We have reached that time of the year when the ragweed and the crunchy leaves and the other allergens are swirling around in the air like some twisted snot producing soup. I woke up this morning with a tickle in my throat and a burn in my nostrils. Where's all the snorty stuff? Do we have a gross of Mucinex? Sigh. Oh well. I knew it was coming. When four out of seven days are spent on a soccer field, you can't expect a whole lot. I will be saturating myself with a cocktail of herbal and over the counter remedies, hoping to head the illness off at the pass. Let's hope I am successful.
Even though the allergies are no fun and my rear end gets numb from sitting in those camp chairs forever, pictures like these make it all worth it:
Just pure love, light and joy right there. Love it. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Three games today and three victories for the kids today. Two were very decisive, the third cold have been more decisive than it was, but they still won. Being at the field all day, I see more than my share of spectacles. I am really trying to not be labeled as one of "those" parents, but it is more difficult each game. I want to yell and get obnoxious, but there are too many out there to watch to have time to get terribly obnoxious myself. The plan was to draw pictures with today's written offering, but my tired state has rendered me creatively empty and boring. So I will just describe today's offering of people.
1. The "Juvie Parent"- the adult on the sidelines who is screaming loud enough that the rest of the team parents have made a conscious decision to move their chairs, coolers and beverages a good twenty feet away so as to disavow any knowledge of the loudmouth downfield. They are named for my brother's former coach who, besides being one of our town's juvenile judges, but also the coach everybody wanted but didn't want that to be public knowledge due to his amazing tantrums.
2. The "I like it so you're gonna like it" Parent-the adult who wants to live their unfulfilled sports dreams out in their child who has absolutely no interest in the sport. Tis includes the parent who walked out during their 5 year old's game to wear his little rear end out when he didn't run after the ball like they wanted. Get a life, mom and dad.
3. The "Really?"Parent- the parent who yells ten times louder than the coach, causing the players confusion when they are being given orders from two grown ups. Their child is, sadly enough to say, the lumbering dump truck on the team. When they get a foot out and finally kick a ball two feet, the parents cheer and hold her up as a soccer prodigy, the likes of whom has not been seen in our area for years. They correct, no really CORRECT, the kids who play on multiple and club teams and tell them what they did wrong while their child is dressed by others so as not to exert anymore energy than necessary. All of this happens while my sweet and innocent 5 year old soaks up every bit of this example up like a sponge, waiting for the proper time to use it on us. Yeah, no dice kid.
It is a freak circus and I am sure someone is writing much more eloquent and accurate observations about the red headed mom of three who sounded like a wounded Wookie on the side of the field today. I'm going to go to bed and ponder that now. Night all....
My oldest is officially eleven years old today. I cannot believe it. She came into the world sunny side up and squirming, with a cry like a little kitten. The lightest peach fuzz was on her little head. She gave us fits trying to eat and gain weight and she's still the same way today. Gone are the days of Little People and Polly Pockets for presents. This year she wanted books and knitting materials. Instead of 11, I think she turned 47 today at 6:42pm. I am proud of the girl she is and I can't wait to see what the future holds for her. Let's just hope there are no more head injuries. Happy Birthday, sweet girl.
I know that to call myself a writer is insulting all those who actually are writers, but I've got the block. My entries thrive on strange encounters with everyday people in less than exciting situations. Between the grocery store, school pickup line and local restaurants, I could blog for months. This new middle school-four soccer teams and three kids kind of life is screwing up my observation time. Okay, that's not entirely true. The soccer fields are a wealth of information, but most of the time I am glued to a game and trying not to vomit. You understand, right?
I will say this before I retire to watch the new version of Sherlock Holmes that I am suspicious about: my oldest turns eleven tomorrow. Eleven. I cannot believe it. Eleven years ago today, I had finished up nesting and had started a crying jag while my mother and the hub tried to explain that "the baby is coming and tough if you are scared." I think I may have slept an hour that night. I got through it and I'll go into that more tomorrow. Now I must away to bed and TV. Sloth awaits....
