Tuesday, September 22, 2009


No H1N1, just some garden-variety blech.

In fact, it could literally be a garden-variety illness, in that it is entirely possible that it's allergy-related. If I indeed had a garden anymore, which I don't. I have a yard, which we'll charitably say is being xeriscaped. (Translation: eaten by volunteer lantanas, which The Man, native Texan that he is, cannot bring himself to cut down.)

Where was I? Oh, yes, sick. Sort of sick. Throat sore, energy drained, crabby as fuck...but not so bad as to get to stay home. That is a luxury one must save for the true deal, or when one's children have the true deal.

The girls are about in the same boat. The YG is coughing and a bit hoarse, but not spiking a fever. The OG is going through her usual fall-winter behavioral reaction to what is presumably an exposure to strep. She's agitated, stressed, itchy, doing all sorts of ticcing, and will burst into screechy tears, in school and at home, at the drop of a hat. Plus, she's got that tell-tale rash around her mouth. All this tells me that she could REALLY REALLY use a healthy dose of antibiotics right now, but I feel like a complete dope heading to her doctor asking for antibiotics when she doesn't have a fever, or any real external signs of infection.

So, given that I know her signs, you'd think I would be kind, or sympathetic to her, in her time of distress. But you would be WRONG. I am about to string her up. I can't imagine what sort of horrible Munchausen-By-Proxy mother would wish for her darling daughter to have a fever, but I do. I just CANNOT WAIT for it to spike so that I have an excuse to beg for three weeks worth of Zithromax.

The YG is charming her way through kindergarten, as is her wont. My worries for her are altogether different from the OG. Whereas the OG has always excelled academically and struggled socially, I fear that the reverse may be true for the YG. She is so incredibly verbal, and bright, and SO freakin' observant that it stuns me; however, she really, really can't read. And she - get this, ex-reading teacher here - writes BACKWARDS a lot of the time, even her own name! I fear that we may be having to investigate some sort of external teaching, which is not typical to my family. (My side is all just like the OG. Smart, nervous, socially awkward victims, that's us.)

My back-to-workness is chugging along as per usual. No major stressors yet; my status is pretty much quo. Still love my boss, still dubious about at least one of my worksites. The job is still fun, though I daydream sometimes about something else. What, exactly, I'm unclear about. I think I've officially reached the point, in this, the twilight of my 39th year, that I really and truly just can no longer face the notion of going back to school. (More to the point, it's really that I can't face the notion of taking the GRE again. But as the first is predicated by the second, it's all pretty much the same thing.)

40 is approaching rapidly. Plans are falling into place for what I hope will be a good shindig. Send me an e-mail if you're going to be in Austin in mid-November, and I'll hook you up.

What up with all of you? Anyone flu-bound yet?

Saturday, September 05, 2009

I Strain

I am currently in the throes of a several-hour-per-night session of entering registration data for our local Girl Scout service unit. (Because they ASKED me to and I didn't have a quick excuse handy; that's why.)

It is mindless, time-consuming, and nastily eye-straining; but most of all, it has made me hate typing on my computer THOROUGHLY.

So, sorry for lack of updating lately. I have about two more weeks of at least an hour per night on this horrific task, and then it should be mostly over.

But, right now? I wish I had one of Badger's sidecars, and that I did not have this huge stack of forms in front of me. Sadly, this is not the case.

Oh, but I do have to share this anecdote from the YG's first day of kindergarten.

See, she is extremely into "pretty." For several years now, she's been wearing what essentially amounts to "ball gowns" to school, nearly on a daily basis. So, it has always been common for her to ask me "Do I look pretty?" before heading somewhere.

Well, on the first day of school, she had been planning to wear a big flouncy dress of hers. But, when she came out of her room that morning, she had on a cute pair of "blingy" jeans that I had bought her at JC Penney, and a shirt with rhinestone buttons.

And, do you know what she asked me?

"Mama, do I look rockin' ? I want to look ROCKIN'."

I had to assure her that, as her mother, that I might not be the best judge of what "rockin'" looks like anymore, but as far as I was concerned, she was the rockinist girl in the kindergarten.