The ciiiiiircle of liiiiiiife
Life keeps trucking along, despite my various concerns and issues. It’s funny, that way.
Chickadee is somewhat improved since our frantic evening at Urgent Care and her shot of steroids. This means, of course, that she is still covered head-to-toe with rash, and that someone who hadn’t seen her earlier this week would think she looked terrible, but we can see that compared to a few days ago, she is really MUCH BETTER. In the meantime, she has been increasingly emotional and crabby, which didn’t make any sense to me until I remembered that prednisone makes me insane, and then I realized that probably it’s not just her being a tween, probably the prednisone is making HER insane as well. Fun!
And then I got to pack her and her brother up and send them off with their dad for a couple of weeks. I’m so glad so sorry I’m going to miss the rest of the Steroid Days with her…. Last night was particularly delightful, as she became irate at the very notion of her clothing being in the—GASP!—same suitcase as her brother’s, so she opted to pack for two weeks in the smallest backpack she owned. And it didn’t work. And that was all my fault (of course). After everyone finished crying, she deigned to let her clothing be put in the suitcase. Like I said, good times. read more…
Love grows up
So. Um. Yesterday was interesting.
Chickadee spent the afternoon playing at a friend’s house, and when I picked her up, the girls—who had apparently spent the afternoon hiding in Pixie’s room, giggling, as tweens are wont to do—emerged and I actually gasped.
While Chickadee has been rashy for several weeks, now, something happened yesterday. We still have no idea what. But the child who reluctantly emerged to be taken home looked as though she’d been burned over most of her body. The rash had spread to her face. Her arms were lumpy and sandpapery and bright red. There were lesions inside her ears and between her toes. And her hands were covered with tiny blisters, front and back.
I drove home as quickly as was safe and walked into the house and said to Otto, “I am about two seconds from taking this child to the Emergency Room, so either talk me off the ledge and tell me it’s not as bad as I think, or tell me it’s time to go.” read more…
Doing the doctor mambo
Oh, hi! I’m sorry I didn’t get around to posting yesterday. I totally would’ve, except for the fact that I spent the ENTIRE DAY:
A) Driving to the doctor
B) At the doctor
C) Driving to another doctor
D) Getting lost between doctor’s offices
E) Waiting at the pharmacy
F) Swearing about getting lost between offices
G) Having a coronary over the cost of all of these misadventures.
So that was fun.
In related news, I still kind of hate doctors.
In further related news, my daughter and I are delicate flowers. Ouch! Stop breathing so close to me!! read more…
And the living is easy(ish)
When I was a kid I went to camp. Always. And I loved it—don’t get me wrong—but I feel like the proper reward for everyone in the family for surviving another year of getting up at o’dark thirty five days a week to get to school is a summer full of… relaxing. At home. Where Mom is not required to drive anyone anywhere.
It’s a wonderful thing, having children old enough that they can more or less entertain themselves. We have some very simple daily goals here at Casa Mir. We take care of the garden. Both kids are enrolled in the summer reading program at our library. Piano lessons continue, as do prolonged negotiations over whether or not twenty minutes of sitting AT the piano and really THINKING about practicing counts as practice. There is swimming. Lots and lots and lots of swimming. There is bike-riding, when it’s not too hot. There is going outside and then coming back in and whining that it’s too hot outside. There are various trips here and there to break things up.
Stuff like that. Sounds like an idyllic way to spend the summer, yes? I think it sounds marvelous. read more…
Learning lately
Sometimes I keep waiting for a big cohesive story to come along before I sit down and write, and then I realize that actually, I’ll be waiting a long time. And there are little tidbits I want to remember, in the meantime.
Things I Have Learned While Gardening
Cabbages like coffee grounds. Sometimes tomato plants fall over for no reason (but will stand up and grow again if you use a couple of supports). The same children who sometimes push store-bought beans around on their plates at dinnertime will argue over whose turn it is to go pick beans, and then eat half the haul en route. Watermelons are surprisingly hard to grow. As soon as I decide that maybe I DO like the parsley that came back from last year unbidden—because how could I not, with it growing so tall and lush?—it will start to bolt. Two seasons in, I’d say it’s confirmed: I suck at growing peppers.