This has been a busy and strange day. Well, aren't they all? I read with the boy's class today, which is always an adventure. Children, especially kindergareners, have no whisper volume. Luckily the librarian is understanding. Thankfully so since one particular boy yells for his conversational voice. Jeepers...their teacher is a saint. I still enjoy it very much and the boy enjoys having me there, so every Wednesday we have a date. After reading, I ran several errands related to a little blonde's upcoming eleventh birthday. Whew! Thank goodness she likes to be crafty or we'd be in big trouble. I will admit that I took a little snooze and I liked it. Upon waking, I felt like groggy crap and regretted the decision. I needed a pick me up, and milk, so I ran to my favorite grocery store to hopefully run into one of several church members I always see. I instead ran into my favorite man in produce who was in a worse mood than I was. He hates Wednesdays, because answering the same question over and over from people who are hard of hearing is annoying to him. His bad day always means a good time for me, for he is at his funniest when angry. I've known the man for 10 years, so he knows I mean no ill will when I laugh:
I got a good laugh with Don which was good, especially since I knew church supper was coming. And we all know the crazy comes out at dinner. Tonight did not disappoint. The boy sat with his friend and the family he belongs to and the girls sat with their friends. The hub and I had a rare meal with all grown ups which honestly felt odd. It helped that we were sitting with our very entertaining friend Ed, who is a nuclear scientist of some important sort and a magician on the side. We were all laughing and carrying on when my friend came over and whispered in my ear, "I just want you to know your boy just licked D's ear." Crowds and noise can distort hearing, so I asked her to repeat herself. "Your son just licked the pastor's ear." Well this is not going to go well at the next staff meeting. Luckily the hub went to investigate. Pastor D walked by later, hands in the air claiming to be okay. A least that's what people told me...I had my head in my hands. After talking with the hub later, he explained that the boy was trying to give him a wet Willie. Obviously we need to educate him on the proper method for doing this prank before he gets the stuffings beaten out of him. Luckily he had a kind person. This time.
Well, I'm going to bed and try and figure out how to walk into church on Sunday without hanging my head in shame. The boy will have no problem. Just watch out for his wet willie's. They make quite an impression. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Once again I find myself on a Tuesday evening sitting at dance class, working out the problems of the world in my head whilst watching beautiful girls dance in ways that make my legs ache. Beth Nielsen Chapman's heartbreakingly beautiful "Sand and Water" playing in my ears but only adding to the darkness of my mood. "What To Expect While Your Expecting" fails to tell you of the terrible ache your heart feels when you can't kiss the hurt and make it better...when the obstacles seem too much for one little body to take. This pain that I wouldn't trade for a second, for in doing so would be emptying my life of the sweet soul it accompanies, a thought too devastating to contemplate. I long so for another crazy day, another Pizza Inn-cousin in a bite suit-weird encounter in a parking lot kind of day. The one where I can barely type from laughing so hard. But the mood hangs heavy over my head and over our family these days. There are so many people experiencing so much more devastating problems than ours, I feel tremendous guilt even expressing complaints or frustrations. We are truly blessed in countless ways. But, my friends, there are days when it is hard to sing of those blessings when one of my greatest blessings suffers as she does. Living a life of comparisons and unrealistic expectations to be someone other than herself. To live with a beautifully designed and wonderfully unique brain that makes her learn differently, makes her challenging to figure out and a puzzle to "fix". A girl who has to live under the specter, though wonderful she is, of her sister. Who can't be allowed to be the perfectly wonderful kid she is because she learns differently...doesn't have blonde hair and zero body fat...is an artist and athlete first and a reader second. This precious creature who God must smile about every day...who buries her head in my chest, tears magnifying her eyes when she can't take one more comparison, one more correction of her abilities. Why isn't being herself enough and why won't anyone give her the help she so desperately need and we want to her to have? My chest burns with fear for her fragile ego, with fury for her need for help with an obvious learning difference, for sadness towards those who have no idea what a bright, caring, ball of light this child is. This is the sweet pain of parenting...one that I'll gladly endure.
Don't get your hopes up people. Not altogether, just about soccer...until it starts in the Spring. I have played a lot of sports for a long time, even though I don't look like it now, and I have had a lot of coaches. There is nothing better and more encouraging than a good coach. One who calls you out when you screw up, teaches you how to fix it and cheers harder than everyone else for your success. There is nothing more damaging than a bad coach. The constant barrage of poor behavior, cutting remarks, negativity, discounting the worth of and breaking the spirit of budding athletes. It makes my skin crawl and my blood boil to think about it. The hub and I are at a crossroads, dealing with this exact situation. All I have to say is this is me during a recent game:
This picture shows me right before my head popped off. Get out of my kid's face. You're on the same team, remember?
