197

Wow! I just noticed that I have 197 posts on this blog. Now, I know I need to deduct a few that are drafts and have never been published, but still, how do you commemorate your 200th post? Any ideas? Should I be registered somewhere?

So today I finally got a chance to catch up a little in the blog'verse after a busy week which started with an unexpected trip to Modesto. My friend Julie has been up visiting with her mother. Recently diagnosed with kidney cancer, my friend's mom had some complications during a marathon surgery to remove one kidney. After talking on the phone with her on Saturday, I conferred with Paul, who agreed that a trip was in order. Sometimes you just need a friend.

It was a pretty quick turnaround trip with a five hour drive up there on Sunday and a seven hour drive coming home on Tuesday. (Do not ask; I don't come across well in the telling.) In between, we spent some time in the hospital, went to see Blades of Glory--it was either that or Wild Hogs--and made necklaces and bracelets at a bead store.

Of course, one frustration was I had the wrong cable to connect to the internet in my hotel room. I had some banking and blogging to do and was not able to accomplish either. Once I got home, my best intentions to catch up were waylaid by play dates, working in Marley's class and, as I mentioned somewhere, my new status as "Go To Girl" for the yearbook. (The fact that there is an elementary school yearbook is somewhat exasperating to me.) The deadline was today and while I was initially asked to help with some camera-to-computer image transfers, apparently I have a talent for photo collage. I was happy to help (and nicely thanked with some Trader Joe's products) but it kept me away even longer. The blog'verse should take comfort in the fact that I picked it over my checking account. As of this posting, my Google reader is clear of new posts but my bills still haven't been paid. The blogosphere is my master.

So, today, Colin had no school and Marley had a half-day. Next week they both have Spring break. Both of them are way past ready to have a reprieve from the weekly routine. Every day Marley complains about going to school and we've taken to putting on what amounts to a dog and pony show to elicit her cooperation. Portable DVD player in the car on the way to school, promises of taking her out to lunch, dangling picking up a friend on the way to school. Is it the best parenting technique? I doubt it; but, I can tell you it is the most expedient. Today we had to up the ante: a trip to Color Me Mine, a ceramics painting store. She was extra fussy, whining about not feeling good. Her back hurt. Her neck hurt. Her throat was sore. We told her to call us if she still didn't feel well and Paul took her to school. We were certain she would be fine once she got there. Um, guess what? She is sick. The school office called about 40 minutes before she was supposed to get home. She'd gone to the office and they'd taken her temperature. 102 degrees. Why thank you, I'm thrilled to be receiving yet another "D'oh!" parenting award. I have quite a few of them lined up on the mantelpiece.

In the middle of all this, I have in the back of my mind my application for grad school. I can go online and check the status. They have me listed under my maiden name. This worries me because the transcript with the good grades had my married name on it. I hope they put it all in the right file. So far, the admissions status page is telling me my application is still incomplete. However, it no longer tells me that I need college transcripts. It all makes me a little fidgety. Part of me is planning on mh being a student in the Fall and part of me is worried about being accepted. Keep your fingers crossed, pray, think good thoughts--whatever you do, please do it for me. I think I'm ready for this school thing.



Oh, one more thing: I've updated my Scenic View link in my sidebar. Atypical of nonsensical text pointed it out me and it is a four hanky story. (If you have any post you think needs a special shout out, let me know; I'll make it a Scenic View.)

P.S. I just read this post by Halushki's sister. It is the absolutely funniest post involving a goat I've ever read. A must read. Really. You have to go read it. Right now.

Sleeping with Bread: with Joys and D'ohs

As I approached this SWB post today, I realized that I'm in something of a mood. I'm sure hormones are a major factor in this moodiness. I told a friend today that I had thrown out the junk in the fridge because I wanted Paul to clean it. I found myself irritated with him about it and I hadn't even asked him to do it yet! That's a no win situation for him, isn't it? Then I found myself about to cry when I was watchng The Incredibles with Marley earlier. (The scene where Helen is trying is trying in vain to get Syndrome to call back the missles.) So, instead of writing a thoughtful post based on the SWB questions, I though I'd share about some of the joy in my life this week... and maybe some of the "D'oh!" moments, too.

