...and SO very productive.
Grandma MK and Jamie went on a Kate Sessions Park forced march.
AM meeting with senior special education staff followed by a Cub Scout Mission to Miramar to finalize swimming pool rental for Pack event.
Home to pick up Grandma MK and Jamie for some mid-afternoon errands.
Jamie's dermatology appointment went well. Jamie impressed the resident and the staff peds dermatologist with his ability to recount the many medications he takes, including providing "hydrocortisone cream with valerate". Scary. More scary was that he quickly volunteered that "I'm very, very smart." Even more scary is the cold, cruel fact that not one standardized test score has captured this proclivity to memorize medical details.
The verdict?
(Drum roll, please).
A solar sensitivity not otherwise specified. He does not meet the criteria for polymorphus blah-blah as the first resident originally wagered because his bumps are follicular and not large enough. However, the fact that the bumps only occur in areas where light directly strikes in conjunction with his long and distinguished history of immune-related issues (GERD, asthma, allergies, etc.) makes it the best guess.
So the doctors want to ramp up the hydrocortisone to something-else which Jamie will memorize and I will gloss over. (Factoid for APC: If hydrocortisone is a 1 on the steroidal cream scale, valerate is a whopping 2. The new ointment is a 100 and the doctor said they have creams that go to 1000). They are also giving him another ointment that rather tames the nerve endings. Oatmeal baths are out (too drying, only really good for chicken pox according to the docs) but 1/4-cup bleach into his bathtub is an option. Jamie, naturally, offered to go to a swimming pool at night in lieu of a bath-with-bleach. (Of course, his mother's freaking-out over salmonella with bleach in her hand may have irreparably ruined his associations with bleach as a force of Good).
Oh, and I received an educational lecture on the proper use of sunscreen. Admittedly, I am a lazy sack and usually just slap the sunscreen on exposed body parts. (Here's another factoid for all: In order to get the SPF protection listed on the bottle, you have to apply it like cake frosting. To get the best protection, apply a chemical sunscreen and then apply a zinc-based barrier-type one over that. Maybe you all knew this already, but I got to look like a bit of a nincompoop).
In summary, a benign, irritating nuisance. The doctor wants to get on top of the itchiness to avoid permanent scarring.
Jamie, fresh from the high of citing "valerate" (and calling Jack "excrescent boy" to laughter from the doctors, but that's a whole 'nother blog entry) was so pleased with his appointment that he wrote up a "5-star comment card" for the good doctors with this little blurb:
"You were really nice and took me seriously. Thank you for your hypothisis (sic) about why my skin itches so much and for trying to help me."
Next stop: Target Boutique. Have begun the ritual of packing the hospital bag, at the behest of Grandma MK.
Next stop: Chili's for dinner. Grandma MK's treat. Tasty and a little escape from the ordinary. Wait, is that their jingle??
Final stop: Patty Kiki's for Jamie to do trash-to-curb detail. By himself. While She Who Provides On-the-Spot Narrative Services offered commentary.
Harangue of the Day:
Charlie is too dependent on me. It will be a travesty if he associates the new baby with my unavailability. Ergo, we need to eat dinner in a restaurant tonight.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Tendering my resignation, effective today.
Reason #1: I am, apparently, unable to schedule appointments "correctly" with Naval Medical Center San Diego despite years and years of experience.
Granted, I am a hormonal nightmare but this morning, I was forced to succumb to tears in the middle of the Peds Sub-specialty clinic b/c they had no peds neurology appointment in the computer for Tim even as he and his mother stood before the check-in desk promptly at 8:14 a.m. for a 8:30 a.m. slot. (I made it on June 30 after Tim's trip in the ambulance to the ER) and I rather freaked out (more accurately...flame-sprayed any civilian receptionist-types in my vicinity) when the universal response was to ask me the name of the clerk who made the appointment by phone and the date/time I MADE the appointment and their social security number. "WHAT?!" As frequent visitors to this blog fully realize, I am an appointment-making machine and visit the hospital at least once per week. I thought it was good that I show up at the appointments, but apparently, I'm supposed to conduct a Quiz Bowl of my own for the hapless souls tasked to enter my info in the computer.
I'm sort of committed for about a month from now and thought if it took me another month to get an appointment, Tim would still be on massive activity restrictions and would miss his surf camp. Trivial stuff and yet waste of time, effort, etc.
For the record, I was controlled rage-mother until the poor clerk tasked to go talk to the actual MD until the clerk reported that the MD would see him by 11 a.m. The thought that we'd gotten here at 8:15 a.m. and could spend 3+ hours sitting, trapped (as Charlie would say), waiting to be worked in was unsat. After the tears rolled for a minute and after Tim responded with his signature "huh-huh" laugh at me, I started looking around the waiting room, noticing that one is here for genetics, that one for speech, that one for urology...how curious no one is HERE for the blasted 8:30 a.m. appointment that is supposedly booked by someone last-name "London". Hmmm...London is in England, which would be Britain, which could sound-by-phone or be-mistaken for Allbritton, couldn't it?
Short story (NOT), at 8:35 a.m. we were shown to an exam room and by 9:15 a.m. were on our way to continue our dreamlike existence elsewhere.
Reason #2: My eldest son has committed an unspeakable act of utter inanity.
Background: Developmental services caseworker was at my home today for 2-hours to do annual paperwork for Charlie and Tim. This is a joyous enough event but both kids were acting out. Around 4:05, the gentleman announced he would need about 15 minutes to write out "outcomes" so I excused myself to the kitchen to make my once-per-month home-cooked dinner (the oh-so-complex corn-flake chicken). Just as I finished dipping and dredging the last breast of chicken, he calls that he's ready for me. I turn to my mother, who has been painstakingly supervising, critiquing and offering other forms of narrative services while I was up to my elbows in raw poultry, and request, "Please cover that" (thinking that I was referencing the pan of chicken). I go out, sign some forms, exchange some pleasantries, and we start the farewells.
Unspeakable act: Tim emerges from the kitchen to bid adieu to Bob, his caseworker. As he ambles past me, I take note of strangely-familiar tan crumbs extending from his lips down his royal-blue shirt. I race to the kitchen, where yes, the chicken pan is exactly how I left it, only with fewer crumbs dredged lovingly across the top of 2 portions. I emit a muffled hissy shriek, "TIM...DID YOU EAT THE RAW CHICKEN?"
Bob, to his credit, opted to make a hasty departure (probably to hit traffic vice having to spend the next hour making a child services or ELDER ABUSE referral).
At this point, I go absolutely apoplectic. I race him into the bathroom, scrub his hands, stick him into the shower, brush his teeth and return to the kitchen, armed with Clorox (TM) to retrace his hand-steps. My mother, God bless her, is truly mystified at my comportment and upset.
Aunt Patty Cake smart-ass contribution: "Don't you know, Crab Queen, that she fed us raw meat on a routine basis because it boosts children's immune systems?"
Note: In fairness, Grandma MK professed to have thought I meant to cover the chicken with the remaining corn flakes -- not cover the pan with a barrier to inquisitive, hungry paws.
For the capping irony, after the chicken was overcooked to my satisfaction and the children's dinner plates served, my mother suggested that we head out during our 2-hours of respite to dine at Sushi Ota, which serves -- you guessed it -- RAW FOOD.
Reason #3: I hate cleaning, especially after the cleaning lady was JUST here. See close encounter with my hands and a Clorox spray bottle (above)
Reason #4: I can no longer take change in any of its forms.
Case in point, my cleaning lady who has come every Wednesday morning for 7 years, informed me that my morning o' cleaning would be changing to Tuesday effective next week. It was not a request or a suggestion or a favor; it was the way things are going to be.
So, in addition to my trash day changing from Monday to Friday after 13 years in mid-July, I'm now faced with another significant readjustment in our weekly routine.
