs?

i'm growing old. losing weight has become a battle. my 114 pound high school days are over and i need to get a grip. i am a lone soldier fighting an army of ice-cream, cakes, tarts, cookies, heath bars, kit kats (or as D likes to call them:kitty kats), lindt chocolates, sohan (persian version of brittle), whip-cream, flan, creme brule, tiramisu, brownies, batter, etc.

but i'm sick and tired of retreating. it's one thing to take over my belly territory, but when you start fucking with my face and neck, oh i am going to go ape shit. insert 3- finger-Z snaps. a grit. and a 360 degree circular neck roll. shiiyet.

i am going to get my life in order. i'm going to figure out what i want to do: law, teach, write, open up a stand at my farmer's market, go back to school, dance, become a model (ha! just making sure you're paying attention), what have you. i'm going to stop turning to sweets as a quick fix or temporary fulfillment from what's really missing in my life right now. i'm going to make my husband fall in love all over again with that "persian princess" who was driven, ambitious, and skinny (aka smokin hot) in undergrad.

The Poop Scoop

the pic that resembles "i'm constipated" best

i hope you're not getting too tired of reading about poo. but lately my life revolves around it. no really! A has developed a major problem with constipation and pounds of blueberries, blackberries, cherries, and plums have failed to work their magic. a typical conversation between me and my husband goes as follows:

A: hi honey.

T: good morning darling.

A: how are you my love?

T: i'm well. just enjoying my time with our beautiful, perfect kids.

A: you're the model mother and wife. i miss you. i want to take you out to dinner and a movie and shower you with expensive gifts. i'm the luckiest guy in the world.

HA! here is the real exchange between us:

A: hey.

T: grunt.

A: how's A? did she poop yet? what has she had to eat? (in an oh so accusing tone)

T: food.

A: make sure she eats lots of fruit. no milk. no pasta. no bread. no bananas.

T: check. check. and check. salute.

A: keep me posted.

T: ok. bye.

3 hours later:

T: finally! she pooped!

A: thank god! poor thing. what did it look like?

T: it was huge. and hard. and long. and i can't believe that thing came out of her cute little butt.

A: what's for dinner?

T: i have really bad reception here. i can't hear a word you're saying. see ya. byeeee.

end scene.

Alex, recipient of the world's best hubby award, took care of the kids for 4 days straight so that i could spend some quality time with my relatives visiting from iran. during those 4 days of utter bliss (did i just admit that out loud?), he got A off the bottle cold turkey and insisted that her milk intake was contributing to the constipation. i was skeptical. my husband is an ER doctor. he deals with stab/gunshot wounds and heart attacks on a daily basis. was he talking out of his ass again? (pun intended.)

finally on the last day of alex's mr. mom stint, A got very constipated. and i felt slightly vindicated. i was thinking to myself, "see, i'm not a bad mom, it happened on your watch too buddy!" in any case, it's time to take her to the doctor. my family (half are doctors and the other half think they are) insists that i should give her a spoonful of olive oil each day. (we tried this method and it really works! we gave her a few spoonfuls of honey and snuck in a spoonful of olive oil - she didn't even notice) i suppose it's better than a daily dose of enema for now.

my daughter is off the bottle at the tender age of 25 months. but i hope this doesn't hinder my future dreams of her becoming a supermodel (afterall, she is 95% in height - we just need to work on the 95% in weight impediment) as she now refuses to drink milk in any other form.

Shake that Healthy Butt, Baby Got Back...

okay. so one of you readers has the evil eye. cheshm shod! in other words, my little girl was jinxed and i guess it's partly my fault for posting the picture of her adult-like poop in all its glory in my last post. last night was one of the roughest mommy nights of my life. i was up every hour tending to my severely constipated child. there is nothing sadder than seeing your child suffer and in so much agony because of a big, hard boulder of a poop refusing to come through. we had to administer a home made enema at 4am to no avail.

so this morning, i had to wrestle A into the car seat. (my brother-in-law advised that i should refrain from using the kids' first names to save them from future embarrassment and isolation.) she refused to sit on her bum. at wegmans, she refused to sit inside the grocery cart (and the cart with the kid-mobile attached to it didn't sway her either). clearly, her rectum was in some serious pain. i get an email from alex to pick up a prescription from the pharmacy, that will require another butt insert of sorts. i pray like i prayed before taking the LSAT, the MD bar, and right before giving birth to D and A. please god. please let A poop so i don't have to put anything up her cute little butt and further traumatize her.

we waddle our way up to the pharmacy counter and are told it will take 15 minutes to fill the prescription. we meander through wegmans in a sleepy stupor to kill time and as luck would have it - happen to stumble upon the diaper aisle, when A lets out a loud shriek, followed by a whimper, "mommy poo poo." there's no mistaking the smell. my baby has finally let out the hardest and biggest poop of her life. right then and there, i grab a bag of pull-ups, tear it open and remove one to replace A's diaper. there's no time for wipes. i am changing my baby's diaper right then and there in the middle of the grocery store and i don't care whose watching or how unsanitary it may appear.

seconds later, A is back to her normal, jovial self. we pick up the prescription anyway for future reference and make our way to see the "choo choo." needless to say, i have never been so happy to see and smell my kid's poop. although, i must admit, after just having changed A's 4th poopy diaper of the day, the jubilation is starting to wear off.

on a serious note, don't you think my kid could totally be a butt model?

