K.O.P.

Um, all right.  I just came back from the King of Prussia Mall with the kids. Basically that place should have its own zip code.  It is about fourteen malls in one and like nothing you have ever seen.  I remember when I first moved here, I needed something for our townhouse and I thought, oh hey, I will just zoom up to the mall and get it and come back.

Nice try,  I came up for air about ten hours later,

First of all, if you drive there, you will be sucked up in the never ending circular parking maze that will keep you going around and around for hours on end,  (We call this the Nordstrom's entrance.)

This mall is so big there are actually doubles of stores.  Like you walked so far away from the first store it was time for another one of that store!   It's been so long since I was at the Sunglasses Hut.  There you are again. Phew.  And the directory is actually several different horse shoe shapes and blocks on top of colors with stickers that say you are here for the upper level and the lower level but who knew the lower level TURNED INTO the upper level when going from the court to the plaza.  How do you like that?  I stared at the directory for like a half an hour with my mouth hanging open and did some calculations with a ruler and my index finger before I found out which way I wanted to go.

See, what happened was, they moved Sephora.  So I might as well cash in my chips right then and there. I am starting from day one.  My whole universe has just been flipped upside down. Sephora is over there now? But somehow I figured out where to go. Oh and all the pretty things!  Shiny, glittery things. The kids were very good, and they looked in some shops and played on their devices when mama wanted to window shoparoo.

 And of course, there is always time for:

911

Okay I was just visited by a friend who had many stories for me to have fun reminiscing about.  Of course, we talked about the old days and the teachers we use to have and ho ho ho merry christmas.  But then she came up with the grand slam, triple decker be all and end all: the emergency breakthrough.

She just happened to be talking about this generation versus our generation and the fact that her grandma still has a rotary phone when our kids don't even know what a payphone means.  And then all of a sudden she blurts out, well when Maria Basso did an emergency breakthrough...

And at first I am like what are you talking about ....your words are not English.

But then she goes and says, you know the days before call waiting when people would just YAP YAP YAP on the phone, you could call the OPERATOR and do an emergency breakthrough.

And then I remembered. Yes.  The Emergency breakthrough. I am sure I used it, and I am sure it cost my dad an extra fourteen billion schmeckles on his bill.  And then I thought... what did I consider an actual point of emergency in order to break through? At that age.   Here is my list:

Actual reasons for an Emergency breakthrough:

Fire.
Dead Body in the kitchen.
Child left unattended in the car.

Our reasons for doing an Emergency breakthrough in fifth grade:

Do you think he likes me?
Wanna go for a walk?
Should I wear blue shoes or red shoes to the dance tomorrow?

Yet we did it, and somehow our parents tolerated it.  Like, yes, of course I will stop talking to Colleague Sally in order to give the phone's EMERGENCY BREAKTHROUGH to my daughter so she can discuss the color of her toenails tomorrow.

What is this thing called the Phone? And Technology?

Hubby in a Tree

So it was going to cost like five thousand dollars to have this tree removed from our front yard.  This tree is huge. It's like seven trees in one and of course the beetles got to it and it is positioned so that if it fell, it would hit the roof of our house and the house next to us and potentially the house across the street. Like dominoes, we all fall.  This tree is serious business. No good.

So hubby decides that between himself and youtube, he can handle this,  I am slightly nervous.  Mama comes home to hubby zip lining back and forth across the yard. Um, where are the kids?  In the playroom.  Zzzzzzip.

Hubby is hanging from a tree with a hard hat on.  Okay.  I mean, God bless him.


And there he is. His head is the little dot in the middle of the valley that they "y" of the tree makes.  It looks like a thumbtack, but it is actually my husband's head.

Uncle Ron

My dad's younger brother.  He never married.So he lived in the house he grew up in with his parents. When I was little I always thought he looked a little like Steve Martin.  He was a terrific tennis player, and I remember my dad and my uncle battling it out on the courts during his summer time visits.  Ronnie IS a lot younger, we used to joke to our dad.  If I remember correctly, I am pretty sure Ron beat the pants off of my dad during those matches.  Both were really good players. but Ron was into exercise, and Den was into Couchercise.

Ron had his staples:  always there would be Cheez-Its on top of the fridge. A pile of change on top of the dresser in the guest room.  Baby powder.  He would walk into town and come back with Mr. Goodbars for all of the three kids. He did love his sun and the ocean.  And if you can believe it, he actually SMOKED CIGARETTES.  (Gasp.)

He helped teach me how to ride a bike. He took me into the Long Island Ocean at the age of four or so, and the LI Ocean is no joke,  He would count the number of times I jumped rope just because I asked him to.  Sometimes, if you can imagine, I made it to a hundred. The poor guy.  He took me to see Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom when I was seven and he fell asleep while the movie highlighted human sacrifices.  An evil cult master was pulling a fiery heart from the chest of a prisoner and Uncle Ron was snoring away.

He also invented the Dollar Game.  With no kids of his own, Ron gave us lots of cashy casharoo when he came to see us.  But it gets boring just placing dollars in your hand. So he came up with the Dollar Game. Man oh man, would my sisters and I scratch each others eyes out for a chance at the Dollar Game.  A dollar bill has a serial number.  Ron would ask us how many 7s are in it? If you got it right, the dollar was yours!


So we went to visit Uncle Ron this Christmas.  We played Crazy Eights, Chess, and an extremely long game of War,  It was lots of fun for all of us.

He's Making a List

The Spy Who Shagged Me

Okay, so I was a little bit worried that my life was getting somewhat boring.  And hence the Bloggy  would snoozledeedoo.  But of course the universe has its own plans.  (sinister laughter).

So I am like hi diddle dee dee a boring life for me.  Ho hum what shall I do? Well, the holidays are upon us and that always livens things up a bit.  I buy a billion presents for everyone and get a bottle of nail polish in return.  This game sounds like fun!  But of course merrily we go, and who does not loooove the family road trip. I booked an online hotel which I almost never do, and the reason I chose the one I chose was beacause my wrist accidentally fell asleep on the "A" key or whatever.  Let's take one trip, and this has us on the road north to a couple of places.

First we stop at Grandma Patsy's.  Now.  When you stay at Grandma Patsy's, it would just be best if you could shellack everything in its place.  Moving anything is a dicey decision because this woman likes her things in their proper place.  So with a three year old, life gets kinda interesting, or in other words, mama is about to stroke out and often.

But it's cool (I think) all the kids get to see all the peeps in the places of all the things. So we drive further north, into... Massachusetts.  To visit Uncle Ron.

