She has been complaining of a stomach-ache. Since Wednesday. On Wednesday, I was concerned. She had a sore throat, too, and a cold has been going around. Poor little thing. She got a cuddle, and a back scratch and was sent to bed with kisses.
Thursday – stomach-ache revisited. At the dinner table. After a suspicious absence all afternoon, including during snack time where she ate a healthy serving of gyoza, and then a strawberry popsicle. But at dinner (a bowl full of very yummy vegetables), oops! stomach ache!
Fine, says her mother. You do not have to finish your delicious and healthy vegetables, but you should go to bed early, since this is the second day of the stomach ache, and you have a long day tomorrow.
Suddenly! No stomachache! Please let me stay up until my normal time, please? please? I was firm. Said no. Said “no more talking about it, or it will be even earlier!” But yet, when the earlier time came along, she said, “will you proofread my project for me?” And so I said yes. And found some small mistakes and made suggestions. Then she came to my room to say, “I have these forms for my health (or, more accurately, sex ed) class that I need to fill out with a parent. Will you do them with me?” And so she went to bed only 15 minutes early, instead of an hour early. Yet! What a surprise!
Guess what happened this morning? stomach-ache!!
And so, being the loving mother that I am, I called her a liar. Not in so many words, but maybe in so many words. But before I called her on what I still think is a bluff, I asked her about her stomach-ache. ”What kind of stomach-ache?” I don’t know. ”What’s it feel like?” I don’t know. ”Do you feel like you are going to throw up?” No. “Do you feel like you are going to have diarrhea?” No. ”Does it feel like cramps?” No. Well, dude, help me out here. ”What am I supposed to say?” She retorts, with her old pre-birthday-blush 13 yo crappy-ass attitude.
So I told her to knock it off and go to school.
On the way to physical therapy yesterday, “oh, did you hear? I fell off my bike on the way to crew today.”
Of course, she’s okay. Perplexing how she thought I would have “heard.” Was it on the news? No! She just kind of toppled over while riding in front of my friend’s car. Lemon tried to call ahead to the friend she was riding with, but she didn’t hear, and so kept going. My friend made sure Lemon was okay, and then went ahead to flag Lemon’s friend down. That freaked Lemon’s friend out, because she didn’t know my friend, and almost made her fall off her bike.
Like I told my friend, the witness to the weird and inexplicable (by all accounts) topple — I am working very hard to just chuckle, and not think about what would have happened if she “toppled” on one of the busier roads, rather than a sleepy one, or if she had been more seriously injured, or or or or.
3. Writer Dude.
I’m stretching here, to include him in our list. He has allergies. And last week, along with the allergies, he had a cold.
Finally. Geez. I thought I’d never get to whine.
A. I burned myself. On my clothes-steamer. It had lint on it, and I was getting ready to steam a top, and didn’t want the lint from the pants (dark) to get on the top (light), so I took the sleeve of my bathrobe, and wiped off the head of the steamer. Yes, the sleeve of the bathrobe was on my arm. I guess there was some disconnect in my brain that didn’t realize that wiping the surface of the steamer, which had steam coming out of it (and my vision is perfect), would be the equivalent of wiping my arm along the surface of a hot iron. Only, because of the steam, it would go through my terry robe as if it didn’t even exist. Conveniently, the part of my arm that I burned is the very same part – between the wrist and the elbow – that rests on a desk when one is, say, working at a computer. You know, that thing I do all day long?
Yes, I did/do feel like an idiot.
WD saw the mark and was quite unimpressed. ”yeah, that’s a first degree burn.” Apparently, he didn’t care that it was 2″ x 3″ in size, and very red – which means very painful!! But once I got out the door and was walking to the T to head to work*, the center of the burn (which was about an inch long, and 1/3″ wide) was forming a large, distinct blister. Second degree burn, baby! I had put some aloe on the area before I left, and so by the time I checked it again at work, that center was all that was left. When I got home, I put more aloe on it, and most of that went down enough that it looked like only a small blister area remained in the center of that.
But then, sadly, when I was going over Mouse’s project with her, I scraped my nicely healing burn (aloe is AMAZING) along the edge of her cheap-ass pressboard bed, and ripped the whole damned thing (still at least an inch long) open.
So, today – a bandage & some ow.
b. My hip.
It hurts. A lot. Full post forthcoming. I’m thinking of seeking out a chiropractor. Or some yoga. Or both. It’s reminiscent of pregnancy, which is not a possibility, and I dislike it. Whine.
Oh well. At least our cats are healthy.
(Even though one of the kittens keeps hunting bumble bees and hornets. It’s only a matter of time until he gets stung.)
*where I still don’t really have anything to do. So, “work” is a funny term to use. I should, instead, say “I took the T to go to another place with another computer where I could sit all day and surf the internet and play with my Flickr account.” (Okay, okay. I also had some meetings and some phone calls and some other piddly work. But it didn’t fill my day.)