I've got to go to bed. My blood pressure is starting to go up again. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I am not a pleasant person to be around this evening. Sundays have a way of always turning in to steaming heaps of crap in this house. The "forgotten" assignments for Monday, the reading logs not yet completed, the anxieties of being a student in an overtested, overstressed environment....all of it catches up on the day of rest. Add onto that allergies completely out of control for the oldest and back pain beyond a "10" for the husband and a mom who caught hell from several people about an issue at work, well let's just say we were not showing up to the church picnic this afternoon. We would be the ones getting thrown out, I'm afraid, even if just on bad attitude alone. So we instead had pizza, refereed a fight, reproduced a canine consumed reading log and fought them into bed. I'm now sitting, head spinning, contemplating the state of my mental health. Readying myself for my weekly bowl of ice cream and then heading to bed. Pray tomorrow is a better day.
We are burnt and allergied up. I thought I had sprayed the kids down with sunscreen before their games, but I was mistaken. My poor boy looks like Guy Fieri on an especially sunny episode of Triple D. You can see his sunburn where his glasses were and weren't. I hang my head in shame. After all the games were over, we went home and cleaned up. I did some baking and then relaxed. Apparently my oldest had some fun taking pictures with my iPad. This is what I found:
Poor dog just wanted a nap I'm sure. Anyway...S was so tired from playing and reffing and being sick, she just wanted a cuddle with her dog. And a photo session. We were very proud of her today. She scored two goals in her game and proved her worth as a member of the team. She also ref'ed her sister's game and handled hecklers with grace and patience. Her sister's team had a win and played some really good ball. She made several excellent saves as keeper and is going to be awfully sore in the morning.
I know people get tired of hearing about Soccer Saturdays, but it is our life in the early Fall and late Spring. They have been blessed with athleticism. It is always so humbling to see the gifts they've been given.
I am now going to bed. So tired....zzzzzzz...zzz..z.z..z.... - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
My teeth feel as though they will fall out at any given moment. Thank you, East Tennessee and allergy season. Blurg. I hope sleep will come quickly.
I want to say this: I am blessed. Blessed with a wonderful family and friends. A roof over my head and a pillow to lay my head on. Fridays off due to inservice and sleeping in. I am blessed with support and love. I am blessed with a wonderful, supportive husband. Lastly, and sometimes most importantly, I am blessed with cathartic laughter and lemonade. Night all...
S had her first foray back into soccer since having her face smashed a few weeks ago. She did alright, considering she was pulled in and out several times. She handled it all well, even if one of her adult non parental handlers got in her face and yelled at her. She's her mama's girl, though. She wanted to cry but refused to let it happen. Tough cookie. The team had heart, played tough and won in my opinion. They lost by a goal, but there was some questionable officiating when it came to one or two. Anyhoo, no sour grapes. I am so proud of them and am so proud of my girl for playing hard.
Nothing much on the funny front happened today. Sorry for the humorless musings on the evening. I will ask that thoughts and prayers and well wishes be sent to my friend, L, who is going for an amnio tomorrow. I have mentioned her before, pregnant with a baby who has so many obstacles to overcome. This procedure will be done to reduce her over abundance of fluid and gather some of that to do genetic testing on the baby. The baby either has Down's Syndrome, which is something they can live with. The other two options are fatal and no further medical intervention will be given. When I was picking my son up from her house this evening, the baby was just on the move in her tummy. Such a surreal experience, I'm sure, to have all the feelings of a healthy and active baby though knowing the obstacles that are in the way. She should know Monday or Tuesday what the results are. I just pray for their comfort and their hearts during this time. Mine is heavy for them.
Pray for my friend, pray my girl toughens up a little, and pray for my sanity as it all goes down. Later...
I am not in the best of moods, I must admit. I know that I am very blessed and all the annoying things are little, for the most part. But sometimes, the little things add up and become a big angry ball of bitterness and grumpiness. That is where I am. I feel like a list tonight, so here goes:
1. I am meeting with a teacher tomorrow and I dread it. No one is in trouble at all. We have concerns and want the best for learning. I am a hot mess because I am in new territory and am unsure of my ability not to get emotional from my bitterness.
2. Several stupid things happened today. Sorry ahead of time to my gentleman readers, but life happens. I was at my friendly neighborhood Kroger store to get some milk and apples, when I happened upon a good deal on personal items of the female variety. Never too proud to "stock up", I took several boxes and placed them into my cart and continued on with my list. Well good grief if I didn't see a good ten male friends and church members in the store who were chattier than usual. I thought I had avoided the awkward when I saw a male neighbor and sped by like a maniac, ready to knock over a display in a Mr. Mom-esque fashion...hearing "Irv! Cleanup in aisle 4!". Crisis avoided, right? Uh, no. When the guys got chatty, I desperately tried to hide the boxes under apples, divert the attention away by strategically placing my buttermilk bottles in distracting areas. But, alas, this was to no avail. As soon as the pink cardboard beacon boxes were spotted, perma-grins turned on and the men started backing away as one would when facing a rabid pit bull. I wanted to scream, "THEY ARE ON SALE!!! I'M NOT DANGEROUS!". I gave up after my favorite Kroger employee came up, put his arm around me and said, "Bad month, huh?". It did give me a good laugh.