Reason #5: I am, apparently, unable to control the course of bacterial and viral infections -- no matter my hypervigilance or correct administration of medication.
Charlie is still sick. My throat remains of dubious quality.
As Chicken Little (staying with the chicken motif) would chirp, "The sky is falling!"
Reason #6: Even my ability to name my own child "in a sensical way" is challenged. By, surprise, Grandma MK.
Problemo Uno: "No one will know how to pronounce it!"
Rebuttal: I raise you this little life experience of mine:
"MOY-ra, Maria, Mara, Laura, Mor-eye-ah, More-ah"??
Frankly, giving her a name no one can pronounce embedded between 2 names that are easily recognizable is a gift.
Problemo Dos: "You can't call her by her middle name."
Rebuttal: You mean like Dad (named James Michael) doesn't go by "Mike"?
Problemo Tres: "This will be a nightmare on college entrance forms."
Rebuttal: That's why they put those clever "nickname" blanks on the forms, Mom.
Problemo Quattro: Why not name her what you plan to call her?
Rebuttal: I made a deal with the Blessed Virgin Mary. If she interceded on my behalf to bless me with a girl, then I'd name her Mary. Having spent too many hours of life in IEP meetings, I paid attention to the details and didn't promise to call her Mary.
Mom's rebuttal to my rebuttal: "You could attend Mass regularly and probably circumvent that arrangement."
My rebuttal to the rebuttal to my rebuttal: Yeah, I'm just the girl who's planning to break the Mary-streak.
Aunt Patty Cake's smart-alec question, "Isn't this discussion rather sacrilegious?"
To which I replied, "Only if we weren't Catholic. We're allowed to make side deals with saints, which is why Blaise (Patron Saint of Throats & Speech Therapists) is still under consideration."
Reason #7: I am unable to deal with the apparently required care and feeding of caregivers.
The sitter who I thought was checking in with me on Tuesday did not call on Tuesday or this morning. The shift was slated for 12-7 p.m. today. Being the employer (i.e., being that the kids and I were at the appointed location of services at the agreed-upon time), I did not envision the need to initiate contact, figuring she would be here unless I heard otherwise. But not so much. So when mid-two-hour-meeting, my cell phone beeped at 3:01 p.m., I didn't suspect it would be my sitter. Cooly professional and suggesting that it was I who was supposed to have contacted her before she didn't come at noon.
By the time my meeting was over, I was living the dream of not having Salmonella-related, foodborne illness afflict my eldest. In short, so not in the mood to hear about my shortcomings.
*********************
Therefore, effective today at 7 p.m., I'm cooked. (Get it? Safe food preparation humor!) The writer bears no responsibility, liability, or other fault for any injuries sustained from others acting stupid in her immediate armreach.
Granted, I am a hormonal nightmare but this morning, I was forced to succumb to tears in the middle of the Peds Sub-specialty clinic b/c they had no peds neurology appointment in the computer for Tim even as he and his mother stood before the check-in desk promptly at 8:14 a.m. for a 8:30 a.m. slot. (I made it on June 30 after Tim's trip in the ambulance to the ER) and I rather freaked out (more accurately...flame-sprayed any civilian receptionist-types in my vicinity) when the universal response was to ask me the name of the clerk who made the appointment by phone and the date/time I MADE the appointment and their social security number. "WHAT?!" As frequent visitors to this blog fully realize, I am an appointment-making machine and visit the hospital at least once per week. I thought it was good that I show up at the appointments, but apparently, I'm supposed to conduct a Quiz Bowl of my own for the hapless souls tasked to enter my info in the computer.
I'm sort of committed for about a month from now and thought if it took me another month to get an appointment, Tim would still be on massive activity restrictions and would miss his surf camp. Trivial stuff and yet waste of time, effort, etc.
For the record, I was controlled rage-mother until the poor clerk tasked to go talk to the actual MD until the clerk reported that the MD would see him by 11 a.m. The thought that we'd gotten here at 8:15 a.m. and could spend 3+ hours sitting, trapped (as Charlie would say), waiting to be worked in was unsat. After the tears rolled for a minute and after Tim responded with his signature "huh-huh" laugh at me, I started looking around the waiting room, noticing that one is here for genetics, that one for speech, that one for urology...how curious no one is HERE for the blasted 8:30 a.m. appointment that is supposedly booked by someone last-name "London". Hmmm...London is in England, which would be Britain, which could sound-by-phone or be-mistaken for Allbritton, couldn't it?
Short story (NOT), at 8:35 a.m. we were shown to an exam room and by 9:15 a.m. were on our way to continue our dreamlike existence elsewhere.
Reason #2: My eldest son has committed an unspeakable act of utter inanity.
Background: Developmental services caseworker was at my home today for 2-hours to do annual paperwork for Charlie and Tim. This is a joyous enough event but both kids were acting out. Around 4:05, the gentleman announced he would need about 15 minutes to write out "outcomes" so I excused myself to the kitchen to make my once-per-month home-cooked dinner (the oh-so-complex corn-flake chicken). Just as I finished dipping and dredging the last breast of chicken, he calls that he's ready for me. I turn to my mother, who has been painstakingly supervising, critiquing and offering other forms of narrative services while I was up to my elbows in raw poultry, and request, "Please cover that" (thinking that I was referencing the pan of chicken). I go out, sign some forms, exchange some pleasantries, and we start the farewells.
Unspeakable act: Tim emerges from the kitchen to bid adieu to Bob, his caseworker. As he ambles past me, I take note of strangely-familiar tan crumbs extending from his lips down his royal-blue shirt. I race to the kitchen, where yes, the chicken pan is exactly how I left it, only with fewer crumbs dredged lovingly across the top of 2 portions. I emit a muffled hissy shriek, "TIM...DID YOU EAT THE RAW CHICKEN?"
Bob, to his credit, opted to make a hasty departure (probably to hit traffic vice having to spend the next hour making a child services or ELDER ABUSE referral).
At this point, I go absolutely apoplectic. I race him into the bathroom, scrub his hands, stick him into the shower, brush his teeth and return to the kitchen, armed with Clorox (TM) to retrace his hand-steps. My mother, God bless her, is truly mystified at my comportment and upset.
Aunt Patty Cake smart-ass contribution: "Don't you know, Crab Queen, that she fed us raw meat on a routine basis because it boosts children's immune systems?"
Note: In fairness, Grandma MK professed to have thought I meant to cover the chicken with the remaining corn flakes -- not cover the pan with a barrier to inquisitive, hungry paws.
For the capping irony, after the chicken was overcooked to my satisfaction and the children's dinner plates served, my mother suggested that we head out during our 2-hours of respite to dine at Sushi Ota, which serves -- you guessed it -- RAW FOOD.
Reason #3: I hate cleaning, especially after the cleaning lady was JUST here. See close encounter with my hands and a Clorox spray bottle (above)
Reason #4: I can no longer take change in any of its forms.
Case in point, my cleaning lady who has come every Wednesday morning for 7 years, informed me that my morning o' cleaning would be changing to Tuesday effective next week. It was not a request or a suggestion or a favor; it was the way things are going to be.
So, in addition to my trash day changing from Monday to Friday after 13 years in mid-July, I'm now faced with another significant readjustment in our weekly routine.
Reason #5: I am, apparently, unable to control the course of bacterial and viral infections -- no matter my hypervigilance or correct administration of medication.
Charlie is still sick. My throat remains of dubious quality.
As Chicken Little (staying with the chicken motif) would chirp, "The sky is falling!"Reason #6: Even my ability to name my own child "in a sensical way" is challenged. By, surprise, Grandma MK.
Problemo Uno: "No one will know how to pronounce it!"
Rebuttal: I raise you this little life experience of mine:
"MOY-ra, Maria, Mara, Laura, Mor-eye-ah, More-ah"??
