New thing: Hey, uh, lollipops and unicorns to everyone who welcomed my debut on Alpha Mom so warmly yesterday. I was hoping for a modest showing and apparently there are a lot more marching band devotees out there than I realized. (As in, the word “viral” was used and I had a giddy moment of amazement.) It was a lovely, lovely way to start off a new gig, although I am kind of having palpitations over what I can write about next week that won’t seem like a letdown, in comparison. Maybe I’ll have to attend the Incendiary School Of Post Writing so favored by a number of outlets and follow up the whole “Yay, marching band” post with something along the lines of “I let my teens smoke dope at the kitchen table, where I can supervise their tweaking” just to spark some conversation.
(Kidding, of course! I loathe smoking. I told them they would have to stick to heroin, but you know how Chickie feels about needles, so I dunno. We’re at an impasse.)
Old thing: Years of gardening and I am totally an old hand at the basics, now. Yep. I mean, I saw that some fire ants had invaded one of my boxes, and cool as a cucumber, I was out there with the diatomaceous earth to take care of them. I was not so cool or cucumber-like when I stepped too close and ended up with a Croc (shut up, I only wear them to garden) full of bitey ants. And yes, this happens to me at least once a season. Um. Yay for getting it out of the way early, this year? Also: OUCH.
New thing: I’ve been growing my hair out for just about a year, now, ever since I cut it all off to circumvent the whole two-tone thing upon giving up hair dye. (I still have hilarious, fond memories of writing about “thinking it’s time to embrace the gray” and having an anonymous commenter get all worked up about how I would look SO OLD and that was NOT FAIR TO MY HUSBAND and how dare I GIVE UP like that, he deserved MORE. Periodically I will turn to Otto and apologize for being such a lazy old hag. Somehow I have managed to drag myself through life and work despite the enormous handicap of… allowing my hair to be its natural color. I AM A REAL HERO.) Anyway! Growing out the hair is not the new thing. The new thing is that after a year of growing and periodic “shaping” (translation: thinning, or de-poodle-ing, at the hands of my capable stylist), this morning I discovered that I can finally (finally!) pull all of my hair back into a teeny, tiny ponytail. Sure, I have to pull it really tight to do it, and the resultant clump of hair is but a tiny poof, but the necessary tension has the added benefit of smoothing out any wrinkles on my old-hag face which my poor husband is saddled with viewing every day. So double bonus, right?
Old thing: Every year the sheer volume of pollen in the spring surprises me all over again. EVERY YEAR. I am a slow learner. We’re all, “Here comes the pollen!” but then when it starts drifting all over the cars and the deck furniture I’m all, “This is the worst it’s ever been!” Except it’s not. It’s always awful. Why is this surprising to me in the slightest? Also why do I freak out when my suffering-from-terrible-seasonal-allergies child plunks down on a piece of said deck furniture and leaves a Monkey-shaped void in the pollen covering? Apparently he is just following my lead of forgetting that pollen is, y’know, a plague.
Old thing meets a new thing: So if I went back through the blog searching for “times when my kid was really, really sick and I didn’t realize it for far too long,” I would probably find at least a
hundred dozen examples. We all know that if Chickadee has a hangnail it’s a terrible emergency requiring immediate medical attention, whereas if Monkey has the flu, he says he “might” feel “a little tired.” I should totally know how to deal with this by now. HA HA. And… pollen. Allergies. The poor kid has really been struggling, and I’ve been keeping an eye on him and all, but… allergies! THE SCOURGE OF POLLEN! So when Monkey called me from Hippie School yesterday to ask in a VERY PITIFUL VOICE if I could pick him up early, I had no choice but to assume that he had Ebola.
Still, big props for the exciting Monkey Milestones of actually being able to 1) self-assess and determine there’s something wrong, 2) handle that discomfort without behaving inappropriately, 3) clearly communicate wants/needs (“Mom, I feel awful, I would like to come home”). All of THAT is new and fabulous and celebration-worthy.
Not quite so celebratory was the look on the new pediatrician’s face (our old one moved away, boohoo) later that afternoon when I had to confess that he’s had that cough for… oh… maybe a month? And then I had to be all, “But! Allergies! Pollen! Autism! High pain threshold! Poor self-reporter!”
Long story short: Monkey’s on antibiotics and I’m expecting DFCS here at any moment.
New thing: I snagged a deal on a hummingbird feeder in the middle of winter, feeling simultaneously pleased with myself and also convinced that spring would never come. Well HEY, spring came and Otto hung it up for me this weekend so that it’s visible from my office window, and HOLY COW. I feel like regular hummingbird sightings have boosted my overall happiness by at least 30%. You can’t be cranky while tiny little birds are flitting around sucking up sugar water. YOU CAN’T.
Old thing: I started my herb box rosemary from a cutting six years ago. Despite having no idea what I was doing and nearly killing it several times, nowadays it’s become a sprawling bush. I’m thinking of trying to put it in the ground, so that it can just become gigantic, if it wants, and then I’ll have more room in my herb box for other herbs. I’m a little afraid that if I move it it’ll go into shock and die, though. Also I’m a little disturbed that I’m this invested in my rosemary. (Related concerns: Will the dog pee on it if I put it in the ground? Will you all tell me horror stories about rosemary takeovers and caution me against this course of action? Will ROOOOOOOSEMARYYYYYYYYYY become the new MIIIIIIIIIIIINT??)
New, terrifying thing: My children think it’s HIGH-LARIOUS to change the settings on my cell phone. At one point my darling daughter went so far as to download a Handerpants ringtone for me, for some reason. I keep meaning to delete it but then I see something shiny and forget. WELL. A couple of days ago, Chickadee changed the alert tone that I get when she texts me to this Handerpants thingie. If you are unfamiliar, I AM SORRY to do this to you, but I must:
So the tone just does the “Handerpants, handerpants, HANDERPANTS!” thing. Also? It scares the ever-loving CRAP out of me every time she texts me, now. And she still thinks it’s hilarious. I think retaliation may be in order. (I am leaning towards this. Other suggestions?)