Free pony with every set of braces
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 allergies and very sudden onset of extreme symptoms coinciding with the “no more allergies” declaration, and who agreed that THERE IS MORE TO INVESTIGATE HERE? Craziness! Don’t let it get out; the other doctors will probably have her arrested.
And because I didn’t want Chickadee to feel left out, I decided to take her to the orthodontist. read more…
Blog Book Tour: We Are All Fine Here
We’ve arrived again at that point in our program where I wave around I book I read and say “Look! I read this!” This month’s Blog Book Tour is for Mary Guterson’s We Are All Fine Here
Kira was right
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 been talking to Raphael.
Get your boob on
I’m considering having my telephone surgically implanted in my skull. It seems like it might save me a bit of time and neck pain. In the meantime, in the course of one morning I managed to call up a dozen different people for a dozen different matters, all of which more or less boiled down to “Hi, here is my open wallet, help yourself.”
[My ex actually made me giggle, this afternoon. I said, “So, I got Chickadee that appointment with the orthodontist,” and he said “I’ll start scoping out some local banks to rob.” Which was funny! Because kids are so damn expensive! But at least we’re joking about robbing banks rather than, say, telling her she’ll have crooked teeth and she’ll LIKE it. Because that would be wrong.]
Anyway, the end result was a busy day where I got nothing done, and so I am going to abdicate being interesting this evening and instead send you over to visit Sue Richards. Sue is a lovely human and a proponent of healthy boobs everywhere, and you KNOW how I feel about the boobs. (Healthy boobs, good! Lumpy boobs, bad!)
Despite my glaring American-ness and questionable cleavage (or lack thereof), Sue directed me in taking a sworn oath and then declaring me an official Breast Ambassador at BlogHer this year. She is Good People and the Breast of Canada mission is an admirable one (not to mention that the calendar is gorgeous). Please go check her out and spread the word.
(Also, if I happened to be, say, meeting with a new doctor tomorrow for a second opinion on my son’s care, I’m sure I wouldn’t mind if you had some good thoughts or juju or whatever to spare to nudge over in this direction. If I was doing that.) (BOOBS!)
I got one thing right today
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 here I’d thought it was going to be a good day, too, because we were finally going to get some help, maybe, and because my last post hadn’t even drawn that much assvice! But then we didn’t get much help and the comments I knew would come popped up and then I had to make a big pot of mashed potatoes and stick my face in it. read more…
The glory of the HMO
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 interesting that if I allowed his explosive behavior to continue unchecked, I’d be a horrible parent, but if I want answers and treatment, I am a horrible and possibly LAZY parent. This parenting thing? Is A LOT MORE CRAPPY than is generally advertised.) read more…
Blessed are the blind. . .
… for they shall not see me attempting to blow them up.
Hi! How are you today? I’m just fine. What’s that? Oh, it’s been a pretty standard day, really. I got up, took a shower, went to soccer, made plans with a friend, came home, checked my email, had some lunch, spent some time organizing my basement, and went outside and set my lawn on fire.
What?
Oh, like you’ve NEVER DONE THAT.
What? You… haven’t? Oh.
Okay, then.
Hey! Look over there! Something SHINY! read more…
Out with the weighty, in with the fluffy
I’ve got a weighty matter or twelve rattling around in my brain, and I cry uncle. It’s the end of the week. I can only think seriously about anything for so long before my left eyelid starts to twitch. I. Have had. ENOUGH.
And when the tough have had enough, the tough go shopping.
Normally I’m content to indulge in the smallest bit of retail therapy for my fix; although I probably TALK as though shopping is my second career, the truth is that it takes very little to satiate me. I do a lot of shopping but not a lot of buying. And what I do buy is likely to be so cheap it barely even counts as shopping.
But that’s the deal for normal stressors, not when I’m really feeling frazzled within inches of my sanity. A $6 pair of clearance shoes is not going to cut it, this time. No, the time has come to tackle the mother of all purchases, and I need your help. read more…
Love Thursday: again with the feet
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…
Let’s talk about me for a change
I had an appointment—a meeting, you might say—to have coffee with a friend this morning. I had put it into my handheld and everything. Both of us have been too busy and I was REALLY looking forward to seeing her for an hour. (You know where this is going, right?) Why, I often get up and get the kids off to school and sit down and work for a while and don’t even bother showering until noon or so. But today I had PLANS so I hopped out of bed at some ungodly hour when it was freezing cold in here (okay; I finally caved and turned the heat on, today) and took a shower so that I could go have coffee, dammit. Maybe I was even thinking about having something WITH my coffee, like a MUFFIN. Maybe I was mentally giving the finger to my omnipresent box of Multigrain Cheerios. It was going to be AWESOME.
Well, she cancelled. One of her kids was sick, so she was stuck at home. And I had a meeting (a real meeting, not one involving muffins) mid-morning so I couldn’t even go over to her house and hassle her. It was sad. Tragic, really. Nearly as tragic as me being excited by the prospect of a muffin. read more…