Holy Shit!

this post should come with a PG-13 disclaimer. i'm sorry for the graphic nature of the above picture. please do not be offended, but this is the reality of a persian mommy doing her best to potty-train her 2 year old.

this morning i woke up with a mission: to begin potty-training anais. i felt her daily announcements of her farts and number 2s were her way of letting me know, "mommy i'm ready to be a big girl now and this full diaper is cramping my style." so...when she woke up this morning, i took off last night's diaper and let her roam free. picture a baby chimpanzee. a few minutes later, i heard dina and anais in the bathroom together. dina had to go #2 and encouraged her little sister to do the same in her princess toilet. i thought to myself, how cute, the sisters are bonding in the bathroom over poo. two minutes later i hear dina yell, "mom anais pooped on the toilet! come look!!"

i run from the kitchen (where i was in the middle of making chocolate-chip pancakes) with so much pride and excitement - finally my daughter had taken her first successful dump in her little toilet. i'm skipping in the hallway, singing and clapping, "yayyy ana...good job ana!!" and arrive at the doorway of the bathroom to find the above monstrosity.

clearly i had misunderstood. anais pooped ON the toilet, not IN the toilet. (thank god it didn't happen on my beloved persian rug.) needless to say, this is not going to be very easy or pleasant. we are definitely not getting a dog anytime soon. how do dog owners do it? do they really get desensitized with picking up poo? does it become second -nature? *shaking head* in any case, anais is now rocking her stage 6 pampers cruiser diaper and i have no intention of potty-training her in the near future. anais can be ready, but i'm certainly not.

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

I guess I’m not the kind of mom I thought I’d be:

I thought I would:

Have 5 kids

Raise perfect kids

Never raise my voice

Never lose my temper

Never leave a diaper on too long

Never turn on PBS Kids so I can check my email

Set up weekly play-dates

Be gung-ho about arts & crafts

Prepare nutritious home cooked meals every night

Have a spotless home, with color-coordinated bins for my kids’ toys

Look fit, skinny, and stylish with no sleep

Have loads of energy

Maintain composure and not appear desperate when husband comes home

Go back to work after spending a year or two with kids

Enjoy family vacations

Be the kind of mom my mom wants me to be

Be the kind of mom my mom was to me

Throw fabulous dinner parties

Never throw away my kids’ drawings

Never rush through bedtime stories

Update baby/scrap books

Never be so happy for nap time or bedtime

The reality is…that I’m exhausted. And sometimes I lose it. I mean really lose it. The frozen foods aisle of Trader Joes is my savior. My husband and I love each other too much to have a 3^rd kid. Dina is moody and whines more than my soon-to-be-2-year-old. Anais still doesn’t know her ABCs and 123s and loves to announce her daily farts (Ana gooz). I cannot get rid of 10 pounds of baby weight (which is sitting pretty in my mid-section). I would rather go on a vacation with my husband or girlfriends. I can’t wipe the huge grin off my face when my kids are tucked away in bed. In fact, I'll admit it - at times, it can be the highlight of my day. I often look like I belong in a zoo when my husband comes home from a 12 hour shift and I practically throw the kids at him when he walks through the door (unless I’ve put them to bed at 7pm).

I think it's time I let go of the guilt.

Like Fingernails on a Chalkboard

my daughter dina had surgery on friday. watch the video and you'll see why. it actually sounds 10 times worse when you hear it live and in person. especially when you're tossing and turning in the bedroom next door and using the pillow to cover your ears to no avail. (note to self: next time you buy a house, make sure the master bedroom is on another level from kids' bedrooms.) as i was saying, dina had her tonsils and adenoids taken out on friday. and no it wasn't so we could get a better night's sleep. she has sleep apnea and trouble breathing at night. when she wakes up in the morning, she feels like she's had a horrible night's sleep. we're driving home from the hospital, and dina falls asleep. the snoring begins. i was a little surprised. but alex assured me it's because her throat is very swollen.

so i took care of dina by myself on friday and sunday. i waited on her hand and foot. i felt like i was wearing a popsicle tool-belt. and what thanks do i get? a big bouquet of whining. i know my kid just had surgery, but the whining is killing me. there is i don't want to take medicine whining. there is i am in pain whining. i want to watch tv whining. i'm hungry whining. i don't want to take a bath whining. i don't want to share with my sister whining. i want ice-cream whining (i must admit, i can relate to this one) i don't want to eat what is on my plate whining. i don't want to leave the park whining. and the list continues.

is it normal for 5 and 1/2 year olds to whine? what is the cure? i've tried ignoring it. i don't cave in. (insert scarlett o'hara's voice here) as god is my witness, i will not be manipulated by my 5 year old. i've told her countless times to ask for something in a "normal" voice. i thought we were way past this stage. when will it end?? if she's still whining in her teens, i'm assessing a 'whine fine' and treating myself to a massage with all the money i collect. my kid is not a very pleasant person when she is sick. (her poor future husband) i think she is secretly enjoying the attention. she is a drama-queen and what did i go off and do? i signed her up for acting camp. *shaking head* there you have it. in case you were wondering...my #1 pet peeve is whining.

addressing my mother: *stomping feet* i reaaaally reaaaally hate it mommy. and i'm so tiiiiiired. HELP!

