Robin

Are you kidding me? I go out in the freezing cold weather, to buy a gift for someone, …I have to walk a damn mile from my car to the store, shake myself silly just to warm up…find what I’m looking for, ON MY OWN, because there’s no saleperson on the floor to HELP me?..and then the insult gets added to the injury, when I’m waiting in line to PAY for my stuff. We know the ‘register girl’ is gonna be slow as anything??… but what I’m NOT prepared for, is that when it’s finally my turn, to pay her with my money, her phone rings, and she takes that call, instead of taking care of ME. The one that’s been abused by the elements, and the store, and the lack of customer service! She’d rather help a customer that phoned in, with a question.
NO! I’m sorry, I meant, ‘No-wuh?’ Not on MY watch??? I put my finger on that disconnect button faster than you could say, “watch me now!” She looked at me like I had two heads. I said to her, “I braved the storm to come see you personally. So darlin? I come first.”
I think she gets it now. Either she gets it, or she thinks I’m an escapee from an asylum?   Who cares.

I’d like to discuss NY roadways. For someone as unorganized as me… I Depend on road signs to make Sense, in order to get me where I have to go! So, there has to be some sort of consistancy in order for all these signs to have a ‘branding’ of sorts. For instance, the Northern State Pkwy and the Southern State Pkwy’s are represented like this: NO (Northern) and SO (Southern) So why the hell does the Sagtikos Pkwy (SA) which becomes the Sunken Meadow at some point, change the concept of the first two letters idea from SA, into SM? Shouldn’t it be SU, for Sunken? Why can’t the Northern State Pkwy stay that way? Why does it have to become the Grand Central Pkwy? The LIE remains the LIE everywhere? Wait. There’s more. The Wantagh and Meadowbrook Pkwys are called M and W. That’s IT! One letter each!
Even a GPS has to be confused with this nonsense! We need some kind of pattern to get us from point A to point B. Without patterns, we go whichever way the wind blows.
For more, go to my group…Jayne FM. 😉

My youngest came to me last year, with tears.”‘Mommy? I heard that the Easter Bunny, Toothfairy and Santa weren’t real. Is this true…sniff, sniff?”
I had to give one of em’ up to maintain credibility… Bunny? Yer OUTTA’ here!

She STILL wants the eggs hidden. I said, “WHY!?” “Why do I have to get up early in the morning to hide those #$^%^ eggs, when you know there’s no BUNNY??” (and while most of you are thinking to yourselves, ‘ummm, why not hide them the night before?’ It’s because the squirrels get to them first!) She said “Easter wouldn’t be the same without the Easter Egg hunt!” But I had ONE MORE retaliation for her, I said, “but we’re JEWISH!” She just smiled and said, “Mom, it’s tradition!”

So I sent my husband to the store to buy the eggs and the candy. It’s the day before the holiday, and he’s talking under his breath, shaking his head, telling me I’m ridiculous, blah blah…

He comes home with SPORTS Plastic Easter Eggs. What??? He buys all candy that HE likes, not candy the KIDS like, and he doesn’t even buy PEEPS! He’s trying to tell ME, the mom of FIVE, that’s been stuffing these damn eggs for 15+ years, that PEEPS won’t fit in the plastic eggs. I just looked at him, with that look, and pointed to the door. Asked him nicely to not come back until the mission was accomplished. My twenty year old is stifling a laugh, which is REALLY difficult for her, because she’s so damn loud ALL the time, and she follows him out the door, whispering, “Told ya!”

Long story short, he got more eggs, UNsports eggs, PEEPS, and stuffed those eggs with not only the peeps, but to his total amazement, candy fit in that plastic egg WITH the Peep! How ’bout that!!!

So, here I am on the air, while my kids are searching for their soccer eggs, that are,’ by God, stuffed with Peeps! I couldn’t be happier!

I guess ‘tradition’ means something after all.

I  answered, and she said, “Mom, you shoulda’ been a teacher, cause you’re only mean, when ya need ta be!” I thought to myself, ‘was that a backhanded compliment, or was I just b-slapped by my daughter?’ So I asked her, “well, what should your Dad have been?'” That little one didn’t even hesitate, when she answered, “he shoulda’ been the President! He’s soooo smart? And he comes up with great ideas all the time?” I said, “that’s a tall order, Cass… it takes a lot of work to be the president.” She turns to me in all seriousness and said, ” how many years do we have Mom, until he can run? I need to start working on his campaign.”

So, I wanted to pass all this on to you, because once I’m in the White House, you’ll have a place to stay, when you’re traveling through DC, and just between you and me? When I was my daughter’s age? I thought my Dad was smart enough to be President too!

OK…who’m I kidding. I still do!
xoxoxoxo

Robin/Jayne