This morning, the school nurse called me to come collect my daughter-with-pinkeye.
It was 8 am and she caught me on my cell phone.
I hadn't even made it back home from dropping the kids off.
It's been one of those weeks.
One little thing after another after another…
That kind of week.
Some of you might've recommended against hosting a slumber party for seven-year-olds during a remodel.
And the other stuff I've taken on is beyond the pale, too.
I don't know if I should laugh or rage some days…
This morning, I'd like to take a book of poetry into the bath.
Instead, we're on our way to the doctor for eye drops.
And then I have to tidy up the war zone house for the slumber party.
(That's a good one, isn't it? Cleaning up for a slumber party…)
Have you read Anne Sexton's fury poems? I love them. And they seem sorely apt for today.
Here's one of my favorites:
The Fury of Overshoes
They sit in a row
outside the kindergarten,
black, red, brown, all
with those brass buckles.
Remember when you couldn't
buckle your own
overshoe
or tie your own
overshoe
or tie your own shoe
or cut your own meat
and the tears
running down like mud
because you fell off your
tricycle?
(Read the rest here…)
Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow is another day, tomorrow is another day…
I am sorry about the pinkeye. If it is contagious, can you still host a slumber party? Or am I making things worse with the asking?
I’d not read that poem before, and it is completely apropos. And I often wonder when I’ll feel like a grown up. And how it can be so many years since I graduated from college, when I am still so very, very young. And why the mirror seems to disagree.
Right, Kelly. I totally look around some days and then startle to realize that I am supposed to be the one in charge. No test, no study sessions. Oi.
The doc gave the okay for the slumber party. I think we may give hand sanitizer as a favor 🙂
Love this poem (hadn’t seen it before, either). Sorry it’s been that kind of week. Good luck surviving the slumber party. Overshoes not allowed.
Y’know what, Jama. The actual party will be awesome and funny and cute. It’s the anticipation that kills ya…
I love this poem.
My daughter just got through 2 bouts of pinkeye. I feel your pain. Eye drops – yuck. The second round was with an oral antibiotic.
Gosh, really? I’m hoping we caught it quickly enough that it won’t be too yucky…
Cloudscome says:
Oy I hate those pink-eye days! We passed it around our house last fall. It’s so expensive for such a small irritation!!
That poem made me weep. It made me vow to be kinder to the little grumpies living in my house waking me up in the middle of the night so I can recover their blankets.
Re: Cloudscome says:
I know! When the pharmacist told me the drops were $18, I thought they must have forgotten to enter our insurance card. Alas, that was WITH the insurance discount! It’s a long drive to Canada so I sucked it up…
And I really hear you on the resonance of that poem. It just cracks your heart open a little wider, doesn’t it?
Wow. Intense. Never read that before.
Good luck with everything. I’ve had one of *those* weeks, too, including having to drag out a book on discipline and feeling like a bad mom all dang week long. Why are we mamas so good at beating ourselves up?
Hang in there. May the pink-eye go away, too.
jules, 7-Imp
OK, so my astology-minded friend says it’s all because mercury is in retrograde. Which is as good an answer as any. You hang in, too…
xxx
That poem makes me weep for all kinds of reasons.
Do not clean up for a slumber party—although I guess you’ve probably already done it. Just turn all the lights off and start the night part early. 🙂
Sending some yoga tree pose (flexible but strong) vibes to you…
The only thing is, Sara, that “cleaning up” included a bunch of displaced-by-the-remodel stuff. And everyone would have had to eat tacos standing up…
I assure it, it would NOT pass the white glove test, but at least it is now safe to pass.
Tree pose to you, too. (ENVY that you’re in NY!!!)
TadMack says:
Gah! Aaargh!
When do the big people get here!!? I totally agree: when does taking big steps seem easy and painless like everybody else seems to be doing?!
Ach, Liz, that’s been my week, too, minus pinkeye. Lighting candles for the slumber party, friend. Prayers ascending…
Re: TadMack says:
As I just told Jules, apparently ‘mercury is in retrograde’ and that can be the excuse for all major and minor disasters. I guess it’ll end when the stars align. Or when the grown-ups show up. Which seems less likely…
Thanks for the candles. Thanks thanks…
Big People Status
What a dance it is with a class full of 9 and 10 year olds who can switch from needing a Big Person to trying to BE a Big Person in the blink of an eye. (And I have to mention here, that I have sent a child to the nurse with pinkeye in the first five minutes she was in the room. Too bad I can’t get paid a doctor’s fees for all the times my diagnosis is spot on.)
We sent home the forms for camp yesterday. Many of my students have never spent a night away from home (not including sleep overs). I had to say, “No, you are not allowed to bring the stuffed animals you sleep with.” And in the next breath, I had to say, “Yes, indeed, you should bring deodorant if you use it.”
What a dance!
Re: Big People Status
I know — it is a crazy age, for sure.
And by the way, I could not BELIEVE how good her teacher was at diagnosing pinkeye! I had just kissed her a moment before and hadn’t a clue!!!