Now this could be a whole other story.  The drive alone.  The memories of my Christmas visits to MA as a tiny blonde bunny in the 70s.  But we'll let all that craziness settle as the car with five people hopped up on candy canes settle down into a sugar coma. We have the dad with directions.  The mom with the navigator's voice.  The jokes, staccato.  That burst of steam from funny to absolute rage.  Let's think about how to play it off.. as hey kids, no harm no foul I totally did not mean to punch the window. JK.  We have all been these tiny, four or five people shacked up in a tin can called the car.  Are we gonna make it?  Well of course.  That was always the plan.

How.  Much.   Longer.


Ouch.  Can you not be a little more innovative? We are almost there. Jesus.  So we saw Uncle Ron.  And we had sandwiches together.  And then we went to the hotel to rest, finally. Of course, all we need is a little rest.  No big deal, nothing to see here.  Obvs there is nothing to see here and of course we want to stay on the down low because life gets boring.

And don't forget:

Christmas Eve

And its in the seventies.  Hello, global warming.  H found out the hard way that wrapping ain't no fun.  At first she was like yay tra la la la la wrap and then she was like....argh wrapping is intense.  As she is stuck in the middle of a tube of wrapping paper with a bow on her head.

I had the kiddos buys some gifts for each other ala Five Below and the Dollar Store because really Christmas is about opening stuff.  I am pretty sure I wrapped half a pack of Bazooka back in the day.  You open it! Fun!

Ha and all the fights. I just broke up one between H and T. About wrapping,  Obvs.  I just wrote fake letters from Santa to H and T which makes me uncomfortable.  I don't know what Santa is thinking.  And I probably don't want to go there.  I cannot relate to a man who lives his life freezing his nads off. Also, Santa is kinda old and portly.  I am young and shiny.  So it's a stretch.   But I wrote some gibberish because H is NOT getting an Xbox1 but she thinks she is.  Oh dear.  She saw a package that she thinks has it in it.

So how do I deal with that?  I had Santa write her a letter being like yo, an Xbox1 is a little too much for Santa to deal with.  I feel sad, Bloggy, but I don't want more screens in the house.

Obvs

Guilt

Oh yeah, donate, bitches.  Then I will like you.

Man, guilt blows.  Mama no likey.  So I said I might take up running again, Bloggy.  Of course I meant it.  Also I need to lose about twenty el bees.  I read this interesting thing in a magazine devoted to making people run run run.  Run, Forest....run.

(I just ate food that touched the bottom of my shoe.)

You should reward yourself for making your goals.  So for instance if I run ten miles this week,  I get to buy myself a ticket to a Broadway show and not feel GUILTY about spending the money on it. It makes sense and can be applicable to any kind of situation.  The next one was less expensive:  I get to spend an hour in the Jacuzzi/sauna at the Y.

Of course if I don't make my goal, I guess I can just recycle it.  Ha, the article didn't say anything about NOT reaching your goals.  Like if you set your goal of the week of running ten miles and don't do it, you have to jump in a pool of worms.

Running

So here is the thing about running.  It is awesome to know how to do when some is chasing you, obvs.  It's probably the most efficient workout cause you are continually working all the time, but it is HARD.

I have "been a runner" through several different times in my life.  Once, I was trying to escape getting hit with water balloons, but that's a different story altogether.  It's so tough because it requires commitment (blech) and time (double blech) not to mention your old attention. Jesus, are we married yet?

So maybe I'll run again.  I dunno.  I can't make you any promises, Bloggy. I also may fall asleep in two minutes.  The world is full of surprises.

And here is one:  Ted as ISIS

Pics

So Saturday night I hit the town and by hitting the town I mean I took my kids to get their picture taken with the Big Guy.  Not God, Bloggy, Santa,  But I can see how you would get confused.  Also, I wish God would let me take  a picture with Him.

Unfortch, we got their just in time for Santa to "take his break".  (ie go around back and smoke weed with the elves. I mean seriously, how else do you stay put while all these screaming babies sit in your lap and tinkle?) So Mama decided to peruse the mall with the little ones.  Holy Smokaroos.  There are some interesting characters in the world.

Anyhoozle, we went to the AT&T store in the mean time, so I could check out my free upgrade options (gimme gimme gimme), and this woman who was "helping me" was the worst.  I mean I was asking her questions about the storage and prices and she actually laughed at me at one point. I was like, yo. I am not stupid.

But whatevs, Christmas spirit and all.  I didn't complain or do anything like tie her shoelaces together. Thought about it, but then again was like you will lose your job shortly so I feel bad for you.  Ho ho ho!

Also, I have beautiful kids, No doubt about that.  After an hour of standing in line, we took seven shots and came up with this:

Mrs Claus was like, this is good because the little one doesn't look so angry. Ha.  Also, make sure you recognize Santa is holding cat.

The Silent Treatment

Never to you, Blog.

Of course, mama is a giver and a taker.   Do I not loooove the silent treatment in all of its awkwardness.

I used to have a friend in the early 80s. We were very close. I was seven? We had just figured out how to speak on the phone.    So of course I was sitting down on the floor of the galley way kitchen while I tried to entertain Monica through the neon yellow cord that was attached to my telephone.


We would talk about school and things, an then all of a sudden she would stop speaking.   And we would sit there in silence with the phones held up to our ears but saying nothing.

I think it was an unspoken contest.   So she would go silent, and I would think.... okay now I am gonna wait her out.  This is gonna be the time that she has to  end  the call and break the silence.

I mean she had a sister.  Maybe something would HAPPEN where Monica just couldn't stay silent on the phone for that long. Nope.  Crickets.

Every single goddamned time, I couldn't make it.  The chirping of crickets for minutes (in those days the phone company charged by the minute) and I would finally blurt out.   BYE.


And as soon as it came from me, she would rejoinder, sing song BYE!!  I didn't realize at the time that this was my training on how to be patient.  Anytime someone has a "bone to pick with me", as my mother would say, I just think, hell yeah I will just pretend I am on the phone with Monica.

I can wait FOREVER.

Pete's Dragon

       I mean, someone was smoking some serious herbage when they made this movie. No doubt. Pete's Dragon is a Disney movie that my mother brought out to the beach one summer as a gift for my sisters and I to enjoy on the rainy days.  Out at the beach on a rainy day our forms of entertainment were few.  We could chew gum.  Eat some cheese.  Or watch Pete's Dragon.  I have therefore watched this movie about nine billion times.
     Now Disney definitely has its lovers and haters.  But let's get real.  Ninety percent of those creators have got to be on some heavy drugs. Dumbo? Dumbo actually goes through a poor man's acid trip.  The Caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland takes a bong hit after each sentence.  Well, it's more of a hookah situation, but still.