3. In the course of a half hour at church, I tripped on my feet in front of a crowd...had my boy dump his dinner tray all over the floor...grumped sternly at my child, looking up in time to see the pastor watching me intently...picked up my child's water bottle in the handbell room just in time for the lid to pop off and dump water all over the carpet. Excellent.
I'd embellish more, but I must go to bed. I need all my wits about me tomorrow. It's going to be a rough one. But Friday is a comin'. Thank you, Jesus.
I am currently sitting at S's dance class...first one post concussion. As usual, she is the miniature class member, though not the youngest this time. Though she's not very tall, she has the long lanky ballerina body. How that child came from me I will never know, but I'll keep her for sure. Her class ranges from one fifth grader all the way to grown up people with actual jobs. So the fact she gets to dance with them is pretty exciting. So far she seems to be holding her own. Not to brag, but I will, I am pretty impressed by how much she has improved and picked up in two classes. She looks like a real dancer and it is something to see. But I am biased, for sure.
The iPad is not great for taking action shots, so I could never get her jumping or in the process of turning. She looked like someone's messed up acid trip, instead of the spritely creature she is. I wish they could have a class for me called "Moms who need to shed a million pounds before they could effectively dance but know lots of dance moves after sitting at their daughter's class for years and would love to learn a dance and show their kids they are capable of movement beyond cooking and laundry and driving the car but learn in the privacy of a room with brown paper over the windows" class. Anybody offering that one? Oh yeah, I guess it is called "Just Dance" for the Wii. Bummer. Anyhoo, I would be doing more of this:
than actual dancing. I'd probably need a few hits off an oxygen mask as well, that is before they called 911. But I would make those ten minutes that I last totally worth it.
Well, class has finished and the girl is hungry and tired and ready to go home. If anyone hears of a class for people like me, you know how to get me. When I get good, Maxim and I will will allow you to put our dance on YouTube. You're welcome in advance. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Okay, people. I have established long ago that our dog is crazy. She's 14 and has every right to have her quirks. We have lost countless socks only to find them barfed up in the floor of the breakfast room...or horribly twisted and defiled in a steaming heap in the back yard. I have had the unglamorous job of pulling Swiffer XL sheets out of her rear end like Doug Henning pulling multicolored scarves out of his mouth. Too bad what I was doing wasn't "an il-LUS-ion". Yuck. So tonight, as we ate our dinner, Cosby decided she needed to visit the loo in our yard. Easy enough. It was a rare period of dry for the day, so we gladly let her out to have a little jaunt before the looming monsoons. One of her favorite things to do, besides eating-pooping-sleeping-attention seeking-chewing homework and cookbooks, is eating the various delights that come falling down from our trees. Hickory nuts are her favorite by far. We have cleaned up more nut piles than I care to recall. It came as no surprise, when I looked up from cheezit chicken, to look on to the patio and see her crowing down on nuts. "S, go get your dog inside and away from those blasted nuts.". As the dog is coming inside, she is scratching and pawing at her face. Well, that's not good. The pawing continues until one comes down bloody. The hub and I then decided it was time to get involved. G immediately covered her eyes and turned away. She does not handle pet adversity too well and was sent packing to put her dishes up and get a shower. S wanted to help, but it would have ended up in additional bloodletting. We sent her packing, too. It turned into B prying her mouth open, I had one leg over her back legs and one arm over her front legs. B located the issue and I stuck my hand in in picked out a hickory shell embedded in her gum. Cha-ching!! We saved $500 and a trip to the Animal ER.
Lesson learned for her? Are you kidding? Do you know how many socks she's eaten? Lesson learned for us? Maybe. Leash in use during nut season. Wack dog.
