Friday Flotsam

FFFFFFFFFFFleelee.

Okay.

So.

I have a question.

And I’m serious.

Super serious.

Here goes.

When you make a peanut butter sandwich, do you use one knife, or two? One for the peanut butter, and one for the jelly? Or do you use one knife for BOTH the peanut butter and the jelly? And if you use one knife, which jar do you contaminate? Because you have to TAINT A SOURCE. Which is more disgusting? A blob of peanut butter in a jelly jar? Or a wobble of jelly in a peanut butter jar?

IF YOU WERE AT SOMEONE’S HOUSE, what would you do? What are you able to live with? What actions would you take in order to face yourself in the mirror.

These are the things I think about at night and all the time.

Listen to this terrifying thing that happened the other night. Scared me to frickin’ death.

We had just crawled into bed at like, 8:15pm.

Just kidding, you guys! Hahahaha! It was 8:20.

I’m lying there, juuuust starting to drift off, when I hear this strange, distant alarm. It sort of sounded like a BELL almost. Like this chirpy sort of bell. But it was an actual TONE, which scared me, like an alarm does. And then it goes away. AND THEN IT COMES BACK. But louder! And more distinct. This alarm.

And I’m like, “WHAT IS THAT ALARM COMING FROM? Is that your phone, Aaron? Is someone trying to break in? OMG SOMEONE IS TRYING TO ROB US, AARON. Get up! GET UP. What is that sound? What is that ringing alarm? Can you hear that, Aaron? WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT SOUND? It’s coming from the walls, omg. Is it outside? Is someone in our back yard? WHO IS IN OUR BACK YARD? Go check, Aaron! This is serious!”

Aaron, “You mean that cricket?”

Me, “Oh. Ohhhhhh.”

the end.

I want to ask you something.

And this is actually serious.

NO, I SWEAR.

This week the kids are home with me. They start back at school right after Labor Day, but for now, they’re home. Which means they have to go with me to run my errands, right? SO, I dropped into a favorite store to check on something, and I took the kids. And let me interject right here and say, my kids are great. Well behaved (most of the time), polite (most of the time), not overly hyper (most of the time), not over-the-top obnoxious (most of the time).

Except this one tiny, particular moment. Because they are FOUR AND A HALF BLOODY YEARS OLD and life isn’t perfect.

For some strange reason, their inner soul fairies decided to dial up the hyper a few notches once we were in public, and you guys. I got THE STANK EYE from one of the blonde, millennial, jowl-less employees. Even after gathering Will and Nat for one of those cliche “settle down or else” pep talks. Homegirl didn’t say a WORD to me except, “Hmm mmm.” Lips pursed, eyes squinted, as she’s glaring down at them and burning a hole in the floor.

But this is the thing, I don’t have it in me to be confrontational. I do not. I’m way too nice and want to keep the peace, all the time. In every situation. Aaaaaall I could muster was, “Thanks. Sorry. We’ll be out of here in under five.”

“Hmm mmm.”

WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?

I wish I could have said, “Listen, youngin. Some day you’ll have kids, and you will sympathize with mom moments like these. And guess what, this wasn’t even that bad, sis. Just be nice to moms, okay? And also, who does your hair?”

Tell me, what’s your worst I’m-sorry-my-kids-are-kids-but-you-don’t-have-to-be-mean-to-me story?

Spill it.

I think I want to get into mock necks this fall.

Long weekend plans?

We have zeroooooooo. AND IT IS THE MOST INCREDIBLE FEELING EVAR. It’s going to be lamely hot today and tomorrow, so I’ll probably blow up the pool and get in it with my giant visor and a trough of rosé. I want to watch MOVIES. And get in BED EARLY. And READ. Not sure why I’m YELLING ALL THIS.

Tell me what movies I need to see! I’m so awful about new movies. But is there a good period piece or blockbuster that’s worth the eyeball viewage?

. . . You’re still disturbed by the words mock and neck, aren’t you?