Caroline and Edward missed school on Tuesday due to gunky colds. I always loathed when toddler Patrick was sick because I could never figure out what to do with him all day but the twinkles were perfectly content to lie on the couch and watch stuff. Apart from the fact that they were cluttering up my alloted kid-free time - and they were both in moods as fragile as spun glass - it was sort of pleasant. Caroline has alternate titles for most shows, my two favorites being when she asks "Can I watch the Cat, the Mouse and the Hammer?" (aka Tom & Jerry) or suggests a viewing of "The Princess and the Beef" (Tale as old as time... .)
Caroline felt crummy enough that she fell asleep in her own bed two nights in a row. It is a nice feeling to open her door at night and see her lying peacefully in more or less the same place that I left her. Yesterday she felt better and celebrated by alarming me with her matter of fact assumptions about her own capabilities, like when she looked thoughtful and suggested that she could drive rather than me or when she said she wanted to try out "the big knife" I was using to cut cantelope. Later she lay on my bed gazing out the window and said dreamily, "I want to fly."
I said, "NO FLYING CAROLINE" very firmly.
She said nothing for a moment and then said, "I want to fly like a bird and climb like a chipmunk."
Edward said, "No Tayayine! NO FY-ING!"
Caroline sighed and said, "Ok ok OHHHHKAAAAAAY."
We left it at that.
Thank you very much for pointing out that her eye looked weird in those last pictures. I hadn't noticed but as soon as you mentioned it I realized that you were right. Looking back over photos from the past few months I can see her right eye gradually sliding toward her nose so I took her into her pediatrician who is sending her onto a pediatric opthamologist. We'll see what the eye doctor says this afternoon.
So last week I saw Someone and she was not the right someone for me. I did think briefly about the advice I had gotten here to give it three sessions but... no. Not right for me. I left her office and felt totally horrible, not because she was rotten or anything; it was just that I could not imagine randomly scheduling appointments with people over and over again until we clicked. It would be like going on a neverending series of blind dates arranged by whatever system matches college roommates. And meanwhile I had gotten all excited about finally living without all this worry.
I asked Steve if he thought I should go see my primary and ask if he had any ideas. Steve said yes. Then - because historically my primary care doctor and I have not communicated very well - I asked Steve what I should say. Steve, who speaks psychobabble fluently (one might almost say it is his first language) launched into an ex tempore explanation that was so lucid and perfect I asked if he would just come with me and say it again. He said sure. So last week I went to see my primary and Steve came along as my translator and I left feeling much much better with a referral to a different Someone who does more cognitive behavioral stuff (the first Someone advised yoga and teetotalism - both admirable, sure, but not exactly what I was hoping for right now) and a prescription for the newest generation of Paxil.
It's only been a week but so far the effects have been... funny? Apart from feeling sleepier I noticed that I am also a little more chipper. A little sunnier. A bit of the ol' joie de vivre is creeping back into the day. I started putting on lipstick and mascara again - just because - and yesterday I looked at my jeans, long sleeved Target t-shirt and slumpy grey cardigan of unknown origin and decided on a thirty second make-over. I took off my jungle mocs and put on clunky high heels and I wrapped the sweater into what I thought was an interesting silhouette and then I put a belt over it. I pulled my hair into a chignon and smoothed the frizzy bits down with hair paste. I added a darker lipstick and thought I looked pretty good. I drove to school.
Patrick said, "Your hips are down here and your waist is up here and the belt... did you MEAN to do this?"
Tim Gunn, junior cat edition.
I'm supposed to go back to my primary in a month and check in on how the Paxil is treating me. At that time if I feel exactly like I do right now I would say it isn't touching the anxiety but it might have managed to unearth some previously unsuspected depression and is beating the tar out of it. So that's ok and I'm going to give it more time. I suppose there are other anti-anxiety medications if this one doesn't work for me?
I have to pick Caroline up early from preschool for her eye appointment and I wanted to get some stuff done around the house without my belovable leg shackles so this is going to be brief today but I had two very hypothetical questions for you:
Very Hypothetical Question #1
Suppose your (male) child was in an elementary school class close to the beginning of the school year and the teacher has behaved in a manner that indicates that she might have a problem with boys. Examples of this would include having all of the boys in the class do worksheets (as a punishment for "misbehaving") while the girls were allowed to play a game - twice - or sending home notes to the parents saying that "the boys" had broken the pencil sharpener (what is this? Death on the Nile? How do over a dozen boys collectively break anything?) or the fact that she has placed many boys at desks of their own facing the wall while the rest of the class is grouped into tables. Now suppose that your own Damien has been more or less unaffected with the exception of the mass male punishments but the very idea of singling out any group (black Catholic foreign-born penised) to be punished jointly for the transgressions of a few makes your cuticles ache. Do you... what do you do? Wait it out?
Very Hypothetical Question #2
In the most general of ways: how much is one obligated to socialize with people one's spouse considers to be important business contacts? It seems so odd to create faux frienships with Mr and Mrs Spacely Sprocket but what do I know; I live in a hollow tree - do you ever see your significant's boss/clients/whoever socially regardless of personal inclination? Sincere question.
Actually they both are. Also how do you keep an eye patch (maybe. but probably) on a girl who cannot keep her pants on?
PS DAMN IT. Murder on the Orient Express, of course.