SUPERXmas! Day 3: Sleep, actually.

Last night's original plan for SUPERXmas!



(TM.)

was to do a social story to get Mr Bunches and Mr F ready for seeing Santa later this week -- the twins have never visited Santa, although we tried once. I'm not even sure they really know who Santa is, although they have some idea because Mr Bunches once spent nearly a month watching the Spongebob Christmas episode over and over, and you can't watch Squidward make fun of Spongebob believing in Santa over 300 times without learning a little something, so who says TV isn't educational?

But that plan got derailed when Mr F got what looked to be Mr Bunches' dose of pink-eye, so I had to scrap plan A and go to Plan B, which was to take Mr F and Mr Bunches to the after-hours clinic so that Mr F could be examined to see if he really did have pink eye; both Sweetie and I were sure that he did, because, while we are not medical doctors, we are able to observe certain telltale clues such as these:

(a) his eye was really pink.

The doctor, though, wasn't so sure, although to be fair it might be hard to diagnose pink eye when the child you're trying to examine doesn't want to be examined and so is being held tightly in the lap of his dad while you try to examine him, but to be fair-er, that doctor could really have tried a little harder to be a little nicer: forewarned that Mr F is autistic and doesn't care for doctors, she treated him more or less like a piece of meat, ordering me to hold him on my lap and then manhandling poor Mr F into letting her look in his ears and his eyes and his chest before pronouncing that he maybe had pink eye.

Seriously: she didn't even try to be nice. I've seen calf-roping events that treated the calf nicer than she treated Mr F. Also, I haven't really seen calf-roping events, but I get the gist of them.

Anyway, Mr F doesn't quite have pink eye. He provisionally has pink-eye. He has pre-pink eye and so we have a prescription, ready to go, if he gets pink eye, which we will know (I was told, brusquely) because he'll get gunk in his eyes.

She used the word gunk.

So after that, I had to get some bread and cheese, about which more later, and drop those off at the office. And then I had to get the boys back home, where Sweetie awaited us, and where I finally, at 9:30 at night, got to do something SUPERXmas-y, and that SUPERXmas-y thing was:

Watch "Love, Actually."

That was one of the two Christmas movies we had DVRd, ready to go, the other being "Snow 2: Brain Freeze," which is described this way:

Santa is in a rush to get things right for the big day, but an accident with a magic mirror leaves him with amnesia and unable to remember who he is. It befalls his wife to put things right in time for Christmas, but a jealous rival sees a chance to exploit the situation to his advantage.

How could you not want to watch that? Even with the risk that you'll be a little lost because you didn't see "Snow 1", which actually was just called "Snow."

But I gave Sweetie the choice, and I watched "Love, Actually," which is a great movie, after all, and which I really like, and which left me with these burning questions:

1. Did Snape actually cheat on his wife? Sweetie says no. I'm not so sure, but I like to think he didn't because otherwise: sad.

2. Karl wasn't such a great guy, was he? I mean, Laura Linney explained to him about her brother and he's all just "Don't take his call?" So she wasted "two years, seven months, three days and, I suppose, an hour and thirty minutes," plus the time between that speech and the night she found out Karl was a jerk. And that scene where she gave him the scarf made me cry a little. I'm not afraid to admit it.

3. This isn't really a question, but it needs to be said: This being a basic-cable, ABC-Family version of Love, Actually, they cut out, entirely, the storyline about the porn-actor stand-ins, which I always thought was actually a pretty good story.

4. Was Mr Bean actually planning on flying? Or was he some kind of magical character intervening to give Qui-Gon's kid a good ending? And did anyone but me catch it the one time the kid actually called Qui-Gon "Dad?" I'm pretty sure he called him Dad.

Anyway: Mission Accomplished! And we'll keep you posted on the Holiday Pink-Eye plague. And also, I was up until midnight watching the movie and then got up at 5 today, so I'm SUPERTired.

*******************************************

The "Say Merry Christmas to Mateo and McHale Shaw Giveaway".

