"Boys, can you look at me for a second, please? Thank you. Now, before anyone says anything, I'm not pointing any fingers and therefore do not want to hear 'I didn't do it!' or 'It wasn't me!'. It doesn't matter who did it because I'm directing this at everyone. Listen closely: Mommy does not like sitting in pee, nor does she like wiping up other people's pee from the toilet seat to avoid sitting on it. Therefore, please lift the seat before you go to the bathroom. Also, flushing would be nice. Thank you."
This little lecture was brought to you by a mother who, after giving it, instantly felt as though things were returning to normal - whatever that is. Defining normalcy in the Maven household is a tricky endeavor. I suppose, if I were to take a shot at it, I would say having hiccups of insanity - nothing too crazy - in between trying to pretend we have a schedule and children who listen is our normal. And I never realized how much I would miss it until I was sleeping in a fold-out hospital chair listening to monitors beep.
Things are really starting to feel like they used to around here, minus all the appointments. Spawnling had a follow-up with our family doctor today, meets in a couple of weeks with the ophthalmologist again, and needs his blood drawn sometime in the next few days. However, all of that is blended into a nice, thick chaos smoothie with all the back-to-blissschool stuff we need to do. Even putting class registrations and supply shopping aside, having two hearing impaired gremlins means meeting with the teachers and principals of two different schools (Intrepid is in junior high this year - YIKES!) to make sure everyone understands what they need to make each school year a success.
Today we had a little situation: Gutsy's meeting was at the same time as Spawnling's doctor appointment. Swell. Thankfully, my husband rocks and not only offered to take one of the boys to an appointment, but asked me which one I would like him to do.
... Seriously? Really? I have a choice? Oh, goody! Let me think for a minute.
On one hand, I could take an eager Gutsy to school to meet with his teacher, see his classroom and have a friendly chat about classroom seating and lip reading.
On the other hand, I could drive 40 minutes into the country to sit in a waiting room with a bunch of sick and/or grumpy people with a toddler who can't get sick right now. I can follow him around as he touches things, dosing him with Purell and trying to figure out how I can Barbapapa myself into a bubble around his fragile little body. Then, I could hold him while he kicks, jabs and claws at our very friendly doctor, trying desperately to have an important conversation over his screaming.
Tough call.
Surprisingly, I almost took Door #2. That was my mothering guilt calling. It kept saying 'If you're a good mother you'll go to his doctor's appointment and deal with it, because you know more about his condition than anyone else, and who said this parenting thing was supposed to be easy, and why wouldn't you do that one small thing for your child who's been so sick, and what kind of awful parent would even consider not going in the first place?'
And then I told that guilt where it could be shoved, and took Gutsy to meet his teacher. Why? Because I'm lazy. But that's not a very PC thing to say, so instead I'll say that it's important I not shoulder all the burden of Spawnling's recovery and that I also have other gremlins who need my undying motherly devotion, and stuff.
Gutsy is going into immersion classes this year. And by immersion I mean French and English, just in case you don't know Canada's two official languages. He was in the all-English stream until we discovered his talents went beyond being able to scream louder than a virgin in a horror movie; the boy can easily read Grade 5 and 6 books independently. This is not surprising, being the child of such an intelligent parent.
No. I did not mean Geekster. Why does everyone assume I mean Geekster? Like, you know?
Anyway, this is Grade 1 he's heading into, so my guess is that if we don't give him the challenge of a new language he's likely to do some really bad things with that boredom. Just sayin'.
Tonight I'm heading out for a well-deserved coffee with ThatScriptChick. Tomorrow, I jump back on the running bandwagon, as I've only been once since returning from the hospital. The chocolate to cardio ratio is heavily unbalanced, and my waistline is looking a little more Michelin every day. This eating my feelings thing has been good fun, but I'd rather not have to replace my heart in fifteen years with a new one. This one is rather nice, and it likes people. And people like it. It's a popular heart.
(That being said, I still might treat my heart to some cake tonight. It likes cake.)
This little lecture was brought to you by a mother who, after giving it, instantly felt as though things were returning to normal - whatever that is. Defining normalcy in the Maven household is a tricky endeavor. I suppose, if I were to take a shot at it, I would say having hiccups of insanity - nothing too crazy - in between trying to pretend we have a schedule and children who listen is our normal. And I never realized how much I would miss it until I was sleeping in a fold-out hospital chair listening to monitors beep.
Things are really starting to feel like they used to around here, minus all the appointments. Spawnling had a follow-up with our family doctor today, meets in a couple of weeks with the ophthalmologist again, and needs his blood drawn sometime in the next few days. However, all of that is blended into a nice, thick chaos smoothie with all the back-to-
Today we had a little situation: Gutsy's meeting was at the same time as Spawnling's doctor appointment. Swell. Thankfully, my husband rocks and not only offered to take one of the boys to an appointment, but asked me which one I would like him to do.
... Seriously? Really? I have a choice? Oh, goody! Let me think for a minute.
On one hand, I could take an eager Gutsy to school to meet with his teacher, see his classroom and have a friendly chat about classroom seating and lip reading.
On the other hand, I could drive 40 minutes into the country to sit in a waiting room with a bunch of sick and/or grumpy people with a toddler who can't get sick right now. I can follow him around as he touches things, dosing him with Purell and trying to figure out how I can Barbapapa myself into a bubble around his fragile little body. Then, I could hold him while he kicks, jabs and claws at our very friendly doctor, trying desperately to have an important conversation over his screaming.
Tough call.
Surprisingly, I almost took Door #2. That was my mothering guilt calling. It kept saying 'If you're a good mother you'll go to his doctor's appointment and deal with it, because you know more about his condition than anyone else, and who said this parenting thing was supposed to be easy, and why wouldn't you do that one small thing for your child who's been so sick, and what kind of awful parent would even consider not going in the first place?'
And then I told that guilt where it could be shoved, and took Gutsy to meet his teacher. Why? Because I'm lazy. But that's not a very PC thing to say, so instead I'll say that it's important I not shoulder all the burden of Spawnling's recovery and that I also have other gremlins who need my undying motherly devotion, and stuff.
Gutsy is going into immersion classes this year. And by immersion I mean French and English, just in case you don't know Canada's two official languages. He was in the all-English stream until we discovered his talents went beyond being able to scream louder than a virgin in a horror movie; the boy can easily read Grade 5 and 6 books independently. This is not surprising, being the child of such an intelligent parent.
No. I did not mean Geekster. Why does everyone assume I mean Geekster? Like, you know?
Anyway, this is Grade 1 he's heading into, so my guess is that if we don't give him the challenge of a new language he's likely to do some really bad things with that boredom. Just sayin'.
Tonight I'm heading out for a well-deserved coffee with ThatScriptChick. Tomorrow, I jump back on the running bandwagon, as I've only been once since returning from the hospital. The chocolate to cardio ratio is heavily unbalanced, and my waistline is looking a little more Michelin every day. This eating my feelings thing has been good fun, but I'd rather not have to replace my heart in fifteen years with a new one. This one is rather nice, and it likes people. And people like it. It's a popular heart.
(That being said, I still might treat my heart to some cake tonight. It likes cake.)