Thursday, June 28, 2012

Cutsey-wootsy phrasey-poos

Four days since my last post, wow. I know it looks like I've been slacking, but I promise I haven't. Another little facet of my life is that I run an etsy shop ( and travel around to craft shows on weekends that I can to sell my wares. (Doesn't that make me sound old-fashioned? "sell my wares.") Anyway, that's my contribution to the family as a stay-at-home-mom. I make earrings and headbands, and I sell them online or at craft shows. Well, in the past four days I've made and listed forty earrings and/or headbands. It's been hectic, and I got distracted. I'm sorry.

Back to the show!

I don't follow many blogs for the same reason I don't look at other crafters' jewelry shops if I can help it - I don't want to be accused of cribbing. But there IS one blog that I follow religiously, and I even pariticipate in an online discussion about it. It's the blog of a pagan grifter who makes all sorts of rediculous claims, including that she is married to certain gods and that Freddie Mercury comes to her as a spirit and refers to himself as "Auntie Freddie."

Now. I have absolutely nothing against paganism. As a matter of fact, through the discussion thread I've been a part of for several months as we've followed this blog, my perception of people who are pagans has changed. They're just folks like anyone else, and just like in every religion, there are salt-of-the-earth type people and there are kooks. What I DO have a problem with is someone being a grifter and robbing people blind through manipulation.

But there's something about this person that the others have a problem with, and it always makes me squirm. The writer of the blog we follow uses words like "yummy" and "tummy." When the other participants are railing about how obnoxious those words are, I always shrink a little. I use those words.

Which brings me to my point. When you have children, No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, cutesy words and phrases are going to seep their way into your everyday vocabulary.

Before I was even pregnant with my oldest son, I swore I wasn't going to be one of those moms who did babytalk to my child. I felt like it wasn't good for their development and I told myself I wouldn't be a babbling fool. For the most part, I stuck to it. I used adult words instead of nonsensical words and avoided babbling. But yummy, tummy, butt-butt, and other various cutesy bullshit worked its way in there. I'm still not sure how. But I found out how deeply it had entrenched itself one night in a most humiliating fashion.

There was a period of time after my oldest, Andy, was a year old that I was single. And being single, I went out very occasionally. On one evening, I was out with a girlfriend, Mitzi, and I had a bit much to drink. She was driving me home, and I suddenly felt carsick. I rolled down the window to get some fresh air. She kept asking me if I was alright and I assured her that I was fine. Suddenly, though, I was not so fine and asked her to pull over the car.

"Mitzi, pull over."

"Mitzi, pull over."


Yes. I said "Quick like a bunny." To my friend. Who is an adult. Who thought it was hilarious.

But that's not all. I have a diploma (that I don't use) in medical transcription. Both of my parents are registered nurses, and my mother has been a nurse for 39 years. My entire life has been drenched in medical terminology and medical knowledge. I am not medically ignorant, not in the least. I've almost always had pleasant experiences with doctors and nurses, and I think it may be because I have at least a slight idea what I'm talking about and can use the correct terminology.

So I went to the doctor for what I thought was a gall bladder attack. My doctor came in and asked me what the problem was, and I proceeded to tell him what my symptoms were, rattling them off without putting a lot of thought into what I was saying. Then I noticed him looking at me a little funny, and I realized what had just come out of my mouth. I had just told him I was having pain not only in my upper right quadrant, but also in my tummy like I was about to have a really yucky poo.


Did I really just say that?

Oh, FFS.


  1. Yes. It happens. I also find myself talking in the third person to my children:

    "Let mommy just put the groceries away and then I'll get you a snack."

    "Mommy has had a long day and needs to sit down for a minute."


  2. Yes! I forgot all about third person. I'm guilty as sin of that. I don't think I've referred to myself as "I" when speaking to my kids since their conception.

    All of this makes me want to facepalm. Hard.

    And we're getting to pooping in peace. Believe me. We're getting there. I'm just trying to decide how much I want to share.

    1. It's your blog. TMI does not exist!

  3. We use "bum-bum" and "scoot-scoot!" and a variety of words that are part of a secret, made-up language. We don't judge, and we are adults.

    We do, however, worry about one day spawning children who will know "get the zeh and finagle the tsick into the verkler" means "towel the cat to get it into the carrier" and might accidentally one day use it in public.

  4. Unfortunately, once the "big poo" is in your brain, it stays. Because just as your kids are old enough for your language faculties to recover, a grandchild comes along and all your progress goes straight to hell.

  5. OMG- every time I say "Is that YUMMY?" to my son, I get majorly brisquicked, and want to smack myself, but I just can't help it.

    (We also move on to "Is it deeelicious? Is it nutritious?!" too.)