********* 1 *********
So, Cuckoo broke out in hives yesterday. When we got in the van to pick the kids up from school, he was fine. When we got home, he had hives all over his body, including the area around his eyes. I gave him some Benadryl and we moved on with our day. I didn't really think too much of it until I took him to school this morning. The teacher took one look at him and actually gasped.
Me: "Oh, he's fine. This is much better than it was. The hives are completely gone everywhere except the bit of puffiness around his eye."
Teacher:"You don't know what caused it?"
She gave me a weird look as I ushered him into the room.
I've always been a laid-back mom when it comes to things like germs and injuries, but her reaction tells me I might have just set a new record for my level of (cool as a) cucumberness.
*********** 2 ********
Turken came downstairs mostly dressed for school the other day complaining that his pants didn't fit. I jokingly replied, "What? You just wore them last week without any problem. Did you eat too much for breakfast?" while I bent down to fasten his pants. Lo and behold, I couldn't get them buttoned without cutting off all circulation to areas below his bellybutton. I was baffled until Bryan piped up, "I think it's your new dryer. My pants are more snug this week, too."
Our old dryer never got hot enough to shrink anything, and that's part of the reason it would take three hours to dry a load of clothing. (The other reason is that the washer wouldn't spin well enough to actually get the water out of the clothes.) New dryer gets hot. New dryer shrinks clothes. We now need to line dry half our clothes instead of putting them in the new dryer.
Irony. It's not all it's cracked up to be.
*********** 3 *********
Speaking of my new dryer and washing machine, I have washed every piece of fabric in my house except for one.
I have a fuzzy, cozy, only-thing-that-keeps-me-warm robe.
My robe is filthy.
I finally have a new washer and dryer that could handle washing said robe.
It is a high of 28 degrees. Fahrenheit.
If I take my robe off to wash it, I freeze.
If I let kids wash it while I huddle under a mountain of blankets, they will break my new washer and dryer.
'Cause they break everything I hold dear.
It's a pickle of a problem.
A conundrum if you will.
Like I said, irony is a pain in the butt.
********* 4 ***********
I've had it up to my eyeballs with people getting mad. And when I see people getting worked up and outraged (which is my new most hated word) over things they have no reason to be outraged about, I get annoyed and irritated and lots of other synonyms of mad.
So I'm out. If someone chooses to post things specifically to get people riled or chooses to overreact to little molehills or chooses to pick a fight just to pick a fight, I will unfollow that page faster than I can say, "You have GOT to be kidding me!"
I'm choosing to not be a part of the anger epidemic.
******** 5 ***********
I went shopping with my mom and sister last weekend. It is the one weekend each year I actually shop for clothes for myself, and we didn't go last year. So, I purchased some much needed winter clothing and a few not needed but just wanted clothing.
Each morning I'm excited to get dressed, feeling good about how I look.
And then I pile on the winter outerwear.
Because did I mention it's only going up to 28 degrees today?
I have a bunch of new clothes I love and am excited to wear. I finally look less rag-a-muffinnish when I leave the house.
No one knows, because I'm constantly bundled up.
It's how my kids feel on Halloween, except they still get candy.
Irony. Pretty sure I'm supposed to be learning something from it in order to be a better person, but I don't really care about that right now.
Me and my pride just want people to see me in my pretty clothes.
************ 6 *********
Grandma's 90th birthday with the kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids is being held on Thanksgiving. Somehow, my cousin and I were put in charge of the decorations. As anyone who has been to my house knows, decorating is not my strong suit. We don't have photos hanging on the walls. We don't have knick-knacks or pretty things making our rooms look put together. Shoot, we don't even have furniture in some of the rooms. How I got this job is beyond me.
Well, my relatives will learn their lesson, I can tell you that.
Know what I am using for table runners? Paper Bingo sheets taped together.
Know what I'm using for centerpieces? Yeah, I don't either.
I've got 5 days to figure it out.
Five days, People!
************* 7 *********
Well, I've come to find that 43 is the official age at which a person becomes old.
Today is my birthday. I'm 43.
A mere two hours into my birthday (as in 2:00 in the morning) I woke up with a horrible pain running through my back.
I hobbled through the dark to get myself some ibuprofen and went back to bed.
How am I doing this morning?
Well, I made Bryan try to massage out some knots before he left for work, and now I have a hot pad balancing over my shoulder if that tells you anything.
Yup. It's official.
When a person gets injured simply by sleeping, that person is old.
But, I have every confidence that I will feel better by this afternoon. I get to be the Friday Fabulous Reader in Turken's first grade room today. Spending time with a room full of 6 year olds always helps me forget about any pain I'm in. Especially when we get to have birthday Oreos to celebrate.
And that's a wrap. So it wasn't as "literally quick" as it was supposed to be.
I'm pretty sure none of you are surprised.
Have a lovely day!