The Bubbe Jackpot
A quick vocabulary lesson for my non-Yiddush speaking friends.
Bubbe n. - A grandmother
That's the sterile version.
To me a bubbe is like a grandma on steroids. They are rich in crazy stories about the old country, cook incredible foods that you love until you find out what they really are (wait, I just ate cow tongue?), and brag endlessly about their wonderful grandchildren.
Ok, on to my story.
After school today, the Yoys did their required ten minute run through our synagogue's Holocaust Garden. Mid-stride, Big E stopped in his tracks.
I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!
I rounded up Little E and we headed inside.
Today, synagogue was bumping. There was an event and busloads of elderly people had been brought over from the Jewish Tower (the local old person home).
As we weaved our way around the crowd, I could see Big E struggling to hold it in.
We got stuck behind a woman with a cane walking slowly down the hall. I thought this was going to be the end for Big E, but I also didn't want to run her down. A dirty pair of undies would not be the worst thing in the world. Knocking over a lady with a cane would be.
We made it to the woman's lounge (fancy bathroom) and it was like entering Bubbe heaven. There were five old ladies in the process of using the bathroom, washing hands, fixing their hair, and just chatting about old lady stuff.
I CANNOT WAIT TO GET MY HAIR DONE TOMORROW!
They all about plotzed (look it up) when I walked in there with the two little guys.
One woman began chatting up Big E. Wow, maybe he had finally met his match. Too bad he was about to crap his pants.
We learned she also had a grandson named Big E. He was six months old and destined to be a doctor.
I HAVE TO MAKE DIRT! I HAVE TO MAKE DIRT! I NEED PRIVACY!
I hoist Big E up on the toilet and shut the door. I hope these women are all deaf so I don't have to explain what dirt is.
While Big E was using the facilities, another lady closed in on Little E.
HOW OLD ARE YOU?
I answer for him.
She tries to take his fingers to make a two. He screams in her face.
I apologize for his b*tchy behavior.
OH, HE'S BEEN UP SINCE 3:49 AM. READ MY BLOG IF YOU WANT THE DEETS.
Then I spent ten minutes explaining the internet. I should stop self promoting. Lesson learned.
Anyway, I smiled as I listened to the women chat. It reminded me of my own grandma and all her widow friends on her condo floor in Aventura. I suppressed the urge to hug them all.
On a side note, I did a little bubbe research and you can actually adobt-a-bubbe in Russia. Like part of a highway. Now THIS I can get behind!
Bubbe n. - A grandmother
That's the sterile version.
To me a bubbe is like a grandma on steroids. They are rich in crazy stories about the old country, cook incredible foods that you love until you find out what they really are (wait, I just ate cow tongue?), and brag endlessly about their wonderful grandchildren.
Ok, on to my story.
After school today, the Yoys did their required ten minute run through our synagogue's Holocaust Garden. Mid-stride, Big E stopped in his tracks.
I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!
I rounded up Little E and we headed inside.
Today, synagogue was bumping. There was an event and busloads of elderly people had been brought over from the Jewish Tower (the local old person home).
As we weaved our way around the crowd, I could see Big E struggling to hold it in.
We got stuck behind a woman with a cane walking slowly down the hall. I thought this was going to be the end for Big E, but I also didn't want to run her down. A dirty pair of undies would not be the worst thing in the world. Knocking over a lady with a cane would be.
We made it to the woman's lounge (fancy bathroom) and it was like entering Bubbe heaven. There were five old ladies in the process of using the bathroom, washing hands, fixing their hair, and just chatting about old lady stuff.
I CANNOT WAIT TO GET MY HAIR DONE TOMORROW!
They all about plotzed (look it up) when I walked in there with the two little guys.
One woman began chatting up Big E. Wow, maybe he had finally met his match. Too bad he was about to crap his pants.
We learned she also had a grandson named Big E. He was six months old and destined to be a doctor.
I HAVE TO MAKE DIRT! I HAVE TO MAKE DIRT! I NEED PRIVACY!
I hoist Big E up on the toilet and shut the door. I hope these women are all deaf so I don't have to explain what dirt is.
While Big E was using the facilities, another lady closed in on Little E.
HOW OLD ARE YOU?
I answer for him.
She tries to take his fingers to make a two. He screams in her face.
I apologize for his b*tchy behavior.
OH, HE'S BEEN UP SINCE 3:49 AM. READ MY BLOG IF YOU WANT THE DEETS.
Then I spent ten minutes explaining the internet. I should stop self promoting. Lesson learned.
Anyway, I smiled as I listened to the women chat. It reminded me of my own grandma and all her widow friends on her condo floor in Aventura. I suppressed the urge to hug them all.
On a side note, I did a little bubbe research and you can actually adobt-a-bubbe in Russia. Like part of a highway. Now THIS I can get behind!
There were so many of them...it was fantastic!
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