Read it. Learn it. Live it.

Sometimes I say words or phrases that require translation. Here are a few. Feel free to add your own in the comments section.

Cheese and rice: (adjective) A veiled attempt to disguise using the Lord’s name in vain. I actually stole this from a five-year-old. It’s awesome and it keeps me out of Hell.

Dancing bear: (adjective/noun): A term used to describe lack of grace, typically aimed at my daughter who broke her wrist tripping over her own feet. She has also gotten a comb stuck in her hair.

Dippity-dop: (noun) A moron. “Dippity-dop over there blinks and thinks it a new day.”

Halo: (noun) The one clear spot in the sky when the surrounding areas are dark and ominous. Can only be used when referring to the exact spot YOU are standing, e.g. “We’re at the concert venue waiting for Chuck Wicks to take the stage. Don’t let the weather fool you: we are in the HALO right now at the Fish House.”

Halio: (adjective) A feeble attempt to avoid saying the word “Hell.” For example, upon seeing my son riding his skateboard in the house I might say, “What the halio?” Or I might just say, “What the HELL?”

Sha-dang-diddl-ee: (adjective) An expletive. “I don’t give a sha-dang-diddl-ee what you wear.” Can be used in conjunction with additional adjectives and nouns for emphasis. “I don’t give a flying sha-dang-diddl-ee squat what you wear!” Notice the required use of an exclamation point in the second example. THAT’S the power of sha-dang-diddl-ee.

Thingiddy-bop: (noun) A thing. “Put your whatsy-whooz-it on the thingiddy-bop.”

Twitterverse: (noun) The world of Twitter. It is comprised of “Planet Twitter” and it’s orbiting moons Tweet, Twit, and Twat… wait, no, that’s not right…

Whatsy-whooz-it: (noun) An object. See “thingiddy-bop.”

Whoozy-whats-it: (noun) A person. This is typically reserved for someone whose name I have forgotten, typically my children’s friends but sometimes my children as well.

I get it. I'm short.

I went to pick Madeline up from school today and happened to be there right as her class was filing down the hall from lunch. Three, THREE different kids uttered these words: “Oh my god, Maddie, is that your mom?” Followed by varying expressions of “Awww, she’s so cute,” and “Oh my god, you’re taller than her,” etcetera. I felt like a hamster. No, wait… a gerbil. Gerbils are smaller than hamsters.

Madeline put her arm gently around my shoulder and patted me softly, like a tiny little pet. Yeah, that helps.

The best part of entire middle school experience, however, was when one of the teachers asked me for my hall pass. I turned around to see her face redden half from embarrassment and half, I’m sure, in astonishment. “Oh, Ms. Andrews, I’m so sorry, I thought you were one of the students,” she stammered, “you should actually be flattered!” (insert nervous laughter here).

Oh yep, flattered for sure. Just like a gerbil.

Mom? It's an emergency.

When you get a call from your kids’ school, you know there’s an emergency on the other end. Any mom will tell you the kids’ school showing up on caller ID will make your heart stop.

Unless you’re kid is a 13 years-old and named Madeline.

I work in radio and I’m on the air from 5a to 10a. Our studio is a 30-minute commute from home. But that doesn’t stop my daughter from making calls like this:

Madeline: Mom?

(As if when she dialed my cell number she wasn’t sure I was actually going to be the one who answered it.)

Me: Yes, Madeline.

Madeline: Um, yeah, so, I don’t know how it happened, but I got a comb stuck in my hair.

(silence)

Madeline: So, I was wondering, um, could you bring me some detangler?

(Silence. My face was frozen with my mouth gaping open.)

Madeline: Mom?

Me: No, Madeline, I cannot bring you detangler. I can, however, bring you some scissors.

The sign says Keep Out!

My oldest son, Alex, turned twenty last week.

Of course the first thing he said when I told him “Happy birthday!” was “God I’m old!”

Really?

He’ll always be my little boy. I can look at him today and see the six-month-old sitting on my lap, or the two-year-old in rain boots covered in suds helping Daddy wash the car. Or the four-year-old who told Gramma, in a fit of frustration after trying to explain something to her, “Gramma, there are FIVE points, and you’re not getting any of them!”

Alex. An only child for four years (until Andrew came along). That’s not to imply he was spoiled. He was raised on Winnie the Pooh. How can a kid who watched every Pooh movie and cartoon series be anything but kind, gentle, giving, and just sweet-as-honey? Unless maybe he was taking his cues from the curmudgeonly Rabbit, who in one particular episode, built a fortress around his garden and posted signs warning others to “Keep out.” It was one of Alex’s favorites.

On his twentieth birthday, after he blew out the candles and opened presents (mostly money at this age, of course) I couldn’t help remind him of one of his most memorable birthday moments.

He was five. We had bought him the five-year-old equivalent of a car (honestly, I don’t remember what it was, but it was HUGE). My parents had even come over to help us wake him up and see the look a surprise and the grateful squeals of delight this particular gift would elicit from our sweet Alex.

Four of us tip-toed down the hall to his room and eased the door open so we didn’t wake him up before we could surprise him with his fabulous gift.

“Alex,” we sang in unison.

Before we could get the “happy birthday” out, Alex shot straight up in bed, glared at us and said, “The sign says KEEP OUT!” He then plopped back down on his mattress.

Yeah, maybe it was Rabbit all along!