I volunteered to watch a scary movie with my husband the other night. I hate scary movies. I haven’t cared for them since seeing Amityville Horror at the tender age of EIGHT (thanks, Aunt Connie). I can’t even watch 48 hours when I’m in the house alone.

But, my husband said if I’d watch Jeepers Creepers with him we would turn the lights out and there would be snuggling and air-popped popcorn, so I had that going for me. If there had been Raisinets, I would have submitted to a double-feature. He likes me because I’m easy.

So we settled in and went in search of Jeepers Creepers, which we couldn’t find even though both of us had seen it listed on HBO, or Netflix, or somewhere. This left us with surprisingly few options given we were just days away from Halloween. Get your act together, cable. What good are you if you can’t make a women pee her pants with fear?

After scrolling through the selections, we stumbled across Children of the Corn. I had never seen it, so it seemed a good choice. You can’t go wrong with Stephen King, right? Wrong.

The acting! The music! The special effects! The 80s!

I could make a better movie with my iPhone and my dogs playing the lead roles. I mean, honestly, it didn’t even turn me off of running between rows of corn, which I’m pretty sure will never happen, but if it were to happen I should be terrified, which I wouldn’t be. So, if you see me running between rows of corn, you’ll know why I’m not scared.

Now I feel like I need to watch more horror movies, because maybe they aren’t scary at all and I’ve been missing the chance to have a good laugh. Next up: Leprechaun in the Hood.

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My husband really wants my daughter to watch Halloween. You remember it, right? Jamie Lee Curtis stars as the babysitting teen, chased and tormented by Michael Myers; not the one of Shrek fame, but rather the escaped psychiatric inmate and slasher. I hate that movie. I hate scary movies in general, but my daughter is at that tender age where her parents need to show her that it’s never okay to answer the door when she’s home alone and that she can never, ever trust a landline. Life lessons, we haz ’em.

Thankfully, we’ve decided to scare her with something a little more tame and less likely to occur in real life, which is “LOST”, also known as, “My favorite show, EVER.” Okay, the plane crash could happen, but the chance of landing in paradise with ample fresh water and tubs of Dharma Initiative ranch dressing is not usually the end result. Also, smoke monsters.

In addition to sharing the experience with my daughter, the beauty of rewatching “LOST” is that my husband and I are catching all kinds of stuff that we never noticed the first time around. There are subtle, and not-so-subtle, clues of what’s to come. Our daughter not knowing what’s going to happen is just plain fun for us. We rub our hands together and evil laugh, nod, raise our eyebrows and say, “Hmmm…I wonder what THAT means?” a lot. Then our daughter rolls her eyes.

Of course, getting her to sit down to watch “LOST” means that we’ve pulled her away from “Dr. Who”, “Sherlock” or “Merlin”, which are also good for this spooky season (and all available for streaming on Netflix). They’re not too scary, but they are suspenseful and they make me feel intelligent on account of all the British.

It’s fun to have my daughter at a point in her life where we can introduce her to shows we enjoy. It may not be a traditional milestone, but you can be sure we’re making memories. Anyway, we aren’t a traditional family because when she eventually watches Halloween, I bet my husband will be really proud.

I am part of the Netflix Stream Team. Check back here, monthly, to see what I’m watching.

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This post was inspired by Netflix. Come see what we’re watching.

My kids, both born premature, started their life journeys by consistently missing milestones. Crawling, walking, talking (though, I can attest they have both caught up markedly in that regard), running, jumping – pretty much every chart in their baby books was left untouched until months after a child would typically have it filled.

Needless to say, these breakthroughs have been a huge deal around here. A daughter who didn’t crawl until her first birthday or a son who didn’t speak until he was nearly four years old was cause for long-awaited celebration. They weren’t (and in some cases, still aren’t) just milestones; they are rather enormous landmarks. I’ve been tempted to erect monuments.

Now that they’re 12 and 15, the milestones are less about their existence and more about fun. For instance, my son was recently able to join us on the 93 mph Millennium Force roller coaster at Cedar Point. His next goal is to be tall enough to ride Top Thrill Dragster which goes 120 mph and launches you 420 feet in the air. Don’t judge me because I verified with his cardiologist, TWICE, that it was okay for him to ride them. They are  intense, but we love them and when he was finally 48″ at age 12, he loved some of the big coasters too.

With Halloween on the horizon, we’ve started enjoying the experience of watching scary movies with our daughter. Poltergeist didn’t faze her. Probably because she only knows Craig T. Nelson from “Parenthood” and she doesn’t have any concept of The National Anthem playing on the television at 1:30am, then going static for the  night. *shudder* The TV always had to be turned off before the static started! Always!

Of course, the milestone I’m most looking forward to is when my daughter will do the dishes without being told, or when my son learns to keep the shower curtain liner inside the bathtub. Those moments will be GREAT! Some I’m less than thrilled about, like my daughter going off to college. Gulp. That one is going to be rough. Like sandpaper on a rug-burn rough.

One thing is for certain, these are the things that make memories. You don’t remember the fifth time your kid rode a bike, but you’ll never forget the first.

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Do you ever think about the things that make you truly happy? If you don’t, you should. When you’re searching for peace, you think of them a lot. Trust me, I know.

I’ll give Maria raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, but she loses me at bright copper kettles. I mean, you’d REALLY have to love tea. I like tea, but I don’t care how the water gets boiled. Plus, I think you have to polish copper and I hate chores.

So, what does make me happy – or, rather, peaceful? In no particular order:

1. Sunshine.

2. My husband touching my face or hair. The touch of a cheek or gently holding the nape of a neck is intimate and lovely.

3. A clear, starry sky. For making wishes.

4. Intense, exhausting workouts. I don’t look happy while I’m doing them and I complain A LOT, but pulling a rope with a 400 lb. tire attached to the other end makes me feel strong, powerful and confident even though my face is purple and I’m dripping with sweat.

5. Watching my kids try anything. A new food, a new experience, a new activity; seeing them attempt something makes them achievers in my eyes, even if they fail.

6. Cold beer. Duh.

7. The beach. Sand between my toes, the sound of the waves, and saltwater making my hair look pretty without any effort – I’ll take that ALL DAY LONG. Combined with #1, #5 and #6? Heaven.

8. A clean house. I never get this one. Never.

9. A good movie. Throw in Milk Duds and it’s even better.

10. Puppies, good friends, flowers, board games, slow-dancing, campfires, music, and snuggling. Not all at once, but I didn’t want this list to get too long.

While things have seemed kind of bleak lately, I’m finding it helpful to come back to this list to seek out, and give myself, the things I can. Thankfully, that hasn’t resulted in too many Milk Duds, but don’t even come near me without expecting a snuggle.

What would your list look like? What are your favorite things?

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