Frankly, giving her a name no one can pronounce embedded between 2 names that are easily recognizable is a gift.
Problemo Dos: "You can't call her by her middle name."
Rebuttal: You mean like Dad (named James Michael) doesn't go by "Mike"?
Problemo Tres: "This will be a nightmare on college entrance forms."
Rebuttal: That's why they put those clever "nickname" blanks on the forms, Mom.
Problemo Quattro: Why not name her what you plan to call her?
Rebuttal: I made a deal with the Blessed Virgin Mary. If she interceded on my behalf to bless me with a girl, then I'd name her Mary. Having spent too many hours of life in IEP meetings, I paid attention to the details and didn't promise to call her Mary.
Mom's rebuttal to my rebuttal: "You could attend Mass regularly and probably circumvent that arrangement."
My rebuttal to the rebuttal to my rebuttal: Yeah, I'm just the girl who's planning to break the Mary-streak.
Aunt Patty Cake's smart-alec question, "Isn't this discussion rather sacrilegious?"
To which I replied, "Only if we weren't Catholic. We're allowed to make side deals with saints, which is why Blaise (Patron Saint of Throats & Speech Therapists) is still under consideration."
Reason #7: I am unable to deal with the apparently required care and feeding of caregivers.
The sitter who I thought was checking in with me on Tuesday did not call on Tuesday or this morning. The shift was slated for 12-7 p.m. today. Being the employer (i.e., being that the kids and I were at the appointed location of services at the agreed-upon time), I did not envision the need to initiate contact, figuring she would be here unless I heard otherwise. But not so much. So when mid-two-hour-meeting, my cell phone beeped at 3:01 p.m., I didn't suspect it would be my sitter. Cooly professional and suggesting that it was I who was supposed to have contacted her before she didn't come at noon.
By the time my meeting was over, I was living the dream of not having Salmonella-related, foodborne illness afflict my eldest. In short, so not in the mood to hear about my shortcomings.
*********************
Therefore, effective today at 7 p.m., I'm cooked. (Get it? Safe food preparation humor!) The writer bears no responsibility, liability, or other fault for any injuries sustained from others acting stupid in her immediate armreach.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Grandma MK sponsored a bit of babysitting so that I could attend a meeting with our new Superintendent of schools. Following that, I grabbed a taco shop shrimp taco to-die-for at El Zarape (sp?) a few blocks from the Ed Center. Yummy!
Come home and get 2 more notes for Jack-at-Camp into the mail. MOTY points? Or just guilt-ridden that he's on week three away from All This Whackadoodleness.
Drove Patty Kiki and her sons to the Airport. Poor Patty Kiki was in such despondency over the behavior of one of her offspring that she had packed a large cucumber in addition to grapes and carrots in a freezer bag for travel food. I found this intact cucumber inclusion both curious and disconcerting. I pondered how one would eat this cucumber -- how would one peel it? how would one divide such a large foodstuff? under what circumstances would it appeal to me? would TSA confiscate the peeler and knife PK would have to have in order to render it reasonably useful??
I managed, nonetheless, to convey them safely. Jamie and Charlie and I returned library books and went home.
Grandma MK, on a mission to earn massive MOTY points in her own quest for the MOTY title, took over dinner prep while I...NAPPED. It was 45-minutes of glorious rest even if I was being questioned by Tim and jumped upon by Charlie. The kids inhaled her version of turkey sausage.
A new neighbor and his sons (one goes to Charlie's school and the other is Jamie's age with the Sand Crab's first name) stopped by after Jamie went to their door today -- in an awesome act of overcoming his propensity to be a shy turtle. The dad was at MNF-Iraq about a year ago, but in Plans; the Sand Crab is in Strategery. His wife's sister was Charlie's teacher's assistant this year -- small world times 2.
Did my will paperwork in an inspiring act of taking-on-the-unfun-tasks over a dinner of 'tater skins. No cake was left...this oversight will be corrected tomorrow!
Come home and get 2 more notes for Jack-at-Camp into the mail. MOTY points? Or just guilt-ridden that he's on week three away from All This Whackadoodleness.
Drove Patty Kiki and her sons to the Airport. Poor Patty Kiki was in such despondency over the behavior of one of her offspring that she had packed a large cucumber in addition to grapes and carrots in a freezer bag for travel food. I found this intact cucumber inclusion both curious and disconcerting. I pondered how one would eat this cucumber -- how would one peel it? how would one divide such a large foodstuff? under what circumstances would it appeal to me? would TSA confiscate the peeler and knife PK would have to have in order to render it reasonably useful??
I managed, nonetheless, to convey them safely. Jamie and Charlie and I returned library books and went home.
Grandma MK, on a mission to earn massive MOTY points in her own quest for the MOTY title, took over dinner prep while I...NAPPED. It was 45-minutes of glorious rest even if I was being questioned by Tim and jumped upon by Charlie. The kids inhaled her version of turkey sausage.
A new neighbor and his sons (one goes to Charlie's school and the other is Jamie's age with the Sand Crab's first name) stopped by after Jamie went to their door today -- in an awesome act of overcoming his propensity to be a shy turtle. The dad was at MNF-Iraq about a year ago, but in Plans; the Sand Crab is in Strategery. His wife's sister was Charlie's teacher's assistant this year -- small world times 2.
Did my will paperwork in an inspiring act of taking-on-the-unfun-tasks over a dinner of 'tater skins. No cake was left...this oversight will be corrected tomorrow!
Stalked by Spuds: Another Potato Joins The Crabby Clan
As the arrival of a younger sibling draws near, parents universally wonder how their elder offspring will welcome or tolerate the new family member. We were afforded a rare glimpse into the post-LLGA delivery world this past weekend as Grandma MK and I were trying to render some order into the livingroom.
Charlie was showing keen interest in a bouncy seat. By keen interest, his 48-pound body tried it out, exceeding the weight limit by 23-pounds. Redirected him that it is for little people. Moments later, he emerges from his room carrying this:
Yes, meet his baby sister stunt double: Darth Tater.
In a moment of sibling docility:
Charlie cheerfully placed it in the proper place and fastened the safety straps with at least some care.
Charlie crouched down next to it and batted almost gently at the toy bar.
Charlie made little baby noises at it "goo-wah".
Seeing all this potential sibling civility and dare-I-to-dream coexistence, I realize this is a behavior worth reinforcing and begin to say, "Charlie, you are being so nice to your baby." when --
He grabs Darth Tater by the midsection (only place to grab a spud, truth be told) and lifts Darth to a centimeter from his (strep-boasting) mouth and screams "ROAR!" before wrenching the light saber around in consecutive 180-degree turns.
Solidifying the case against ever leaving Charlie unattended, with or without LLGA in the vicinity!
--------------------------------------------------
Conclusions:
1. Clearly, Jack's "Family Life" spud-kid influenced Charlie's psyche in a profound, longitudinal manner.
2. Obviously, Charlie views the impending arrival as a Force of Evil.
3. Charlie will be very disappointed and confused when LLGA's body parts do not disassemble easily.
4. Charlie will independently order a replacement from Mattel (TM) when LLGA is missing her light-saber.
5. I should have insisted that Jack carry a lemon after all!
Charlie was showing keen interest in a bouncy seat. By keen interest, his 48-pound body tried it out, exceeding the weight limit by 23-pounds. Redirected him that it is for little people. Moments later, he emerges from his room carrying this:
Yes, meet his baby sister stunt double: Darth Tater.
In a moment of sibling docility:
Charlie cheerfully placed it in the proper place and fastened the safety straps with at least some care.
Charlie crouched down next to it and batted almost gently at the toy bar.
Charlie made little baby noises at it "goo-wah".
Seeing all this potential sibling civility and dare-I-to-dream coexistence, I realize this is a behavior worth reinforcing and begin to say, "Charlie, you are being so nice to your baby." when --
He grabs Darth Tater by the midsection (only place to grab a spud, truth be told) and lifts Darth to a centimeter from his (strep-boasting) mouth and screams "ROAR!" before wrenching the light saber around in consecutive 180-degree turns.