Let's watch Pinocchio for a second.
Of course I got Pete's Dragon for my children to watch cause I was like this is da bomb. And they were watching it in the car on the way home tonight and I was thinking how drugs are so controversial but without them, what would our entertainment world look like? Even your favorite babysitter.....

Kill

Here is a list of Ways I Have Recently Worried I Might Die Accidentally:

1. Stringing Christmas tree lights  (electricity and hanging things = no good.)

2.Carrying WAY too many grocery bags into the house.  I always thinks I can get just ...one...more... and then when ... I am .... half...way,,, up the stairs, I think ....Breathing like this cannot be good.

3. Pooping.  Just cause that would suck. 

4. Moving a dresser from the garage to the attic with Ted.  Man, that was a close one.  In all sorts of ways.

5.  When I took a left instead of a right driving home from the library. Because there was this HUGE school bus towering over me and Jade (my car) waiting to come out from another intersection. AND it was raining. AND FOGGY! Hello, that is one too many obstacles for Mama.  Me no likey car rides to be real life video games.  Mama only has one life.

6.  Going down the stairs in my socks this morning.  I mean really, so houses built in the 1800s apparently were made for people with feet the size of elves.  Were peeps thinking we were shrinking by generation instead of growing?

7.  By the hands of Jessica Holland this morning.

Transitions

Hmm okay I am eating my face off at the Y. There is a vending machine with delicious chips right here and mama has some singles. I TOLD you the new exercise plan goes into place next week.  Ha, I never told you that Bloggy. I know you love me no matter what size my stretchypants are.

So congrats to one of my bffs, Jennifer Sikes for having a baby.  Well done!.And it's a girl.  And I love her. Ida. I can definitely have some fun with this name. Idaknow. Etc

So I was thinking about transitions.  I have noticed the kiddos do much better when I alert them to their transitioning times.  This makes sense since I probs don't want to be in the middle of vacuuming all of a sudden to realize I am sitting in the middle of H's chorus performance.  That would be weird. So I like my transitions.

And it's a good way to avoid the temper tantrum.  Letting them know what's ahead.

Also Cat has made a spectacular comeback:

I'm Outtie.

So as all of the lovers know, I try my hardest to exercise often.  My ideal exercise would be playing team sports, but I am nearing forty and you don't find too many of the Stay at/ Work from Home Mommies battling it out on the hockey field.  Most of my kind have taking up running or the culinary arts or the dreaded....crafts.  Running is too monotonous for me, I do love to cook for meals every so often but since half of my down time is trying to figure out how to throw away the five billion pieces of "crafts" my kids lovingly deliver to me without traumatizing them into years on the psych couch, crafts are a no go.

So I try the classes which are fun but they last an hour.  An hour is, like, too long for mama.  First of all, I only get the childcare at the Y for two hours so if I want to do any work with the littlest muffin out of my hair, I am cutting it short.  Also since the classes entail an instructor usually barking out instructions, punches, kicks, jabs (body combat) steps (dance and zumba) I find myself being able to really pay attention for about 30 minutes and then my mind starts wandering and I realize the whole crowd is moving one way while I have sat down and started taking of my toenail polish or something.

So then today when this happened at the thirty minute mark. I sort of realized, why am I still trying?  I have put in my 20 - 30 minutes of exercise for the day.  I don't need to put in any more, by fitness standards.  The only reason I stay is because I feel like walking out in the middle of the class is rude or peeps will be like, what happened to that chick?  Then I realized, um hello, I do not care.  Laters. (I'm outtie.)

So that's my new plan.  Some exercise is better than laying in bed having other people shove tastykakes into my mouth cause I am too lazy to lift my arms, right?

Though that sounds like something I might do directly afterwards.  As a reward for exercising. Duh.

Teddy's Belt

Na-na uh Boo Boo.  E just said this and I was like WHERE does this come from and how is it so universal?

This weekend we were visited by the illustrious Grandma Patsy who rides in on a cloud of perfume, and the dapper PopPop Den who is her chauffeur and always sports a nifty new ball cap.  So Ted's pants have been running a bit large lately and Grandma Patsy was in charge of getting him a belt.  GP is good to go to with tasks that can be accomplished at JC Penney's.  And she is a great grandma who visits often and always brings awesome GIFTS and feeds us.  Who doesn't like that?

Anyway Ted is like the skinniest little bean. I was at his age, too.  But the boy eats a lot and you can see his rib cage.  Ah, I remember those days!  Mostly he wears sweats or track pants to school but he has a couple of khakis and pants.  He had been asking when he was going to get a belt, and on Saturday, Grandma delivered.  He was very excited about this.... belt.  So that's cool.

We played some checkers and chess, well GP taught the kids checkers and PopPop Den beat the pants off of them before shortly passing out on the couch.  GP's strategy is a little more kid friendly: she shows the kids moves they can do to get their feet wet.  I remembered her teaching me and doing the same thing. PD just takes all their pieces away and laughs mercilessly.  I also remember this, and a couple of victory dances he has, all of them quite silly.  After the checkers, we went to Chuck E Cheese aka kids' heaven and adults' hell.  Ted was playing some games and I went to go hug him and I am like why are you so....spiky?  And he was like, "I'm wearing my belt!"  And he pulls up his shirt and shows me his brown leather belt, about four inches above the waist of his sweatpants, around his midsection.

I was like, um okay. You REALLY like this belt.  Or he really likes Grandma Patsy. Probably both.

Life System Santa

So our system seems to be working.  The house is somewhat clean!  Yay!  Today I am having Teddy reach out to some relatives and speak on the phone. I think it is nice for a little boy to learn manners and how to relate to an older person on the phone.  Also Grandma Patsy and Poppop Den are coming to visit today.  So then there will be relating in person.

Also, my husband is learning how to climb trees. That is interesting.  I feel like I am gonna come home and he will be hanging from the tree all like HEY BABE! with no way out while I just go about making dinner and he is like... uh. a little awk, need some help.

Ugh so Mama is not doing a great job of hiding the presents.  I thought I would be all super sneaky and get stuff and hide it away and of course in three seconds E has all the gifts out on the floor and is handing them out like paper flyers on the corner of 42nd st.  So now I am telling tales, like Santa may have dropped something in the driveway....Not sure if these kids will figure it out this year. Probably, and that makes me a little sad.  But also I put some presents under the tree last night....and had to explain that sometimes Santa flies early in Decemeber, drops some shiz off, etc..

Random Awesome Coupoons

So the deal is..since there is no fine print..  I can reuse.  YES!

Keep It Real, E.