Ode to Ice-Cream

A compilation of photos that illustrates the concept of "like mother, like daughter..."

in this last photo - dina asks for a moment of silence...to honor the greatness that is ice-cream. amen.

So you think you can dance?

my swearing-in ceremony takes place tomorrow at the virginia supreme court. basically, i can now practice law in all virginia courts. i can't help but think if the field of law is the path i should continue to take.

looking back, i initially wanted to become a solid gold dancer. as i got older, my taste evolved. next, i wanted to become an actress. a soap opera actress to be exact. see i wasn't allowed to have boyfriends. in my mind, the only person i would ever kiss in my lifetime would be my future husband, so i was desperate for a loophole. and as far as i was concerned a soap-opera actress was the way to go. i knew part of my job description would entail kissing a see of men and to get it just right would take many many takes. sorry mom, you see it's just a part of my job. well, needless to say, that dream was quickly laid to rest.

you'll never guess who my idol was in elementary school. barbara walters. i wanted to be a journalist/news broadcaster. i watched 20/20 as a 6th grader religiously until my parents crushed my hopes again when they informed me that i would have to "sleep my way to the top." this was incredible news to a 12 year old. i was left with the gross impression of ms. walters as a slut, whoring herself out to get to where she was.

my parents were still trying to steer me in the direction of becoming a doctor. see every persian parent drills the following acceptable professions in their child's brain from a very young age - doctor, lawyer, engineer, and dentist. god forbid you should want to become an artist or musician. if you are a doctor, you have probably made your iranian parent's life. they can brag to all their friends and take huge pride (and credit) for their child's success. it is like a broken record in my mind, "taraneh - you shood be a doctor because a doctor is needed everyvere. all countries need doctor. you never know vhere you end up. and you can buy vhatever you vant, vhenever you vant." (iranian parents are unable to pronounce the letter w and "th" so washington is pronounced vashangtone and the is pronounced da) i would have loved to become a doctor. i love the sight of blood. no really. i can't seem to get enough of alex's stories of the patients he sees in the ER - their symptoms, diagnoses. but alas, i didn't love chemistry. i didn't love physics and all of the other science courses. so that meant dentistry was out too.

all of the engineers i knew were geeky men who wore really nerdy glasses. so that was immediately crossed off the list. and so i was left with the field of law. and i loved to argue with my parents and did win the occasional fight (which usually meant a curfew extension or permission to attend a high school party). i went to college - discovered mock trial in my senior year and was hooked. i love love love cross-examining witnesses. it's really my forte. my husband never stands a chance with me. i was good at it. i got awards and shit too. so i figured i'd go to law school. but not before i fulfilled my one important wish of backpacking through europe. i put off law school for a year and worked like a dog in a corporate law firm and saved up money to make this trip happen. i even passed up going to the univ. of michigan law school (a top 10 law school that offered me admission to start in the summer, but not the fall. assholes). nothing was going to keep me from spain.

i went to law school and really enjoyed my classes. i did a clerkship upon graduation and moved to philly for 3 years. when i returned to maryland, i got a job as a prosecutor, which i absolutely loved. i would be perfectly happy doing the same thing in virginia, but the job market is shit. so i'm sitting here thinking about my past answers to "what do you wanna be when you grow up" and trying to figure out if any can become a reality. solid gold no longer exists. the view isn't hiring and i can't get that image of barbara walters on her knees out of my head.

anyway, i'm seriously considering going back to school to become a high school english teacher. i loved being a TA in law school. it was truly rewarding. i know the pay is shit, but i can see myself really enjoying it. and how awesome would it be to have summers off with the kids? be home on columbus day and all the other random holidays? we shall see what happens.

here is another list of possible occupations for my girls given their current interests:

Anais:

• make-up artist - she has ruined 2 of my cherry chapsticks thus far with her continuous applications
• shoe model - she loves to wear high-heels around the house and give us all a headache in the process
• hair stylist - she loves to brush (and yank) my hair (and ears).
• telephone operator - girlfriend loves to talk on mommy's cellphone
• nanny - she is so maternal and lovingly pushes her baby around in baby stroller a few hours a day

Dina:

• chef - she loves to cook with her dad
• acrobat - the girl is a monkey-bar addict
• ice-cream store owner - this is her current response to what do you want to be when you grow up
• mathematician - my 5 year old can add and she hasn't even started kindergarten!
• stylist - she has a unique fashion sense and very strong opinions about clothes to the point that i can no longer pick them out for her.