Wordless Wednesday: Shopping

Do Mom and Aunt Jen go shopping in heaven?

Aunt Jen (left), Mom (right)

Writer's Post: Brain + Mouth = No Filter

                                                                                   

This week's writer's topic, Brain + Mouth = No Filter could have something to do with why my kids' boyfriends and girlfriends are afraid of me. Hey, I'm not awful, just blunt. Was it that bad when I told my daughter, "We no longer need to check your boyfriend's circumcision," after he did an outstanding job reading Hebrew at the Passover seder? Don't blame me; she didn't have to tell him what I said. And then they broke up. Actually, the breakup was much later than that, but I wonder if dating advice books mention mothers.     

Either way, I think our host Karen Smith at Magical Mystical Mimi was thinking more along the lines of what kids say, such as when a friend of mine taught her young daughter the correct terminology for body parts. This was fine until the girl crawled under a bathroom stall and shouted, "Mommy! I just saw that women's vagina."  

When your kid says things like that, it's better to avoid public restrooms and use your own toilet. Here's a link incase you're interested in purchasing one to avoid embarrassment in public facilities. ;)    

                                                                                                                       

#AtoZ: Names

"I wake up every morning at nine and grab for the morning paper. Then I look at the obituary page. If my name is not on it, I get up." ~Benjamin Franklin

My name wasn't in the paper, so I survived after the "M" post. Are you ready for N? 

When it comes to "Names," I've had a few. Growing up as the youngest of four children, my mother called me, "Ed, I mean Bar, I mean Be, I mean Joyce!" Good thing the dog's name didn't come before mine. 

Then there was dinner time when I wanted to know my Hebrew name. My parents might have given me one at birth but couldn't remember it multi-years later, so my brother told me my name was, "Boris." 

"No! What is my Hebrew name?" I'd ask.

He repeated, "Boris!"

Finally, I got married and had to know my Hebrew name. As it turns out, I don't actually have one because my name is Yiddish. "Sheindel." At least it's better than Boris.

"One thing they never tell you about child raising is that for the rest of your life, at the drop of a hat, you are expected to know your child's name and how old he or she is."  ~Erma Bombeck