Because I am incredibly behind this week, I just keep making doctors' appointments for the kids, as it sucks up even more time and also aggravates me, which TOTALLY BOOSTS productivity. Or something. The good news is that a found a new pediatrician. Actually, I found a new family doctor for all three of us. And I would like to love her and hug her and squish her and call her George, but I will settle for her evaluating Monkey and referring us to another doc who specializes in food sensitivites. Can you IMAGINE? A doctor who LISTENED to what I had to say, who put together the history of food...
Chickadee: Mama, a funny thing happened today. I opened my lunch and my spoon was snapped in two! Me: Did you sit on your backpack today? Chickadee: No. It was just broken. Me: Well, I'm sorry about that. Were you able to eat your yogurt? Chickadee: Yep, C. gave me her spork. Me: SPORK! That's a fun word to say. SPORK SPORK SPORK! Chickadee: Mama. Stop it. Me: SPORK! Monkey: What's a spork? Me: SPORK! Chickadee: It's what comes with hot lunch. Me: SPOOOOOOORK! Chickadee: It's like a spoon, Monkey, but with--- Monkey: Oh! I know! It's like a spoon with PRICKS! Me: SP--- *choking* I think he's...
I walked out of Monkey's appointment this morning so furious and frustrated that it took me the better part of the day to recover. I feel like I'm a fairly reasonable and educated person; I am used to being treated as such. Nothing gets my hackles up more than someone who I feel is doing my child a disservice... except, perhaps, a person who treat me like a hysterical mommy WHILE doing my child a disservice. I am not a hysterical mommy. I am many things, and Lord knows I am too emotional about many of them. But I know my kids, and to tell me otherwise is to draw my immediate suspicion. And...
Tomorrow morning Monkey has an appointment to be evaluated by the sort of doctor who specializes in medicating children for things like ADD/ADHD. We don't actually KNOW if he's ADHD, at this point, you understand. We think he might be, and the sensible thing would be to have him tested for it, so naturally, we plan to do that. Of course, the doctor who does the testing can't see him until November. And really, what's the rush? It's only my son's mental health, and perhaps his first grade experience. Clearly I am one of THOSE MOTHERS for being concerned in the first place. (I find it...
I don't know why it is that little feet entice me, so; in the overall scope of things, I don't have a foot fetish. But for last week's Love Thursday I couldn't resist the feet. And for this week's Love Thursday I find myself once again drawn to the tootsies, though not in repose, this time. Love is... ... working on ball control, even though he hasn't mastered self-control... ... showing that board the wrath of her spinning side kick...
Hey, I want to start off by saying I LOVE YOU GUYS. (Well, most of you. Nearly all of you. Except those of you who are turds.) I was... well, I was a wreck when I wrote that last post. Those dark times of parenthood reach up and grab me, sometimes, and throw me in the pit and chant "it puts the lotion on its skin" while I whimper and mewl in the corner. Then y'all come along and pull me out and pat me and stroke my hair and tell me I'm pretty and there are many, many more pairs of shoes to shop for before I give up. Thank you for your kindness. And for not just agreeing with me that life...
Things I never thought I'd have to ask a child of mine, excerpts from Volume One: Why is there a cheerio in your nose? What did you just put in your diaper? Why are you eating that book? How did you manage to throw up all the way over THERE? The funny part is that all of those things seemed really challenging at the time, you know? WOE IS ME, my child is naughty. Wah. Wah, I say! I do believe we're currently somewhere in the middle of Volume Four, and we haven't even hit double digits yet. Pray for us. So here in Volume Four, we're up to: What could you do instead of screaming? Is it ever...
Hey, I realized I completely spaced out and missed it last week, but it's time once again for Love Thursday. I don't want to get into a big political debate here; I know a lot of people have very strong feelings when it comes to my subject matter. Where I stand, myself, is immaterial. The truth of the matter is that no matter how you feel, some things are just plain adorable, dammit, when kids do it.
My fellow Americans, you have certain inalienable rights which somebody once found to be self-evident. You have the right to bitch about gas prices while driving a Hummer (with or without a bumper sticker that reads, "Honk if you think I have a small penis!"). You have the right to complain about being fat while eating french fries. You have the right to pay inflated property taxes to live in the town with the "good" public schools and then find yourself on the phone with the bus garage trying to remain calm while you demand to know WHERE YOUR CHILDREN ARE. God bless our great country. So....