Here are Mateo and McHale Shaw:



They were born conjoined and have defied all odds and have gone on surviving and thriving through dozens of surgeries. Their parents, Ryan and Angie Shaw, not only are raising these two boys (and their little brother Maddux) but are great people in their own right.

I'm trying to get everyone who reads one of these SUPERXmas posts to go to the Shaws' website and wish McHale and Mateo a Merry Christmas, and to urge you on, I'm going to give away a a $20 Amazon Gift Card.

Here's the rules:

1. Visit Mateo and McHale Shaw's Caring Bridge site; you can get to it here. You'll have to sign in, but that's not so hard, right?

2. Leave them a comment in the guest book wishing them "Merry Christmas," (or happy holidays, or whatever nice greeting you want.)

3. Post on your blog a link to that site and tell people why you did it.

4. Leave a comment on this blog and tell me where to find your link.

Once I get that comment here and verify your link, I'll put your name in a drawing and on December 26, the winner will get named and will have a little post-Christmas reward to look forward to.


Day One is here.

Day Two is here.

SUPERXmas! Day 2: Today, I dream big, and am then charitable.

As promised, I sat down last night to make a Christmas list with Sweetie, a part of our effort to this year ramp up our Holiday Cheer and turn it into





(TM).

Before we could actually begin the Christmas Listing, though, there were delicate negotiations to go through. They went like this:

Sweetie: I'm not going to do it if you're just going to post on your blog what my Christmas list is.

Me: Why not?

Sweetie: Because.

Me: You know, I've considered doing a post I call "The Invisible Sweetie," to explain why you seem to be absent from things when you are not.

Sweetie held fast to her refusal to exchange Christmas lists unless I promised not to post her list, and I finally caved in, but I (secretly) held out for the right to eat the last of the leftover homemade Chex mix from Thanksgiving.

We had to wait until after the Babies! went to bed, and even then, things were not so smooth, as I had planned on making the lists downstairs at our kitchen table while Christmas music played in the background, but Sweetie thought we should do them upstairs in our bedroom, where there is no Christmas music at all, and also things did not go that smoothly because Mr Bunches and Mr F were watching "Cars 2" in their bedroom while they fell asleep, and by that I mean "Mr F was in the closet trying to go to sleep" because that's where he sleeps these days, and I also mean "Mr Bunches was repeatedly getting scared by Cars 2 and calling me in there."

The movie "Cars 2" scares Mr Bunches. We don't know why. He refused, at first, to watch it. Then he'd watch it, but only through his fingers or sitting in the hallway outside of his room. Last night, he asked me to put it in their DVD player so they could watch it while they fall asleep (it plays all night, actually) and I agreed, thinking he now liked the movie, but three times he called me in there to tuck him in again, because he got so scared he left his bed.

Finally, he settled down, but only after he got his Lightning McQueen and Mater cars from downstairs and took them to bed with him, probably as some sort of protective totem. Also, Sweetie tucked him in.

Then we sat down to create our Christmas lists. The rules were: You have to name 21 items.

"Why 21?" Sweetie asked.

"Because it's a good, high number that'll force you to put down a lot of stuff instead of just "sweaters," I said.

We didn't worry about price -- we both know we're not getting all of the things on our list -- because the idea was just to dream.

Remember when you were a kid, and you'd make out your Christmas list? We'd do that every year, waiting for the Sears and JCPenney catalogs to arrive so that we could look through them and decide what toys and games we wanted, circling them in the catalog and writing them on a list to give to our parents -- first, to give to Santa when we were littler, and then to our parents once we knew.

I believed in Santa until I was really too old to have still been believing in Santa -- I was about 10, if not a little older -- because I loved that part of Christmas, the part where you can get anything you want, just by saying you want it.

I know that's not the "True Meaning Of Christmas" or any of that garbage, but it's part of the wonder of Christmas, for kids: the idea that anything is possible, that simply wishing for something can make it happen.

As we get older, we lose that. As we get older, we stop thinking of what we want or would like and we start thinking about what we need -- I traditionally, now, ask for things like "work pants" and "sweaters," because I don't like clothes' shopping and prefer people give me those things as gifts. But a couple weeks ago, when I told Middle Daughter that's what I wanted, she said it was boring, and I thought: It IS boring.