I want to go to the movies right now. "Raiders of the Lost Ark" is on and I want to see it immediately. In 1981, my brother went to see it with his friends. I had a sleepover in his room and he gave me the play by play for the whole movie....including the exploding and melting heads. The sleepover lasted about an hour and then I ended up in my parents' bed. Detailed stories of spikes through men and untimely deaths with airplane propellers were almost too much for my 9year old mind to process. I got over that when I went to see it a week later with the whole family. This is the image that will forever be burned into my brain:
I was forever transfixed by Dr. Henry(Indiana)Jones and his adventures fighting the Nazis and big men with sabers and evil Frenchmen who threw ladies into snakey holes. My brother and I had the trading cards and the soundtrack and the movie dialogue record and the hat. We wanted the whip, but you all know how that turned out. Anyhoo, we were super fans and remain so today...even if his experiences with the aliens just took things too far. Way too far.
I wil see it again on the big screen in all its glory. I must. Dah dah da DAH, dah dah DAH.... - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Today was Saturday número dos in soccer season Fall 2012 and I have the red neck to show for it. S is still not allowed to play, much to her chagrin, so the kids and I only dealt with two games today. B had to go help coach S's team....it all gets so confusing after a while. The boy's team made a valiant effort, but they were the the scoring victors today. But for heart? They dominated. G's team had a great game. She plated midfield for a quarter, but then goalie for a half. She really did quite well, darn it. I don't want another concussion magnet. I've always thought that she was built, more than any of my children, to be a keeper. That doesn't mean I'm happy about it. She made several nice saves and a few dangerous looking ones. Don't like that either.
The rest of the day has been wedding recovery. My parents have returned safely to their fold and I pray they can rest up after all their hard work. I am writing this boring little entry and quickly surrendering to the Select Comfort for some recuperative slumber. Let's hope I am more successful than last night. It won't take much...
Well. My brother is an honest man now. At 7pm, his wedding ceremony began. I didn't think I would cry at all. We have waited for this for a long time. But I did cry...not boo hoo, but I did cry. Even though he is my older brother, I have always felt very protective and responsible for him. He needs neither protecting or tending, but that is how sisters are. He now has a wife who can do that for him and I am stepping aside to let her step in. I am thankful for her, but it is a melancholy day. I think most happy wedding days are.
The kids were wonderful and took their jobs so seriously. They had waited for this day for years. The food was tasty, the reception room looked lovely and the minister was great. We are biased...she is our dear friend.
I will discuss the day more later, but the threat of an early soccer game makes the need for sleep desperate. I will leave you with a picture you may just want just hug.
So cute, that kid. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
We had the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner tonight for my brother's wedding. Highlights include the boy talking about swallowing the wedding rings which would shorten his tenure as ring bearer. Also the wedding coordinator slamming the doors of the chapel open to introduce the bride...it seemed so Graduate-esque. My girls having smashed up paper towels from the bathroom a their practice bouquets. They looked beautiful. My graceful way to end things by opening up the tailgate of my aunt's suv and have the card table I was fetching fall right on my top of my foot. We had a lovely spaghetti dinner at our house with lots of family around. Our friend Deborah was introduced to the boy's new Ninja Turtle figures. The kids met new cousins and found new suckers to play Headbandz. And the yummiest and coolest part of the evening was the dessert of banana pudding....
...with my parents cake topper from 45 years ago. Pretty awesome. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
In the days leading up to my brother's wedding, you can feel the tension grow in our house. Not because we are unhappy about the wedding. Quite the contrary, we approach it with great excitement. But, as with any monumental and life changing occasion, there comes lots of planning and pressure and details and opinions and stress. Even though the kids have nothing to do with the planning other than showing up for their duties, their moods feed off the pressure cooker that contains their parents. So we can all understand that when the girls' closet looked like this this morning:
I lost my chiz, called the hub and told him to get some new trash bags on his way home. I told the girls they would eat breakfast and then clean up their quarters. If it wasn't done to my specs, they would take a tardy. This struck a nerve with caused one to yell at the other and then a punch to be thrown and then crying. "Good morning...good MOR-ning!!!". Excellent. So as I fixed my coffee and watched George Stephanopolous tell me about the sadness in the world we live in while I tied the boy's shoes, my kids were upstairs cleaning and punching. I threw up part two of my evil plan: "YO! Put your iPods in our room. Now.". More gnashing of teeth and venom being doled out for free. They stomped downstairs, grabbed up backpacks and took what appeared to be a death march to the car. The Song of the Volga Boatmen came to mind..."Yo ho HEAVE ho...". I had to hide my snickering. So after drop offs and AR with the boy's class(long story), I came home to finish cleaning. This is what I found on our bed:
The iPod pose of shame. Maybe someday they will redeem themselves and get their poor technology back. Until then, so sad for them. I think it is high time to spend up all their Ham on the Run veggie points. They've never done that to me. Cough cough. Oh well. Have a good one! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I had a whole blog post craftily worded and executed and then my iPad ate it. Annoyed is a mild term for what I feel right now. Let's just say, our pastor's birthday is coming up. His favorite movie is "The Big Lebowski" and the kids, having not seen it because I would be arrested, wanted me to sew him something from the movie as a gift. I decided to be safe and just attempt to make two of the main characters, The Dude and Walter. If you have never seen the movie, here is what they look like:
Here is my personal rendering of Walter:
And here they are in doll form. I know. Dolls for a man, and a preacher. Oh well. I may have to change churches...
