Julie Asks – Am I an Adult Yet?

1. For some unknown reason, Georgie has gotten into the habit of stripping down to his boxers (sidebar: there is pretty much nothing cuter than a little boy in boxers!) immediately upon entering the house at the end of the day.  While it strikes me as nothing more than eccentric, my mother in law inquired as to where he learned to do that.  Hmmm…not sure.  Rich doesn’t do.  Harrison doesn’t do it.  I certainly don’t do it.  I just chalk it up to Georgie being Georgie. 

2. When faced with a pause in conversation, all anyone seems to be able to talk about is Michael Jackson (he’s dead) and the persistent (and obnoxious) rain.  I have no interest in discussing either topic.  In fact, I want to talk about Farrah.  Really.  And did anyone know that she was only on “Charlie’s Angels” for one season?  She fought the fight and got totally dissed in the celebrity death pool.  Ain’t right.

3. I know I just avowed to being disinterested in the rain, but I do have to note that I fully believe that the only meteorological explanation for the unseasonably cold temperatures is that I put in central air.  Had I not, we’d have been facing the hottest summer to hit the Northeast in centuries.  Of that I am confident.

4. I have a dear friend who made the mistake of letting some of us know that she was embarking on a healthy eating plan.  Since her “announcement” (it wasn’t really an announcement, but has managed to take on a life of its own) she has been bombarded with unsolicited advise from those of us who are WW (that’s Weight Watchers for those of you living under a rock) disciples.  I’m guessing she wishes she’d just quietly ditched the fries for carrot sticks…

5. First letter received from Harrison while at camp:

Dear Mom and Dad (this is an improvement over years past when he only wrote Dear Mom),

I’m at camp.  It is raining.  Mom made me overpack.

Love,

Harrison

My issue with this letter? 

          a. I didn’t make him overpack.  In fact, I had virtually nothing to do with his packing.  He packed himself.

          b. We just spent over $4K on camp…and this is what I get?

6. Last night I bumped into the father (whom I haven’t seen in 35 years) of a friend (whom I haven’t seen in 35 years.)  At that very moment, that friend was having dinner with my brother (who also had not seen her in 35 years.)   C’mon, that’s bizarre.

7. Now that I have decided to do something with my resume other than have it sit on my laptop I am, for some unknown reason, unable to copy and paste it.   Coincidence?  I don’t think so.

8. Last night Rich got angry with me for gettting angry with him.  I wasn’t really angry, I was tired and irked.  Then he got angry so now I am angry.  No, not really, still irked.  No, not even irked.  Cannot even remember what it was about.

9. At 7:30 tomorrow morning I will be taking a little pill so that I will not get up and walk away when they call my name at the MRI center.  I am seeking confirmation on the herniated disc in my back.  And the pinched nerve.  And, yes, I know not to open my eyes.  I am then planning on going to the gym.  I’ll be the one wondering why the elliptical machine isn’t going anywhere…but I’ll be happy.

10. I still hate my cat.  He still hates me.  I know this because his attacks against me have not diminished.  Rather, they have increased and he seems to be getting more and more pleasure out of it.

11. Overheard on Phinneas and Ferb: “You may have my underpants.  They just got very messy” This, for some reason, cracked me up.  Another laugh out loud moment, this one from “Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs”: “Sometimes I pee in my bed” with the retort: “Sometimes I pee in your bed.”  Yes, I notice the theme.

12. I miss Georgie’s phraseology of choice last week — he was calling everybody “cupcake”.  Rich tried it, too.  It didn’t work out as well for him.

13. Tomorrow I am participating in a focus group for which I will share my opinions for 90 minutes, collect a crisp $100 for doing so and call it a day.  So what if I had to stretch the truth a little about my Pop Tart buying habits?  I am still a woman of integrity.  And grit.  Really.

14. I admit to actively missing “The Real Housewives of New Jersey”.  At this point, I’d settle for “The Real Housewives of Duluth”.  Makes me bitter about summer television. 

15. Oh, oh, oh, I just remembered that today is Wednesday and I’ve been promised an all new “Wipeout”  tonight.  All is good with the world.

1. Today is supposed to be the mark of the official start of summer — Harrison left for camp.  However, the 62 degrees, pouring rain, pounding thunder and black skies are screwing with me. 