Solidifying the case against ever leaving Charlie unattended, with or without LLGA in the vicinity!
--------------------------------------------------
Conclusions:
1. Clearly, Jack's "Family Life" spud-kid influenced Charlie's psyche in a profound, longitudinal manner.
2. Obviously, Charlie views the impending arrival as a Force of Evil.
3. Charlie will be very disappointed and confused when LLGA's body parts do not disassemble easily.
4. Charlie will independently order a replacement from Mattel (TM) when LLGA is missing her light-saber.
5. I should have insisted that Jack carry a lemon after all!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Monday, July 28th
Awoke to Charlie's fever rising. When I gave him Tylenol, it was returned to sender most unceremoniously.
Happy Birthday to me.
This was not the course anticipated for a virus. Therefore, made a peds appointment and took him back. The doctors (it's a teaching hospital) ran a fast strep test and, lo, it was positive. So they are running a throat culture and he's on penicillin. Whee. This meant a trip to the pharmacy.
Happy Birthday.
Of course, my throat started feeling scratchy and sore the minute the strep test came back positive.
Happy Birthday.
The Sand Crab called, with promises of festivus next July.
My mom ran a bunch of errands, and generally, Charlie and I have taken it pretty easy today. Jamie is at the Pack Picnic sans the Webelos I Leader (aka, me).
This because my mom insists that we have a celebratory take-out dinner from the Fishery. We are about half-an-hour from enjoying that tastiness. And, yes, there is Von's cake (white cake/white frosting, Patty SW) for dessert.
Sing along! The day has certainly been improving.
Happy Birthday to me.
This was not the course anticipated for a virus. Therefore, made a peds appointment and took him back. The doctors (it's a teaching hospital) ran a fast strep test and, lo, it was positive. So they are running a throat culture and he's on penicillin. Whee. This meant a trip to the pharmacy.
Happy Birthday.
Of course, my throat started feeling scratchy and sore the minute the strep test came back positive.
Happy Birthday.
The Sand Crab called, with promises of festivus next July.
My mom ran a bunch of errands, and generally, Charlie and I have taken it pretty easy today. Jamie is at the Pack Picnic sans the Webelos I Leader (aka, me).
This because my mom insists that we have a celebratory take-out dinner from the Fishery. We are about half-an-hour from enjoying that tastiness. And, yes, there is Von's cake (white cake/white frosting, Patty SW) for dessert.
Sing along! The day has certainly been improving.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Sunday report
1. Aunt Patty Cake to the rescue!!! To my great relief, APC has agreed to board an airplane and devote even more of her life in the service of the crablets and her nation. (Okay, that last bit was a bit of hyperbole). Grandma MK will no longer worry that there will be no one to drive me as we'll have ready back-up childcare. Now if we can just get over that worry of precipitous labor...
2. Jack made it to his first sleep-away Boy Scout camp that was not administered by a family member. He was a trooper. Jamie & I already wrote notes to mail tomorrow to the camp, which is not only in our zip code, but perhaps 3 miles from our house. If it got bad enough, he could run away home!
3. Tim got to Mass and earned bagels. Had a great day overall. Coincidence?
4. Jamie observed that LLGA has more stuff than he does (he exaggerates, but only slightly). LLGA certainly has more stuff per pound than any of us! He spent the day "bored" and "lonely". In a house with 5 people.
5. Charlie fevering. No surprise. Another night of "Iron Lung" awaits.
6. Grandma MK encouraged me to ready a few baby items (see fear of early/fast labor, item 1 above) so commenced a couple loads of teeny-tiny laundry. I am pleased to report that, for the first time in the 15-plus years of this household's laundry:
We have PINK lint!
2. Jack made it to his first sleep-away Boy Scout camp that was not administered by a family member. He was a trooper. Jamie & I already wrote notes to mail tomorrow to the camp, which is not only in our zip code, but perhaps 3 miles from our house. If it got bad enough, he could run away home!
3. Tim got to Mass and earned bagels. Had a great day overall. Coincidence?
4. Jamie observed that LLGA has more stuff than he does (he exaggerates, but only slightly). LLGA certainly has more stuff per pound than any of us! He spent the day "bored" and "lonely". In a house with 5 people.
5. Charlie fevering. No surprise. Another night of "Iron Lung" awaits.
6. Grandma MK encouraged me to ready a few baby items (see fear of early/fast labor, item 1 above) so commenced a couple loads of teeny-tiny laundry. I am pleased to report that, for the first time in the 15-plus years of this household's laundry:
We have PINK lint!
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Saturday, July 26: Countdown to Arrival of the J-Crabs & Grandma MK!
10:00 p.m. (Friday): Steam treatment of Croupy Charlie
2:20 a.m. (Saturday): Repeated steam treatment (aka "Iron Shower Lung")
5:36 a.m.: Awake to get a jump-start on the morning.
6:00 a.m.: Shower for Croup-boy.
7:35 a.m.: Depart for Naval Hospital for follow-up peds appointment. I'm so compliant it pains me.
7:53 a.m.: Check in at clinic. Lots of waiting with Tim and Charlie while corpsmen run amok.
8:15 a.m.: See doctor. Confirmation that C has a viral enemy with a particularly gnarly-looking throat (which the doctor wants me to see, too. Gee, thanks).
9:10 a.m.: Von's run with the T & C Show.
9:50 a.m.: Home, offload groceries, await sitter.
10:00 a.m.: "Where's ______ (sitter)?" questioning begins, courtesy of Tim.
10:35 a.m.: Completely weary of the above torturous questioning, call sitter with a "It's 10:36, you were supposed to be here at 10."
10:44 a.m.: Exhausted from the sobbing on the phone and the increasingly-panic-ridden Tim (while I'm trying to hear the sitter), hang up the phone. Spend next, oh, several hours recalibrating Tim for a day of no sitter. Patty Kiki quickly volunteered to come sit with him (hearing the hitting and shrieking) so that he wouldn't have to accompany me to the "scary airport".
Ed Note: While I have great empathy for our sitter having another 102-fever on a second consecutive Friday evening, I am pretty disappointed that she didn't call me when she realized she was febrile again so that I could plan my day and prepare Tim accordingly. The issue of 8-hours without the anticipated assistance is one thing, the issue of having explosive rage/panic/upsetment was TOTALLY preventable. (She of everyone has witnessed him fly off the handle with miniscule changes to his expectations -- contrary to popular media, for Tim it's not the routine that matters -- but rather what the adrenaline rush of surprise and change in routine that allows us to enjoy the Rhapsody on a Theme of Panganini nearly daily).
Somewhat amusing anecdote: Tim adores Patty Kiki (and her entire clan) and would likely move with them if offered the option. Alas, Charlie is highly-suspect of Patty Kiki's motives, tactics, and sense of humor. So, Tim -- in full panic mode -- is begging for "Mrs. ______" over and over throughout the day. Meanwhile, each and every Tim-utterance-on-subject brings Charlie flying through the house to establish his preferences "No Mrs. ______, No Mrs. ______! Mommeeeeeeee stay wif Chah-lee." It's an autism debate that no one can win. After about an hour and a half of this oh-so-creative banter, Charlie snaps into verbal mode (maybe a fever?) and says, "Mrs. _____ is mean. Trapped!" Of course, Patty Kiki and I giggled our fannies off later over this one. I was proud of the language and communicative intent; Patty Kiki, like the Crab Queen, wears the mantle of meanest-mom-in-the-hood with pride and style. Like either of us want to be popular with the diaper-wearing set?!
Lunch.
Cleaning.
Laundry.
Dishes.
Trash/recycling.
Paperwork.