The Dude's doll could double for a Jesus doll, but I don't think he wore a bathrobe. Oh well. Just thought I would share. Now to get back to cleaning for the pre-wedding festivities in two days. Eeek! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I love the Coen Brothers and every thing they do. Their movies are genius on a whole other level of levels. My brother and I were changed forever when we first saw "Raising Arizona" and learned of the Lone Biker of the Apocolypse. We quote it all the time. Then came "The Big Lebowski". Of course "Fargo" was in there and I have mad love for it, but Jeff Bridges and John Goodman are one of my favorite duos of all time.
How could they not? Quotable? Yes. Not for the kiddies, my friends. Too many bombs being dropped in the language department, but the Coens tend to give more than a heapin' helpin' with every offering. If they ever do a children's movie, my dream, they'll have to figure out a new tactic.
So why all the Lebowski love? I making something related that will be one of the dumber and funnier gift ideas. Just really borderline stupid, but remembered. Once I give it, I can show the pictures. Don't want to ruin the reveal. Speaking of, I have to go finish the caucasian. Later.... - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I love Peeps. Not to eat, but to use in fun projects...mainly dioramas. The Washington Post has a contest every Easter time where people make dioramas with Peeps as the main characters. I am obsessed. I love making dioramas anyway and when the kids have to do them for school, I really have to step way back. So you can imagine my delight when the Post started doing this contest. I have a couple packs of Peeps just waiting to be immortalized, but there are too many options. Overwhelming ideas. So instead, I scroll through the contest winners and dream.
Star Trek episode, "The Trouble With Tribbles", (don't know the star date)is shown above. I love it. They get better.
Creepy Peep outside the window. Love the eyes!
As a Hitchcock fan, this sugary homage to "The Birds" is excellent...and will probably make trips to the bathroom interesting if ingested. Black dye...never dull.
For all you into bathroom humor, heh heh, here are urinals and urinal cakes. Why one's mind would go there, I don't know. But I am glad they did.
For all you Public Television Anglophiles out there, Downton Abbey season three is coming out in January. Or in yellow sugar coated vanilla with a touch aristocracy and drama.
Just Google "Peeps Diorama" and enjoy! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Today was the first soccer Saturday of the Fall 2012 season. Concussion girl could not play, but we did watch her team play quite a convincing match in the rain. It killed her not to play, but we don't really want her killed by another blow to the head. G and the boy played, ending in a win and a loss. All in all, it was an okay morning. The rest of the day has been a pajama day for the kids and a messing and cleaning day for us. I have not had the opportunity to do much sewing lately, so I decided to make a doll this afternoon. Not a girly girl doll, but a doll of one of my favorite movie heroes. I shall reveal HIS identity once he's complete, but I'm still trying to figure him out.
For now, I think I will rest my sewing fingers and go to bed soon. We are in for a mighty busy week...countdown to a wedding. Yippee!!!
Trip número dos to the ER for S and her head. Her home room teacher very dramatically called me from school to say that S had lost vision in her left eye and that I needed to get her immediately. Here we go again. So from 11:30 to 4:30 we were in some sort of waiting or exam room. Luckily I had the iPad so I could doodle. This was my most elaborate:
We saw a PA and an MD in the ER. At 2:30, the PA gave S a big shmear of peanut butter, a nutri grain bar, a pack of nabs and a cup full of individual graham cracker and saltine packs. She had not eaten since 6:50am, so she was attempting to eat the blood pressure cuff. This snack will cost us approximately $325, I am guessing...discounted since she is a frequent visitor. We then packed up and tromped over three hallways and an elevator ride to see the pediatric ophthalmologist. I love that office, all the bells and whistles and toys to get the best results from the little patients, but they have got to take down their graphic posters. This one makes me go running for one of those pink kidney shaped dishes every time:
Click and enlarge the picture at your own risk. I can't do it. They dilated her eyes and led us back out to the waiting room for a half hour wait until the drops worked. During this time I fell asleep briefly, only to wake myself up with a tiny snort. Guess I stole the thunder of the toddler screaming around the waiting room to the utter "delight" of the rest of us. Schooled you, 22 month old. When we were mercifully called back, the exam revealed healthy, uninjured eyes. She was much more farsighted than her glasses indicated, but nothing a new script can't fix. The diagnosis was a traumatic migraine, brought on by a blow to the head. The symptoms she had fit this more than a concussion, which is fine with me.
