My New Favorite Place
Is, strangely enough, the very room I just posted pictures of. I'm sure that will change once the primary occupant of said room is a very loud and demanding infant, but for now, the room is silent. (And cold--I think I closed off the vents because we never used it. Remind me to remedy that.)
And that second-hand glider I bought is strangely comfortable. I settled back into it yesterday evening after dinner, while I waited for the Tylenol to kick in and ease the pounding headache I developed mid-afternoon. As a fat cat climbed up Mt. Moosebaby and wrapped his front legs around my neck (baby-style, as he is inclined to do), I felt myself rocking a baby to sleep in that cool, dark room, while a thunderstorm played out the window. And I felt completely relaxed.
So that's where I went last night around 11:00, unable to find a comfortable sleeping position in my bed. The dog greeted me at the door, and when I settled into the chair, she took her place in her big squishy dog bed. I probably would have slept there all night, but like I said, I closed all the vents, and that room was damned cold, so after a while I took my place on the sofa downstairs. But now I understand why Gilda prefers that room to being locked in her crate downstairs all night to be taunted mercilessly by the (free) cats.
Bob will be with db this evening, and I'm not sure how to spend that 2.5 hours of free time before I have to go fetch him. I intended to go to the gym last night, but that didn't happen because of the Headache That Wouldn't Die, so I'd really like to go tonight. But there was also talk of a possible sushi dinner with my husband, and we could certainly use a quiet night out. So I'm torn.
I'm also without Bossman's company for the next 2 hours, meaning I could easily slip out and enjoy an hour-long lunch alone with the Indian buffet--but I also have a ton of shit to do and given all the time off I've taken lately, I feel guilty taking a lunch at all...but then, no one ever got much out of being a martyr...and I do have a rep as a Gen X slacker to maintain...and Emeril did make samosas last night that I haven't been able to stop thinking about since...
Truth be told, I could probably stand to leave the office today and take a nice relaxing lunch break. Bob started his new medication on Friday, and Monday, I got an email from his teacher--for the first time in over a month, he was able to stay in his own classroom all day, and not be removed for behavior problems. I re-read it about 80 times and cried like a baby.
Unfortunately, since Saturday morning, Bob has had some gastrointestinal issues. He threw up in his bed at some point over the weekend--which I did not discover til I was putting him to bed Sunday night, and he couldn't remember when he did it. He hasn't puked since, but he's had several days' worth of, well, for lack of a better term--sharting. There's a puking/crapping bug making the rounds at school, so it could be that. Or, it could be side effects from the new med--although the nurse and I agreed if that were the case, he'd likely have puked more than once. So we've decided to give it another week or so and see what happens.
In the meantime, I sent him off to school yesterday and noticed he let a particularly foul one rip just before he got out of the car. I assumed he would advise me if he'd crapped himself and went on to work. I went back to the school an hour and a half later to pick him up for his therapy appointment, and was told "you might want to check his pants." Sure enough, we stopped at home and...ew. The kid was crusty. I ended up putting him in the shower and hosing him off. He had his therapy and I took him back to school, where he apparently did well through the afternoon. But I guess in the morning, he started to wander about and get in other kids' faces and say nasty things to them before being asked to sit down and do his work, which he did.
So I sent an email to his teacher advising her of the sharting problem, and how I've told Bob he probably wants to refrain from farting at all unless he's positioned over a toilet, and how he has a spare set of pants in the nurse's office just in case.
Today's problem centered around my not having yet figured out a good morning routine to coincide with our new schedule. Since Ben leaves around 7:30am now, I'm responsible for getting Bob to school at 8:50 (when they let breakfast-eaters in the building) and myself to work at 9:00. Yesterday we were ready to leave by 8:00--and having almost an hour to fuck off in the morning isn't necessarily a good thing. So today I stayed in bed a bit longer (not difficult considering my fairly restless night) and suggested to Bob we hit Starbucks on our way to school.
Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Until we were walking out the door at 8:30 and Bob announced "I have to go poop." While he did this, I checked my email, saw the note from teacher, and typed up a quick reply. We started down the main drag that takes us out of our subdivision, only to find the street completely blocked by construction. Dammit. Doubled-back and took the other thoroughfare that passes the middle school (at 20mph). As I approach the light, Mr. Sharty pipes up "I think I have to fart again!" The left-turn arrow is turning yellow, and there's a cop waiting for the forward green light. I choose the left-turn lane and, as I realize as the arrow disappears, choose incorrectly. Normally I would have just shimmied into the straight lane, but thanks to Officer Intheway, I waited and begged Mr. Sharty to hold it. He did. We got to Starbucks and as I made my way through the yuppies and over-painted rich housewives in their polyester track suits with fur collars, Bob headed for the john. I ordered our beverages and then we wait. And wait. And wait. I finally pull up to the school at 9:00am.
"Can I take my smoothie in?"
Yes, you can take it to the cafeteria, but you need to finish it there and toss your cup before the bell.
"Why can't I take it to my classroom?"
Because you can't take food or drink to class, you know that.
"But I want it for lunch!"
It won't last that long, Bob. Now look, if it's going to be an issue, you can leave it in the car.
"Fine, I won't take it to my class!"
Good. Get the hell out of my car now.
I entered my office at 9:10.
Gah. What a way to start a Wednesday. The good news is I have no doctors to visit, no emergencies to contend with, or any other disruptions for the rest of the day. Knock wood.
