On a non-self pitying note. To the two teens that were accidentally shot, their families, and those that were traumatized by the events at Gardena high school today, my prayers are with you. I don’t know what to say about the teenager that felt it was necessary to bring a gun to school. School is the one place where all children should feel safe.
I made it past otorhinolaryngologist, but pneumonia knocked me out of the prelims for the Washington State Spelling Bee Championship in the fifth grade. Like all those years ago, pneumonia is kicking my ass yet again.
I got sick over Christmas. Three weeks later, two doctor visits and two rounds of antibiotics later, I was actually getting worse, so today I called to complain. Only I couldn’t because, I was coughing too hard. Luckily the receptionist was sympathetic, figured out who I was, and was helpful enough to coordinate with the doctor to get me set up for a chest x-ray STAT. Did I mention that James has pink eye?
I don’t miss much about my pre-James days, except for when I get sick. Before James, I could lay around and be miserable by…my…self….a.l.o.n.e. No one would pester me for a show, the Kinect, or more rounds chicken nuggets with barbeque sauce. I didn’t have to explain why Mister Stuffed Polar Bear could cry all he wanted and if it needed more scratches behind the ear he could bloody well hang out on someone else’s lap!
I’m just not up to coping with kid stuff much less day-to-day anything right now. I worked today, which only served to emphasize how out of it I am. Anyway, I had to drive both of us to the doctor for a follow-up appointment this afternoon and it was nearly a fiasco.
All I had to do was get both of us in our coats and out the door on time. James recognized the need for urgency, bless his intuitive self, and responded by slowing down to the pace of dying snail. I had to coach him into each piece of his clothing, his shoes, into both arms of his coat, out the door and towards the car. Of course all this talking and negotiating lead to a fit of coughing and wheezing. I lost my temper and slammed the front door. I never slam things.
After we got home, Tim took one look at me and had the grace to opt for dry cereal for dinner. Mister Stuffed Polar Bear is now spending the night stuffed in a sealed zip lock bag. It doesn’t pay to cry about not getting enough ear scratching time in our house when mom and James are sick. The bag idea was Jame’s idea not mine, his sense of justice is swift and brutal.
James realizing the gravity of my mood, cleaned up his toys without being asked. He even decided to clean up the blankets, the ones that we snuggle under on the couch. Although he pointed out that it was really nice for him to do all the hard work for me, and was getting strong muscles by working so hard.
I’m going to bed now, without spell checking- so there.