Text: noun
The flurry of fact checking activity among other parents when your child informs you today is Pajama Day in class but there is no note from the teacher to clarify or verify, other than the one your child wrote herself in her homework log.
See also: trust
(This redefinition is brought to you by P&BS, Parenting & Baloney Sandwiches, and sponsored by Murphy’s Law Firm, the only firm you can count on for true accountability.)
Holidaze: noun
That moment you realize you have scheduled your wisdom teeth to be removed on Friday and have completed zero holiday shopping even though Hanukkah starts on Sunday plus this is your first Christmas in your new house and have absolutely no decorations with the exception of a few ornaments and hand-me-down trinkets and yet you miraculously get it all done in one non-stop whirlwind trip to the store while your children are in school.
Related: Super Mom
See also: Target {pronounced with French accent = Tar-jay, because we’re fancy like that}
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holidazed & confused: verb
The feelings I will undoubtedly be experiencing this weekend while lighting the menorah next to the advent wreath after having afore mentioned wisdom teeth removed #notsowise
This #redefinition brought to you by P&BS {Parenting & Baloney Sandwiches} and sponsored by Murphy’s Law Firm, the only firm you can count on for true accountability.
Please light the lights responsibly this holiday season.
This site not responsible for any nonsensical posts made for a minimum of 72 hours post operation…
#holidaze #happyhanukkah #merrychristmas
Lady J, pouting: I can’t find my coat. I’ve looked everywhere!
Me: Have you tried looking in the living room? I thought I draped it over the chair.
J: Mom, I’ve looked everywhere! It’s nowhere and now I can’t go outside, because you won’t let me.
Bubbe: Why are you pouting about this? Are you the Pout-Pout fish?
J: I am not pouting. I’m just really upset because I can’t find my coat.
Bubbe: Well there’s no need to be so ungebluzen. We’ll find it.
Me: I’m sure it’s here. It can’t have walked away by itself. Have you looked in the laundry room?
J: I’ll never find it!
K-Mad: Dat’s cuz Uncle Buzen took it!
Bud, whining: Mom, K-Mad is calling me a bubble butt.
Me: First of all, we don’t use the term butt. It’s rude. You can say tushy or buttocks. We’ve been over this before. Secondly, I don’t even know what that means. What is a bubble butt? What do you do with a bubble butt?
Kids start to giggle and respond:
Lady J: Blow it!
K-Mad: Pop it!
Bud: Buttocks. Butt. Talks. That’s a funny word. I wish my butt could talk.
At this point, my only thought is, “Pardon me. May I ass you a question?” From Ace Ventura, and it took every ounce of restraint to not ask it aloud…
Me, miraculously holding it together: That’s not how it’s spelled. It’s not t-a-l-k-s as in talking. It’s b-u-t-t-O-C-K-S
More giggles…
Bud: Huh. That’s like the “ock” of “sock”
{He’s clearly learning word families and phonics in school}
Bud: But I still wish my butt could talk. (Hehe. I said butt twice that time!)
Even more laughter…
Lady J: Bud, futzies are kinda like talking for butts.
Hysterical laughter insues…
K-Mad: Den my but can tawk! I’m so gassy! I been futzy-in for a-wotta-days now. Mememba dat time when my futzy was so stinky dat Daisy Dog weft da woom? Dat was a weawy stinky one…
Bud: K-Mad, do not talk with futzies. We’re in the car and Mom has the windows locked. I do not want your butt to talk when we’re stuck in here. Then you would be the bubble butt, for real…
K-Mad, whining: Mom, Bud dust cawwed me a bubble butt…
Dear Yesterday,
You beat me down and pushed me around. You slapped me in the face and then, when I wasn’t looking, swung at me with your balled up, clenched, little fist. You were rude, sly, and down right mean. You were unwelcomed and barged in without an invitation or hesitation. I let you win, throwing up my arms in defeat. I was so taken aback at your presence that my only gratitude that you were gone at days end. But you are persistent, and returned under a new name…
Dear Today,
You woke me up at 4:30am. You had me running around in circles, cleaning messes you left in your wake. You tried your best to wreak havoc on me. You did your best to bring it.
Well, I don’t know what “it” is, but you certainly can’t have mine. You are no match for my time with my children, sunshine, fresh air, laughter, snuggles, and me.
I know you will return tomorrow and try again. But I am on to you, wise to your ways, and you have little chance of success. I won’t lie and tell you that I enjoy this little game, but I will continue to play and to dominate the score board. Good luck to you, though you have no chance.