It is. It's really boring, and why should Christmas be boring? Answer: It shouldn't.

So we decided to list 21 things we wanted, because that gets you outside of "ties" and "gloves" and makes you think of things you really want.

Which is harder than it looks, at least for me: I had to keep going and checking, online, the names of things I wanted, while Sweetie's list was done in no time.

Here is what I am allowed to show you of Sweetie's list:





We were using little post-it list-y notes, and that is Sweetie's actual Christmas list... turned over because you don't have the proper security clearances.

Here, then, is my list, which took me about 15 minutes to complete:



You'll see it was tough to come up with 21 different things I wanted -- Kindle Fire is on there twice, something Sweetie pointed out after I was finished and we'd traded lists.

And part of what took me so long was that I had to have the required level of specificity for some items, because I've learned in the past that I do not necessarily share the same tastes as Sweetie and the kids, especially when it comes to blue jeans: they get me trendy jeans with big wide cuffs that are too long and which I hate, whereas I prefer my jeans to be more 80s-style. And the sweater one is especially important. There are about 33 zillion kinds of sweaters out there, but I only like one particular kind of sweater, really, and it's okay to be picky when you're dreaming.

Sweetie and I have not yet finalized our Christmas shopping plans. Usually we set a budget for each other and decide how much we'll spend before I take the boys out and get her gifts, and she goes and gets mine. So for now, every single one of those items might be under the tree when I wake up on Christmas morning, and that is fun to think about.

And now, I would like to get serious for a moment: I have a rule: For every dollar I spend on something frivolous or unnecessary, I spend a dollar on some charity or worthy cause. And, having now set out 21 things that I, with my really-very-good-life still find myself wanting, I have decided that I will also get a present for some person out there in Internet world.

Usually I go get a gift from one of those Giving Trees or the like at the Mall, but this year, as I did my list, I remembered Mateo and McHale Shaw:



who for a long time were the focus of my charitable efforts. The Shaw twins, longtime readers will remember, were born conjoined and separated; given a very grim prognosis, they've made it through dozens of surgeries to thrive and recently started school; they're a little older than Mr F and Mr Bunches.

Their parents, Ryan and Angie Shaw, not only are raising those two boys (and their little brother Maddux) but also helped fundraise to build a handicapped-accessible playground near their house, which, frankly, makes me ashamed everytime I collapse into a chair at 8:30 and think how tired I am.

So I decided that this year, I'm going to get Mateo and McHale, and Maddux, each a Christmas present, and I've gone to their website at Caring Bridge to drop Ryan and Angie a note and ask them what the boys would want.

It'd be great if everyone who reads this stopped by, as well, just to tell them hello, and then mentioned and linked to their site on their own blog. You don't have to get them anything (although a donation or present would be great-er) but just go log in, tell them you said "Merry Christmas" and then put a link on your own website to ask your readers to do that, too.

And to help spur you on, if you do that, and leave me a comment showing me where you've linked to the Shaw's site, I will enter your name in a drawing for a $20 Amazon Gift Card. I'm going to make this offer every day between now and Christmas, so here's the rules:

1. Visit Mateo and McHale Shaw's Caring Bridge site; you can get to it here. You'll have to sign in, but that's not so hard, right?

2. Leave them a comment in the guest book wishing them "Merry Christmas," (or happy holidays, or whatever nice greeting you want.)

3. Post on your blog a link to that site and tell people why you did it.

4. Leave a comment on this blog and tell me where to find your link.

I'll draw the name on December 26, so you'll have a little post-Christmas reward to look forward to.

And that was DAY TWO of SUPERXmas!

Day One is here.

It's a trap! (I Get Paid For Doing This.)

When I got to work this morning and went into our kitchen -- because every good law office has a fully-functional kitchen -- to get a cup of the god-awful-but-it's-the-only-coffee-available-so-I-drink-it-anyway coffee, I saw this:



That is a cup of pre-poured coffee, labeled "Extra cup."

I'm no sucker. I left it there.