Friday, November 28th, 2003 03:52 pm
christmas present angst
Being the Christmas season is upon us, I've been going through my lists of ideas for Christmas gifts for the masses. One mass in particular--Child.
Since the Stupid Living Rocks (hermit crabs) have defied all expectations and survived, and still, I have no idea how, I've been mulling moving Child up the food chain and getting him a higher maintenance pet.
Excerpt from car convo the other day.
Mom: Chameleon
Me: No.
Mom: Why?
Me: Reptile. If I'm going to be chasing it around the living room after escaping, and I *will* be, it's going to be something that doesn't see me standing on top of the table crying for my mommy.
Mom: Turtle?
Me: Reptile with a shell. Table.
Mom: You want to go back to invertebraes?
Me: Let's think mammal.
Mom: Gerbil.
Me: That's a rat. Me on table. No.
Mom: It's not a rat.
Me: It's a small, pretty rat. That doesn't make it any less a rat.
Mom: How about a guinea pig?
Me: Bigger, prettier, smarter rat. No.
Mom: It's not a rat.
Me: It'll get out and organize the mice into rebellion against me and I'll end up besieged on the table. I've read about this. Not happening.
Mom: Uh huh. What are you thinking about?
Me: Iguana.
Mom: Giant reptile?
Me: They're cute.
Mom: What else?
Me: Ferret, maybe.
Mom: Long, slinky rat.
Me: I like rabbits.
Mom: Big, pretty rats with long ears?
Me: The ears make it okay.
I think these are those moments Mom wonders if her real child was taken by gremlins and replaced with me.
But I have reason for my rat-thing.
Many, Many Moons ago, when I was--a lot like I am now, but I hadn't seen The Ring yet, so I was willing ot make tentative forays into dark territory with a flashlight to get a glass of water--there was a Big Thing in the middle of the hall. It was huge, and dark, and it was on the floor. Of course, my first instinct was to assume it was an alien out to dissect me, or an evil animal from Pet Sematary, so like any unhinged young girl, I screamed the house down.
The Thing turned out to be a rat the size of a small dog, dying inconsiderately in the middle of the floor where I could see it. Not God, man, or promises of good anecdotal material later could move me, and no one else in the family could make themselves go anywhere near it. It could still be there to this day, long, long, long earthworm tail and all, except someone managed to find a shovel and get rid of it.
So. Trauma.
(brief real time moment: child is outside in last year's too-small summer shorts, no shirt, no shoes, and his winter coat. I am amusing myself with imagining the neighbors critiquing my parenting skills.)
Dad's tricky, as he likes nothing he doesn't buy himself. I try to stay with pajamas and robes, but even that's kind of a risk. I've been trolling Amazon, looking for the Beatles and the Eagles, since I know that he likes them. Maybe a portable CD player, except I don't think he'd ever use it. Grrr. I almost feel like gift certificating him, but I've managed to avoid that in my Christmases so far.
Mom's easy, sisters are easy, Niece is a snap, and my friends should be relatively easy. Just Dad and Child freaking me out muchly. To make life easier for everyone at home, I asked for plain, drawstring, plaid flannel jammies.
I'll point out I've asked for this for three years and nothing's come of it. This is an adventure.
I bought and fell in love with this one set of pajamas I picked up on sale years ago. Wonderful, soft flannel, blue and white plaid, drawstring, extra large. They *fit*. They fit my legs, my arms, and they were so soft and it was an effort to pry myself out of them. I went weekends melded into them. I wrote an entire series of stories in them. But let's not think about that one.
They've suffered a lot since then. I tore out the entire back, sewed it up by hand, tore it out again, and kept wearing them with tights underneath until they just plain wore out. I've shown them to everyone every year, Christmas and Birthday. These. Get them at Wal-Mart, get them at Versace, I don't *care*. Just like this. And they're a pretty simple design, nothing odd.
So far, nothing. I got some rather dressy grey ones I use when I go places and want to look nice in my pajamas (one word on this one and I'll unfriend you, I swear), some flannel ones that are cream covered with coffee pots and adorable and a size too small (I've never told, I just wear a robe when people see me so they don't guess) and a pair of very vivid green satiny ones that I only wear in a pinch. But the blue plaid (at this point, I'll take any damn plaid, just get the design and size right) have yet to make an appearance. It's like karma. My One True Jammies are lost in the ether. It's rather sad.
I haven't given up hope. This is on my Jenn Didn't Get the Job List. Three hundred dollars in DVDs and one pair of extra large flannel jammies. Oh yeah. I'm an ambitious chick.
Come to think, I should check Amazon out on this score. It's only a month until January. I could totally start at least updating what I want so I can all have it shipped to me at once for wallowing.