Special Highlight: My advocate's bill came. Let's just say I owe the equivalent of another retainer for the IEP.
Very Special Highlight: The ambulance bill came from 6/27's run of Tim. Instructed him to sign in the patient box. He printed. The real highlight is that the James Joyce writing muse struck him and he elected to begin to write the sentence, "Can we go to 7/11 with Mrs. M---- today, Mommy?" across the bottom of the insurance billing paper.
3:15 p.m. Patty Kiki arrives to finalize Jack's camping gear with me. (And, I suspect, confirm that I did not insert any unapproved items and to ascertain that I'd indeed given the boy some money, chapstick, a waterproof camera, etc.)
3:30 p.m. Tim and I run to the CR-V (trying to be clandestine) to go to 7/11 for "a treat" (Tim) and "cash" (me, for Jack). That wily Charlie, never to be outsmarted, hollers bloody-murder as he sees the hardly-cat-burglar-esque brother and mother abandoning him. Patty Kiki intercepts him as he crashes into the front screen door, attempting pursuit. The last words I hear are Patty Kiki's "GO....FAST!"
3:40 p.m. Return to a quiet house. Slip Patty Kiki a lollipop to reinforce his quietness. The report: only 2 minutes of frenzied yelling before he turtled inside his t-shirt for a couple more minutes of reorientation. He was none the worse for wear and, in fact, verifiably not "trapped" (unless his failed egress counts as "Trapped!").
3:50 p.m. Phone rings: Eagle has landed. So Charlie and I load up to fetch the J-crabs and Grandma.
4:15 p.m. They are awaiting us, luggage in hand. It's a special reunion. A hyper-verbal reunion. A reunion chock full o' discussions about gum, airport food, behavior, etc. Truly a bit overwhelming to have 3 people who talk land in the midst of the Zone of Predictable and Limited Conversation.
Home. Showers. Feeding. Medicines. Much deliberation by Grandma about her preference for 9 a.m. Mass (vice 7:30 a.m. Mass). She appeared quite perplexed at my weary forfeit to "fine, we'll do 9 a.m. then." (See Sunday post.)
Highlight of Reunion: 1 hour of my life expended in the Pre-Camp Lecture: What Your Mother Packed and Where to Find It (subtitled: $20 for basketry only, $5 for emergeny, $12 for spending on junk -- come home with less than $5 and find out how wicked half your DNA-contribution can be, come home without the $20 AND without a bee-you-tea-full basket project completed and again, find out how wicked the Crab Queen can be -- but oh, yeah, I missed you).
Reunion Honorable Mentionables: Grandma's conviction that the Queen will have precipitous labor and have LLGA in our front yard. Grandma's worry that no neighbor will be around to drive me to the hospital and that the Queen will have to be transported in an ambulance. (To which I asked, "wouldn't a taxi do?") Grandma's stern dictate that the Queen is frittering around and ought to have a proper hospital bag packed ALREADY. Grandma's decided opinion that we (meaning the Queen) doesn't have enough dependable/available childcare providers.
Be it known that the Crab Queen is, officially, a slacker.
2:20 a.m. (Saturday): Repeated steam treatment (aka "Iron Shower Lung")
5:36 a.m.: Awake to get a jump-start on the morning.
6:00 a.m.: Shower for Croup-boy.
7:35 a.m.: Depart for Naval Hospital for follow-up peds appointment. I'm so compliant it pains me.
7:53 a.m.: Check in at clinic. Lots of waiting with Tim and Charlie while corpsmen run amok.
8:15 a.m.: See doctor. Confirmation that C has a viral enemy with a particularly gnarly-looking throat (which the doctor wants me to see, too. Gee, thanks).
9:10 a.m.: Von's run with the T & C Show.
9:50 a.m.: Home, offload groceries, await sitter.
10:00 a.m.: "Where's ______ (sitter)?" questioning begins, courtesy of Tim.
10:35 a.m.: Completely weary of the above torturous questioning, call sitter with a "It's 10:36, you were supposed to be here at 10."
10:44 a.m.: Exhausted from the sobbing on the phone and the increasingly-panic-ridden Tim (while I'm trying to hear the sitter), hang up the phone. Spend next, oh, several hours recalibrating Tim for a day of no sitter. Patty Kiki quickly volunteered to come sit with him (hearing the hitting and shrieking) so that he wouldn't have to accompany me to the "scary airport".
Ed Note: While I have great empathy for our sitter having another 102-fever on a second consecutive Friday evening, I am pretty disappointed that she didn't call me when she realized she was febrile again so that I could plan my day and prepare Tim accordingly. The issue of 8-hours without the anticipated assistance is one thing, the issue of having explosive rage/panic/upsetment was TOTALLY preventable. (She of everyone has witnessed him fly off the handle with miniscule changes to his expectations -- contrary to popular media, for Tim it's not the routine that matters -- but rather what the adrenaline rush of surprise and change in routine that allows us to enjoy the Rhapsody on a Theme of Panganini nearly daily).
Somewhat amusing anecdote: Tim adores Patty Kiki (and her entire clan) and would likely move with them if offered the option. Alas, Charlie is highly-suspect of Patty Kiki's motives, tactics, and sense of humor. So, Tim -- in full panic mode -- is begging for "Mrs. ______" over and over throughout the day. Meanwhile, each and every Tim-utterance-on-subject brings Charlie flying through the house to establish his preferences "No Mrs. ______, No Mrs. ______! Mommeeeeeeee stay wif Chah-lee." It's an autism debate that no one can win. After about an hour and a half of this oh-so-creative banter, Charlie snaps into verbal mode (maybe a fever?) and says, "Mrs. _____ is mean. Trapped!" Of course, Patty Kiki and I giggled our fannies off later over this one. I was proud of the language and communicative intent; Patty Kiki, like the Crab Queen, wears the mantle of meanest-mom-in-the-hood with pride and style. Like either of us want to be popular with the diaper-wearing set?!
Lunch.
Cleaning.
Laundry.
Dishes.
Trash/recycling.
Paperwork.
Special Highlight: My advocate's bill came. Let's just say I owe the equivalent of another retainer for the IEP.
Very Special Highlight: The ambulance bill came from 6/27's run of Tim. Instructed him to sign in the patient box. He printed. The real highlight is that the James Joyce writing muse struck him and he elected to begin to write the sentence, "Can we go to 7/11 with Mrs. M---- today, Mommy?" across the bottom of the insurance billing paper.
3:15 p.m. Patty Kiki arrives to finalize Jack's camping gear with me. (And, I suspect, confirm that I did not insert any unapproved items and to ascertain that I'd indeed given the boy some money, chapstick, a waterproof camera, etc.)
3:30 p.m. Tim and I run to the CR-V (trying to be clandestine) to go to 7/11 for "a treat" (Tim) and "cash" (me, for Jack). That wily Charlie, never to be outsmarted, hollers bloody-murder as he sees the hardly-cat-burglar-esque brother and mother abandoning him. Patty Kiki intercepts him as he crashes into the front screen door, attempting pursuit. The last words I hear are Patty Kiki's "GO....FAST!"
3:40 p.m. Return to a quiet house. Slip Patty Kiki a lollipop to reinforce his quietness. The report: only 2 minutes of frenzied yelling before he turtled inside his t-shirt for a couple more minutes of reorientation. He was none the worse for wear and, in fact, verifiably not "trapped" (unless his failed egress counts as "Trapped!").
3:50 p.m. Phone rings: Eagle has landed. So Charlie and I load up to fetch the J-crabs and Grandma.
4:15 p.m. They are awaiting us, luggage in hand. It's a special reunion. A hyper-verbal reunion. A reunion chock full o' discussions about gum, airport food, behavior, etc. Truly a bit overwhelming to have 3 people who talk land in the midst of the Zone of Predictable and Limited Conversation.