So as I am trying to figure out how to clean this place, and I have H wailing that nobody appreciates all of her hard work and kindness while T barks in little bleeps that he hates his life and I am like really guys, I think maybe you are just tired? Maybe it doesn't have to be about the world ending and lava burning all of our faces off?  And the wailing gets louder and starts to be accompanied by the flouncing and the barks get sharper in reprimand and then all of a sudden everything comes to a halt because someone has appeared at the door:

'Tis Eleanor! Stark raving naked as a jaybird with a red, glittery, Christmas pageant dress stuck to her head like an Indian being called to warfare.  The room goes silent as all heads turn to the naked Pygmy.

She has a glitter stick that she is tapping along her thigh.

Guys, guys guys:  Santa likes babies.

Soap

Doooooooooooooooooooonate to my Blooggy.  It's Christmastime.  Give it up, yo.

So Blog,  I have been remiss. Where have I been?  Well, sometimes. Mama needs a little break. Just a little bizz up in here, you know how it goes. Yes, yes of course you are still my favorite blog.  No worries, there, Bloggy.  I am forever faithful.

So guess what?  Soap is soap.  It really doesn't matter if it is in shampoo form, or bar form or sanitizer form.  We come in all shapes and sizes and our goal is to clean stuff.  Right?  Soap is on the lovers list, for real.  That being said, how the heck am I supposed to keep a four story house clean all the live long day when the pooperscoopers run in the muck and like breathe and live everywhere. Soap.  (I just changed your title Bloggy, shh....don't tell).

Hmmm where to start?  Sanitizing jumpsuit trampoline upon entering the house?  Bubbles, bubbles everywhere.  It would be awesome and efficient if we could all just be made out of soap, but that's probably for the future generations.  But back to soap is soap.  So you know one of my fave stores is the dollar store. I totally just got distracted looking for my Dollar Store Blog.  Bad Bloggy! I found it I love linking things. It makes me feel connected.  Get it?  Okay soap yeah, so I told this older guy at Wegman's three days ago.  Man, get it at the Dollar Store because soap is soap.  And this little old man was like, The Dollar Store on Bristol and Easton Road?  and I and I was like you heard it here first.

Done good deed for the day!

Sign to Helen's Room

None is allowed to come in without permission from Helen or knoking.

This means you to Ted.

Rated E for Everyone

'Allo Blog!  Mama may hit the town tonight. If mama can find a pair of pants that are....not stretchy.  Hold your breath.  Or wait, I have to hold my breath to get my pants on.  Whatevs.

So today the kiddos and I hit the library and walked in on a meeting of ...the chess club.  I totally forgot that chess is a game I should force my children to play.  Helen knew the rules, Ted didn't, but in the end it worked out because it went from beginners to experts. 

After Da Club, we checked out some video games and had a discussion on killing games versus non killing games, rating and nonsense.  So video games are rated a little differently than tv.  Right now, H and T are only allowed to watch rated G, Y or Y-7.  Video games can be rated E for everyone but then they have disclaimers: comic mischief mild violence, fantasy violence, mild cartoon violence, etc.  It's sort of ridiculous.

SO I really do think that T can be playing a video game where swords are slashing people's heads off and if E happens to be pulling at his elbow for help with something, he will automatically punch her in the face till her nose bleeds.  Now if he is playing a video game of butterflies farting rainbows, those chances are less likely. Ideally, he would be playing a video game where he eats cheeseburgers in his underoos and everyone throws trophies at him, but they haven't come up with one of those yet.

So I was saying okay how about we get one game that simply does not have the word VIOLENCE anywhere on the back.  At that point your options are like Captain Marvel Watches a Snail Learn how to Read Braille, or Let's Untangle Grandma's Pantyhose.  Nothing too riveting.  (Golf, Crosswords, Simms, you get the idea).

So then I find myself saying and then you get a game that just has MILD violence in it.  This falls under violence that wouldn't really happen like spaceships invade your dinnertime or the mailman gets leprosy.

SO it's totally redonk but its better then letting them get the videogames that are Teddy and Helly beat each other bloody and then scalp Eleanor.

These are our choices, folks.

PBandJ

Rah.... so you know when you start typing thinking you are typing letters into the box on the screen and then you look up and realize you have been typing into nothing and the box is blank.

Blog, today I did something that I almost never do.  I napped.  It was crazy. I was like, maybe I will just lie down for a seconzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz  And that was interesting.  Mama likes her sleep to be regulated.  Waking up in the middle of the day is not for Mama.

riiiiiiiiight

Mama often gets underestimated.  There are the womanly parts.  The blonde thing. I mean pretty much when I get the once over, people are thinking there is not so much upstairs.  Which is cool for me because then if I am able to work a stapler everyone gets really impressed.  This reminds me of being a temp.

I used to temp back in the old days in NYC, and man that is a pretty cool job.  They are just so happy that you show up all you really have to do is breathe.  God forbid you put a spreadsheet together; the whole place strokes out.  It's TEMPORARY, see Bloogy.  Temp stands for not permanent.  Laters.

fyi Peanut butter and jelly toast is always available and delicious when you are a temp

And did you just go ahead and underestimate my blog?

Series

Here is a series of pictures for you to enjoy.  I will let you come up with your own captions.

No Es or Hs were harmed in the making of this blog.

Everyone Has a Mom

I mean, you can't get around it.  So everyone has a mom, and every mom has a mom and man, we could be doing this all day long like the juicy fruit gum wrapper necklaces, but whatevs. The point being that of course your mother always told you you would end up just like her, no?  I mean it stands to reason, the apple not falling far from the tree and everything.

So time goes on and I get older and find myself doing certain things I used to MAKE FUN of my mom for doing.  Obvs, now they make perfect sense! Yes, a thousand times, yes, I will smell these underpants to see if they are clean or dirty!  And I will not even blink an eye while doing so.  It is not funny, as a mom you gotta get shit DONE. I have no time to look at these underpants and calculate if they look clean or dirty so as I keep walking I will  take these little underpants and smell them out and if they pass the test you wear them no questions asked,  It doesn't matter if you are a boy or girl. Your parts are covered.

So this evening I was in the kitchen.  Oh, didn't you know, moms spend quite  a bit of time in this room.  And I got some TUDE from the oldest, saying why do we always have to do these CHORES *flouncety flounce flounce* blonde hair thwaping.

And of course I am tired and I have not showered and I have to refill this little guy's prescription while taking this little girl to get her library books and I stop and turn around... And I am doing the whole MOM thing.

I've got the sponge in hand, maybe rollers in my hair, in my sweats with the cast of the orphans Annie behind me, and I am like..puhlease child.

{soap box comes out, and mom jumps on top speaking into broom microphone}

If it were up to ME?  I would sit on the porch and EAT APPLES ALL THROUGHOUT THE DAY BUT NOOO.... YOU have to EAT stuff and MAKE A MESS, so as your MOTHER I HAVE TO CLEAN THAT MESS. DO  you think that makes me happy??? Once again. I do not dirty the dishes or spill on the floor, it is YOUR mess I am cleaning up. Every day.  All day.  So if you want to have attitude, do it somewhere else.  I am not in the MOOOD.