Dear Tomorrow,
Don’t even think about it…
Sincerely,
Positive Attitude
PS: Thanks for the reminder
{this was originally written and published on facebook as part of my 30 Days of Thanks on November 14, 2013.}
Ok, so let me start by stating that this whole #MerryChristmasStarbucks over a cup is the kind of news that should not be reported and I realize that by writing and posting this, it’s adds the proverbial fuel to the fire. But this time of year is especially hard for so many people and stories like this truly highlight why.
Is the pastor who began this rant and “movement” really willing to hang his hat on a cup? (Side note: the red cup is in no way related to the Holy Grail.) It’s just a cup! Have some perspective. I can recommend a good book if you need one…
I personally avoid Starbucks regularly because I find their coffee to taste awful and it’s too hot for human consumption unless you buy it iced…which probably won’t be served in The Red Cup anyway. {I will say that their organic cheese & protein meal was just what I needed before the NYC marathon though, so I can’t truly claim to avoid the franchise…I just rarely go there.} Also, can I state a fact? WAY OVER PRICED. {And I really don’t understand their sizes…sorry, I know I should by now, but I don’t, probably because I rarely go there.} That being said, here are some thoughts I have on the matter:
I’m Jewish. My husband is Catholic. Our children learn both and accept the differences. We practice together and our children have no confusion on either, although they do ask a lot of questions because that’s what kids are supposed to do.
We say Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah. Sometimes we say Happy Holidays. I even sent out our perfect family holiday picture card last year that said, “Happy Chanumas!”
I go into our children’s classrooms at public school to give a little schpiel (aka: social studies/history lesson) about real religious persecution (the story of Hanukkah) followed by a math lesson on gambling (dreidel) and then hand out spinning tops and chocolates wrapped in gold because I’m cool like that.
We decorate the Christmas tree, have an elf who mostly stays on the same shelf because I’m lazy and forgetful, and light the menorah right next to the advent wreath. We have different opinions of what God means and frankly, although my belief is strong, I have some serious faith issues right now. (This boycott the cup thing isn’t helping.)
We’re not very religious, but we’re very realistic in our strong beliefs in teaching, modeling and instilling moral values in our children. We “do unto others as we would like done unto us” and we “do not do unto others what we do not want done unto us.”
So with all that in mind, I’ll be stopping by my local Starbucks tomorrow, (or Dunkin Donuts or possibly another local coffee shop because I honestly don’t know where a Starbucks is around here…weird, right?) to buy a few red cups of coffee or pre-made food items to share with those actually in need. There are several names for this type of act or movement:
Pay it Forward
Buy One Give One
Random Acts of Kindness
Human Decency
Kindness
And if you happen to be the religious type: The Word
So let’s start this holiday season right and with a positive perspective. Please join me to #FillUpTheCup
That moment when your threenager comes into your room in the middle of the night because she’s scared or something to that effect and climbs all over you and your husband for no less than 2 hours until she finally settles in a horizontal position across your pillows which you happen to be using and when Daddy suggests that she moves she begins to sob an uncontrollable “Oh Woe Is Me” sob that makes you unwillingly rise from your non-slumber and carry her back to her bed and lay down next to her so she calms down but then you fall asleep only to be woken by your husband an hour later because the sun is rising so you slip out of her bed so as not to disturb the now-sleeping-beauty and begin to get ready for the day by getting your other children dressed, fed, making lunches, and all that other schtuff that makes mornings absolutely and maddeningly entertaining if you were a fly in the wall but you’re not, so you’re just mad, probably from the lack of sleep for the better part of a decade. 
But then the princess emerges from her kingdom mere minutes before it’s time to depart and you think, “Effit. Keep the pajamas on and here’s breakfast to go, Kid” because it’s time to go and MONDAYS.