This makes me happy. Stupid job. I don't need that job. I'll have jammies and DVDs!
For those who use Amazon regularly--is there anyplace to store the things you want to buy other people? Like a Gifts For Others sort of thing? I keep having to click around during my Beatles search and it's giving me headaches.
Anyway. Carry on. I am going to go catch up on Austria, since I've been a bad, bad patriot and not read very much of anything the LJQaF group has written. Sulking is sooooo boring.
Since the Stupid Living Rocks (hermit crabs) have defied all expectations and survived, and still, I have no idea how, I've been mulling moving Child up the food chain and getting him a higher maintenance pet.
Excerpt from car convo the other day.
Mom: Chameleon
Me: No.
Mom: Why?
Me: Reptile. If I'm going to be chasing it around the living room after escaping, and I *will* be, it's going to be something that doesn't see me standing on top of the table crying for my mommy.
Mom: Turtle?
Me: Reptile with a shell. Table.
Mom: You want to go back to invertebraes?
Me: Let's think mammal.
Mom: Gerbil.
Me: That's a rat. Me on table. No.
Mom: It's not a rat.
Me: It's a small, pretty rat. That doesn't make it any less a rat.
Mom: How about a guinea pig?
Me: Bigger, prettier, smarter rat. No.
Mom: It's not a rat.
Me: It'll get out and organize the mice into rebellion against me and I'll end up besieged on the table. I've read about this. Not happening.
Mom: Uh huh. What are you thinking about?
Me: Iguana.
Mom: Giant reptile?
Me: They're cute.
Mom: What else?
Me: Ferret, maybe.
Mom: Long, slinky rat.
Me: I like rabbits.
Mom: Big, pretty rats with long ears?
Me: The ears make it okay.
I think these are those moments Mom wonders if her real child was taken by gremlins and replaced with me.
But I have reason for my rat-thing.
Many, Many Moons ago, when I was--a lot like I am now, but I hadn't seen The Ring yet, so I was willing ot make tentative forays into dark territory with a flashlight to get a glass of water--there was a Big Thing in the middle of the hall. It was huge, and dark, and it was on the floor. Of course, my first instinct was to assume it was an alien out to dissect me, or an evil animal from Pet Sematary, so like any unhinged young girl, I screamed the house down.
The Thing turned out to be a rat the size of a small dog, dying inconsiderately in the middle of the floor where I could see it. Not God, man, or promises of good anecdotal material later could move me, and no one else in the family could make themselves go anywhere near it. It could still be there to this day, long, long, long earthworm tail and all, except someone managed to find a shovel and get rid of it.
So. Trauma.
(brief real time moment: child is outside in last year's too-small summer shorts, no shirt, no shoes, and his winter coat. I am amusing myself with imagining the neighbors critiquing my parenting skills.)
Dad's tricky, as he likes nothing he doesn't buy himself. I try to stay with pajamas and robes, but even that's kind of a risk. I've been trolling Amazon, looking for the Beatles and the Eagles, since I know that he likes them. Maybe a portable CD player, except I don't think he'd ever use it. Grrr. I almost feel like gift certificating him, but I've managed to avoid that in my Christmases so far.
Mom's easy, sisters are easy, Niece is a snap, and my friends should be relatively easy. Just Dad and Child freaking me out muchly. To make life easier for everyone at home, I asked for plain, drawstring, plaid flannel jammies.
I'll point out I've asked for this for three years and nothing's come of it. This is an adventure.
I bought and fell in love with this one set of pajamas I picked up on sale years ago. Wonderful, soft flannel, blue and white plaid, drawstring, extra large. They *fit*. They fit my legs, my arms, and they were so soft and it was an effort to pry myself out of them. I went weekends melded into them. I wrote an entire series of stories in them. But let's not think about that one.
They've suffered a lot since then. I tore out the entire back, sewed it up by hand, tore it out again, and kept wearing them with tights underneath until they just plain wore out. I've shown them to everyone every year, Christmas and Birthday. These. Get them at Wal-Mart, get them at Versace, I don't *care*. Just like this. And they're a pretty simple design, nothing odd.
So far, nothing. I got some rather dressy grey ones I use when I go places and want to look nice in my pajamas (one word on this one and I'll unfriend you, I swear), some flannel ones that are cream covered with coffee pots and adorable and a size too small (I've never told, I just wear a robe when people see me so they don't guess) and a pair of very vivid green satiny ones that I only wear in a pinch. But the blue plaid (at this point, I'll take any damn plaid, just get the design and size right) have yet to make an appearance. It's like karma. My One True Jammies are lost in the ether. It's rather sad.
