I know we’re all really enjoying how it’s All Oozing Mammary, All The Time ’round here, but for a change I’d like to focus on something other than my Very Famous Misbehaving Boob. I KNOW! It’s craziness, what I’m suggesting. But sometimes I need to talk about other things.
Like yeast infections!
But lucky for you, I am the picture of health right now, other than the boob thing. [And tomorrow I’m going in to see the surgeon and be checked, so we can return to our favorite topic if that yields anything interesting. In the meantime feel free to google atypical ductal hyperplasia, which is what my biopsy revealed. I am the proud winner of yearly “tracking” mammograms, but no turtle wax, which was something of a disappointment.]
Anyway!
The children, they are back! And lo, they did not want to get up this morning. Well, that’s not entirely accurate.
Monkey wanted to get up at 3:30. THREE. THIRTY. Technically, that’s morning. Experientially, that’s a time when it seems like a very good idea to strangle a small bouncy boy and hide the body. I did manage to get him back to bed, but then I had a terrible time falling back to sleep. And he wasn’t too pleased with me when I got him up at 6:30, either.
Chickadee–ever my little night owl–has made huge progress this year in handling mornings. Truly. I used to dread mornings with her and she’s gotten MUCH better. Of course, school vacation and five straight days with her dad demolished all of that. Today we were back to the whining and the crying and the “I’m too tired”ing and eventually after she kept answering my “Are you up? Are you getting ready?” queries with “Yes!” but there was no other noise from upstairs (like, say, water running in the bathroom), I found her curled up in bed under the covers.
I had, of course, sprinted upstairs as quietly as possible, so as to catch her. And then, of course, I stood in her doorway and boomed “CHICKADEE ROSE LASTNAME GET YOUR BUTT OUT OF BED THIS INSTANT!” and she leapt twelve feet in the air and cracked her head on the ceiling and crashed to the floor wailing about how I’d scared her and I didn’t have to be so mean.
Then I said I wouldn’t be so mean if she wouldn’t be so lazy.
Then she said she wouldn’t be so lazy if I wasn’t so mean.
Then I beat her to death with my Mother of the Year statuette.
(We had pop-tarts at the afterparty. They had sprinkles. It was very fancy.)
Despite all of the morning excitement, we did make it out on time. Woo! I got Monkey settled in his classroom and Chickadee onto the bus, and hoped that the afternoon would go a bit more smoothly.
But by afternoon it was clear that they were both exhausted. Chickadee barely moved from the couch to torment Monkey, and Monkey was reduced to tears several times when his Magnetix refused to cooperate. (Those magnets, sometimes they sort of JUMP to other pieces, you know. Monkey was pretty sure he’d uncovered an insidious plot against him. “NO, Mama!” he kept insisting, “they do NOT ‘just do that.’ They’re being BAD!”)
I decided to try to break through the grumpiness.
Me: Hey buddy, guess what!
Monkey: What?
Me: I found out that we need to sign you up this week if you want to play T-ball. Do you think you might like to do that?
Monkey: T-ball? What’s that?
Chickadee: I want to play T-ball!
Me: You’re taking Tae Kwon Do, remember?
Monkey: What is it?
Me: It’s baseball, but you hit the ball off of a T… thing. But you get to wear a mitt, and a hat, and throw, and catch! Doesn’t that sound like fun?
Monkey: Oh, a T thing… a big stick that the ball sits on, and then you hit it off of that, with a bat?
Me: Right! See, you know what it is.
Monkey: Yeah… I don’t think so.
Me: And you–what? You don’t think so??
Monkey: Yeah, I don’t want to do that. I want to run!
[This is a recurring theme with Monkey. He wants to be a track star. Which, great! Okay! But there aren’t a whole lot of track teams available for kindergarteners. So.]
Me: Well, honey, there’s running in T-ball.
Monkey: Yeah, but there’s other stuff and I don’t know how to do it.
Me: Sweetie, they teach you how. That’s the whole point. If you want to do it, you’ll learn. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I think it might be fun, if you want to try.
Monkey: No, I don’t think so. No thank you.
Me: Well, that’s… fine. You know, soccer will be coming up in the summer, and there’s LOTS of running in that. You’ll probably like that better.
Monkey: No, that has a ball. And you have to kick it. I don’t know how.
Me: Ummmmmm yeah, but they TEACH you how.
Monkey: I just want to run.
Me: Yeah, I’m clear. But soccer is fun! Maybe you should give it a try!
Monkey: No thank you.
Chickadee: Maybe you should just have him go run around in circles in the yard.
Well, that cleared that up.