So yeah...think I'll hit that Indian buffet after all.
And that second-hand glider I bought is strangely comfortable. I settled back into it yesterday evening after dinner, while I waited for the Tylenol to kick in and ease the pounding headache I developed mid-afternoon. As a fat cat climbed up Mt. Moosebaby and wrapped his front legs around my neck (baby-style, as he is inclined to do), I felt myself rocking a baby to sleep in that cool, dark room, while a thunderstorm played out the window. And I felt completely relaxed.
So that's where I went last night around 11:00, unable to find a comfortable sleeping position in my bed. The dog greeted me at the door, and when I settled into the chair, she took her place in her big squishy dog bed. I probably would have slept there all night, but like I said, I closed all the vents, and that room was damned cold, so after a while I took my place on the sofa downstairs. But now I understand why Gilda prefers that room to being locked in her crate downstairs all night to be taunted mercilessly by the (free) cats.
Bob will be with db this evening, and I'm not sure how to spend that 2.5 hours of free time before I have to go fetch him. I intended to go to the gym last night, but that didn't happen because of the Headache That Wouldn't Die, so I'd really like to go tonight. But there was also talk of a possible sushi dinner with my husband, and we could certainly use a quiet night out. So I'm torn.
I'm also without Bossman's company for the next 2 hours, meaning I could easily slip out and enjoy an hour-long lunch alone with the Indian buffet--but I also have a ton of shit to do and given all the time off I've taken lately, I feel guilty taking a lunch at all...but then, no one ever got much out of being a martyr...and I do have a rep as a Gen X slacker to maintain...and Emeril did make samosas last night that I haven't been able to stop thinking about since...
Truth be told, I could probably stand to leave the office today and take a nice relaxing lunch break. Bob started his new medication on Friday, and Monday, I got an email from his teacher--for the first time in over a month, he was able to stay in his own classroom all day, and not be removed for behavior problems. I re-read it about 80 times and cried like a baby.
Unfortunately, since Saturday morning, Bob has had some gastrointestinal issues. He threw up in his bed at some point over the weekend--which I did not discover til I was putting him to bed Sunday night, and he couldn't remember when he did it. He hasn't puked since, but he's had several days' worth of, well, for lack of a better term--sharting. There's a puking/crapping bug making the rounds at school, so it could be that. Or, it could be side effects from the new med--although the nurse and I agreed if that were the case, he'd likely have puked more than once. So we've decided to give it another week or so and see what happens.
In the meantime, I sent him off to school yesterday and noticed he let a particularly foul one rip just before he got out of the car. I assumed he would advise me if he'd crapped himself and went on to work. I went back to the school an hour and a half later to pick him up for his therapy appointment, and was told "you might want to check his pants." Sure enough, we stopped at home and...ew. The kid was crusty. I ended up putting him in the shower and hosing him off. He had his therapy and I took him back to school, where he apparently did well through the afternoon. But I guess in the morning, he started to wander about and get in other kids' faces and say nasty things to them before being asked to sit down and do his work, which he did.
So I sent an email to his teacher advising her of the sharting problem, and how I've told Bob he probably wants to refrain from farting at all unless he's positioned over a toilet, and how he has a spare set of pants in the nurse's office just in case.
Today's problem centered around my not having yet figured out a good morning routine to coincide with our new schedule. Since Ben leaves around 7:30am now, I'm responsible for getting Bob to school at 8:50 (when they let breakfast-eaters in the building) and myself to work at 9:00. Yesterday we were ready to leave by 8:00--and having almost an hour to fuck off in the morning isn't necessarily a good thing. So today I stayed in bed a bit longer (not difficult considering my fairly restless night) and suggested to Bob we hit Starbucks on our way to school.
Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Until we were walking out the door at 8:30 and Bob announced "I have to go poop." While he did this, I checked my email, saw the note from teacher, and typed up a quick reply. We started down the main drag that takes us out of our subdivision, only to find the street completely blocked by construction. Dammit. Doubled-back and took the other thoroughfare that passes the middle school (at 20mph). As I approach the light, Mr. Sharty pipes up "I think I have to fart again!" The left-turn arrow is turning yellow, and there's a cop waiting for the forward green light. I choose the left-turn lane and, as I realize as the arrow disappears, choose incorrectly. Normally I would have just shimmied into the straight lane, but thanks to Officer Intheway, I waited and begged Mr. Sharty to hold it. He did. We got to Starbucks and as I made my way through the yuppies and over-painted rich housewives in their polyester track suits with fur collars, Bob headed for the john. I ordered our beverages and then we wait. And wait. And wait. I finally pull up to the school at 9:00am.
"Can I take my smoothie in?"
Yes, you can take it to the cafeteria, but you need to finish it there and toss your cup before the bell.
"Why can't I take it to my classroom?"
Because you can't take food or drink to class, you know that.
"But I want it for lunch!"
It won't last that long, Bob. Now look, if it's going to be an issue, you can leave it in the car.
"Fine, I won't take it to my class!"
Good. Get the hell out of my car now.
I entered my office at 9:10.
Gah. What a way to start a Wednesday. The good news is I have no doctors to visit, no emergencies to contend with, or any other disruptions for the rest of the day. Knock wood.
So yeah...think I'll hit that Indian buffet after all.
posted by Mitzi Green at 8:02 AM
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