2. In an act of genius, I opted to not start Georgie at camp until after the Fourth.  We’d hang at the pool, maybe go to the beach, ride bikes.  But, oh, wait, it has rained every day since he’s been out of school (with one exception) so we’ve been Plaster Fun Timing, movie-ing, television-ing, art project-ing for a week already.  We even went to the movies this morning only to have Georgie fall asleep in the car for 97 minutes while I drove around in the pouring rain trying to ignore: my hunger, my need to use the bathroom, my heavy eyelids and my self-berating over having cheaped out and not swung for camp this week.  Note to self: next summer, he starts the day after school.

3. I never cease to be amazed at the camp bus stop.  While Rich and I can barely contain our excitement (um, for Harrison and the great summer he is going to have…) there is always one crying mother, one parent who holds up the busses being able to pull out because they have to situate little Miriam or Jonathan (it is a Jewish camp, after all) on the bus, (how they will manage at camp without mom remains a mystery) and one dad who was so busy Blackberrying that he plum forgot to say goodbye.  I, however, am the one who lets out a loud “woo hoo” when I hear the engines fire up.  Adore my kid, but c’mon, life just got more than half as much easier in my house.

4. I laughed out loud at least three times that I can recall while watching “Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs”.

5. Georgie is sleeping at my mother’s house tonight.  His only concern is that she is able to find “Wipeout” on t.v. tonight.  I assured him that she can.  I am 75% confident in that promise.

6. Whomever wrote (and is, therefore, receiving the royalties) the SpongeBob episode where SB takes his licensing test must be a ridiculously wealthy person — I swear it is on daily.

7. George has announced to me that he is happy to be going to Nana’s tonight – “he could use a break from me”

8. I had an essay published in an online journal (http://www.survivorsreview.org/features.php?vol=9&art=132) and sent the link to several close friends as well as my oncologist.  He was the first person to respond.  It made me cry (a happy cry). 

9. I have an appointment tomorrow morning with a spine specialist (for, well, my spine).  I have been told to arrive at 6:40 a.m.  I strongly suggest he not be late.  Just sayin’…

10.  The time has come to deliver George to my mother.  I may not even take the time to finish this sentence…

1. It is noon on Monday.  Georgie is done with first grade at noon on Wednesday.  He does not start camp until 8:30 on Monday…July 6.  Oh, boy.

2. With my back finally cooperating, I went back to the gym today for the first time in ten days.  Not surprisingly, I sweat more readily than I might otherwise have (given my new out of shapeness).  Imagine my disappointment when I arrived home to discover that I was unable to shower at my house.  See #3 for explanation as to why…

3. As I type, I am competing with the sounds of electric saws, dust, drills, tarps, the entire contents of my and my childrens’ closets spread across our respective beds and general mayhem.  Why, you ask?  Because today I am finally getting the central air conditioning that I have been jonesing for since we bought our house in 1994.   I have never been so hopeful for a heatwave….ever.

4. Anyone who has ever been in my company anytime from May through September knows that I hate the heat.  I take it personally when the thermometer rises above 80 degrees.  Humidity is just wrong and, as best I can tell, purposeless.  People who profess to love the heat make no sense to me.  There is nothing more disgusting that sweating after a shower, sticking to anything for any reason or being subjected to hair expansion ala Roseanne Rosanna Danna.  Given the events of #3, I will no longer be able to complain.  I still might, but that is my prerogative.

5. For the past three nights I have been up coughing my brains out.  It is that awful, dry cough which leads to dry heaving and gagging.  All unpleasant, but perhaps most unpleasant is that fact that Georgie has finally stopped waking me at three in the morning and now Iam waking me at three in the morning.  And, more unpleasant still is the fact that my damned doctor won’t call in a the magic cough pills unless I come in to see her.  It isn’t like I am asking for Vicodin or something.  Geez.

6. I continue my active addiction to Chipotle salads.  If you haven’t tried one yet, why the hell not? 

7. There is currently a group of five Russian men having lunch on the porch.  None of them speak a word of English, but my scant knowledge of Russian tells me that they are commenting on what a young looking mom I am to have a kid as old as Harrison.  Just sayin’.

8. My resume is done.  It has been edited, tweaked, revised, reformatted and reviewed.  Now if only I could find a job I even wanted to apply for…

9. At this moment, Harrison, Matthew and two nubile young women are hanging out in my basement.  I, along with my Russian comrades, are making our presence known, yet I wonder…is this acceptable or inappropriate?   And, I wonder, why don’t these girls’ parents seem to care whether there is a responsible adult home whilst they are here? 

