Since the last blog post, I’ve survived a number of milestones:
1. My Birthday (July 2) — 37.
Urgh. I hate the -7 birthdays, because that is when it hits me that I’m closing in on the next decade. I totally freaked out when I turned 27 because it meant I was Almost Thirty. So turning 37 means that in my own mind I’m Almost Forty. Which is, as we all know, the end of everything youthfull. I mean, at 40, I’ll practically be an Old Lady. From here on out things will only sag, and droop, and crease, and cease to function more. I also freaked out a little because I realized that when my mom turned 40, I was 16. So she was in her 40s when I was in college. I’ll qualify for the AARP before the Gadlet is in college. Worse, when she turns 40, I’ll be 76. Math just wasn’t working for me this birthday.
Despite my manic calculations, it really was a good day I worked some, hung out with my great little kid and went to a park for a picnic with Spousal Unit, the Gadlet, Innana, and her guy. (I forget what she calls him on her blog.) We got take-out from the cajun/fish place and hung out in the grass, playing bocce and watching the Gadlet eat her favorite food — Cheerios. Plus, our town put on a fireworks display. Just for me! No, really, like most towns, it can’t afford the fireworks for the 4th, which is ok with me because the 2nd is the more historically accurate day of independence anyway and then I get fireworks on my birthday. (By the way, what cities DO get to do fireworks on the 4th?) This year, though, we crapped out and went home to bed before it got dark. That’s how you KNOW you’re getting old, when you can’t stay awake for the 9 p.m. FIREWORK display.
2. Vacation (7 days) with Divorced Parents who hadn’t seen each other in years (15).
Normally, vacations are relaxing. And, it turns out, this one was, mostly. But, there was a BIT of tension around the start of it. Here’s the story. Last Christmas we gave my mom the gift of a week at a lake house with us and the Gadlet and both of her kids. Unfortunately, my brother and his wife couldn’t make it after all, so it was going to be just 3 adults and one baby in a house with beds for 6. Then, I get a call from my Dad and it turns out the only week he had off this whole year was last week, so he could either not see the Gadlet for a whole year, or be here at the same time that my mom was. Fortunately, my mom is really cool and graciously suggested that my dad should just join us at the lake house. It was nice in theory, but how would it really work? It was totally crazy. They got along like a house on fire. They didn’t stop talking for the first few days — sharing stories about long-forgotten relatives and gossiping about the scandals among their long-lost friends. It was wonderful and funny. They seemed to really enjoy each other’s company, which was nice for all of us. It was so nice, we’ve booked the place for the same week next year for all of us again. I’m kinda scratching my head over this one, but also thanking my lucky stars and whatever gods of forgiveness there are out there.
3. Gadlet Urine Project — The Specialist Edition
We finally got in to see the pediatric urologist this week. By now, that UTI that the Gadlet had is a long-forgotten memory, except for the preventative antibiotics she’s been on since then. So we went to the Big City Hospital, where they did the catheter-dye-xray-pee test, which they managed to do successfully. The worst part for the Gadlet was being held down totally immobilized for 25 minutes. She screamed on and off pretty much the whole time. She was able to calm herself a few times by tugging on her hair while her hands were pinned above her head, and also when Spousal Unit sang to her. When it was over she just hugged me and sobbed. Then I gave her her favorite toy — a stick with jingle bells attached. She got this huge grin on her face and started shaking the thing and dancing, which was sweet given her blotchy face and red eyes from all the crying. This kid clearly has a sweet short memory and easy disposition. Then we had some lunch in the cafeteria of the hospital. (A nice grilled Cubano Sandwich for me and Spousal Unit, kale and yogurt for the Gadlet.) Then we got to see the specialist. He came in, looked at her films, and pronounced her just fine. Then he took a peek at her coochie to check out the labial adhesions (or strings as Spousal Unit keeps calling them). He was utterly unimpressed and said so. Apparently, they’ll go away after puberty, which is when she really needs the thing anyway. So, all’s well that ends well. It’s funny, though, all of these heroic measures from the Pigg-o-Stat onward just because the kid had a fever. And while I’m absolutely thankful that there is nothing wrong, part of me wonders if just because we HAVE the technology to do all of these things, whether we actually SHOULD do them. I don’t mean that I want to neglect my daughter’s health, but maybe we should have waited for her to get another infection before launching down the extraordinary measures road. The specialist did apologize for making us come all of that way, and did say point blank that had the medical care providers in our town been, ahem, better at inserting pediatric catheters, then we wouldn’t have gone through all of this. Poor little local hospital.
4. That Which Shall Not Be Named
Still shall not be named. I’m inclined to clam up a bit on this one, but that probably isn’t too healthy. So, I’ll share. I got quite a bit done while my folks were here, but things have slowed down in the past week — mainly because I lost one of my daycare days to the doctor adventure. I’m starting to feel the looming semester breathing down my neck, but will try to keep my chin up and get a lot done in the next couple of weeks.
Hope you’re all having a great summer.