She is not playing in her game tomorrow and will be wrapped in bubble wrap and foam rubber when she returns. I have decided to consult with NASA about space travel quality materials that will be used to protect the heads and faces of goal keepers. Okay I'm not, but wouldn't that be cool?
I think I'm on to something... - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
That tiny doorway is all that separates us, once again, from the plague. And by the looks of the sick waiting room, it looks like medieval times have returned to our fair city. Masks and kidney shaped trays and green faces abound. Of course, our little corner of the world is stuffed like an oversized tuna can. Because the injury of the moment is causing nausea, she is holding her own fashionable pink kidney dish. We are getting the stink eye from all the injured kids' moms, because they think we have breached the force field of waiting room etiquette. Motion sickness is not contagious, people. With this many visits to the ER in the past few months, I fear we are being placed secretly(or not so secretly)on a watch list with DCS.
The girl is now in a room watching Cars 2 on a continuous loop. She was thrilled to receive a soft hospital gown...what a weirdo.
The doc came in just a second ago. I cannot say we are super fans at this juncture. She asked S to show her what hurt the worst and then immediately started texting. Thankfully she left us in the capable hands of a lovely nurse handing out Zofran that tastes like Sour Patch Kids. Whatever gets it down the hatch, friends.
Sweet Mr. Daniel came in to take S to get a CT scan. He provided another first to put in the baby book...her first ride in a wheelchair. They discussed the possibilities that maybe goal is not really the safest place for her and that she needs to put her hands up when the ball gets near her face. Maybe the young, friendly orderly's advice will stick with her. They got along swimmingly.
We are now in a holding pattern, watching Toy Story 3 and waiting for the results of the CT. If they don't hurry, I will be going into the fetal position during the incinerator scene of this movie. Buzz and Woody holding hands...Andy passing the gauntlet of toys to Bonnie...I'll be even more of a wreck than I already am with an injured child. "You've got a friend in me...."....sniff sniff.
She seems okay except for the red cheek and puffy eye. The Zofran has kicked in and her tummy is growling in protest of her tiny pre-practice dinner. Hopefully we'll be out of here soon. Bonnie is playing with the toys...I've got to get my hands on the remote. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
With my new responsibilities at work, I am needing to use the computer a lot more. And do stuff with it...like not just emails. Our church administrator has been kind enough to walk me through some things and basically spoon feed me others. I am realizing, in a harsh and sad way, that I have relied on my husband's computer genius way too long. And the sad thing is that what I need to do is like mindless fluff for him. If I hear the "You don't know how to do an Excel spread sheet. Really?" one more time, I think I'll cry. So, if you happen to pass by my window at work and find a smashed computer on the sidewalk, just keep on driving. You're better off that way.
I've determined that everybody is out to make a buck these days. Every tragedy, holiday, historical event and sporting phenomenon is memorialized in the form of crap...and my kids want to buy every ounce of it. The bobble head of Sigmund Freud, even though they have no idea who he is(one of my many parental failures as a psychology major), the foam finger depicting the Malcolm X fist in the air for the palest kids on Earth, the snow globe depicting the hurricane of the moment are all ready to be purchased. And for a horrific price. Sometimes the price is worth it, especially for the extra unique gag gift. The Ron and Nancy Reagan paper doll book that my very conservative father gave my liberal great aunt was an ultra expensive gag gift purchased at Spencer gifts, I think. Well played, Dad. Well played. She got him back somehow...a jar of apple butter with a banana in it(family joke). One of my personal favorites, forgive me my Catholic family and friends, is the boxing nun puppet. My uncle bought one at a yard sale and gave it to me. That poor puppet boxed until her gloves and arms fell off. Best $0.50 he ever spent. My boss showed me the ultimate make a buck on odd things. I have found that, as a Christian, it is sometimes hard to know the line between funny, tacky and out in out sacrilege. I tend to keep things to myself and find that if I get that feeling in my gut, I just need to not participate. My boss was given some items by a church member trying to be helpful. It's the thought that counts, I know,but we were unsure as to what to do with these items. One is bizarre enough I can't include it because it creeps me out. The other one is just almost beyond words.
