I got a card in the mail the other day. A real card. Like not one you virtually open on your computer. But one you open with your ACTUAL HANDS. It was insane.
I have a couple friends who still send real cards. Every time I get one, I think, “I love this. I’m totally doing this. I’m going to buy some cards, write witty things in them and then send them.”
And then I never think about it again.
Until I get another card.
So the other day, I am opening this card from a college friend, basking in the warmth of a long friendship, when my wisdom teeth fall out of the envelope.
Can you imagine if I just ended the post right there?
Here I’ll show you the card. Not the teeth.
Okay, now I’ll explain about the teeth thing. When I was about 19 or 20, I had to have my wisdom teeth pulled out over the summer so I thought it would be hilarious to mail them to one of my college roommates. (Now you can understand why people line up to be my friend.)
Of course, she truly appreciated this thoughtful and touching gift. So much so that she made sure to secretly return them to me at some point. And well, we have been passing these teeth back and forth for a whole bunch of years.
With marriages and children and work and responsibilities – I didn’t really know what happened to the teeth. I hadn’t thought about them in a long time.
So there was something really reassuring about receiving these ancient, sort of disgusting relics, in the mail. Like no matter what happened in life – my old teeth were still out there – like a bond of friendship.
My point is – get out there and send some teeth to your closest friends! Okay, don’t do that. But maybe send them cards.
So what did I do with the teeth? I finally tossed them. Because some traditions are just really gross.
Okay, did my friend stop reading this? Because of course I didn’t throw out those magical teeth!! I’m just plotting on how to get them back to her. I can’t wait to think of something good.
Some of us out here kind of had blizzard envy (for about 20 minutes).
Did you know there was a big storm? There’s a couple photos on Facebook if you missed it.
Well, it may not have been snowing here but I just want you to know, it was raining. Really hard. Like the wipers were on full speed.
And it’s been in the 50’s. And my favorite part about it dropping down to the 50’s in South Florida is that people start saying things like… “It’s so cold. I’m freezing.”
Like take a look at this Florida guy…
It was 61 degrees when this photo was taken. I mean, a parka?!
Oh wait. You know what…
That’s my dad. 25 years living on Cape Cod and now he pulls on a parka in 61 degree weather. That’s what South Florida does to people.
My children were pretty unfazed by the plummeting temperatures. Especially Cash who, fresh off his challah stealing incident, threw an entire pint of raspberries across a parking lot.
Why would he do this? Especially because I had purchased them 4 minutes earlier. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I had some man hold traffic so that I could pick up every last raspberry.
I mean, I had just bought them!
They were organic!*
My kids would have been crushed without raspberries!!**
*They were not organic.
**My kids didn’t care.
The point is, I like raspberries (yes, even ones picked up from the pavement and thoroughly cleaned, ok sort of cleaned) and a 2 year old is not going to outplay me.
So no raspberries for him.
Unless he says “raspberry” 256 times in succession and then okay, he can have some.
My son underwent surgery this week to remove a piece of glass in his foot. Hold on there Kelcey – is this a recycled post from last May? This whole surgery thing sounds very familiar.
And yes, indeed 2 year old Cash did have surgery to remove glass from his foot last May. But here’s the problem. THERE WAS STILL GLASS IN THERE. Yup, this is take two.
How did we know there was still glass in his foot? Well, Cash mentioned something about wanting some cheddar Goldfish and I, with my finely tuned maternal instincts, took that for toddler code that there was something still stuck in there.
Okay, that might not be quite right. Actually, his walking has been off since the initial surgery so they did an x-ray and there it was.
His doctor referred to removing this glass as “trying to find a needle in a haystack” but I think of it more as “another hefty co-pay!” And no, the hospital wasn’t running a 2 for 1 on foot surgeries. I even checked Groupon.
And you know what you shouldn’t do when waiting for your child to come out of surgery… read scary surgery stories on 24 hour news sites. But I did anyway. What is it about humans that we like to torture ourselves?
Anyway, he woke up from the surgery screaming and thrashing and thinking, “I was feeling pretty good about this hospital playroom and these super nice nurses and then you all went and cut open my foot again. What the heck people?!!”
But after some pain meds, he thankfully rested for a bit…
And woke up far less agitated….
Well, thank goodness for that age old saying, “the second time is the charm” because Cash would hate to do this surgery a third time.
A friend of mine was recently checking her kid’s phone and she stumbled on a text exchange between her nanny and her tween daughter.
In the text, her daughter asks… what is a prostitute?
As that point, the nanny should obviously text back, “I only take questions about what’s for dinner. Mac and cheese by the way. All question about hookers and pimps have to be handled by your parents! So feel free to text them at work!”
But instead the nanny attempts to explain what a prostitute is. Yup, she really does. Via text.
I’m sure that’s also the official Merriam-Webster definition of a prostitute.
I don’t know what I would say if one of my kids asked me about prostitution.
I think I’d pop in a DVD of Pretty Woman and let Julia Roberts do all the explaining.
Hey guys. It’s Cash. I’m 2 1/2 years old now and I spend most of my time scaring the crap out of my parents. Check out my visit to a 5th floor New York City balcony before my mom yanked me inside and started hyperventilating.
That woman really knows how to stress the small stuff. I mean, can’t a kid get a little fresh air without everyone freaking out?!
Anyway, I went to a grocery store (for the millionth time) today. I’ve gotten a little bored of just throwing stuff out of the cart so I decided to try something new. At the checkout counter, I started pulling things out of some other lady’s cart and putting them in my cart. For awhile, nobody noticed anything. Then all of sudden, my mom says to the checkout guy….
“Wait, I wasn’t buying bananas. I think those belong to someone else.”
And then she’s says, “And how did those salmon burgers get in there?”
Wow. Was I laughing on the inside! Of course, on the outside, I had to be all, I’m just a cute toddler and I don’t know what’s going on.
My mom pulled out the bananas and the salmon burgers and returned them to the lady. Then she paid for our stuff and headed to the parking lot. As she’s putting the bags into the car, she notices there are two challah breads.
At this point, I can only high five myself for my incredible thievery skills.
By now that lady I stole all the stuff from is pulling out of the parking lot. My moms runs over, waving that challah bread like a lunatic and knocks on her car window.
“Hey, I think my son stole your challah bread too! I’m so sorry. Here please take it.”
Of course the lady wants to give my mom money and my mom refuses to take it. Have you ever noticed that about adults? They are always arguing who is going to pay for something. They’ll fight like hell to treat each other to dinner but when I want a double fudge ice cream cone, suddenly there’s no money to be found and I have to wait until college to tap into the financial reserves.
Anyway, so my mom returns the challah to the woman and then turns to me and says, “Cash, stop stealing food from people.”
And I just look at her and smile because I’m two and how the heck do I know what she’s talking about.
Oh one last tidbit.
Later that day I was playing with my siblings in the house. I took my diaper off because man is that thing bulky. And then I immediately peed all over the kitchen floor. Of course my sisters and brother acted like there was a rabid raccoon in the house and all jumped on the countertops.
Which for some reason made my mom super mad and then she slipped in my pee.
That was the most awesome thing ever.
She’s okay. I think a loaf of challah broke her fall.
Okay that’s it for me. If I ever figure out how to log on to this computer again, I’ll write more. The password is usually CashIsCrazy. Whatever that means.