{this is where the chorus  feet starts tapping}  All elbows in synchronicity.  no- no- no- not in the mood- mood- mood. 

And I was Grandma Patsy.

Focus

Gimme gimme money. Mo nay. Donate,  Dough Nate.

Eleanor has spent a good portion of the morning licking me. My left arm, to be exact.I believe myself to be delicious.

So pretty much anything is obtainable if you have the right focus, yes?   Yes, master.  The problem is, keeping focused.  Oh man, I could write tirades on the unfocused-edness.  For instance, I started this at 800 o clock in the morning and now it is 1:00pm.  There is just so much STUFF happening around us.  Especially with the holidays.  Holy Smokeroos,  This morning a woman popped out of a tree to welcome me to Bed Bath and Beyond, and I am like that is cool, is that your job?  (It's not an actual tree, Bloggy, but a staircase of sorts. She just sits high above the shower curtains and randomly sprouts How can I help you?)  as I try not to stroke out.


Hmm by the by, I was supposed to take a Zumba class and yoga this week, but somehow ended up retaliating by eating granola bars. I just love eating. End of story, wait what were we talking about focus... yes, FOCUS oh dear.

Forced Creativity

So here is a fun story.  I mean, all through college they made us analyze the literary works of Joyce, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, So here we are:  Teddy's vocabulary word bank.

There was a huge prize at the stage.  It is a big flute. I want it, and tried to trade it for a slide, but the man said, "No!"  He gave me an ice cube and said "Take THAT!" as a gift. Finally, I went home.

Where shall we start?  A flute for a slide?  Unbelievable?! Who thought that was going to go down okay? Let's get serious.

Okay, there was a huge prize at the stage.  Now, normally in my day-to-day, I wake up, grab some coffee,  maybe have some cereal, and basically..... get on stage.  With a huge prize.  Of course.  Now obviously the prize would be a big flute because who doesn't love a good rendition of Hot Cross Buns? Anytime, Anyplace.

So then Ted is like, I want it (duh) and I tried to trade it for a slide.  Cause walking around with this freaking SLIDE all up in my business (back pocket) is kind of intense.  If I could just get rid of it...somehow...maybe trade it for something.....

But then there is a Hater saying NO with an ice cube! Of course,  Because if you are going to reject me, definitely be icy about it,  I mean, own it.  And CUBE is one of the vocab words so yes! 

But the best is that at the end of the story (no vocab words used) Ted just starts rambling and is like take that as a gift and I finally went home.  

Cause pretty much at the end of everyone's vocab story?  Peeps always go home. Or to the store.

Holiday Shop

Okay, blog lovers, donate to my blog and then I can buy Christmas presents for the LOVERS.

Yeah so at first I was like the behavior chart is so complicated it will never work, and then I was like hey, remember Monopoly?  I am still not sure how that board game works.


Okay so this is rough.  ROUGH.  The school does this holiday shop where they sell a whole bunch of plastique crapola and try to get little kiddos to buy it for their family and then they take all the money and buy each classroom pencil sharpeners or something,  So this is the fourth year Helen has done the holiday shop but the good news is, she is "earning" her own money thanks to my super complicated and awesome chore chart.  I give them a checklist of chores and relax in a day spa while they sing "It's a Hard Knock Life".  Then I pay them in nickels and I laugh all the way to my next pedicure.  Or something like that.

So this morning Helen comes down with her envelope for the holiday shop.  Below.

Now, let's talk about the value put to each of us.  I get $.50????  Grandma Patsy and Poppop Den get $.75.  Whatevs. They're old, I'll let that go. Ted, her arch nemesis, gets a DOLLAR and poor poor Eleanor is at the bottom of the pile with a measly quarter.  Ouch.

Do not get me started with Aaniayah and Ava, who merit a dollar as well.  I mean, I told her this morning, we need to have a serious discussion about who carried you around in their uterus for nine months.  I am pretty sure it wasn't Ava.

It is not a good idea to piss off Santa so close to Christmas.

Chore Chart

Okay so Teddy ended up earning 5.80, and Helen ended up earning 6.40 for the last week, out of a possible 11.30. So for the first week, not so bad. Plus we were traveling for a couple of those days so I had to makeshift it which is tough because its the first week of a new system.  But we started again yesterday with a new chart and they are still into it.  Since I handed the cash out last night before the holiday shop at their school opened today, I think they saw the benefit of getting points.

Unfortch, Bloggy is not really into letting me attach files to him.  I guess he doesn't want the commitment?  Otherwise I would put a blank chore chart into this blog for all the mothers out there who have pocket-protector-pajama-wearing Teds in their homes. (Really, we all need one.)

Ah, okay I took a screenshot.  Sometimes, I really like myself.

Hmm Okay that is STILL not great but a magnifying glass can do wonders, and it makes you look like Sherlock Holmes.  But see, the chore chart is not where it ENDS, believe it or not.  It ends with the CHECKLISTS.  Oh yeah.  For the chores... here we go

So like when these guys get home?  They are handed slips with their checklist and they have an egg timer set and it is like one hour for chores, do it.  That's five points.  Sometimes ten.  And I don't have to REPEAT myself cause I am just like its on the checklist.  And most of the time it is done, but if not, then I pick up the slack.

So basically I am running a little sweatshop of life.  The American Way. 

Oh Em Gee I keep forgetting to beg everyone to donate.  Do it. Do it now, or suffer the consequences.  (I'll come up with those later.)

Let's Get Ready to Rumble

It's official.  It's The Holidays.  Last year, during the holidays, Bloggy, you didn't exist!  So it's baby's first Christmas.  Look at that.  How sweet.

So let's see, basically Thanksgiving should be called Eat Day. Let's be honest, this is a day all about how many different things I can pile into my piehole at several different times of the day.   Honestly, you wake up and the goal is food. End of story.  Some people call this the harvest.  Right-o. 

Oh and also, there is some sort of story about Pilgrims and Native Americans, but lemme tell you, we are not really putting our best foot forward here. Cause basically we stole some land from some nice peeps who were minding their own bizz. They were trying to help us live in our new country, and we were like, thanks so much! Now I own you. 

But anyhoozle. always nice to see the fam.  Or not, (depending upon who is in your fam.) I saw many fams, I saw Brad's fam and Ash's fam and my fam and Grandma Patsy's fam.

Abracadabra!

So H is studying a book of optical illusions, and I am like, hey, "What are you doing?"  And she is like well I am studying these optical illusions because I don't want anyone trying to trick me. 

