Domo arigato, Mom-jerk Roboto
[First: Before you ask, yes, the party was a success, I think. Otto had a grand time, his brothers enjoyed meeting all of the folks Otto is always talking about, the crock of spinach artichoke dip was all but licked clean (it’s the jalapenos! brilliant!!), and I’m equal parts glad we pulled it off and glad I hopefully won’t have to do this again for another 10 years.]
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my dozen years of parenthood, it’s the golden mantra of “Don’t engage.” Okay, that sounds bad. I don’t mean never engage with the kids, of course, I just mean to not engage when it’s only going to be an argument, or take you down the path of doing what you said you wouldn’t, or just plain make the top of your head blow off like in the cartoons when flames shoot out of someone’s eyes and/or ears. There are countless “we’ve had this argument before” situations that crop up with both kids where I know deep in my heart I should just BACK OFF lest it turn ugly. Still, my track record for said backing off is… not the greatest.
That said, when I find a strategy for disengagement that works, I tend to stick to it. And by “works” here we understand that to mean “allows me to move on.” It may not actually work for the kids. Because the children very much enjoy the arguing and the back and forth and the eventual eruption of my skull. read more…
Surprise!
So yesterday I ran around doing various pre-party prep things, and then I made Otto come home early so he could be here when Monkey got off the bus, because I had a therapy appointment go talk about MAH FEEEEEEEELINGS.
“We really need dog food,” I told him, before I left. “Do you think I could just run over to the pet store after, and get that? I mean, assuming I don’t spend the entire hour weeping?”
Otto looked a little bit alarmed at this. I assured him that I don’t ALWAYS spend the hour weeping. He relaxed a little and told me to take my time, but I reminded him that I am Bad At Directions (yes, even with my GPS) and that I wasn’t sure how to get to the pet store from my doctor’s office. He explained it to me and I sort of understand and said fine, I will go to my appointment and then go grab some kibble and be home.
I kissed him goodbye and I left. read more…
Party hearty
I am not a Party Person. I mean, I am perfectly happy to come to YOUR party, particularly if you have food. I am just not a party planner sort of person. Or a party-having sort of person. It was not something my family did, growing up, and something I’m still not entirely comfortable with.
[Digression: The easiest way to make people think you probably led an abused childhood, chained to a bare metal bedframe in the basement, is to tell them that you’ve never had a birthday party. I do not recommend this course of action while actually AT a party, because that many people staring at you with a mixture of disbelief and abject pity can make it difficult to enjoy your little plate of fine cheeses.]
Otto’s parents entertained all the time. Otto had birthday parties. Otto LOVES throwing parties, even if they occasionally involve inadvertently setting things on fire. Generally when we have a party, I tell Otto it’s “all him” and I do the bare minimum of participation in prep aside from cooking.
But tomorrow Otto is turning 40 and it seems like even I can’t quite bring myself to make him throw his own party. So I am Preparing To Party Hearty. read more…
PTSOFFSWTH*
Before jumping into today’s extremely cheery subject matter (see Mir use sarcasm; snark, Mir, snark!), let’s check in on the children’s medical state, shall we?
Chickadee confounded the doctor with… a whole lot of nothing. Except maybe she has a slight eye infection. Or maybe she has mono, but we’ll have to wait and see. I mentioned that this was giving me deja vu, except last time it turned out to be severe anemia, which shouldn’t be an issue now as she’s on iron supplements. Regardless, we got some prescription eye drops and directions not to wear contact lenses for a week, and the suggestion that she “take it easy.” I resisted the urge to ask the pediatrician if SHE would like to come finish Chickie’s science experiment, African scrapbook project (motto: Now with more Zimbabwe!), and also come take the SAT for her this weekend, and said we’d try.
Monkey, in the meantime, continues to be astonishingly agreeable and calm, and while I wait for the other shoe to drop I pass the time leaving messages at the neurologist’s office to say that when your kid has a bunch of scary tests it would be really nice if the doctor would, you know, call back with the test results sometime. BEFORE I DIE FROM THE WAITING. Ahem. read more…
Achey breaky eyeballs
I spoke too soon about the idyllic vacation week and uneventful return to school. Truthfully, my breath was held waiting to hear that Monkey celebrated his first day back by shattering into a million angry little pieces, but his day was perfectly fine.
