The Peanut's Wish List

I am working on translating this into an Amazon.com wish list, but interested parties may preview here.  Some of this stuff she already has, but has forgotten because she's been away from them (marker set?  bead set?  Is she kidding me? Our house is full to overflowing with markers and beads).  Some things I'm not sure she'd be interested in for long (stick horse? isn't that a toddler thing?), but here it is, typed as received for better or worse.   I'm told I shouldn't worry about her spelling, but to be delighted that she loves writing so much...

My Wish list

jump rope (shorte)
any barby
tigre stuft anamle (orang)
loinge juprope
chowe Topazz Fary (ranbow magic)
Prinsses char
Toy car
stick hors
miny computer
toy sord (with case)
toy leesh
D.S.
Diary (kitin)
stuft anaml duck (and duckling)
Webcin (yoonacorn)
miny staplr
math book
toy bote
pinsas ozma dresup
dogy dresup costoom
kitin stuft anamle
markr set
memary mach card game
beed set
dressup hiy heels
batan
Ice age moovy
miny bulatin bord
marbl set
sily bands
toy teliscop

My Bean and the No Good Very Bad Naptime

My girls are 7 and 6 and still have "naps."  They don't sleep at nap time -- haven't for years -- but it's just an hour in the afternoon during which they go to their rooms and read or play quietly by themselves.  They each have a phone in their closet that can buzz the other one (it doesn't work for anything else; it's just a sister-to-sister intercom Mr. Sandy rigged up because he is the Best Daddy in the Universe), so sometimes they sit in their closets and talk to each other.  The idea is just to get them some quiet down time each day.  Some days they need it more than others.

Yesterday, the Bean was out of sorts by afternoon.  We'd had friends visiting us for several fun-filled days, and they'd left that morning, so she was let down and tired.  She couldn't sleep at nap time, but couldn't leave the Peanut alone either.  I had to go upstairs and scold her for banging on her sister's door.  "Knock it off," I said. "WHY DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT ME AT ALL?" she screamed.  Sigh.  I left that unanswered, except to say we'd talk later -- clearly, nothing was going to come of pursuing it then -- and came back downstairs.  When it was time for her to come down, she presented me with a list:

WHEN YOU LEFT, I FELT

hungry

thirsty

tired (but not sleepy)

bored

mad

angry

wanting to go down stairs

sad

poor

mean

wishing

unhelpful

left out

selfish

cruel

and uncomfortable

and last of all; annoying

ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

We fixed hungry and thirsty right away, and a lot of the other stuff just went away.  We talked about how not being allowed to bang things doesn't mean she isn't cared for, but she knew that -- just needed to scream something, I guess.

I like the negative emotion inventory.  Kind of a mature thing to do, I think.

What to do, what to do?

I asked the girls to make me lists of what they'd like to do this summer.  The Bean is a born list maker; she even color-coded it, until she forgot to. 

[Bean]'s 25 and more Things to do in the Summer

List key:  sentence color = gray, activity color = red

B   1.  Go to the arcade
      2.  Go out for ice cream
E   3.  Have a playdate
     4.  Play outside
     5.  Pack up for our Big Trip
H  6.  Go to a playground
      7.  Eat outside
A   8.  Catch bugs in bugnets
      9.  Play in the sandbox
P   10.  Make strawberry rhubarb ice cream and pie
     11.  Go in the sprinkler
P   12.  Go to the pond
     13.  Play dressup
Y   14.  Pick vegetables
     15.  Go hiking in the woods
!    16.  Go on a scavenger hunt
     17.  Go crazy
     18.  Decorate bycicles
     19.  Ride bycidles
     20.  Be an artist
     21.  Go to the library
     22. Go to the movies
     23.  Camp at the beach
     24.  Go to state park
     25.  Make a Haunted House
     26.  Be wierd
     27.  Be a summerethemist

Peanut doesn't let little things like spelling hold her up. Read hers phonetically.

[Peanut]'s list of this samr ativades

1. spriklr
2. pond
3. ce krem
4. look for ranbows
5. tret from bin [we keep a "treat bin" of all the candy they get here and there]
6. see vokano
7. pik pees
8. eet berries
9. bisikls
10. hav fun!

Oddly, neither of them mentioned doing laundry or mowing the lawn.

Things that are always around when you don't need them but are somehow hard to find when you do

pens or pencils
matches
shallots
Chap stick
nail files
massage therapists
scrap paper
backs of earrings
quarters
gas stations
receipts
sunglasses
offspring
vacuum cleaner bags
little packets of ketchup/mustard/mayo/relish
napkins, in the car
complete thoughts

More Words and Phrases Forbidden for 2009

In the forehead-slapping, how-could-I-forget department:

6. "maverick"
Never again. Unless in "team of mavericks," used in context of faux nostalgia.

7. "Drill, baby, drill."
It was dumb, baby, dumb, and now it can be done, baby, done.

More?

Words and Phrases Forbidden for 2009

I'm going to think of more, but it's not too soon to get started. What words or phrases should we ditch with the year 2008?

(Granted, some of these should've been banned in 2008 or earlier, but have stuck around like Owen Wilson in You, Me and Dupree.)