And I think, yes,  definite good use of time. The chances are high that some masked man will pop out of a bush and say hey do you see four lines or three?? You are WRONG little girl!  See, she isn't going to fall for any of that.  Well done.

But you know, she has to spend her time doing things she likes to do. And clearly, I expect the first question on the SATSs to be like do you the old lady or the young woman?

 

Um I have only ever seen the old woman. This drives me crazy.  

Tooth Fairy

So sometimes the tooth fairy does not have cash.    I mean if a tooth falls out at 8PM on a Sunday, and the tooth fairy has no cash in the house, we need to give the tooth fairy a break. 

Of course H and T BOTH lost teeth on the same day, SUNDAY, when we were already in for the day and Mama recently spent all her cash (probs on apples) so I am like eh.  Maybe I have to email the tooth fairy.  And Ted is all okay great can you let me see the email before you send it? And I am like sure, no problem....Now I have to create a fake email from the tooth fairy but that actually sounds like fun. 

So Monday I ot some cash back but it came in a TWENTY and the tooth fairy doesn't do twenties. I mean if she does, I think Grandma Patsy and I need to have a serious talk.  So finally TODAY I have some singlets to give (to the tooth fairy) to the little ones.  So how do I explain her absence?  She had a cold? 

Maybe I will let this one be a MYSTERY.  I mean the tooth fairy gets BUSY, and we need to give the tooth fairy a break sometimes.  She is like a single mother of how many?

Playdate

Oh the power of giving points.  I love walking around with a pencil and deciding the fate of so many nickels.

E had a playdate today with a ten month old.  They do parallel play a lot of the time from age 1 to age 3.  E rolled up to her new friend's house and was pretty much hey, whattya got here? Can I touch it? Gimme.  And the little one year old. Grace (G) is only ten months so she is pretty much like HOLD UP.  This is my stuff and I can't really move yet and you are WALKING everywhere while I try to scoot and catch up with you.  And E all prances around like yes I shall play with this and yes I shall play with that and little G is the cutest ever following her around with her eyes... um okay..  you go ahead and do your thing and I am gonna throw some diapers around.  E's like, sounds good, let's hit it. And that was that for about two hours.

Now I had told G's name like five times and I told E G's mom name, Jen. So when  Dad came home I was like oh we had a nice play date and had some fun with a new friend.  E can you tell Dad who we saw today (these are the types of tests you give your children to see if they are not dingbats) Dad is like yay who did you see today? And E is all

TOYS.

I'm like okay, so now we have gotten the materials out of the way we will work on the friendships then....

American Education Week Part 3

So the best was when I was in Helen's classroom for bring your adult to a classroom day or whatevs there was parent there I recognized and she was complaining about a teacher to another teacher. And she said, "Well at least I know my kid isn't the WORST in the class."  And so on and then we go get introduced only to realize that not only do we have kids in this classroom together, but we have sons in the same classroom downstairs!  And it takes a second for everyone to realize the worst boy in the class she was talking about?  My Ted. Ha ha Awk.


Anyhooz..Teddy has been doing pretty well lately.  Thriving, if you will.  I just instituted a behavior sheet for the home which is similar to his school behavior sheet.  He gets various points for things throughout the day and of course since Helen is here, she has one, too.  One of the categories is two points for waking up cheerfully.  Ha Helen usually only gets one point on that.  Ted always two and of course he pulls a pencil from the pocket of his pajamas being like how many points did I get?

The behavior sheet is for the week.  There is a total of 226 points that can be obtained. I made each point worth a nickel.  So at then end of the week they total up their points and they have the ability to earn up to eleven dollars. (and ten cents for all of you mathematicians out there.)  Oh, it's totally complicated and they totally love it.  And yep here we actually deduct points for bad behavior instead of ignoring it.

 

It's what we called in the old days... their allowance.

Flying Baby

Hi Bloggy! We need to have a serious discussion.  Sit down.   What do you LIKE?  I mean, what are your likes.  Now that I have labeled you and we are growing and sprouting, I need to know what you like.  Do you like it when I put pics on you?  Do you like it when we do lists?  Do you like longer posts or shorter posts?  I don't know.  You have to communicate with me, darling.  I love you so much. MWAH.

Also this woman at the library had three daughters and she told me they all love their little doll babies. Rocka bye baby on the tree top... And they are so sweet and maternal and nurturing.  And then she had a son. And he takes his sisters' baby doll and is like hey ......FLYING BABY!

And I am like, yep pretty much sums it up

Helen's Vocab Journal

Really, it's the pictures that make it.

American Education Week Part 2

Hey Bloggy!  How are you feeling in your new outfit?  I seriously just spent thirty dollars on apples. My husband is like how do you spend thirty bucks on apples, and I am like yeah right? Those bitches are kind of expensive; let's get a tree.  Do you know how many different apples there are?  A lot of different kinds, and they all must go into my belly.

Quick update on the kiddos

So let's see:

H -  is playing the flute and giving Mama some attitude.  She has taken to the disrespectful tone when answering.  So since I am not into bitch-slapping (yet), we are working on it with the "Try Again".  SO if she answers me in a tone, I just say try again and she modulates.  What else to do?  But of course she is still a sweet doll face.

T- T actually got a good phone call from school!  Yay Ted!  Some peeps were busting it up in the yard and Teddy broke it up and was pushed but did not hit back.  Wowsers.  And Yay!  So we can breathe slightly easier for one second.  Though we did go to his therapist yesdy and mom will be starting a behavior chart at home.  So we shall see.  I am going the route of stickers for the girls and serious points for the mathematician boy.  That's right. Mama is sexist.

E-  Oh, E. She is like having none of it.  Her clothes are consistently coming off.  I mean, as soon as we get inside the house, this chickie is naked as a jaybird.  There is the stomping and the wailing.  Oh, the wailing.  Is it possible stickers will turn this around? Stay tuned, I guess.

But she was good in the classroom for our American Education Week.  We went to Ted's classroom and Helen's and E could not quite figure out why they were not TOGETHER in the same classroom.  Right?  But I definitely got some serious eye rolls for bringing E.  Of course it's me, so I am like HEY how ARE you? Here I am, breaking the rules.  Silly me!  Fly fly fly away, haters.

I told her we would have to leave if she couldn't keep her sh*t together, Blog.

Under Construction

Hi Bloggy,

My biggest lover GP wanted to know why there were two old posts at the top of you.  Well the answer is we are giving you a little makeover.  Every once in a while a Blog likes to touch up, you know, for the holidays or just because it's getting on in posts.