Hi, I’m Mir. This is my daughter, she enjoys martial arts… or at least she thinks the belt is pretty cool. And this is my son, he likes to run around in circles.
Would you like to see my statuette?
I make my daughters run around the SUV at least three times before they’re allowed to climb in. Saves the wear and tear on our backyard, the wood floors, andmy patience.
I am having the week from hell with my sick father. You have made me laugh out loud several times during all of this drama. THANK YOU. BLESS YOU!
Yay! Not cancerous! I’m sorry you did not win the Turtle Wax. They didn’t give you any steak knives either? I thought everyone who got ADH got a set of steak knives. Oh, well.
“Then I beat her to death with my Mother of the Year statuette.” That line totally cracked me up.
Also: Hooray for no cancer!
Really, the running around the backyard in circles thing will work out better for you in the long run. No uniform to wash, no pesky, early morning Saturday games or late practices. No annoying, overbearing other parents. Who ever heard of “track moms?”
And when he writes his memoirs in thirty years he can call it Run, Monkey, Run!
Emily wants to be a track star too; they should definitely have track teams for younger kids.
An after party with poptarts. Y’all are my kind of people.
What Sharkey said…with sprinkles.
NO CANCER!!!!!
told ja.
I’m so happy for you. I don’t know how much you worried, but I worried enough for two.
Take Monkey out to see some kids play t-ball, he might change his mind when seeing how much fun the other kids are having. Chickadee will get back into the groove in a day or two.
Yeah, I’d say he seems pretty intent on the running thing. Good for him. Balls and tees and gloves just get in the way.
Apparently I am harboring Monkey’s evil, older twin at my house. B likes to play video games, run, jump on the trampoline, and avoids all contact sports at all costs. No soccer. “You can get kicked, Mom! Are you crazy?” and the sliding into bases thing in T-ball can get you scraped up or (gasp) tagged out. On the bright side, tennis involves lots of running, and you can hit the ball as it comes at you. No one else comes anywhere close to you. B is going to be a tennis star before he becomes a track star.
Everyone above me said it all. I’m glad the results are good. Welcome to the yearly mammogram club. Your t-shirt is in the mail. ;)
No turtle wax? What kind of a crap health plan is that? I’m glad to hear the results of the tests weren’t so very scary, though.
Good News! GREAT POST! I love starting my day with you.
Thanks!
Gosh, even on Let’s make a Deal you get Rice-a-Roni. While it’s all good (and I am very glad you are all good,) you should have at least gotten a booby prize. (I couldn’t resist.)
There is an added bonus to Monkey running circles in the backyard – it cuts down on the area that needs mowing.
I’m glad you are feeling much better.
Yea! With sprinkles on top for everyone for the no cancer prognosis. But you better watch out with the statue beatings, it could prompt a film career instead of Tae Kwan Do stardom!
MegaBoy was ho-hum on T-ball, until I pointed out that he’d get a “uniform” (actually a t-shirt and a hat I think, but he’s all about the clothes), and then we couldn’t sign him up fast enough!
YAY no Cancer! Woot!
Chickadee’s comment about running around in the yard made me SNORT with laughter. Raising a wee clone of our sense of humor, are we? And tell Monkey he can run all he wants in soccer and never, ever have to touch the ball. My kids do it all the time! ;)
Oh, Mir, so glad to hear that it’s NOT cancer! Yea!!!
My 10-year-old asked me a few weeks ago why people have middle names. I explained that it was the easiest way he would know when I was really upset.
Yeah for no cancer. Although after reading,
“…usually not a problem. However in some women, cancer will apear develop in that breast… or the other one”
sounds almost like they don’t know what the hell they are talking about. How is the is “however” part different than a woman that doesn’t have ADH?
I was going to post my conversation about trying to get my daughter involved in some sport activities, but I think I will just point people here instead. :)
But so polite! With the “no thankyou”! You should at least get to keep PART of the statuette for that.
Maybe Monkey can be friends with my 8 yr old. He does not like sports, loves show tunes, and last week we caught him watching “What Not To Wear”
Good news about the boob, but as I read the link I kept calling it ADHD. Now I imagine your boob has an attention problem ;-)
Weird kids and weird boobs. What more could a girl ask for?
We also have one who is a Runner (he used to be a Bolter, as in ‘would bolt every time we took our hands off him,’ but he has matured. Also, we have him on medication. Anywhoo–). We make obstacle courses for him in the backyard. Yes, really! And we let him run like the wind.
Hooray for your boob, too!
Chickadee is a genius. You might want to consider taking her advice.
Thank goodness for the boob diagnosis.