1. "threw up in my mouth a little"
or any of its revolting equivalents

2. "baby bump"
This has caused me to bring back the phrase "gag me," which was originally and righteously banned sometime in the late 1980s.

3. "[media, Hollywood, anything] elites"
Oh, please.

4. "purity ball"
Let's ban the phrase, the events, the pretext... the whole creepy concept, shall we?

5. "beeyotch," "biaaatch," &c.
Quit it. Just... quit it.

OK, that's my first five. More to come. Add your own!

Ten things I feel like I'm supposed to like, but I just don't.

1. The Counting Crows. I can't stand that guy's voice. Ditto Elton John.
2. Breakfast in bed. Hate it. You can't sit up properly, everything wobbles on the tray, it's just awkward and annoying and gah, don't bother, I'll get up.
3. Scarecrows. Why do people love making scarecrows? I can't wait to get rid of the one in my front yard. I half jump every time I catch it in my peripheral vision. Why yes, I am wound that tightly.
4. I'd say clowns, but I think it's pretty well-established that nobody really likes clowns. Why aren't scarecrows covered by that clause too?
5. Fried clams. I live on Cape Cod, I'm supposed to dig fried clams, but I just don't. Ditto lobster. Lobster is revolting. Would you eat a giant insect? Of course you wouldn't. Same thing.
6. Beer. I used to drink it, but I never loved it.
7. Music recorded live. The concert experience is one thing, but for listening, the sound's better from a studio.
8. Exercise. People are always on about how great it feels. Seriously? Where the HELL are these endorphins I keep hearing about? Where?
9. Opera. I love classical music, but opera still sends me running for the door.
10. Fruit flavored ice cream. Meh.

Your turn.

Animalia

Something possessed us to do a stuffed animal inventory the other day. Now I know why the house feels so crowded.

The girls came up with:

a rhinoceros
an alligator
a stegosaurus
a zebra
a sea lion
a crocodile
a cow
a seagull
a titmouse (heh heh, you said "titmouse")
a goose
a chicken
an ostrich
a wolf
a gorilla
a camel
a caribou
a snake
a mouse
a platypus
a moose
a starfish
a bumble bee
a smiling blood droplet (Yes. A gift from their uncle, who got it for giving blood.)
a kangaroo
a lobster
a giraffe
2 jaguars
2 caterpillars
2 sharks (1 hammerhead, 1 Great White)
2 hippopotami
2 white tigers
2 white seals
2 leopards
2 pandas
2 unidentifiable creatures
3 monkeys
3 polar bears
3 horses
3 lambs
4 cats
4 fish
4 penguins
5 frogs
6 elephants
6 ducks
7 bunnies
12 dogs, and:
17 teddy bears.

I like that the girls have been given so many cool and/or unusual stuffed animals, and relatively few battery-sucking plastic toys. Bean loves all of her critters, but never attached to one in particular. Peanut has gone through several favorites, though she didn't relinquish the others when a new one got the top slot, so she eventually had quite a few companions in her crib. One night she was singing louder than usual after lights out. I poked my head in her room and said "Hey! Time for sleeping!" and she said, all indignant, "it's this one's birthday!" as if I were interrupting honest festivities with some crazy unreasonable request. "Oh," I said, "well, um, keep it down." She cracks me up.

The caribou has actually been around since before we had children. When Mr. S. and I were first dating, he considered a post-doctoral fellowship in Canada. Good grief, I thought at the time. I knew I was going along, if he pursued it. Yet it was still sort of early in the relationship to be declaring such things. Quitting my job and following him to another country might've seemed, if not overeager, at least premature. So I made a big show of talking him out of it. CANADA? I said. Aren't you cold enough here in New England? Move to Canada, you'll be shoveling caribou droppings out of the driveway along with the snow every morning. In fact you'll probably have to get a pet caribou to sleep at the foot of the bed and keep your feet warm at night. You'll have to leave extra time to get to work in case the caribou migration is blocking the road...

...I went on and on. It was caribou everything, for a while. I even looked online for caribou steaks, but I wasn't much of a cook in those days, which is a post for another time. Anyway when I happened across a little stuffed caribou, it was a no-brainer to get it for him, even though I'm not a stuffed animal person really, and even though it was stuffed with potpourri, and I'm not a potpourri person really, either. (I came across it at the cosmetics store in one of those huge Outlet Village places, where they sell off all the leftover promotional items from various makeup lines. There was a whole barrel of potpourri-stuffed caribou, can you imagine? Why those things didn't fly off the Origins shelves at retail, I can't fathom.)

Anyway I put the caribou in Mr. S's driveway and made like it had migrated down here to be with him so he wouldn't have to head North. He didn't go to Canada, and I didn't have to let on that we'd be getting married eventually anyway. The caribou (his name is Virgil) has been stowing away on various trips with us ever since. We had to keep a close eye on him during the elk rut in Rocky Mountain National Park one year, but he's mostly no trouble.

Things That Make Me Cringe Like a Vampire Before a Crucifix

The Sound of Music

The sight of two metal forks with their tines stuck together (Yep, that's odd. Who knows why, but I can't stand it. Plastic forks are no problem, but metal? makes me whimper.)

