Strolling down Melancholy Lane
I’m completely out of sorts.
It’s not just that I got so sick, and then recovered just in time to catch some sort of sinus thing, instead, although I’m sure none of that helps. And it’s not just that we’ve now been away for over a week, and I’m learning that in my old age a week is about my limit before I start itching for my own space. It’s not even the various and sundry family drahhhhhmaaaahhhs going on, or the fact that I’ve seen my poor husband going through a level of stress this past week that I’ve never seen before, not even when his mom was in the ICU this summer and we didn’t think she’d pull through.
It’s all of that, and also being back in New England, and driving past my old house last night, and a hundred other things. Taken individually, each thing is small and manageable, and collectively, it just makes me feel heavy and slow and sad. read more…
His moment of triumph
We are staying with Otto’s brother Nearly Nickless, and his lovely wife and their two boys. My nephews are 4 and 6. While my kids were here, it was like having a small herd of wildebeests roaming throughout the house, as Chickadee doted on her younger cousin and Monkey and my older nephew ran about playing Star Wars and Bakugan and various other testosterone-infused games.
Ever since my kids left to go back to their dads, the nephews have had to make do without them. Which is tragic. Well, mostly it is tragic for my younger nephew, who very much enjoyed having Chickadee here to basically wait on him hand and foot and cater to his every whim. Now that she’s gone, the harsh realities of life have settled back in, like that his brother is older and occasionally always gets to do something super-cool that he does not. It’s a very tragic life, when you are four, is my point.
Let me just give you a few f’rinstances about this kid. read more…
I bet your Christmas Eve was better
Well, hey, I have some good news and I have some bad news.
The good news is that it turns out that I’m not a hypochondriac! That’s good to know.
But, uh, the bad news is that I’m not a hypochondriac.
I published that post a couple of days ago at about quarter after nine in the morning. As I wrote it I was still wrestling with the whole “Am I actually sick or am I just FEARFUL of becoming sick and also something of a drama queen?” Honestly, I was ready to believe I was MAKING myself sick with fear ABOUT getting sick. As I’ve discussed here before, I’m extremely emetaphobic and easily freaked out about any sort of stomach ailment. So I totally COULD’VE been upsetting my stomach with just worry and fear.
Except that by 1:00 in the afternoon, we were on our way to the hospital. read more…
Total holiday implosion in 3. . . 2. . .
I feel crappy.
Of course, this is a total change from the way I normally feel, which is… ummm… mostly crappy. And whenever I travel I usually manage to come down with something, because it’s a special talent of mine and also because my immune system is apparently a delicate flower. Also, there is a special circle of hell reserved for the experience of being sick away from home.
But the reality is that I’m probably not even sick. (I hope. I hope I hope IhopeIhope.) I’m just being a hypochondriac. A hypochondriac with an upset stomach. Possibly because my poor brother-in-law started puking up his toenails yesterday.
I mean, it’s MORE likely that my stomach is a little off because we’re eating differently—first two days of “road food” and now, lots of meals out and such—right? I could not possibly have whatever he has, right? read more…
Greetings from Frostbite Central
We’re back in New England. Give me a minute to express my great joy and excitement.
…
Okay, I’m done.
Look, it’s not that I’m not loving hanging out with the relatives we haven’t seen in so long—the kids ran off with their cousins, and for several blissful hours we adults sat and enjoyed ourselves while a thundering herd of elephants ran to and fro. Periodically the calm was interrupted by a child complaining about another child—always a sibling complaining about the other sibling, never a child ratting out a cousin, at least—but for the most part, it was bliss.
But the weather, man. I do NOT miss this weather. read more…
And orange all over
Today I have been a mother for 3,898 days. Most of those days have been awesome. (Or repressed. Either way.)
In 3,898 days I’ve not had a child break a bone. In 3,898 days I’ve not had to watch a child be wheeled off into surgery. In 3,898 days I have not stood, shaking with rage, over the remains of a treasured antique vase shattered by childish exuberance.
(Dude. I have children. If I’d ever owned a treasured antique vase, it’d be long since given away, by now.)
In 3,898 days I have made countless mistakes, and the children have vexed me in multitudes of ways, and things have been ruined, and crappy stuff has happened. Obviously.
But for 3,897 days, I could say I’d never had a crayon in the dryer. read more…
Specifics
It has become a running joke in our household that if you want something specific, you have to ask for it. Specifically. Like, saying “Go get ready for bed” sure SEEMS straightforward enough, but for children who are distractible and/or who suffer from selective hearing, that may simply not be enough information. Because, really, “Go get ready for bed,” MIGHT mean “Go upstairs and sit in the middle of your floor half-dressed and read a book.” Or it might mean, “Go upstairs and make a big mess.” Or one could argue that it means, “Go upstairs and put on your pajamas and then remember that you have some homework in the bottom of your backpack that’s due tomorrow.”
Really, it’s not their fault. I wasn’t being specific enough. read more…
Disjointed (now with more butter)
I cannot stop baking. I don’t know if it’s because I am keenly aware that our days at our current beloved school are numbered or because I have friends having a hard time right now or just because we are full up on Matters Largely Unbloggable ™ ourselves, ’round here, but my oven is on all the time. Because cookies will make it all better.
Cookies for the teachers. Cookies for the kids. Cookies for my husband, who insists he doesn’t need any cookies, who says no until the children harangue him and make sad pouty faces until he agrees to try one, okay, FINE. Cookies for friends, and cookies for the freezer. I WILL FIX THE WORLD WITH COOKIES.
Today I’m doctoring a recipe to create a whole new cookie, because that’s just the kind of day it is. Listen, I normally keep a generous stash of butter in my extra freezer, and today I had to go buy more. There are a lot of cookies happening here. read more…
A grand day out
Some people want big-screen TVs, or fancy vacations, or other extravagances for every birthday or other gift-giving occasion.
My husband is not one of them. In fact, although I tease my husband about his various dreaming about things like old cars and air compressors, the things Otto likes most are usually very simple pleasures. Like weird little day trips.
So when Otto’s birthday rolled around a few weeks ago, we made plans to go somewhere he really wanted to visit, and then we had to postpone it for various reasons, and yesterday we finally made our pilgrimage.
To the World Of Coke. read more…
Resilience wears a helmet
Yesterday I could not post, for lo, I was busy SEETHING. And also shaking my fist at the sky. And ranting on Facebook about the seething and the fist-shaking.
And also eating a bagel. And later, baking cookies. (Rage requires extra carbs!)
Remember this little issue where my school district is spending a bazillion dollars on buses and the solution to that problem is to redo the school zones immediately, resulting in 60% of our kids being forced to switch schools next year?
Yeah, well, they voted on their crack-addled proposal and it passed. Unanimously. Because it will save tons of money, which is obviously a good thing. But what will happen to our schools—especially in the short term—well, who cares about that, right?
It’s surprising I didn’t fill the house with baked goods, actually. read more…