So Mama doesn't really know what the f she is doing in creating you (you are a Blog of a different color, just like Mama and her three little ones) and therefore you have grown...unruly.  So I am trying to tame you, Blog.  Categorize you, fluff you up a bit.  It isn't easy.  Oh no, it's not that you are a hot mess or anything, it's just that you have so much to work with!  It's a good thing.

Now, if we could only do the same to Grandma Patsy....

Grandma Patsy

And now Blog, since you don't read my email (do you?) I am just going to cut and paste the one my mother sent me below in purple.

I think another disclaimer is in order.  I don't think cats are messy at all.  As a matter of fact, they are very clean and neat and they generally smell good and purr.  Those are some of the reasons I like them so much. I don't want a cat because I don't have anyone to take care of it when I am away and also when it gets to be over 10 lbs, I can't pick her up.

PS  have you gotten any donations yet?

PPS  Behind every great woman, there is a great cat!

Okay so now:

1. Grandma Patsy does NOT Want me to blog about her (but she sort of does).

2.  Grandma Patsy is clearly the reason I went my childhood life thinking all cats were girls and all dogs were boys.

3.  What did Grandma Patsy do when her children got to be over 10 lbs?

All Booties Up

So in kindergarten I met my best friend, Brad.  And Brad was a boy and I was a girl.   Now that I think about it, we are still a boy and a girl.  Phew.  So also growing up I was somewhat of a tomboy. And by tomboy, I mean ugly.  I'm sure Grandma Patsy has a picture or two that would make you wince, Bloggy.  My best feature was my buck teeth.  For real.  Man, braces and mascara can really work magic. But that's cool, I was good at sports. And Brad and I were some super competitive peeps.  We were all man I don't care if you win or I win while secretly tying the other person's shoelaces together.

Anyway, since Brad was a boy, he hung around with boys, Try to keep up with me here, Bloggy.  So therefore I hung around with a few boys in my time. Not like THAT, Bloggy.  Jesus.  Get a grip. And one of the games the Stuy Town boys played was called All Booties Up.  It was your regular handball style game, but if you missed, you had to turn around and stand with your hands up against the wall with your booty sticking out so all the other players could try to hurl the ball as far as they could up your a$$.

Now, luckily, mama was good at sports so it didn't happen to me all that often.  And Brad would always be nice and try to get me out of the punishment because none of the boys really wanted to practice domestic violence anyway.  Of course if Brad was mad at me, he would be like get your a$$ up against that wall.


The best is when everyone is like hey! Let's play some Duck Duck Goose or some Red Rover, and I am like or how about some All Booties Up?  Crickets.   I'm like, oh you guys don't play that?

American Education Week Part 1

Blog, at some point we are going to have to talk about...organization.  Sigh.

Okay so for all of you lovers out there, this week is American Education Week. Which means you get to invite an adult to your classroom.  Cause it's not like the old days where people can just roll up and pop in.  If you want to visit your child's classroom, you better have your driver's license and a coupla baby teeth. And the memo home says if mom or dad can't make it, you can bring another important adult.

So what I like to do is go down the aisles of adults.  I'm like I dunno, maybe I'll bring my old PreK teacher.  She was prettty special in my life.  Oh and also the memo says (as I am listening to a constant constant constant scream from one three year old raving banshee right now) IF you have younger siblings at home we RESPECTFULLY ask that you keep them at home.  Lock that shit up, yo.

Bahahahahahaha.

Obvs E is front and center.  That's right.  Mama's got some problems with the rules.  But really, Mama doesn't have an adaptable babysitter for all sorts of odd times of day.  Oh when?  945am till 1015am? then again from 145 to 300 pm?   What kind of babysitting situation would make this work? Sure I can just throw E out the window as I drive your place and you can throw her back in the afternoon and I will pay you by the forty five minutes.  Also can you babysit for five minutes on Thursday?


  I mean, perhaps I could bring a cage for Eleanor?  I dunno.  Of course I totally understand you can't have babies screaming their sorrows while you are having your students try to discover round shapes to be thankful for.  It is distracting.  But what is a Mama to do?

McJudgey

The hubster and I were talking about someone in the medical field.  As in, whether we should frequent their establishment and entrust our family to their capable and competent hands.  And I was like, eh I think she is a little crazy and he was like eh but she is right around the corner.  And why do you think she is crazy?

So I am like well first of all the cats.  She bought a special dyson fan for her cats so they could jump through it and not hurt themselves. And he is like, I never saw any cats there.  And I am like right so now we are talking about pretend cats.

But then second of all the outfit.  I mean, I am all for going comf (hello stretchypants) and I don't mean to judge, but here I go.  There are the polyester pants (I don't think comf?) that I get it are maybe inexpensive, but so are a lot of my pants that are nifty.  Then the orthopedic shoes, okay maybe you have a problem with your foot.  Sure.  The coke bottle glasses are a bit much.  But then we get down to the fanny pack.  And at that point I just say, I mean okay. You went to medical school.  You are clearly smart. Target is JUST around the corner.  Things don't need to be this way. There are choices.

I mean be it an acupuncturist, dentist, chiropractor, Ted;s therapist, whatever. If you are involved in touching any of my family's various parts, dress appropriately and maybe put on some lipstick?

E Lists!

Ha here is a quick list of things E does to AVOID doing things she does not want to do.


Her finger is hurt.  It's hurt really bad! It needs medical attention and a "kiss blow" treatment in order for us to be able to get on with anything.

I want snack. I want cheese stick and ohgurt and gwapes.  In a bowl.

I have to take a bath now.  Right this second. Gotta drop everything and get in that tub.


Things E does not want to do:

Write the letter E.
Go to the store.
Take a bath,

Evil

Somehow, my computer got a virus.  What is up with that?  Why would you not just leave me and poor Bloggy alone.  Like what is evil?

Well, Evil isn't at the Warminster library right now. (I don't think). But maybe.  So everyone has a little bit of evil in them, I guess and that's the whole Garden of Eden situation.  Great job guys.  No, really, thanks a bundle.  We're all set.

So  evil is the opposite of good.  Let' start there.  Baby steps Bloggy, Love 'em.  And I guess we should all try to stomp out the evil and let the good flow, right? You with me?  But what if....we let the evil OUT. Then what happens?  Well, I'll tell you (cause I'll always tell you, you're my BLOG, Bloggy)

Your basic shit show.

I mean, I know I have done evil things.  That sucks. Ha, the flying fast images of all my evil.  What was I thinking? Why?  Not sure.  It's interesting to me to think about because I feel like I am always trying to do GOOD things, Bloggy.

Stupid computer virus.

Happy Birthday

I actually spent a fair amount of my day in court.  And I have to say; on either side of the bench, you do have some very interesting characters.  Love em or hate em, they are our society.  So Mama spent some time observing.  With her crazy eyeballs.  Which is akin to saying Mama's head is about to explode with a gazillion wonderings.