Home. Showers. Feeding. Medicines. Much deliberation by Grandma about her preference for 9 a.m. Mass (vice 7:30 a.m. Mass). She appeared quite perplexed at my weary forfeit to "fine, we'll do 9 a.m. then." (See Sunday post.)
Highlight of Reunion: 1 hour of my life expended in the Pre-Camp Lecture: What Your Mother Packed and Where to Find It (subtitled: $20 for basketry only, $5 for emergeny, $12 for spending on junk -- come home with less than $5 and find out how wicked half your DNA-contribution can be, come home without the $20 AND without a bee-you-tea-full basket project completed and again, find out how wicked the Crab Queen can be -- but oh, yeah, I missed you).
Reunion Honorable Mentionables: Grandma's conviction that the Queen will have precipitous labor and have LLGA in our front yard. Grandma's worry that no neighbor will be around to drive me to the hospital and that the Queen will have to be transported in an ambulance. (To which I asked, "wouldn't a taxi do?") Grandma's stern dictate that the Queen is frittering around and ought to have a proper hospital bag packed ALREADY. Grandma's decided opinion that we (meaning the Queen) doesn't have enough dependable/available childcare providers.
Be it known that the Crab Queen is, officially, a slacker.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Return of the Guest Blogger: Jack (via e-mail from APC)
Today i woke up i read, i got busted for not reading enough, then i went back to bed some more while Aunt Erin partially packed, which she would complete later in the day. After that I ate another cinnamon crunch bagel while hassled about consumption of chocolate milk by Uncle Sean, who I don't think was in a good mood at all.
After that we got ready to go to the movie theater to watch a 100 minute 3D movie called Journey To The Center Of the Earth. Based on the book by Jules Vern. The movie was extremely interesting and a lot of the things popped out at you. Before and after the movie we got to play a little games outside the movie theater and earn Aunt Erin a lot of tickets which will someday buy her prizes. And right now she has about 600 total but all the sorts good prizes are at least 1000 tickets.
We went home one minute later Mikey got his stuff and left after a big hug, which left just me and Jamie. We spent the rest of the day playing catch (as Jamie got hurt) eating a small lunch, this was a very lonesome day. But at least we got to play Harry Potter Scene It the DVD game and that was a very fun game.
We got to go to Great Harvest to buy Chocolate Babka which is supposedly a Russian type bread. On the way to i forgot where I received news that one of the camps that I didn't get pulled out of was apparently the dreaded Boy Scout Summer Camp in which will be $320 and it's probably going to be a long long long long trip. And which Sam is not going that leaves me and a bunch of other kids in my troop that I can barely get along with and poor Sam because he had to go with another troop. Poor me and Sam, I hope it was an actual good troop.
oh wait no are you really going to type that oh ohh argh. This is annoying. [ED note- so is having to type this] You're fired. Editor's note boo hoo. Back to the world of Jack. Can I keep that? No no not again. OK. ; no no no that's not nice, you're going down. great for nothing. [let's get back to it Jack!] Phlegm. hee hee heeehe [put that down please] caw! No where was I. [get to it]
we sped through Target, and went to Avanti's which makes these footlong Gondola's. We came home, we ate a big dinner, and I even saw some of a rated R film called Roadhouse, which was also really funny. [grandpa was watching TV] And after writing in my journal, i am taking a shower, and going to bed for the last time in IL for this visit. [wahhhhh]
the end
After that we got ready to go to the movie theater to watch a 100 minute 3D movie called Journey To The Center Of the Earth. Based on the book by Jules Vern. The movie was extremely interesting and a lot of the things popped out at you. Before and after the movie we got to play a little games outside the movie theater and earn Aunt Erin a lot of tickets which will someday buy her prizes. And right now she has about 600 total but all the sorts good prizes are at least 1000 tickets.
We went home one minute later Mikey got his stuff and left after a big hug, which left just me and Jamie. We spent the rest of the day playing catch (as Jamie got hurt) eating a small lunch, this was a very lonesome day. But at least we got to play Harry Potter Scene It the DVD game and that was a very fun game.
We got to go to Great Harvest to buy Chocolate Babka which is supposedly a Russian type bread. On the way to i forgot where I received news that one of the camps that I didn't get pulled out of was apparently the dreaded Boy Scout Summer Camp in which will be $320 and it's probably going to be a long long long long trip. And which Sam is not going that leaves me and a bunch of other kids in my troop that I can barely get along with and poor Sam because he had to go with another troop. Poor me and Sam, I hope it was an actual good troop.
oh wait no are you really going to type that oh ohh argh. This is annoying. [ED note- so is having to type this] You're fired. Editor's note boo hoo. Back to the world of Jack. Can I keep that? No no not again. OK. ; no no no that's not nice, you're going down. great for nothing. [let's get back to it Jack!] Phlegm. hee hee heeehe [put that down please] caw! No where was I. [get to it]
we sped through Target, and went to Avanti's which makes these footlong Gondola's. We came home, we ate a big dinner, and I even saw some of a rated R film called Roadhouse, which was also really funny. [grandpa was watching TV] And after writing in my journal, i am taking a shower, and going to bed for the last time in IL for this visit. [wahhhhh]
the end
J-Crabs: Friday, Last Day in IL
Movie guys. Aunt Patty Cake ending on a high-note (i.e., with a big treat).
Mikey and Jamie shoot hoops before the movie; Jack prefers skeeball.
J-Crabs: Springfield and Champaign Jaunts
Thank you note Writer.
Regulation-size chess game.---------------SPRINGFIELD-------------------------------
At Lincoln's Tomb.
Dress-up time at the museum.
Too bad the J-Crabs aren't set in wax...especially their mouths!--------------------CHAMPAIGN-------------------------------
Cousins
Uncle Al, Aunt Kim, & Jimmy
APC w/ Jamie and Jack.
Long-distance Tech Assist for Struggling Scout Ma on the Eve of Sleepaway Scout Camp
From Iraq:
Here ya go. My cut on the list (and where stuff is):
RECOMMENDED PERSONAL GEAR
o 1 Complete Scout Uniform (YES)
o Jacket/Sweatshirt (Yes--depends on how the weather has been)
o Underwear (5 pair? Will the boy actually CHANGE them?)
o Socks (at least 3 pair) (I say 4)
o Shoes (oldest pair he has)
o Shoes to get wet (Sandals must have a heel strap)
o Sleepwear (shorts/t-shirt)
o Pants/Shorts (I recommend maybe 1 pair sweat pants and 2-3
pair shorts)
o Shirts (3-4 t-shirts)
o Sleeping Bag (green bags)
o Sleeping Pad (blue one--there are also some blue straps that
he can use to strap it to the stop of the backpack
o Raingear (blue Columbia jacket)
o 2 Swimsuits (Yes--the boy is going to be wet most of the day)
o 2 Towels (Yep)
o Toiletries (soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb<--you
think he would actually USE IT???)
o Water bottle (one of the canteens)
o Flashlight (there should be some mini-mag lights in either the
North Face daypack or in my camping bin.)
o Pen and Notebook (he may need for MB classes)
o Broad Brimmed Hat (SD Padres floppy hat will do just fine)
o Sunscreen (SPF 15 or greater)
o Scout Handbook (yes)
I believe they will have tents, but you may want to confirm. Should be
able to stuff everything in his blue Jansport frame backpack. Sleeping
bag goes in bottom compartment and rest of stuff goes up top.
May also want to include a pocket knife so he has something to cut
himself out of the duct tape that he will invariably be tied up with at
about the day 3 or 4 time frame.
And then the following arrived as a postscript:
Again, it is highly doubtful that our MENSA candidate will A) actually
bathe for 5 days (they are after all public showers), or 2) actually
change clothes.
Also I believe the meals are catered so no mess gear should be needed,
but of course I could be wrong.
Happy packing. Avoid the 'Possum Poo.