(I should write a gardening manual, or something. I mean, wasn’t that incredibly useful?) read more…
Love is enough
I tend to think of myself as somewhat friendship disordered. I have never had a big crowd of friends, and even the ones I’ve had tend to be intense relationships that burn out over time. In my younger days, when difficulties in friendships cropped up, I—ever bullheaded straightforward—would bring up the issue and demand resolution (yeah, that works about as well as it sounds like it would, in case you were wondering), and if things weren’t resolved to my liking, that would more or less be the end of the friendship.
Why yes, I definitely AM a delight to have in your corner. Line forms to the left! No pushing or shoving!
With time, I’ve mellowed. I’ve had to. For one thing, I’ve realized that the perfect relationship, free of disagreements, doesn’t exist; and to either strive for perfection or settle for being lonely are two equally losing propositions. For another, the wisdom of age has finally taught me that other people handle things in other ways, and that doesn’t make them bad or wrong or even lousy friends. It’s like I’m growing as a person, or something. read more…
Typing with one hand
Funny thing about taking a mini-vacation from your stress: It’s right there, waiting for you, when you get back. Hmph.
And so today I can only offer this COMPLETELY hypothetical question, inspired by someone else, someone who is NOT ME:
Have you ever actually pulled a muscle in your arm while attempting to get into your “slimming” bathing suit? And if so, clearly that’s an indictment of the suit, and neither your arm nor the ass the suit got momentarily snagged on, right?
I’m just curious. Because I’m a seeker of knowledge. Yes.
And that’s why I hate doctors
Last year my daughter was misdiagnosed with Molloscum Contagiosum.
Then we went to a dermatologist who told us she was surely allergic to berries and citrus.
Then we went to an allergist who said no, actually, she was she was allergic to peanuts.
And then her rash cleared up when she stopped eating peanut butter. That was back in September.
A few weeks ago she started being all rashy, again, and because I’d had some success going wheat-free for some skin issues, we decided to take her off wheat as well to see if it helped. It seemed to help, though it wasn’t the solution.
So we went to the allergist, and he tested her for wheat and peanut allergies.
They called yesterday to tell us that she isn’t testing allergic to either of those, and I should certainly put her back on wheat, and if that goes okay, try peanuts again. Bonus: The allergist suggested we take her to see a dermatologist. Probably because that went SO well, last time.
Okay, then.
So Chickadee had a bowl of pasta last night.
And woke up covered head to toe in rash this morning.
You know, because she’s not allergic.
THIS IS WHY I HATE DOCTORS. THE END.
Nature makes me Sanctimommious
Hey, we survived our weekend with nature. Enjoyed it, even. By the time we were working our way back, yesterday, I was starting to wonder if we could swap Chickadee for Swan, maybe, but on the whole I was very pleased with the girls’ behavior while we were on our adventure. (No, Chickadee didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that kids are always better-behaved for someone else’s parents, right? Swan didn’t engage in any backtalk, nor did she ever roll her eyes at me that I noticed. Chickadee was her usual sassy self, and I couldn’t help wondering if she might be an angel for anyone other than us. I suspect she would.)
I was delighted to discover that camping with a trailer is exactly the right balance of nature and technology, for me. Toasting marshmallows over a fire = awesome, but attempting to cook a meal over a fire = tedious, therefore having the ability to plug in my crock pot inside the trailer and sit around a fire outside the trailer was lovely. [True story: Years ago, Otto and I went tent camping, and he purchased a fancy over-the-fire grill stand thingie from LL Bean we thought would make cooking really easy. We ended up cooking everything—EVERYTHING!—on sticks thrust into the fire because we never could position that stupid grill correctly. Bacon on a stick is, surprisingly, not as awesome as it sounds.]
Anyway, there was just one little problem this weekend. read more…
Before s’mores
I’m sitting in a state campground, in a folding nylon camp chair, typing fireside, while Chickadee and Swan sit inside the trailer playing Rummikub. They are understandably tired, having talked non-stop on the drive up here, eaten their weight in snacks, dinner, and popsicles, and then run off to the nearby playground to roll in the mud.
Okay, technically they may not have rolled in the mud. Their clothes just look like they did.
I would love to tell you that they’re having the time of their lives, the greatest time I’ve ever seen two people have, except that I think it’s possible that Otto is having an even better time than they are. And—truth be told—I’m having a pretty darn nice time, myself. This may be the longest stretch of fresh air I’ve had in weeks. Or months! I should be ashamed. I am ashamed, a little. But this afternoon I read half a book. I cannot tell you the last time I just sat outside and read for a few hours, uninterrupted. read more…