No, I answered the phone yesterday afternoon when the caller ID said it was the school system (all the schools come up the same), steeling myself for a Tale Of Monkey Woe, but instead a little voice said, “Hi. I’m miserable.”
“Chickadee? What’s wrong??”
“My throat hurts. And my head hurts. And I am miserable.” In case you missed it, she was miserable. TWICE. Please make a note of it.
Of course, my girl has been known to exaggerate on occasion (I have NO idea where she gets that…), so I did grill her a little bit just to make sure this wasn’t a case of don’t-feel-like-doing-my-work-itis. But she convinced me she was truly sick, so off I went to pick her up. read more…
Back to normal, whatever that is
After nearly a week with everyone at home, it was with many yawns and heavy hearts that most of the family headed back to work and school today.
I was sorry to see them go; this was, for me, one of our best holiday breaks ever. We didn’t do anything. Seriously, it was a festival of sloth and all-day pajamas, most of the time. I was working through it, but that was fine. The kids relaxed. Monkey unwound a little. Chickadee worked on various school projects and slept late and chatted with her friends online. There was pie for breakfast, several times. For a few days I forgot that I was supposed to be stressed out and worried, because here in our little cocoon, everything was fine.
Today they’re all gone, again, and I miss them. The dog, however, watched everyone go and then immediately collapsed in a heap of relief here on my office floor. I’m pretty sure I heard her sigh as she descended into what was probably her first decent nap in a week.
Then the UPS guy showed up, and she leaped up to give him what for (I am not sure what “what for” is, but I suspect it sounds like a LOT of barking), and just like that, everything is back to normal.
Anne Frank is turning in her grave
Monkey is doing a Big Project on the Holocaust for school. He’s been “working on it in class” which means, of course, that this weekend we’ve discovered he’s done… next to nothing. Monkey is many fine and wonderful things, but one of his dubious “talents” is the ability to appear extremely productive when, in fact, he is simply working on spitball origami or dreaming up the five hundred latest characters in the pseudo-Pokemon world of his own creation.
Needless to say, we’ve been a bit busy with other concerns about Monkey, so I’ll be the first to admit we haven’t been as on top of his schoolwork as we probably should. When we got his last report card—the one with perfectly mediocre grades and an apologetic note from his teacher about how she doesn’t feel he’s “working up to potential”—I’d merely sighed and set it aside. Because shortly after I’d written about how hope is dangerous, we’d begun the slow slide, again, into more bad days than good. And as we struggled with that, then we had the possibly-a-seizure, and yeah, it’s hard to care about homework when you’re just grateful for any day that seems halfway normal and calm.
But we’ve had a few good vacation days, so we decided to dive into getting him caught up. read more…
Sublimating worry for fun and profit
You are all nice. So nice! Ponies for everyone. Except now we have to go back to pretending everything is fine, because I can only think about the Not Fine stuff in short bursts, lest my brain melt.
Today, for example, I am busy making Black Friday my bitch, and to celebrate that, I am also giving away an iPod Touch over on Want Not. So feel free to come over and enter that. And possibly do some shopping.
P.S. We had a lovely Thanksgiving, with much for which to be thankful. I hope it was the same for you. With extra gravy.
Love is grateful, day 7
Today I am grateful for the resilience of my youngest child; my baby, my heart, my sweet, sweet boy with the misfiring brain.
I’m grateful he endured this without too much complaint:
And then—because that wasn’t enough excitement—we followed it up with an MRI. Just for kicks. read more…
Love is grateful, day 6
Otto and I have a running joke about how the mugs in this house all get busy in the cupboards when no one’s looking, and then, BAM, before we know it, our humble family of four is trying to get by with only forty or so mugs to see us through. Hee.
These four are currently my favorites:
With the exception of the Chickadee/Monkey mug—which I bought my own damn self as part of a personal celebration of sorts—the rest of the mugs shown here (and all of the “extras” in the house) were gifts. Each mug reminds me of both an important message and the friend who was sweet enough to think of me. And then I get a dose of grateful with my morning coffee or my afternoon tea.