Here ya go. My cut on the list (and where stuff is):
RECOMMENDED PERSONAL GEAR
o 1 Complete Scout Uniform (YES)
o Jacket/Sweatshirt (Yes--depends on how the weather has been)
o Underwear (5 pair? Will the boy actually CHANGE them?)
o Socks (at least 3 pair) (I say 4)
o Shoes (oldest pair he has)
o Shoes to get wet (Sandals must have a heel strap)
o Sleepwear (shorts/t-shirt)
o Pants/Shorts (I recommend maybe 1 pair sweat pants and 2-3
pair shorts)
o Shirts (3-4 t-shirts)
o Sleeping Bag (green bags)
o Sleeping Pad (blue one--there are also some blue straps that
he can use to strap it to the stop of the backpack
o Raingear (blue Columbia jacket)
o 2 Swimsuits (Yes--the boy is going to be wet most of the day)
o 2 Towels (Yep)
o Toiletries (soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb<--you
think he would actually USE IT???)
o Water bottle (one of the canteens)
o Flashlight (there should be some mini-mag lights in either the
North Face daypack or in my camping bin.)
o Pen and Notebook (he may need for MB classes)
o Broad Brimmed Hat (SD Padres floppy hat will do just fine)
o Sunscreen (SPF 15 or greater)
o Scout Handbook (yes)
I believe they will have tents, but you may want to confirm. Should be
able to stuff everything in his blue Jansport frame backpack. Sleeping
bag goes in bottom compartment and rest of stuff goes up top.
May also want to include a pocket knife so he has something to cut
himself out of the duct tape that he will invariably be tied up with at
about the day 3 or 4 time frame.
And then the following arrived as a postscript:
Again, it is highly doubtful that our MENSA candidate will A) actually
bathe for 5 days (they are after all public showers), or 2) actually
change clothes.
Also I believe the meals are catered so no mess gear should be needed,
but of course I could be wrong.
Happy packing. Avoid the 'Possum Poo.
ER Trip (#2 of This Deployment)
Charlie had a little cough overnight. Then, whammo, at 4:30 a.m. accelerated his life - Navy-style - into croup. Pad into the bathroom to start the steam and bring him into the bathroom and see a marked* amount of dried blood on his cheek/jaw. Nope, his lips/tongue do not have evidence of being bit. This not being the croup I am comfortable with, proceeded to roust Tim and load the vehicle.
Whisked back at ER given C's still-impressive stridor in the triage area. Low-grade fever. Chest x-rays okay. Dose of Decadron (sp?) administered. Nice chat with the supervising doc who agreed that blood without reason would be concerning. Tim was a veritable superstar.
In the car heading home at 6:17 a.m. and have already cancelled Charlie's day of therapies.
On countdown to Grandma Mary Kay arriving!
* Marked as in half-dollar-sized. Frankly, at 4:30 a.m., "marked" is not a difficult plateau to reach.
Whisked back at ER given C's still-impressive stridor in the triage area. Low-grade fever. Chest x-rays okay. Dose of Decadron (sp?) administered. Nice chat with the supervising doc who agreed that blood without reason would be concerning. Tim was a veritable superstar.
In the car heading home at 6:17 a.m. and have already cancelled Charlie's day of therapies.
On countdown to Grandma Mary Kay arriving!
* Marked as in half-dollar-sized. Frankly, at 4:30 a.m., "marked" is not a difficult plateau to reach.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Thursday Recap: Boring Version.
Tim ready for school.
Charlie ready for school.
No crying during drop-off (but then again, we were a little late and he didn't hear the bell ringing).
Marine Base to engage in will updating. Had to have a calm, yet firm discussion about whether the Queen Crab (clearly not a rank recognized by the Marine Corps) could have an appointment or must be relegated to walk-in status. Humph! Fortunately, LT Callahan of the JAG-Corps decided to stop the oral arguments with a "I'll see you, ma'am." (In fact, I can drop off the completed worksheet, he'll e-mail me the draft and then I'll just have a quick appointment to sign).
Then to a salon...my first trim since, yes, the Great Valentine's Day Haircut. I have bangs again and will have at least a month before Mom starts nagging about my unkemptness. Alert the media.
Apparently, missed a Morale Call from Ben. :(
Fetch Charlie. Go to Toys R Us and find 2 $3.98 clearance construction-theme lego-type sets to while the afternoon of no-therapy away.
Previously-febrile sitter returns to great applause.
Tim has a complete melt-down (with aggression) because I dared to ask "Would you like to go to the barber today?" An hour after beginning the Tim Rollercoaster Ride of Hospitalizations Past and Treats-to-be-Earned Future, we process the concept of a choice, mop up our crazy-cake tears, and proceed to a new barbershop (that my triplet mom pal, Patty Lisa, recommended).
Absolutely no parking near the beach, but manage to hoof it a few blocks. Wait for three guys to be trimmed because, dammit, we had invested this much into the prequel to the cut. Kim was incredibly nice to Tim and he looks UBER-improved. FYI: Apparently, he no longer qualifies under the "children $8" rate. I didn't dare ask for the military rate on my first visit -- especially since full-fare was a whopping $10.
Home to powwow with Patty Kiki, who walked the novice Scout Mother through the process of readying the camping gear for Jack's sleep-away BSA camp. I am a very slow study. Highlights (if you are not enduring the visual pain caused by witnessing the proceedings): 1. Me unloading Ben's former closet, which is now stuffed to the brim with random "stuff" to retrieve a sleeping-bag-that-I-won't-wig-out-if-is-ruined-forgotten-etc. 2. Me refusing to enter the garage because of still-operational Possum Clearance Mission. (Fortunately, Patty Kiki is a woman of substance and fearless of marsupials). 3. Negotiations about whether PE clothes with Jack's name written in permanent marker across the front (required by his middle school) would induce ridicule upon him. (Patty Kiki voted affirmative). 4. General mocking, albeit gentle and with kindness, about the likelihood of Jack using items that I felt necessary to include.
Then to Wendy's for the promised reinforcement for good behavior at the barbershop before departing for an Area Board XIII meeting.
Home again to do laundry, take out the garbage, and do the dishes. Oh, and eat a little cake ($1.50 for a huge wedge at Von's this week!)
Postscript: Per APC, Jamie's bumps have returned. Ha! It is not the Sand Castle!! Relieved that he's not allergic to me/us, proof that it's not a contagious malady, and will have evidence of weird skin ailment to present to the Dermatologist. Just too bad he has to itch.
Charlie ready for school.
No crying during drop-off (but then again, we were a little late and he didn't hear the bell ringing).
Marine Base to engage in will updating. Had to have a calm, yet firm discussion about whether the Queen Crab (clearly not a rank recognized by the Marine Corps) could have an appointment or must be relegated to walk-in status. Humph! Fortunately, LT Callahan of the JAG-Corps decided to stop the oral arguments with a "I'll see you, ma'am." (In fact, I can drop off the completed worksheet, he'll e-mail me the draft and then I'll just have a quick appointment to sign).
Then to a salon...my first trim since, yes, the Great Valentine's Day Haircut. I have bangs again and will have at least a month before Mom starts nagging about my unkemptness. Alert the media.
Apparently, missed a Morale Call from Ben. :(
Fetch Charlie. Go to Toys R Us and find 2 $3.98 clearance construction-theme lego-type sets to while the afternoon of no-therapy away.
Previously-febrile sitter returns to great applause.
Tim has a complete melt-down (with aggression) because I dared to ask "Would you like to go to the barber today?" An hour after beginning the Tim Rollercoaster Ride of Hospitalizations Past and Treats-to-be-Earned Future, we process the concept of a choice, mop up our crazy-cake tears, and proceed to a new barbershop (that my triplet mom pal, Patty Lisa, recommended).