I haven't given up hope. This is on my Jenn Didn't Get the Job List. Three hundred dollars in DVDs and one pair of extra large flannel jammies. Oh yeah. I'm an ambitious chick.
Come to think, I should check Amazon out on this score. It's only a month until January. I could totally start at least updating what I want so I can all have it shipped to me at once for wallowing.
This makes me happy. Stupid job. I don't need that job. I'll have jammies and DVDs!
For those who use Amazon regularly--is there anyplace to store the things you want to buy other people? Like a Gifts For Others sort of thing? I keep having to click around during my Beatles search and it's giving me headaches.
Anyway. Carry on. I am going to go catch up on Austria, since I've been a bad, bad patriot and not read very much of anything the LJQaF group has written. Sulking is sooooo boring.
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From:I'm in sympathy with you regarding the pj's - sometimes I feel like the sure way to *not* get something from my family is to ask for it. It's like they're so determined to surprise me that they immediately rule out anything I've specified.
Last time I checked, Amazon wouldn't let you put clothes on your wish list, the jerks. Has that changed? 'Cause I need clothes like nobody's business this year (new baby born in August, you can imagine the state of my wardrobe now).
And the way I inventory things I want to buy people is to put them in my shopping cart, saved for later. But I don't think there's a way to make separate lists for each person or anything.
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From:It's been *nice* weather this weekend. Child still isn't getting over the mostly-naked thing. *sighs*
I'm in sympathy with you regarding the pj's - sometimes I feel like the sure way to *not* get something from my family is to ask for it. It's like they're so determined to surprise me that they immediately rule out anything I've specified.
*nods sadly* Yep. And yep.
Last time I checked, Amazon wouldn't let you put clothes on your wish list, the jerks. Has that changed? 'Cause I need clothes like nobody's business this year (new baby born in August, you can imagine the state of my wardrobe now).
I haven't tried yet. Fuddleduddy. *grr*
And the way I inventory things I want to buy people is to put them in my shopping cart, saved for later. But I don't think there's a way to make separate lists for each person or anything.
I may end up doing what someone later in the thread said and just putting in comments who something is for. That Eagles Greatest Hits thing for my father seems the safest bet yet.
One down. Everyone else but child--snap. At least, I hope.
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From:But rats are ... rats. ;)
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From:I remember the days....
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From:Ferret's are much fun. I've been the proud owner of two - the last one of which I found on the street outside my house. Nobody claimed it, so Trouble became my baby.
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From:God, an opossum....
*giggles* You *found* a ferret? That is *so* cool. I keep thinking I'd like to get one when Child is older and can control himself sufficiently not to tease it like he would a dog.
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From:Rats are also, of all the pet rodents, the most social and least likely to bite. But I'm biased - I've got four.
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From:Heh, I remember--I think it was you--doing an entry a while back on the care of pet rats and having time to pay sufficient attention to them. It was odd, because it was about a week later I went to a pet store and they were having a sale on rats of different sizes.
My LJ and RL cross over way too much sometimes. *G*
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From:I have no idea what to do this Christmas!
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From:*worries*
Powertools. Maybe a table saw....
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From:Man, *thinking* about it scares me. That's so very sad.
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From:I cannot make myself buy him John Saul. Just. No.
And where's your icon from?
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From:Isn't that Buffy and Dawn, from their mother's funeral?
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From:*makes note to go to Wal-Mart soon*
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From:here (http://www.childcraft.com/cc/itemdy01.asp?UID=2003112612160894&LinkKeyWord=science&CODIV=0101&T1=430908&UREQA=N&UREQB=7) and here (http://www.ehobbies.com/ehobbies-com/sk-uml-0946.html?AID=5809551&PID=177778&SID=107007570268461873) look pretty good for a six year old. He might like the shiny silver one more, since it looks more grown up.
I got it from a large list here (http://bizrate.lycos.com/buy/products__rf--wgg,keyword--Microscope,cat_id--14011000,start--0.html).
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From:Dont' ask. Just know, I have learned that Child is *jumpy* at night.
Hmm. A microscope. He needs more science related toys.
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From:Make a gay alien teenage farmboy happy. Avoid the microscopes with dissection kits. Methylene blue is bad for carpet. Although, according to various fraternity sources, it makes your pee blue. Um. Don't tell child that. They did that back before anyone knew better. Methylene blue is bad to eat. Very bad. I'll stop now.
Perhaps child would like some glow in the dark planets or stars? To keep the vampires away?
