Daily Archives: June 21, 2011

Words to Live By

As a parent it sometimes seems as if there simply aren’t enough words at my disposal. Not enough to adequately address all that encompasses raising wily children anyway. And it is during the months of June, July and August that I feel most compelled to append Merriam-Webster’s somewhat meager offerings. Summertime, after all, is a language unto itself—a season bursting forth with events that beg to be defined. Translation: I need some new and exciting terms to describe life beneath this circus tent—nomenclature that has yet to earn a place in the annals of dictionaries and whatnot.

Toward that end, here are some less-than-official but oh-so-fitting words I crafted some time ago in the spirit of depicting parenthood more thoroughly. Be sure to visit me on Facebook (www.facebook.com/NotesfromPlanetMom, click on Discussions) to share some of the words and/or phrases you’ve coined in the trenches of Parentville.

Crocophobia [krok-o-FO-bee-ya] noun: An irrational and slightly debilitating fear of permitting one’s offspring to wear Crocs pretty much anywhere on the planet. Naturally, all-that-is-entirely-horrible (specifically pertaining to the health and well being of the wily beasts who beg to wear them) can and will happen as a direct result of donning said footwear.

“Alright already. It’s true that I suffer from Crocophobia, but mark my words: You’ll fall down on the playground and knock your teeth out if you wear those stupid things!”

Note: Not to be confused with Crocomania: a disturbingly euphoric state associated with the sheer joy of wearing Crocs.

Sunscream [SON-skreem] noun: What children view as the incarnation of wickedness (i.e. schmutzy cream, lotion or spray designed to protect one’s skin from harmful UVA/UVB rays, but suggestive of unadulterated evil)—which in all likelihood will cause one to scream unmercifully when properly applied.

“Mom, don’t you know this is PURE TORTURE?! I HATE sunscream and I HATE how it tastes! Do you want me to eat it and DIE?!”

S’moreapaloosa [SMORE-a-pa-LOO-za] noun: The celebrated and seemingly endless event during which voluminous quantities of S’mores are shamelessly consumed by one and all. Typically, an assembly line type of arrangement is utilized in order to facilitate the mass production of said fare and a second or third source of income is strongly recommended to fund the project for an entire season.

Note: S’mores (the indescribably delicious summertime snack which is thought to have originated with the Girl Scouts in 1927) consists of melted chocolate and toasted marshmallows sandwiched between two graham cracker squares. You know you want one—or several hundred.

“We’re having a big cookout and then later tonight, it’s S’moreapaloosa time by the campfire! Wanna come?!”

Kidskrieg [KIDZ-kreeg] noun: The swift and sudden onslaught of frenzied children (i.e. a veritable torrent of smallish bodies) eager to examine and appraise the digital snapshot Mom or Dad may have just taken of them. Perish the thought of enlisting the support and cooperation of all parties concerned as it relates to posing for another pretty picture. The aforementioned children will be far too preoccupied with the mauling-of-Mom-or-Dad and, of course, pawing at the cussed camera—the one with the fancy-schmancy preview thingy that spawned such delirium in the first place.

“Dear God, here comes the kidskrieg!”

Brusterized [BREW-stir-ized] transitive verb: A profoundly incapacitating state of mind in which an individual or group yields to the irresistible allure of Bruster’s ice cream. Such an indulgence typically occurs while en route to the next 47 things on any given day’s calendar, often stemming from having little or no meal-planning ability, considerable confusion regarding the food pyramid and/or the desperate need to quell any and all child-related disturbances in the back seat.

“Hey Dad, we got Brusterized on the way home from swimming lessons and Mom said that counts as a real meal.”

Conflatulation [con-FLA-chu-LAY-shun] interjection: An expression of acknowledgment and/or sincere praise for having performed the most impressive (read: the loudest, longest, or smelliest) stinker in the land. Said expression is employed almost entirely by children in their everyday speech patterns and, customarily, is used in the plural.

Conflatulations! Your fart was AMAZING!!”

Grassathon [GRASS-a-thon] noun: A brutally interminable, thick-of-summer type of event in which children of all ages risk life and limb while sliding down steep, grassy slopes upon various sled and sled-like devices. Swim goggles and mosquito repellant are optional. Grass stains, assorted injuries and rashes are not.

Note: Lawns are irreparably damaged during the abovementioned event.

“Hey guys! We’re having a Grassathon in my front yard ALL DAY! Bring your sleds!”

Planet Mom: It’s where I live (quickly becoming fluent in the language of summer). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesfromPlanetMom.

Copyright 2011 Melinda L. Wentzel



Filed under Kid-Speak, The Natives are Decidedly Restless