Tuesday, July 24, 2007

What Am I Going To Do?

Sarah had a physical yesterday and it went very poorly. She's healthy enough (as far as anyone could tell, as it was impossible to either take her blood pressure or actually examine her, although our doctor was able to get her to let him listen to her heart and lungs and peer into her ears) but began to cry as soon as we approached the office. This is one of those areas where she appears to be losing skills she once had: I can't say Sarah's ever enjoyed seeing a doctor, but certainly hasn't behaved in the past the way she did yesterday, and what's really scaring me is how she was so obviously not manipulating the situation. It was as though her fears took over and she was incapable of controlling herself. Too: Sissy HATES to be poked, and had to have four shots yesterday for routine vaccinations. Hmmm. In retrospect....okay: she's not old enough to make these decisions herself, and I'm a firm believer in vaccination. Still. It was traumatic and horrible and degrading and I don't know if I'm going to get behind this in the future. Had I known what was going to happen, I would've swallowed my own fear of being thought overprotective and insisted on sedation (as long as it's not administered as a shot!) if for no other reason than to spare Sarah the memory of how she behaved. Even as she was still in full outcry, she was angry and miserable ("I made a fool of myself! I can never show my face here again!!!!! WAAAHHHHHH!!!!") about how she'd acted.

Thank God Sarah is not blaming me (yet) for having to see doctors....she asked recently (again) why she has to see the psychiatrist, and I explained (again) why it's necessary and talked a little about her medication again...which she is beginning to claim she doesn't need. Hmmmm. Hmmmmmm. HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. What she really means is that she doesn't want her blood tested, which is going to come up Monday when we're at the psychiatrist's office...because I haven't had Sarah's blood drawn since the last time we were there. I just can't. I know it doesn't really "hurt" her, but the entire experience is doing something to her that goes deeper than mere fear, and as her mother, it's become one of those areas where the answer SEEMS obvious (what am I, insane? Get that blood drawn! Don't let her push you around! This is important! Etc.) but isn't. Oh, and- this just in- I've officially given up on getting Sarah's ears pierced. Uneccessary, right? Of course. Buuuutttttt.....girls do it, like they go to get haircuts (another thing I've given up on after the traumarama last fall at WalMart's salon) and __________________ (fill in blank with any number of perfectly ordinary things my daughter can't/won't experience.)

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

She's Baaaaack......

I never remember what summer's REALLY like until it begins. I have to wonder: what shape will it take once my kids are grown up and gone?

I went to work last night with just about the worst hair I can remember having. This is why I need to hack most of it off: once it grows longer than an inch or two, it develops an attitude. I looked like the wrath of God and was irritable all evening. We've put a mirror behind the discharge computer (cool. Permits us to see if a customer has approached while our backs are turned) and every time I ran some item past the scanner I'd see my furrowed brow, surrounded by this...fright wig. Things seem back to normal today, coif-wise, but my eyes are watering to the degree that I appear to be very upset by something (my hair! Ha ha) and my eyeliner is washing off as soon as I reapply. And reapply. And reapply.

We ("we." Ha. My husband said, several weeks ago, that he thought we should have some plants hanging from our porch. I agreed and threw out an opinion or two- ferns! Nice fluffy ones!- but he thought something with flowers blah blah blah. Long story short: after weeks of this just not getting off the ground, I finally bought two fuschias, then the hardware to hang them, then hung them) hung some plants from our porch and I must say they look nice. I don't seem to have that "house beautiful" gene so they're barely adequate ( e.g., still in the white plastic baskets they came in when I bought them, at a discount, from Giant Eagle) but nobody's pointed and laughed yet when passing by my house so I guess they'll do.

Had an incident or two last night which could've been avoided had the people in question HAD THEIR LIBRARY CARDS WITH THEM when the y came TO THE LIBRARY.