The department store women who lunge forward to spray perfume at potentially unsuspecting shoppers as we try to walk by.

Kenny G.

That poster of a kitten clinging to a branch, with the caption "Hang In There!" Ditto the one of a puppy in a basket next to a bunch of flowers, captioned "A Hug Would Make My Day."

Those freakishly smiling kids on Barney (I have seen this show a total of: once. It is nightmare fodder.)

The phrase "keep your eyes peeled."

Laura Ingraham's voice (don't know her? Cut some aluminum siding with a band saw in an enclosed space. Same effect, without the tiresome politics.)

Clowns.

Motivational/inspirational posters displayed without irony. I'm always caught off guard when I see this actually happens. Fortunately there is an antidote for this one.

Urges Probably Best Left Unsatisfied

* the one to throw car keys down a storm drain just to hear the "ploop" sound they'd make in the water

* the one to cut off the long skinny braid from the back of a coworker's otherwise relatively normal-looking head (what, he's young Obi-Wan Kenobi now?)

* the one to yank the teenage mall rat's pants down the rest of the way

* the one to throw it in 4WD and bomb straight down the median

* the one to blurt out "oh come OFF it" during the sermon

Hi, my name is Sandy, and I'm a Hypochondriac

A partial list of conditions -- just the ones I can think of at the moment -- that at one time or another I have been convinced or terrified I might have:

acid reflux
angina
anxiety/panic disorder
arthritis
attention deficit disorder
Barrett's esophagus
bipolar disorder
blood clot
brain tumor
cancer: brain, cervical, esophageal, ovarian, skin
chronic depression
chronic fatigue syndrome
colitis
conjunctivitis
deep vein thrombosis
diabetes
glaucoma
heart attack
hypertension
insomnia
irritable bowel syndrome
Lyme disease
metabolic syndrome
multiple sclerosis
Parkinson's Disease
pregnancy
stroke

Of those, I actually have had:
acid reflux
hypertension
pregnancy (No, not currently.)


So does this make me a hypochondriac? It does, doesn't it! Oh, my, God.

It's funny, but it also isn't. There's a low-level background anxiety (disorder? is it? IS IT???) to all this that I wish would just go away. Humor helps. If I have a bad headache, Mr. Sandy might ask if the brain tumor is acting up again, and the out loud ridiculousness of the question dispels any silly subconscious worry. Same when I tell him I can't sleep because the esophageal cancer is keeping me awake. I know I don't have these things. The possibility still pops into my head sometimes. Knowing it ain't so doesn't help.

And some of it isn't silly. Hypertension is in my family, and I got it. Just the cards I was dealt. So on some level I'm waiting for diabetes and glaucoma and colitis to follow, and I'm scared! These conditions do happen to people, and some of them (the conditions, not necessarily the people) are awful.

And there's the whole self-fulfilling prophesy factor to consider. If you dwell on something, mightn't it come true? Huh? HUH? Isn't there a whole school (maybe "school" is putting it kindly) of thought (maybe "thought" is putting it super-kindly) that says you can make yourself seriously ill by thinking like this?

When I'm feeling fine, I'm quite reasonable. Here's what I think: That the simplest explanation is almost always the likeliest; that yes, there are conditions to watch for and do my best to prevent, but that worrying doesn't help.

In the middle of the night, with a new ache or pain -- that's a different story.

Gaaah. I don't want to be such a worrier! It's not really me, y'know?
Unless I DO have anxiety disorder.

I'd better go update my will, or something.

The Department of Redundancy Department

A representative sample, by no means a complete list, of things I say a thousand times a day that make me feel like some sort of crazy mean angry bitch:

No.
I don't understand what you're saying when you use that voice.
Try again.
Use words please.
Use your nice words please.
No.
Please stop that.
Please STOP THAT.
STOP THAT!
Did you wipe?
Where do your underpants go?
What did you forget?
No.
Don't suck, brush.
That means MOVE the brush on your teeth.
Don't talk, eat.
Your sleeve is in your plate.
Your hair is in your plate.
No.
Please drink your milk.
Please take another bite.
Is the light on in your room?
Do I listen to whining?
I can't reach it when I'm driving.
Come out from behind there.
TELL ME WHEN YOU POOP.
No.
Is it OK to hit/yell at/grab things from your sister?
What do you say?
That's enough.
I said, THAT'S ENOUGH.

And, when I finally snap, which I'm not proud of, but it happens: Why do I have to say the same things again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again EVERY SINGLE DAY? WHY?!?
Mommy needs a time out.

Words I Love

nifty
snorkel
peplum
hypotenuse
noodle

Were I Queen of the Universe

Some stuff I would disallow:

billboards;
little planes towing advertisements or personal messages back and forth, back and forth, back and forth;
crackly food wrappers in movie theaters;
excessive packaging;
companies sending monthly bills so far in advance of the due date of the previous bill that it always appears as though there's an amount past due, when there isn't (ATT, are you listening? Of course not.)

More to come... add your own... all with the understanding that oy, everyone should be so lucky to have such serious problems.