Absolutely no parking near the beach, but manage to hoof it a few blocks. Wait for three guys to be trimmed because, dammit, we had invested this much into the prequel to the cut. Kim was incredibly nice to Tim and he looks UBER-improved. FYI: Apparently, he no longer qualifies under the "children $8" rate. I didn't dare ask for the military rate on my first visit -- especially since full-fare was a whopping $10.
Home to powwow with Patty Kiki, who walked the novice Scout Mother through the process of readying the camping gear for Jack's sleep-away BSA camp. I am a very slow study. Highlights (if you are not enduring the visual pain caused by witnessing the proceedings): 1. Me unloading Ben's former closet, which is now stuffed to the brim with random "stuff" to retrieve a sleeping-bag-that-I-won't-wig-out-if-is-ruined-forgotten-etc. 2. Me refusing to enter the garage because of still-operational Possum Clearance Mission. (Fortunately, Patty Kiki is a woman of substance and fearless of marsupials). 3. Negotiations about whether PE clothes with Jack's name written in permanent marker across the front (required by his middle school) would induce ridicule upon him. (Patty Kiki voted affirmative). 4. General mocking, albeit gentle and with kindness, about the likelihood of Jack using items that I felt necessary to include.
Then to Wendy's for the promised reinforcement for good behavior at the barbershop before departing for an Area Board XIII meeting.
Home again to do laundry, take out the garbage, and do the dishes. Oh, and eat a little cake ($1.50 for a huge wedge at Von's this week!)
Postscript: Per APC, Jamie's bumps have returned. Ha! It is not the Sand Castle!! Relieved that he's not allergic to me/us, proof that it's not a contagious malady, and will have evidence of weird skin ailment to present to the Dermatologist. Just too bad he has to itch.
J-Crabs' Report: Wednesday
Say, 'ARGH!' Uncle Sean takes a turn as a co-chaperone of the trio of boys.
Swing, batter-batter, swing, batter.
APC up-to-bat, looking stylish in a teal helmet.
Cub fans (APC and Jamie).
If you cannot put the ball in the cup, distract others with feats of balance.
Uncle Sean and APC have lost instructional control of the photo session and, apparently, the game of miniature golf. [Insert brawl here.]
Jamie had it coming.
Following another trip to the State Farm swimming pool, it's time to go back to the farm. Mikey is still cheerful; J-Crabs appear surly. Jack's comment last night at bedtime, "I'm utterly exhausted."
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Bon Voyage to the Pauls!
Photos from July 5th in the 'hood. Roy is already en route to Okinawa. Susan and the kids depart tomorrow.
Just what every pregnant woman should do for improved self-esteem: Position herself, seated, next to a size ZERO young woman when the happy-camera clickers are in overdrive.
"I remember him when he was just a baby."
Mr. Roy trying to look cool. Not sure this is from the correct date, but it captures the aura, the presence of being glared at. I am having a t-shirt made with "I survived 6 years of THIS next-door."
Portrait of Teenage Angst?
Nope, just utter weariness having chased Charlie for an hour!
Jared now on Charlie Detail.
Christopher and Jamie.
That Susan is a wily and camera-avoidant gal. Proof that she was indeed here.
Just what every pregnant woman should do for improved self-esteem: Position herself, seated, next to a size ZERO young woman when the happy-camera clickers are in overdrive.
"I remember him when he was just a baby."
Mr. Roy trying to look cool. Not sure this is from the correct date, but it captures the aura, the presence of being glared at. I am having a t-shirt made with "I survived 6 years of THIS next-door."
Portrait of Teenage Angst?
Nope, just utter weariness having chased Charlie for an hour!
Jared now on Charlie Detail.
Christopher and Jamie.
That Susan is a wily and camera-avoidant gal. Proof that she was indeed here.
Guest Blogger: Eric (Aka, MalibuSWO)
Sand Crab pal, MalibuSWO, has been elevated to the title Pat Eric, even though he has yet to set foot in the Sand Castle. His commentary on Sand Crab's blog is wicked funny and, often, wicked.
For those not following Sand Crab's exploits in the Fertile Crescent, Major Crab was invited (due to his card-carrying status as an Illinois voter) to a Congressional Delegation meet & greet. Below were Pat Eric's helpful tips for helping Sand Crab overcome his agoraphobic/grumpy-shell tendencies when small talk is required.
Because we all acknowledge that the Sand Castle blog has a far wider readership, wanted to give Pat Eric's remarks a more public venue.
Top 5 Sand Crab Icebreakers w/ the Distinguished Senator from Illinois:
(5) "When I was an XO of a Cruiser, OUR DV (Distiguished Visitor) receptions included hors d'oeuvres, live music, fireworks, and a Pirate-themed live action stunt show. This sh** is weak."
(4) "Oh wow, you know I worked for Mr. Fairevening (a former dept. head of Ben's and famous for his over-the-top braggadocio) once too! What a coincidence! I can't believe YOU were the guy he beat in a street fight during a busted coke deal at the Superbowl in front of the majority share holders of RJ&R Nabisco."
(3) "I'm also on a 12-month hiatus from what the tax payers pay me to do."
(2) [on a tour of the Crab Kingdom -- Major Crab's cubicle of PowerPoint and PhotoShop creativity] "Senator, this here (gesturing expansively over Sand Crab Domain) is where the magic happens."
(1) "Senator, have you read MY book, 'The Audacity of Awesomeness'?"
For those not following Sand Crab's exploits in the Fertile Crescent, Major Crab was invited (due to his card-carrying status as an Illinois voter) to a Congressional Delegation meet & greet. Below were Pat Eric's helpful tips for helping Sand Crab overcome his agoraphobic/grumpy-shell tendencies when small talk is required.
Because we all acknowledge that the Sand Castle blog has a far wider readership, wanted to give Pat Eric's remarks a more public venue.
Top 5 Sand Crab Icebreakers w/ the Distinguished Senator from Illinois:
(5) "When I was an XO of a Cruiser, OUR DV (Distiguished Visitor) receptions included hors d'oeuvres, live music, fireworks, and a Pirate-themed live action stunt show. This sh** is weak."
(4) "Oh wow, you know I worked for Mr. Fairevening (a former dept. head of Ben's and famous for his over-the-top braggadocio) once too! What a coincidence! I can't believe YOU were the guy he beat in a street fight during a busted coke deal at the Superbowl in front of the majority share holders of RJ&R Nabisco."
(3) "I'm also on a 12-month hiatus from what the tax payers pay me to do."
(2) [on a tour of the Crab Kingdom -- Major Crab's cubicle of PowerPoint and PhotoShop creativity] "Senator, this here (gesturing expansively over Sand Crab Domain) is where the magic happens."
(1) "Senator, have you read MY book, 'The Audacity of Awesomeness'?"
J-Crabs Report: Tuesday's Adventure (compare to "Rhapsody")
Rental van obtained in order to take a historical outing to DePue, Princeton, and Starved Rock with Great-Grandma Mary, Grandma Mary Kay, Mikey, Jack, Jamie, and our intrepid tour-director, Aunt Patty Cake.
Covered Bridge.
After a picnic lunch, Jamie.
Mikey...oh, my heavens and not an ER for miles!
Jack stuck his landing...I'm sooooo proud.
APC and Mom in Eddie Bauer (TM) shirts, no doubt!
At the lock.
Great-Grandma used to live here.
Toured a home used by the Underground Railroad.
Starved Rock Visitors Center -- Jack above, Jamie below.
Requisite group photos.
Covered Bridge.
After a picnic lunch, Jamie.
Mikey...oh, my heavens and not an ER for miles!
Jack stuck his landing...I'm sooooo proud.
APC and Mom in Eddie Bauer (TM) shirts, no doubt!
At the lock.
Great-Grandma used to live here.
Toured a home used by the Underground Railroad.
Starved Rock Visitors Center -- Jack above, Jamie below.
Requisite group photos.
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