Busymom.net: Summer. Please report back to my office.

Wednesday, August 6

Summer. Please report back to my office.

Since droning on endlessly about being sick and, ZOMG the steroid crazies, isn't exactly curing me, I suppose I'll stop talking about it.

Or, not.

I really don't know because, see above: steroid. crazy.

The voices are telling me to keep blogging about it, though.

OK, OK, I'm better, but not all there, yet.

Working on it, though. Likely a viral infection I just can't shake.

My own doctor has yet to call me back in nearly 2 weeks.

It's now turned into a bit of an experiment for me.

You see, I'm only 43, left them more than one message (same day appointment requests go to the nurse's voice mail) explaining I've been in the ER twice, urgent care once and I need to be followed up because I might have a blood clot on my lung or I might have congestive heart failure (I don't) and they have YET to call back.

I'm going to see how long it takes, if ever, to get a call.

I did end up seeing a lovely new doctor and he's great and I'm gonna live eventually, so all is well.

It turned out that one of the doctors in the new office was the little brother of my best friend from childhood.

I hadn't seen him in probably 30 years, (he was maybe 8?) and we reconnected, it was hilarious.

Now, it seems the lazy days of summer abruptly ended when the calendar turned August 1st.

We picked Busy Boy up from camp last Saturday and had to take him directly to football practice from there, and he's got practice 4 days a week, now.

Busy Girl starts high school this week.

This. Week.

High. School.

Those of you who've been following me a long time know that this is the culmination of a very hard, years long decision process and now it's here.

We had new parent orientation tonight, and just like that, I find myself part of a tremendous new community and I wasn't quite prepared for the emotional impact.

Oh, hell.

Who am I kidding?

At 60mg of prednisone (my steroid) a day, loading the dishwasher has an emotional impact.

(Reader's Digest version: I went to a small, all girl's school that I love dearly. My dad even teaches there now. My husband teaches at a history-filled, rival school.

Busy Girl is my only daughter and I have never been able to imagine her not going to my alma mater, but the time is here, and she's going to Busy Dad's school.

The whole thing is new for me.)

So many things to notice, but one of the first things that amuses me is that some of the kids she's faced (and tangled with) for years and years on the athletic fields are (I warned her early on) now her classmates and friends.

Hey, that reminds me, I forgot to tell you she made the volleyball team!!

She's on the freshman team, but I think the school's program is nationally ranked, so this is kind of a big deal.

Oh, and they practice 5 days a week.

Hey, remember the 4 day a week football practices above?

Yeah,

Guess what? That doesn't even count Busy D.'s soccer practices.

Summer's here. Summer's gone.

Kitchen still half-painted.

Still much to do here (hey new P&G friends, I really am going to write about my nice time), I just can't get things together quite yet, what with this breathing I have to keep doing.

I think they oughta find some way to automate that because the whole effort's starting to interfere with the ambient song lyrics running around my head.

12:27 AM | Comments (23) |