Nervous Girl

The School Book Fair: The Rules

1. We are here to buy books.

2. Number one would seem obvious, but what it means is: we will not be buying that $13 electronic pen that sends messages to that *other* $13 dollar electronic pen within a ten foot range. If I want to spend $26 for you and your sibling to communicate with each other when you're in the same room, I will buy you 1300 pencils. And a pad of paper.

3. Similarly, I will not be buying you that plastic pointer with the creepy little gloved hand on top, the little plastic purse trimmed in marabou feathers, or the plastic bobblehead Chihuahua. In fact, if it's made of plastic, it's almost certainly not a book, and see Rule #1 above.

4. While we're at it, no books with props. No books that come with stickers, markers, stuffed animals, charms or other jewelry. And absolutely no books with electronic sound effects. If it requires bells and whistles beyond good writing and nicely-drawn illustrations, it's probably not worth reading.

5. Also: No books that are based on TV shows, movies, trading cards, toys or computer games. I realize that you are young and may not realize whether a character in a book predates a character in a movie, so let me spell it out for you: Charlotte's Web, Curious George, and Arthur can come home with us. Hannah Montana, High School Musical, and Pokemon cannot.

6. Last but not least, a guiding principle: Titles in great literature almost never contain the word "fart."

Mother's Day: The Rules

1. I do not require the purchase of a gift to celebrate this holiday.
2. Mother's Day cards by Crayola are preferable to those by Hallmark. If you're just itching to spend five bucks, bring me a giant latte instead.
3. If you feel compelled to purchase me a gift, please do not make the mistake of thinking gift cards are impersonal. Gift cards don't say, "I'm not creative or caring enough to choose a gift for you." They fairly sing, "Take a few hours and choose something for yourself with your impeccable taste. I'll watch the kids."
4. If that still seems wrong, and you need to buy an actual gift, in the name of all that is holy, please don't buy anything else with "silk" flowers that are larger than my  head. Remember last year? 'Kay.
5. Also: Every year you ask me what I want for Mother's Day, and every year I say a rope hammock and stand. It's okay if you're not going to get it, but then stop asking.
6. Speaking of gifts, and I know this doesn't relate to Mother's Day directly, but what the hell is this "push present" trend that's apparently gaining traction? Know what we got back at the dawn of the millennium for giving birth? A baby. If you need a bracelet from Tiffany as incentive, you are going to be very, very disappointed with parenthood.
7. What I really want for Mother's Day is to not have to be the effing cruise director. I don't care if all we do is go to Burger King for a Croissanwich, I don't want to be the one to have to arrange it, approve it, or make sure we've packed crayons and hand sanitizer and Kleenex and EpiPens.
8. I'm warning you in advance, if anyone says it's no fair that there is a Mother's Day and not a Kid's Day, my head is going to explode, and I am not cleaning it up. Know what they call a day when kids get their food purchased, prepared to order and served, their clothes washed, pressed and put away, and their home cleaned while they put up their feet and watch a little Spongebob? Every day. Spot the old lady 24 hours, willya?
9. When you tell me not to worry about the cooking, cleaning, laundry, or dishes, I want the implication to be "because your loving husband and kids will take care of all that today," not, "because it will still be there tomorrow."
10. Why is it that on Father's Day, when Dad's been at work away from his family all week, the watchword is, "Leave Daddy alone, he's relaxing," but the assumption on Mother's Day, when Mom's been taking care of the kids all week, that Mommy couldn't bear to spend a minute away from her little darlings? It's not like I want to roadtrip to Vegas by myself or anything, but I wouldn't mind a peaceful half-hour in my rope hammock to savor those hand-drawn cards. Just saying.

New Year's 2008: The Rules

1. Don't take it so personally. Whatever it was, it almost certainly wasn't done with the intention to piss you off, so let it go already.
2. Whining is unhelpful in all situations. So is panicking. Plus, they irritate me. Although I'm sure you're not doing it on purpose to piss me off. Still: no whining, no panicking. 'Kay?
3. Wishbones are for turkeys. Get a backbone. Use it.
4. It's more important to be kind than it is to be right.
5. Don't confuse being kind with being a chump. Even Jesus let people have it when they were being jerks. There's a reason they call it "righteous" indignation.
6. Unless you're God, no smiting. (If you're not sure if you're God, check your driver's license. If it says "God," "Yahweh," or "Allah," smite away.)
7. Speaking of God, phone home every once in a while and say thanks. Try to think of five things every day that you're thankful for. Write them down. If you can't think of five, you're a whiner. See Rule #2.
8. Make good choices. I know you won't always be able to tell what the right choice is, but if you stuff your gullet every night with Chee-tos and then whine every day in my ear about how fat you are, you'd better hope I remember to follow Rule #6.
9. Speaking of good choices, vote. But learn something meaningful about the candidates first. If you vote for Huckabee because you think he's principled and intelligent, I respect that. If you vote for him because he plays the guitar and has a cute last name, I will abolish Rule #6.