Now, the judge, he was actually a very nice guy. He had a handful of drug addicts stand in front of him and they had to tell a long tale about why they did what they did, and he asked them many questions.  And he always started with, How can I help you beat your addiction?  And I thought to myself, this guy has the opportunity to be smug and condescending.  He could easily dismiss these guys (one white male, one black male, one Hispanic male and one Greek female), heck he could condemn them and send them to prison just for fun. And instead he starts with How can I help you beat your addiction?  

So then this started me thinking about Jesus.  Because if I am correct, this is pretty much how this Guy rolled.  Let me help you, what can I do for you and how can I be your servant?  And guess what?  Jesus ended up having a lot of problems.  A lot of, if you will, "drama" in his life.  But he also chose to spend time with the tax collectors, the addicts, the prostitutes and those who also had a lot of "problems".  And no one ever said, Hey Jesus, I am like, kind of tired of all your effin problems... so if you could just like BE HAPPY and everything, that would just be great.  Because then I could just get on with my life, and not have to worry about you.  Thanks so much, JC.

So usually Mama isn't in a room with a bunch of wife beaters or drug addicts, but today I was. And I didn't think I was any better than they were at all for one second.  They were simply the guy next to me on the bus.  Or the man who helped me out of a taxi. Etc. The woman I ask to hand me a roll of toilet paper under the door.  All people.  All the same with mistakes.  And I think the Judge got that, too.

4eva

Hmmm okay, gimme a scenario where I would NOT buy a forever stamp?  And I would buy a different stamp.  Tell me when I would do this. Like I am confused.  Am I missing something with the forever stamps?  Probs, I miss a lot, Bloggy.  Sooooo, here we are.  WHAT DID YOU GET ME?  You weren't alive last year when I had my birthday.  Gimme.  Now.

Wegmans is open twenty four hours a day and seven days a week.  So if I am ever homeless, this is the ideal sitch.  They have everything.  Um, do homeless people not know about Wegman's?  You could definitely get lost in there for a month or two at least.

Sooooo today is my BIRTHDAY.  So what do I have to say about that?  This:  social media is cray cray.  And I know everybody makes fun of the facebook bday and how everyone finally pays attention to you or whatever.  But really, I am grateful to be in "touch" with all of these awesome people, even if it is just for a second.  Without facebook, I might not have remembered James Lyness or Maria Amorim on this special day.  But because of this "silly", "time-wasting" (whatever the haters call you fb I am always on your side) medium I get to enjoy so many people.  I get to see how happy they are (when they are happy), and I think of them -  even if it is for a second - I still think of them, connect with them and wish them well.

There is absolutely no downside to that, Blog.

Not dead

Hey Blog!  Grandma Patsy wanted me to tell you I am not dead.  Also, tomorrow is my birthday.  (She didn't tell me to tell you, but as a Blog, you might want to online shop for a bit.)  That's all for now, Blog.  I have to rest my crazy ankle.  Hugs.

Spider Bite

Kay so I'm pretty sure a spider bit my ankle and I am not gonna make it.  Man, the movie Arachnophobia really did me in.

Hi Blog.  Both kids at home sick today :(  We had one vomitoso and another well as H put it, coming out the other end.  Eiw. And anyway all is fine now until Mama gets it.  I just really wanted to show you this pic of my ankle even though it's super gross.  Not my ankle.  I love my ankles.  Hey there, nice ankles.  Wink.

We were doing BrainQuest yesterday and the question was who discovered Iceland? And H said, am I supposed to remember their names? And I was like hahahhah, Yes, they are Tom and Bradford.

Vibes

Okay so I know you want me to sleep and everything but I just can't Bloggy.  Sometimes, that happens.

Skin is so weird.  I mean, it just is,  Also, if you have skin and are reading this, you should donate to my blog (pretty much incorporates everyone).

So ONE of the reasons I believe in God.  Man that is a crazy one.  There are so many reasons to believe. And so many reasons not to.  It's like at the end of the day, which side of the coin flips up, and for me mostly it is the God side.  That could be because from a very small age Grandma Patsy was pouring God juice into my ears. But anyway, ONE of the reasons I believe in God are the vibes.

Like let's just think about the word 

vibe. A distinctive emotional quality or atmosphere that is sensed or experienced by someone.
  

It also came up with another synonym: nostalgia.  So science is great and I love science. I am always pouring baking soda into vinegar and mixing bleach with it and telling everyone to take cover. But then there are FEELINGS.  Feelings, Bloggy.  Like what the hell are those?  Science has no word for them.  I guess instinct, maybe. and HORMONES. (Sorry my dad's voice has just chimed in how do you make a whore moan? you don't pay her. Sorry.) But still. 

We have all watched the videos where a mama lion cub rescues a baby lizard because she senses the vibe of danger or whatever. And the lizard grows to be a good lion and save the jungle.  Wait I think I just morphed into a Disney movie. And yes, there are the smells and the extra perceptive eyeballs and the super human sensory thingys. I mean I am pretty sure my cat sees things all the time and thinks Um what the hell is Nancy doing?  (cause I am a little blind, Bloggy. I have cataracts!)

Okay so what was I talking about? It's 3 am. the vibes.  Okay so the VIBE is like when you just KNOW something, and I guess we are all just animals so we do have the sensory predilections, but let's give you some examples.

DANGER
this is a good one if you are ever in a bodega in NYC at 3am. Or pretending to be a spy.

THIS GUY LIKES ME
this is a good one if you are ever out on a date.

THIS GUY HAS A RECORD
this is a good one if you are ever out on a date.

MY BOSS IS GOING TO BE LATE
this is a good one if you can't decide on which pair of pantyhose to wear.

THIS BITCH IS STRONGER THAN ME
Sorry, never happened.

I mean, to me, the vibes are all over.  And if you are ever telling me a story (which won't happen cause I will interrupt you to tell you my better story jk jk jk) you NEVER have to explain a reason and just say, so I got the vibe. And it's like we can SKIP all the freaking details of WHY you got the vibe.  His hand was on your leg, there was eye contact over three seconds, he has your name tattoed on his ass.  Whatevs, it's the vibe.

Oh wait, I just reread this and decided I didn't have a good ending so here it is:  when you KNOW the vibe is there and maybe you can't quite put it into words but the other party (boss, boyfriend, magician at your 6 year old bday party) is like wait, I dunno what you are talking about WHAT DO YOU MEAN? All like I wasn't FLIRTING WITH HER or OFFERING HER A RAISE or MAKING A BUNNY COME OUT OF A HAT. 

Damn, why are you so dramatic?