Category Archives: Baab

Composting the Fart: No. 3

Hi, it’s Riley again, here with another edition of COMPOSTING THE FART. More baabishness awaits in this one post. Please, computer….. please don’t explode of baabishness…… Anyways, let’s move on to the first one…

You’re in your room, reading a book. It’s almost lunchtime and you decide to go downstairs to see what’s for lunch. You walk out of your room and you go down the stairs. You walk over to the kitchen and as you walk in, you hear someone in the kitchen. They’re opening the oven and you hear a loud creaking noise, then something is put inside the oven and it is closed again with another CREEAK. You walk all the way into the kitchen and you see BAAB. Now, you realize she has just put pizza in the oven to warm up, and you casually walk by her when suddenly…. you realize…… she is wearing a scarf indoors. I mean, who does that?? It wasn’t even COLD inside the house!! (No offense to anyone who wears scarves indoors when it is pretty hot….. but…… I mean…. that means you’re a baab, too………………….) You walk out of the kitchen knowing that you’re having pizza for lunch. I think that the creaking of the oven was probably NOT the oven……. just saying……….


You’re walking downtown with Baab because Baab says she needs ‘FRESH AIR’. Well, I could’ve guessed that she would need fresh air because of the oatmeal stench of her room….. Well, you’re walking and you’re talking with her about things. BAAAB wants to talk about FEELINGS and that sort of thing. You’re diverting her from the subject by talking about other things in your life that just MIGHT change her mind from talking about all that other junk.. You finally find another thing to talk about, when suddenly Baab stops on the sidewalk.

“A DIIIIIIME.”, she says in her most BAABISH VOICE. “Remember that DIMES are my SIGN to remind me to keep PURSUING my GOALS and keep on GOING.”

She bends down to pick it up, and I’m surprised she didn’t break her back…… but that was the most baabish things she’s ever said………… EVERR.

(BOBA FETT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) (He’s my favorite Star Wars character.)

Lastly but not leastly, here’s a typical everyday thing of a BAAB….

I was writing this post at my dining room table when my little sister asked me to move because she was doing her chore which was cleaning up the dining room. I didn’t want to move, but Baab said she had a place where I could write this post. I followed her into her room, and she pointed to a place next to her closet….. It was a desk-ish thing that has a chair where you could sit, and the chair had a pillow and the desk was covered in BAABISH things. There was a spot where I could set the laptop down so I could write there, though. Baab called it her WRITING SPACE. Where she writes her BAABISH stories and things.

I just think it’s BAABISH that she makes these little NOOKS (<– that’s what she calls them, and it sound baabish) where she can do her BAABISH things.

Anyways, that’s it for now! Thank you for reading this, this is Composting the Fart!


Becoming Baab

Last year my youngest son had a head cold. He kept following me around saying Mom, Mooom, in the whiny voice of a sick middle school boy, but it came out sounding like this, Bab, Baaab.

Somehow it stuck. The name, Baab, pronounced Bab. Rhymes with drab and flab.

Now all of the kids call me Baab, and sometimes even my husband lets it slip.

I have become Baab.

It’s a process I didn’t fully embrace until looking up its meaning in the ever-reliable Urban Dictionary  (not for the faint of heart, and possibly a very Baabish thing to do). I found it means Bad A$$ At Birth. That totally describes me, so I owned it.

Besides, I named each of them. It’s only fair they get a turn to name me.

Becoming Baab has meant embracing my aging self, as many Baabish things can be translated as old. It has also meant seeing myself as my children see me, as many Baabish things are annoying, funny, or embarrassing.

Becoming Baab has meant not taking myself too seriously and finding the humor in growing into a new season of life. It has reframed my experience of being teased and laughed AT to being teased and laughed WITH. There is a difference, and my children know how to walk that fine line.

I am learning to embrace their humorous selves.

I don’t want to say too much more, and thus hijack Riley’s column. It would be Baabish to go behind and overexplain. You will get a clearer picture of Baab as time goes on.

Mostly I wanted my readers to know that I am Baab, and I approved this new column.