Yesterday was... kind of a long day. To put it mildly. As I've mentioned before, both kids are going to new schools this year---Chickadee is moving on to middle school, and Monkey was redistricted out of our beloved little elementary school. Yesterday we had meetings and orientation, and somehow the entire afternoon became an exercise in getting crushed in crowds at one school, then repeating at the second school, and then going back to the first school to do it all again. Sixth grade orientation took TWO HOURS, and by the end of that time we still hadn't met all of Chickie's teachers. But...
So this morning I took Chickadee back to the allergist, our new second home. To review (if you don't feel like reading the whole rash saga): Our lovely dermatologist had suggested a number of tests when we last saw her, and "felt strongly that we're looking at something autoimmune," but then her skin biopsy came back negative for whatever they were checking for and she then said, "It's looking more like an allergy." Which left me wondering what exactly they DID with the circles they punched out of my daughter's arm. I know they looked at them under a microscope. Did the angry red bumps hold...
School starts this week. Let me say that again, for those of you who thought surely you heard (read) me wrong: School. STARTS. This. Week. Thankfully, by the time we got back from camping we had just a few things we needed to take care of before then. Like unloading the camper. And laundry. And school supply shopping. And finding new bus schedules. And making sure everyone had shoes that fit. And regulation clothes to wear. And taking Chickadee for the next round of allergy testing (whole 'nother story for another time, but it means three separate visits this week alone), and both kids have...
"How old will I need to be before I can read your blog?" she asks me. We're laying on her bed; she is pajama-ed and snuggled under the covers, I am next to her but on top of the blankets. I stroke her hair and she fiddles with a loose thread on my sleeve. "I'm not sure," I respond, slowly. I have to be careful. Right now all I know is that the right age is "not yet." But if I give her a number, come hell or high water she will march up on her birthday and demand access. I guess I'm hoping this is one of those "I'll know it when I see it" kinds of things. "Older," I finally conclude. It feels...
Otto and Monkey greeted me at the airport with flowers. Of course. I scooped Monkey up into a hug and nuzzled his neck as he squeezed me and chanted, "Mama! Mama! Mama!" I set him back down and hugged and kissed Otto, and then Monkey yelled, "GROUP HUG!" and we picked him up between us and embraced again. When we pulled apart and put him down, several folks standing around us were smiling and chuckling. (If you are ever down, the place to be is right at the top of the escalators at the Atlanta airport. You can't be sad while watching loved ones reunite.) We went out into the evening (94...
We went on the world's shortest camping trip this weekend, because it was Monkey's turn to have his him-and-a-friend trip, and his friend decided that one night away from home was enough for him; and Monkey, of course, concluded that staying without his buddy for another night would just be boring and wrong. See, Otto and I like to do the following when we camp: Sit around and read, go on nature walks, take pictures, play Scrabble. Monkey and his friend, however, opt for: Running around in circles, reenacting every Pokemon battle there ever was (including several new ones they just...
Otto and I have endless discussions about being A Visual Person vs. not being A Visual Person. Otto is visual. He sees things that I don't. He remembers how to get somewhere if he's been there once before, and can point out all of the relevant landmarks. I am most definitely NOT visual. Vision is perhaps my weakest sense, both literally and figuratively. I'm moved by sounds, scents, and most especially feel. I can identify something I last smelled years ago, or one of my children by the curve of the hand snaking around my chair to tickle me, but how things look is not much of a cue in my...
Yesterday Chickadee and I saw perhaps the kindest medical professional we've ever encountered, and I sort of wanted to put him in my pocket and take him home with us. He (yes, HE) was a nurse practitioner. I've always liked NPs. They seem to have most of the same training and power as you encounter with the average doctor, but a much better bedside manner. It's almost like they care, or something. Of course, the fact that he was awfully nice didn't actually GET us anywhere, but it was at least nice to feel cared about while we continue not solving the problem.... When we last left off,...
Tonight at dinner I came down with an impressive case of hiccups. Like, gut-wrenching, popping-out-against-my-will kind of hiccups. My family---being the kind and supportive lot they are---found this hilarious. They asked me questions to force me to talk and be interrupted by big *HIC*s, and laughed and laughed. When I said it wasn't funny, they kindly decided to try to help me get rid of them. I was mid-sentence when Chickadee leaned in on my right. "AHHHHHHHH!" she screamed. I rubbed my ear. And *HIC*ed again. "I guess that didn't work," commented Otto, as Monkey leaned in on my left....