First, the joys. I was poking around my picture boxes and found some pictures that I just love.

This is Marley about 8 months old. Looking at it six years later, I recognize something in her expression that I didn't see then. I'm sure when I took it I just thought she was making a cute, scrunched up face. Now... now I see the face that I've seen a thousand times since--her wild thing face. When she is feeling feisty and full of herself, we often are treated to that face and usually an accompanying snarl. I'm not sure that I've always appreciated that expression but I've come to know that it is the essence of my live-in-the-moment, no-holds-barred, free spirit daughter. I keep going back to this picture over and over again. I am amazed at how strongly her personality was developed back then and, in that way that all parents are, astonished at how much she has grown up.

See, all grown up (sort of) and there's that face!



Here she is about four months old. Look at those chubby legs and double chin! This from a girl who, aside from when she was born, was never above the 10 percentile in weight her first 18 months. She still managed some rolls. We had just come home from buying her that doll and I laugh when I see how big it was next to her. It also cracks me up that she and the doll are positioned the same--even their hands are held the same way. (This was probably the one and only time she wore a headband bow. I was never a big fan of them, especially the ginormous tulle ones but her daddy absolutely detested them.) She still has that doll although there are one or two above it now in her hierarchy of doll love.

I also came across pictures of He Who Wishes Not to be Mentioned, and although I will respect his desire not to have pictures shown (this week at least), I will share a story about him which brought me joy a few days ago. HWWNTBM had an assignment for English to write a letter from the point of view of a character in a story they had read in class about a teenage girl who is raped and copes with it by becoming mute. The students were to write a letter ten years from the time of the story to either the rapist, the girl's art teacher or her best friend. HWNTBM was struggling to get started and told me he didn't know what to write. These letters were to be read aloud in class and he wanted it to be good. I tried to give him some ideas of approaches he could take. Eh, he wasn't too thrilled with my suggestions. "I'm just going to start writing," he told me and that was that.

A day or two later, I asked him how the letter ended up. He shot me a sideways smile and said that it went "good." He proceeded to tell me that his letter had the girl disclosing to her former art teacher that she was a superhero. Her secret identity by day was an emotionally scarred artist. By night, though, she was a superhero who hunted rapists. I loved his approach (the teacher had offered complete creative control on the assignment) especially the superhero aspect. (I'm a superhero fan; X-men, Justice League, Batman, The Tick--I love them all.) Mostly though, I found joy in his creativity and in his pride in himself. I think an assignment like that could be difficult for a 14 year old. Putting yourself in the position of someone who's experienced something traumatic and trying to imagine what they might have to say 10 years later? I think that kind of insight is hard for a lot of people, not just a teenage boy. But HWWNTBM made it work and I felt joy in his success.

Now, a couple of D'oh moments.

I was drinking a Cherry Coke Zero last night. Paul took a sip and said that it was the real thing. No, I countered, it's diet. I picked up the can and looked. Sure enough, it was regular Cherry Coke. So, little Miss Weight Watchers had been drinking the real thing for a couple of days and hadn't realized it. D'oh! So much for my point tracking.

This next one falls into the category of Mother of the Year. Marley has been sick since yesterday. She's been running a fever and had a little bit of a cough and stomachache (no vomit, though, whoopee!) I rarely take her temperature because she fusses about it so much and all I have is a glass thermometer. I also wasn't giving her Tylenol because I've always been told that unless they are feeling really bad or the temp is pretty high, it isn't necessary. The fever is just their body working on the infection, blah, blah, blah. Well, I had to go out and run some errands, so I decided to go ahead and buy one of those ear thermometers. Marley's cheeks were red and I thought maybe I should make sure her fever wasn't too high. Well, I get out the thermometer to take her temperature (are you guessing where this is going?) and it was 104.3! Double D'oh! I gave her Tylenol immediately and she has now settled into the 102 range. Goodness, I should have my mothering license revoked.

Well, I guess those are my joys and D'ohs this week. As always, you can find links to more Sleeping with Bread here.