22 January 2009

Warning sign

The horoscope says I'll be rewarded for impulsiveness, so just let me say:

GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

Okay, now that's done...

Yesterday, I wanted to call for a do-over--even before I knew Obama was busy doing his oath over (I think it's slightly hilarious, and probably unnecessary, but hey, if it makes the powers that be happy...)

No, I wanted a do-over of a bit of my own life. Really, the last few days...

(I've declared today the day of the ellipses. As an editor, I frequently balk at punctuation as decoration, but ellipses do a solid job of representing my current thought processes. Or lack thereof. Lots of omission going on there. And I'm completely distracted.)

The daughter is in a musical tonight. I'm not sure she'll have a voice, but she's a lot perkier than she has been. She's into the heavy goop part of whatever she's got, but the fever is finally gone.

The son, on the other hand, called me from school yesterday, telling me, "My hip is killing me."

He's been complaining about this for a few days. I made the executive decision to drag him off to the pediatrician, to which the son immediately complained that I was overreacting. Ok, I hadn't slept in two days, what do you expect? I'm not at my most rational when I've been up with a sick kid. And he kept pointing at his lower right trunk (referring to it as his hip, which it actually isn't). It's winter. He was exhibiting pain in his lower right abdomen when he was walking. He didn't have any really discernible symptoms of appendicitis, but then I have a daughter who presented with symptoms of meningitis when she had a bladder infection. And his pain complaints were escalating. And I'm not a doctor.

Going to the pediatrician with a sick kid is a crapshoot. Fifty percent of the time, your instincts are spot on (like the time it turned out the son had pneumonia and the time the daughter's eardrum had quietly exploded. She never noticed a thing, but I discovered a large sticky wad of ear wax and blood in her hair and figured something was up), and 50% of the time you leave feeling like a complete idiot.

Like yesterday. When the pediatrician told me the kid probably had a muscle strain, maybe bursitis. And when I gave the doctor a hard time about his flu shot giving the daughter whatever she has right now (it's a long-standing joke), he suggested that maybe I should bring her in today for a strep swab.

Thanks. Make me feel like a great mother and give me one more thing to worry about!

Of course, the emails were flying yesterday, too. I'd volunteered stuff to be sold at the refreshment stand tonight, and I also volunteered to do hair and makeup.

The spouse (and a lot of my friends) are forever telling me that I'm far too hard on myself. Okay, it's a failing, I acknowledge that, and in the spirit of reformation, I decided I'd buy cupcakes rather than make them, given the way the week's gone. So, I finally got to the grocery this morning, all good intentions, but one look at those grocery cupcakes... They were disgusting. In the freezer and at some point, they'd half melted, so there was runny goo all over. So, I've just finished making two dozen cupcakes.

Cupcakes.

Definitely a warning sign...

Go listen to some good music: "Warning Sign" from the album A Rush of Blood to the Head by Coldplay. Holy mackerel was I tired last night. This post needed a do-over. Of course, after a night spent dreaming about mascara wands and huge boxes of eyeshadow, I'm not sure I'll do much better today.

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