-Silverkyst
There's some stuff here:
http://www.discoverthis.com/age4up.html
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From:-Silverkyst
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From:*grins*
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From:I still think, on some level, that his escape *can* be tied to the rash of curiously organized mouse raids on the pantry, but I can't prove it.
Not *yet* anyway.
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From:However, as pets, they're my favorite rodents. Less smelly than rats, mice and hampsters, and much less inclined to bite than hampsters. The best ones are ones that have been handled from birth. Heh. When we used to have a breeding pair, we'd play with the babies from teh moment they got fur. Those were bomb-proof rodents.
Oh, and in response to someone elses comment, there *is* a new Stephen King out in the last few weeks - Wolves of the Calla, the new DArk Tower book. Should be like 30% off practically everywhere.
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From:Mice I would recommend. They're fun. You could go to the pet store and look at them. They're kind of fun to hold, like little warm balls of delicate, soft fur. They're not too hard to take care of either.
Rabbits are a little more skittish than mice. They also bite more, in my experience. They make good indoor/outdoor pets if
a. you can catch them to bring them indoors.
b. There isn't anything in your backyard that would eat them
-Silverkyst
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From:I do want to get him a dog, but I'm just not sure if he's ready for that much responsibility, and I do want it to be *his* only. Boy to man, growing up, responsibility, blah blah blah. I'm all about the parental catchwords these days. It won't last. I'll start feeding him pudding and cookies before school while running out the door *any* day now.
*g*
Rabbits are a little more skittish than mice. They also bite more, in my experience. They make good indoor/outdoor pets if
a. you can catch them to bring them indoors.
b. There isn't anything in your backyard that would eat them
Well. It *is* winter, so I suppose the rattlesnakes are sleeping. NOt that we see them often. And I personally, haven't touched foot in that backyard in a *long* time.
*shivers*
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From:Regarding the Amazon wishlist, I'd probably wind up saving it to my own wishlist and on the notes/comments line say, "This is for [whomever]" -- though that only works for folks you know won't be looking at your Amazon wishlist so the surprise won't be ruined.
Sucks about your family being contrary -- mine is pretty good about asking what you want and then buying it for you (Mom got my sister and I in the habit of making itemized lists with the things we especially wanted indicated), though sometimes there were problems with them trying to be creative. My mother gave me houseshoes of various designs three Xmases in a row until I finally got her to understand that I don't go around barefoot because I don't have any slippers, I go around barefoot because I hate wearing shoes. And it took years to train Grandma out of trying to pick gifts for us because her taste is atrocious (one of those people who buys what she thinks you should have, not what you actually want) -- Mom used to oversee the gifts she got us and veto the worst ones when we were little, but eventually we got her to either have us circle something in a catalog or else just give out money...
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From:Heh. No one sees my wishlist except me. I'm not sure my family even knows they exist. *g*
My mother gave me houseshoes of various designs three Xmases in a row until I finally got her to understand that I don't go around barefoot because I don't have any slippers,
Yes and yes. My grandmother does that. I have yet to convince anyone that there's a connection between my preferences and the fact that I only wear shoes when I'm leaving the house.
Heh. I like the way your Mom thinks. *grins*
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From:I started to e-mail Mom my wishlist address, and then took another look and was forcibly reminded that the list is half "things I want when I have the cash to spare" and half "things I might decide I want later on, and want to remember to ponder." So I told her to ignore the wishlist and just get me the Neverwhere DVD.
Heh. I like the way your Mom thinks. *grins*
What, regarding the repeated unwanted gifts of houseshoes, or regarding the way she made sure Grandma didn't make any hideous gift decisions -- rather memorably the year that Cabbage Patch Kids were the "in" thing. I loathed them and didn't want one, Grandma stood in line for hours to get me one, and Mom insisted that Grandma at the very least exchange the boy doll she'd gotten me for a little girl. Meanwhile, my sister, who was dying to get one, pouted when I unwrapped one that Xmas Eve and she didn't get one till her birthday (or was it the next Xmas that she finally got hers?). And of course, as it turned out, I kept Callie Felicity for years and years...
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From:He had some kind of snake, but since I never went close enough to see, I have no idea what kind.
Interstingly, the snake that I got along with best was this--I don't know, very big, eats large mice? Not a boa, I remember asking and the owner saying no. It used to *watch* me, or at least, it felt like it, every time I went in the house. I'd stare at it doing that ripply moving thing forever--very soothing.
From the other side of the room, of course.
*g*
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From:this comment, however, is because i have been healed from the above sorrow with the best belly laugh i've had in AGES. this was so hilarious i nearly DIED! the reasoning on rats and reptiles is wonderfully illogical and i love you for it!
thanks for brightening my day immeasurably.
*back to reading more Child posts*
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