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This past weekend Mazzy and I were sick at home while Mike was away for a bachelor party in Miami. Feel free to reread that last sentence again so you can feel especially bad for me. But stop short of tears because I also happen to live near my mother (aka Grammy)— a woman who jumps at the chance of spending time with her daughter and grandchild, even if we are hacking a collective lung and buried in a mountain of snotty tissues.

Grammy arrived bright and early Saturday morning, soup in hand, cough drops at the ready, looking for things to clean. She is SUPERMOM. Always has been. She spent the weekend entertaining Mazzy while I napped, changing diapers the second a hint of wetness was detected and making sure "footsies" were covered at all times ("The floor is SO COLD!!!")

Plus, because Mazzy now has a rather large vocabulary, Grammy began to employ a parenting technique I remember from when I was little— she spells things that she does not want the little people to understand.

The only issue with this technique is that even though I am no longer a little person, I still have no idea how to decipher what she is saying. Somehow through four years of Honors English, graduating college at the top of my class (well, I would have if it wasn't for that one Art History class) and fifteen years as a full fledged working adult, I NEVER DEVELOPED THE ABILITY TO SPELL IN MY HEAD.

Even crazier is that I did not know about my deficiency until this past weekend. (Why would I?)


Note: Please imagine that every time you see a word spelled out below, it is said at such warp speed that no brain could possibly keep up with it. Least of all mine.

GRAMMY: I put the P-R-E-T-Z-E-L-S in the C-A-B-I-N-E-T.

ME: Huh?

GRAMMY: I put the P-R-E-T-Z-E-L-S in the C-A-B-I-N-E-T.

ME: Wha??

GRAMMY: The P-R-E-T-Z-E-L-S were out on the C-O-U-N-T-E-R so I—

ME: Mom! I have no idea what you're talking about.

GRAMMY: Well, if you think P-R-E-T-Z-E-L-S are something Mazzy should E-A-T at—

ME: EAT? Why are you spelling EAT? Can Mazzy not hear the word EAT now?

GRAMMY: Eat is fine. I just thought P-R-E-T-Z-E-L-S were off limits at B-R-E-A-K-F-A—

ME: Mom! You're spelling too fast!!!


ME: Still too fast!!!

GRAMMY: B——–R——–E——–A——-K——–F——–A——–S——–T.

ME: Breakfast? You're spelling BREAKFAST? Mazzy is allowed to know it's breakfast. 

GRAMMY: I was more C-O-N-C-E-R-N-E-D with the P-R-E-T-Z-E-L-S.

ME: Are you just F-U-C-K-I-N-G with my now??? 

Note: The above was said in my head only. In reality, I just stood there staring like Kim Kardashian faced with a complex calculus equation.

GRAMMY: If Mazzy sees the P-R-E-T-Z-E-L-S on the C-O-U-N-T-E-R, she's going to want them instead of her Y-O-G-U-R-T and then B-R-E-A-K-F-A-S-T will be completely—

ME: MOM! I can't spell in my head. I can spell on paper but for some reason I just don't possess the same ability in my head.

(Prolonged look from my mother)

ME: What? You don't think I can spell on paper either? How would you be able to— GASP! My blog! You've noticed spelling mistakes on my blog!


ME: Whatever. I still have no idea what you are talking about.

GRAMMY: "P———-R———E———T———Z———-E———L———-S."

ME: "Oh!!! Pretzels!!!! You're talking about PRETZELS!!!"

MAZZY: "Pretzels! I want PRETZELS!!!!! PREEEEETZEEELSSSS!!!!!!!!!


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One more reason I will never be a S-U-P-E-R-M-O-M.


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