You arrive at school and you hear the comments about your daughter still in her pajamas but you don’t let it bother you because 1) You made it to school on time for her older siblings 2) She’s the youngest so rules don’t apply to her…duh… 3) It’s not a school day for her anyway 4) MON-DAY {nuff said.}
After a busy but accomplished day of cooking, cleaning, and playing dress up you inform your threenager that it’s time to get out of her dress up clothes and into real clothes where upon she immediately ventures upstairs to put on a fresh pair of pajamas, tights, and her tap shoes which she disliked SO MUCH that she insisted on dropping dance class, which you did just last week, but now she is happily tapping off into the sunset to pick up her siblings at school, where people notice that she is wearing yet another pair of pajamas and that her “outfit” makes no sense and you STILL don’t care because 1) You made it to school on time to pick up her older siblings 2) She’s still the youngest so rules still don’t apply to her…duh… 3) It wasn’t a school day for her anyway 4) She looks adorable 5) MON-DAY {nuff said.}
#thiskid #threenagers #thirdchild #mondays
Last week, Bud insisted he had a loose tooth. We checked it out and although Mr. TheKing had his doubts, I was sure that I felt a very faint wiggle. Based on my experience with Lady J’s first tooth, I was certain that we had months before Toothiana would make an appeance. I may have misjudged…
Bud: Mommy! Mommy! Look! My tooth came out in school! My first lost tooth! I lost it! Isn’t that great?
He shows me the new space between his teeth and tiny treasure box in his hand which holds the white tooth inside.
Me: That’s awesome, Bud! So how did it fall out? I didn’t think it was that loose!
Bud: Well, I was stwummin’ my shoelaces and the laces just took it wight out! It didn’t even huwt! I didn’t even know shoelaces could do that!
Me: Well congratulations. And please don’t use your shoelaces to remove anymore teeth. That’s not what they’re for. And they’re not musical instruments either. At least not when you’re wearing them… 
———————-
In related news: I’m glad that I learned to write cursive. I hope it makes a comeback in schools. It’s a handy skill to have when convincing your children they’ve been visited from Neverland or the North Pole. Toothiana and Santa aren’t known for their texting, though I’m sure there’s an app for that. 
That moment when you have just ordered your marathon outfit, new shoes, battery backup for your phone, runners pack for long training runs, and signed up to compete in a local hat trick (5k+10k on Saturday plus 1/2 marathon on Sunday) that’s in 2 weeks which is good because it takes place 2 weeks before your full marathon so it’s meant to be your last hurrah before tapering and you’re even more excited about it because your 7 year old daughter is going to run the 5k with you. So you go out to run a quick training mile with her, but your not-quite-4 year old wants to join the “girl’s run” so she comes along for a warm up 1/4 mile and while running next to her you roll your ankle on what was likely an acorn but probably just clumsiness and you’re thinking, “OMGoodness that hurts like a &$@!!!!!” But after a few steps you’re ok, so you bring your younger daughter back to your house and run the rest of the mile with your older daughter and everything’s fine until 2 hours later when you take off your shoes to get changed for a family fun night of bowling and you start to feel increasing pain in your foot. So you take some ibuprofen and inform your husband that you can no longer walk or put pressure on your foot AT ALL and you get into bed to elevate your feet while your oldest daughter plays nurse and gets you ice and stays by your side so your husband can take the younger children to get a new movie (since bowling was cancelled) and an ace bandage for your injury. But then, as you’re waiting, you are actually writhing in pain and using your Lamaze training that you never actually needed during labor and delivery because EPIDURALS but you’re glad now that you took the class because you might actually hyperventilate and you’re now shivering in shock and thinking , “Damn that little acorn. This better just be a bruise because come hell or high water you are running in that marathon in less than one month.” And also, “Eff you Universe, Mercury in retrograde, and Murphy! Enough of these Shannanigans!” So you call your husband and tell him you think you might need an X-Ray. So your in laws come over to watch the kids while your husband takes you to an urgent care facility and the doctor offers you a pain killer shot in your ass which may or may not burn and you’re thinking that you’d rather not feel like your ass is on fire. So you politely decline pending the X-Ray results which fortunately show no break, just a bruise, which is FANTASTIC news. So you gladly take the air cast and crutches knowing that you’ll be just fine and back at it in a few days and hobble off into the sunset…
Pediatrician: What was his last temperature?
Bud: I didn’t let Mommy take my temperature. I don’t like the thermometer under my tongue.
Pediatrician: Bud, if you don’t let Mommy take your temperature I’ll have to tell Santa to put you on the naughty list. You don’t want Santa to bring you a lump of coal, do you?
Bud: That’s ok. I like coal. We find them on the train tracks near Grandma and Grandpa’s cabin. Also, I’ll still get Hannukah and Birthday presents so don’t worry about Santa. And, now I know how to put the thermometer under my tounge because the nurse showed me! Isn’t that great?!?!
And that is how Bud got early admission to any med school of his choice…
#HowDoesHeKnow? #YouCantFoolHim #truth #outofthemouthsofbabes #NiceTryDoc #Bud
Shannanigans365 