10. I’d love to go to NYC for a weekend….haven’t been there in over 20 years. 

11. Why is it that the ponytails we throw our hair into while driving are always the best ones? 

12. Over the weekend, Rich accidentally locked our (friggin’) cat out on the porch all night.  Imagine my reaction the next morning when Georgie noticed him (the cat, that is) missing and discovered him (again, the cat) on the porch right next to the pile and puddle on my brand new furniture.  Suffice to say, I don’t think Rich will ever close the porch door without looking again.

13. I met a lady at Starbuck’s the other day who, for some reason, confessed to me that she brings wine in water bottles to the playground.  I assume the wine is for her.  I also assume she might have a little bit of a problem. 

14. Favorite Facebook statuses from past few days:

43 is a lot like 42 with less hair and more stress

I’m cranky and my leggings have a hole in the crotch, to no one’s benefit

Is wishing his dad a happy fathers day. You inspired me, you protected me, and you used  your  lawyer to keep that girls father from killing me when I was 17. Thx

and,

Just kicked some ass in Scrabble.  (This one was okay – it was the first comment that made it exceptional)

                  (first comment:) I cannot wait to be old.

So there you have it.

It appears the Swine has landed at my house.  It started innocently enough with a call from the school nurse that Georgie was in her office threatening to throw up.  Now, I know my kid and know that him saying he is going to throw up is code for “I want to go home”.  He never throws up and, on the rare occasion that he does, he certainly doesn’t give me any warning beforehand.  Since I was literally unable to walk (or sit, or stand or, for that matter, move) that morning due to a bitch of a battle with sciatica, I asked the nurse to have him hang with her for fifteen minutes or so to see if the urge passed.  When I told him I couldn’t even walk, he gently responded, “you don’t have to walk to get me…you can drive.”  Clearly he didn’t get it.

Later that day I got a call from his extended day program.  This time the message was that “Georgie just didn’t want to be there” which is what I implored him to say lest he becomes the boy who cried wolf visa vie barfing.  (I prefer “barfing” to “puking”, “hurling”, “gooching” or “vomiting”.  Actually, I hate them all, but in terms of semantics, well, there you have it.)  Still crippled, I sensed that perhaps he was so tired he needed to come home, but still assumed he was fine.

And he was.  Until 3:30 the following morning when he woke up coughing his brains out and sporting a hefty fever of 101.7  Damn.  We Motrined him to within an inch of his sixty pounds, tucked him back in bed and shut off the morning alarm clock.  (What was the sense of getting up in the morning if we didn’t have to?)  Once the fog had cleared and I had Motrined myself to within an inch of my-(yeah, like I’d fill in my pounds here) self I called the pediatrician to see if they wanted to see him.  (Do they ever really want to see a sick kid?)  In fact, they did and off he and Rich went.

As I was crawling out the door to go to the acupuncturist (ahhh) they arrived home.  Walking in the door, Georgie announced to me that he had puked (his word, not mine) on the floor at the doc’s office.  I have never been so happy to have been incapacitated.  The only thing worse that a barfing child is one who does it on the floor, out in public and is alone with me.  Diagnosis: flu like symptoms, could be Swine, but they are no longer testing.  Crap. 

We all slept through the night last night.  When he first woke up, he immediately took his own temperature (QOD: is that odd?) and was a very acceptable 99.1.  Cool – that was fast.  And it was.  Until noon when it soared back up to 102.3 and threats of puking (again, his word, not mine) rang through the house.  Rich supplied a large plastic bowl and Georgie dragged it around the house like Linus with his blanket.  Alas, no more barfing and Motrin knocked the fever back down right up to the time of this writing.  This, it appears, is the course of this flu – two days, up and down fever and then its just a story. 

But the story doesn’t end there.  Due to a rampant run of Swine at our school, they have strictly enacted a seven day rule:  no child or teacher can return to school until seven days after the onset of symptoms.   Are you kidding me??  The only thing worse than being home with a sick child is being home with a healthy one who isn’t allowed to go anywhere or do anything! 

And that still is not the end of the story.  Harrison, who has spent the past week exploring Washington, DC with his graduating eighth grade class (a trip that literally hung in the balance until noon on Friday before a Monday departure because of the infestation of Swine at school) is due home tomorrow.  It wouldn’t be such a big deal, but I am praying that he doesn’t get it before Wednesday  because then he would be banned from graduation and, faithful readers may recall that he missed his Religious School Graduation last year because of his bleb episode.

So, let’s all gather round and pray that nothing else befalls our house this week — no more Swine, bad backs or bad attitudes allowed…