Monkey has an appointment on Thursday with the ENT who did last year's surgery, because it turns out that Monkey's sinuses are still assholes. Monkey has sounded like an 80-year-old lifelong three-pack-a-day smoker for a couple of weeks, now, and his behavior indicates that the poor little dude is just feeling miserable. But true to his usual form, he has no fever, claims he feels "fine," and basically I only know something is wrong because he's spending more time as Mr. Hyde than Dr. Jekyll, if you catch my drift. And we ALMOST made it to Thursday, too, but... well, Otto took the boys to...
Chickadee is dying for me to cut off all my hair. She says she thinks it will be "cute." Then again, she also says she thinks I should dye my gray bright pink once I do, and she currently has plans to streak her hair purple, so I'm not sure I'm relying on her for reliable hair advice. Monkey has no opinions on hair, not really. He dislikes the actual act of having his hair cut---the sitting still! the scratchy little pieces of hair tickling his neck and nose!---but has reached a place where having scraggly hair hanging in his eyes bothers him more, so we generally keep his hair fairly short....
I tried really hard not to burst out into mournful song during my post at Off Our Chests this week, but I have to warn you that my girl is growing up and it's making me a little sentimental. Okay, a lot sentimental. Okay, FINE; I'm a gibbering mess. (I keep telling her to just please be UGLIER and LESS AWESOME, but she refuses to listen.) In addition to that craziness, y'all know I'm insanely proud to be involved with The Thinking Person's Guide to Autism, and as part of their "Slice of Life" series for Autism Acceptance Month, today they're featuring an interview with Monkey. (I may have...
Our long national nightmare known as the prolonged agony of Science Fair has come to a close for the year. Not that I'm not a fan of Science Fair. I think it's great. I just think it's LONG. From the time the kids start their projects in... I think it's October?... until the final fair at the end of March is just... a lot of time for a type-A nerdling to worry about her project. Not that I'm naming any names. Not that there was a child threatening to head to the exhibit hall WITH HER PUKE BUCKET if she was still sick, or anything. AHEM. So you may remember that the Regional Fair was a real...
The last few days have kind of beaten me down, which you wouldn't think would be possible, given that I keep (stupidly) thinking to myself, "Well, it's not like things can get any WORSE." HAHAHAHA. HA. Chickadee just scored herself a sports medicine doc and some regular physical therapy, possibly because someone realized there was a doctor we hadn't seen/needed yet. But I have to say I do like the concrete nature of this particular problem. ("You have iliotibial band syndrome and that is fixed via rest, ice, anti-inflammatories, and physical therapy." It's such a nice change from "We don't...
I was feeling pretty good yesterday, which was surely my first mistake. Sure, the pollen count is SO HIGH (how high is it?) that no one can breathe, but whatever. Details. Yesterday evening Chickadee commenced falling into giant chunks of woe and sickness, and the FANFUCKINGTABULOUS thing about the combination of 1) chronic illness and 2) TEH DRAMAAAAHZ is that it can be very difficult to suss out what is a real crisis and what is merely a teenage crisis. It took the threat of a trip to the ER and about an hour on the phone with various doctors to determine a course of action and decide she...
I used to pray for patience, you know, because I figured that was what I needed. But it turns out that if you pray for patience you get a whole lot of "character building" experiences wherein your patience is "tested" and you want to say "lots of blasphemous and profane things" to whoever's in charge. Go figure. (I swear to you I just typed "Fo gigure," and almost left it like that, but after admitting to such poor behavior, I reasoned it was best not to further tempt fate just now.) But hey, sometimes I learn things! Slowly, sure---always pretty slowly---but I am capable of learning and...
Oh, hey. Sorry to leave you hanging for a week. I didn't mean to, it just sort of... happened. It turns out that when my kid is in the hospital my level of functioning reverts to "barely alive" and I am a total delight to be around. Like, Otto will come home from work and say, "How was your day?" and I'll blink at him and say, "I'm not sure." Then he'll say, "What's for dinner?" and I'll say, "Dinner?" Actual conversation we had this week: Me: Why did you marry me? Our life is a mess. I'm a mess. Otto: Well you weren't ALWAYS a mess. I assume eventually you'll not be a mess again. Me:...
I hate the word "miasma," which is meant to describe something unpleasant, so I guess it's just doing its job. Still. Hate it. I also hate the word "torsion," which comes from having once had an ovarian torsion. (Pro tip: That really hurts.) I have issues with the word "pretty," even though I use it all the time. I just don't think a single word that sounds so darn perky should be so loaded. And it is, in our society. I wrote about that today for Off Our Chests, as I'm seeing the legacy of female teenage inability to see clearly unfold in front of me. But mostly, I hate the word "relapse."...