Um, yeah. How would I feel if I got the hankering to erase a mistake and knocked His head off? Is it there to serve as a reminder while we write to be mindful of our words? Not sure. This, believe it or not, was not the weirdest part of the gift. The packaging on the back puzzled us both:
Chopsticks? Uh, I mean, chopsticks? Nothing screams "General Tso's Chicken" like these. I think the price tag read $4.95. Someone in the Oriental Trading Co for church children's programs is making a killing. There are no words, really.
I love a good novelty toy gag gift trinket of no value other than to empty my wallet kind of thing. My miniature Beethoven head that I carried around in my pocket was a favorite worry object for years...until I wore his already deafened ears off with my thumb. Sorry, Ludwig. The Jesus pencil toppers have me on the fence. Reminder object? I can get with that, maybe. An object to joke about? Not so into that. I'll save that for my friend's "Famous Psychologist Action Figures". I can joke about them and then Skinner, Maslow and Freud can tell me why I feel the need to do it. It's a win-win.
The hub has left the building and driven straight to get my dad and go to his version of football mecca: Cassell Coliseum in Blacksburg, VA. He hadn't even gotten his bag in the car and out of the driveway before the crying and gnashing of teeth began. Since they are with me all the time, his leaving is an especially heinous insult. The only bright spot of the day, besides the fact that it is Labor Day, is that soccer practice was cancelled and we didn't have to get out on a messy day. Among the fun things that happened during the first three hours of his absence? Weeellll, let's see. Illegal cupcakes were made, defying a direct order. Blows were thrown between siblings. A strange and sketchy woman decided to stand out in front of our house, smoking her cigarette, and stare at us. One of the kids completely lost their chiz and went around checking all the locks on all the doors. One had a death grip on the phone with finger poised to call 911(Can you tell we live on a boring street?). The other, while I was trying to calm the first two down, had turned to the sick adventures of Honey Boo Boo...or whatever that train wreck is called. Mouth open in a disturbed stare, the channel was quickly changed to the Turtleman and peace, calm, happiness and live action was restored. They are currently bathed and playing some sort of made-up contact Poker using Jokers and sucker punches. Whatever keeps them from booby trapping the bathroom before I get to use it. Oh, and for the hub, GO HOKIES!!
I am in a transition period in my life. Lots of changes, some good..some bad...some terrifying. Our family is over the moon with excitement about my brother's upcoming nuptials. We love his fiancé so much and are so happy for them. In fact, I took the girls and:
We needed to get them some ballet flats to go with their dresses. They are going to look awfully cute. School is going well, so far, and we are so pleased with the teachers they have. It sure helps calm nerves when you know your children are safe and loved while in their care.
There is a cloud of uncertainty looming over my head. Brace yourself for an obscure 90's reference: I feel like the cartoon guy in the Honeymoon in Vegas opening credits who has a storm cloud following him wherever he goes. Chump is not a mantle carry with pride, but it seems to be one I carry right now. Just pray that the uncertainty resolves. Limbo does not feel good.
Because tomorrow is a day off from school, the kids are indulging in one of their favorite things...a sibling slumber party. They are so cute. They make chumpness tolerable.
Sixth grade comes with many exciting things: freedom, dances, new friends, band, different cafeteria. It also comes with downsides. Most annoying? Projects. I know they have some educational value, but my thought is always to give harder work rather than increase the quantity. But...I'm not an educator, so they know best maybe.
The project in question was the creating of an island. On said island, one must create a certain number of landforms and resources. The island must be 3D, with a name and a climate and named landforms to go with the theme of the island's name. Lattitude and longitude and keys and scales had to be included. A written explanation of said island and it's people and their occupations had to be included. The project was to be completed in 10 days. If it was completed in 3-4 days, the student would receive 10 extra points....and the parents would have a major nervous breakdown. School, church, sports and life in general made that an impossible task for S. it was worked on a little bit everyday, but not in earnest. Today was d-day. It would be done so we could enjoy Labor Day weekend at least a little. We learned a few very valuable lessons along the way. One, don't drag it out. Two, felt is fun. Three, spray insulation foam in "funner". And four, allowing your child to attend a sleepover before SS project d-day is not too bright. When I offered to type while she dictated her island report to me, I noticed a slurring of speech as she slumped over in exhaustion. This was not received well. When my fingers became the target for glue gun misfires, I didn't react in a kind manner. But in the end, blasted thing was completed and the report was printed out. The kids are snoring in their beds and we have our feet up in full project recovery mode. Lesson learned and project completed.