Subtle Glow

Well then, you will find this entry regarding the checkup with the pediatrician positively riveting!

Ok, not really.

The truth is, the visit went great right up until it was time to get the flu shot.

Kiddo’s reaction (despite the fact that this was NOT a surprise): A shot? What? In the arm? You mean my arm? My flesh at the top of my arm? NOOOO. I don’t WANT a shot! Noooooooooooo!!

Followed by many tears and also a bit of me restraining him as he was injected, followed by more tears.

The rest of the day for Kiddo: Much moaning and groaning and touching the injection site to make sure it really still did hurt. If you touch it.

The rest of the day for me: Much eye-rolling (secretly of course) and assurances that yes, though you got a shot you are not actually going to die. Also wondering if this means he will grow up to be one of those men who practically collapse at the first sign of a sniffle and carry on as if the world were falling down around them. For a sniffle. All SECRETLY wondered by me, of course!

It’s Monday, I’m blogging, and guess what I’m blogging about!

Yes I’m going to tell you about my weekend, but only because I’m not angry and spitting profanity at every turn (anymore).

This post could also be titled: Death of a Black Crayon. In the Laundry. Specifically, the dryer. With my work clothes happly tumbling inside, getting completely effed up by the death of the black crayon. I had black crayon guts all OVER my favorite tan pants.

My pants? They died, too. I tried to revive them with WD-40 and a few runs through the washer. But in the end, there was only death for the pants. Just a casual bystander sucked in and taken with the black crayon on its way out of this world, where it melted ever so conveniently down the inside of the lint trap. So in a way - the black crayon sort of lives on! Oh happy day for the crayon.

The 7-year-old child who left the crayon in his pocket? Well, he lived. Lucky him. Because it was touch-and-go for a little while there. But, with a heap of chores and half a dozen lectures and yes - I admit it, a few minutes of screaming upon discovery of the remnants of my clothes, we seemed to have things settled.

I’m pretty sure his clothes won’t be washed with mine any more… I’m almost positive I’ll be teaching him to do his own laundry very soon. It goes without saying that all pockets will be turned inside out during the sorting process from now on.

Isn’t that a nice little ending? It would be, wouldn’t it! So, should I tell you now about the hole he dug with a nail file in the bottom of the bathtub while he was supposed to be showering last night?

No, let’s just end with the upside of the dead crayon. I think that’s enough for a Monday morning.

I’m restless today. I’ve got a million things to do this weekend - like grocery shop, and hang Traditional Luminated Decorations in Association with the Gift Giving Occasion of Significance (aka Christmas Lights), referred here forward as LDAGGOS.

3M has these fancy little hooks that you can stick to the inside of your windows and PRESTO! You can snap your LDAGGOS right into the hooks and you have: Illuminated Windows!

Observe:

Ok, so I need to remember to pick up a few things from the grocery store. I know I mentioned it already, but seriously? I haven’t been grocery shopping in three weeks. I usually go every weekend. You can imagine the state of the green leaf lettuce in my crisper drawer. (NO, that was not a euphemism.)

While were on the subject of things not referred to by the previous non-euphemism: don’t let me forget I need toilet paper. I think there’s only one roll left in reserve. Given my most recent obsession with eating dried fruit - dried cherries in particular - well, that just won’t be good.

Kiddo needs shampoo. I know this because two nights ago he yelled this to me mid-shower, sounding much like someone who fell and could not get up (gawd that joke! So over by now, don’t you think? m’kay, moving on). I suspect he hasn’t shampoo’d in as many days, either. Because I know he lives in fear of my shampoo. The blinding shampoo of death that will eat your eyes out before you have time to rinse them. Or so he thinks. Despite my assurances otherwise - to which he gives me a look that says, “Oh yeah, then pour some in your eyes and we’ll just make sure.” Ok! So you can go ahead and skip a day hair-washing, I guess, dear child!

Before I end up posting my entire grocery list here I’ll just tell you that I have pretty much survived this week on Easy Mac, Creamy Tomato Soup at Hand, and Pizza rolls.

I’m preparing for my shot at Mother of the Year Award, you know.

Do you send them?

Every year I debate about it. Should I? Does anyone really care? Or do they just end up as clutter on the counters (or some hideous collage on the wall - wtf?).

What’s the point of Christmas cards? Or “Holiday” cards. Whatever.

You see? This is why I never send them. Also, when I do send them I try to be all crafty-like and MAKE them. No, really - I make some cute ass cards. That whole scrapbooking thing.

What? You thought I meant the half-folded construction paper and a box of crayons, didn’t you? ha.

But I can’t make them this year. And I didn’t buy them at a gazillion percent off at the end of last year, so then I have to pay full price this year. Although, I really don’t even care I’d have to pay $7 instead of $.07. heh. Anyway, I can’t make them this year because I am already making a hat and a scarf. I am knitting them, in a really cool cable-knit pattern. Even though I am a remedial knitter. So, yeah.

I guess I’ll be going to Cardsmart this weekend.

You know, once upon a time, I had another blog. I didn’t keep it a secret, I had friends who read it. Family members knew of it and occasionally read it. I blogged while at work. I blogged about work, and lived to tell the tale. Heh. I had co-workers who also knew of and read my blog.

Back then, I blogged a lot. Every day, almost, and sometimes more.

But then I went all secret and got my own domain and suddenly I never had the time to blog anymore.

So now I’m wondering, due I have a bit of hidden attention whore inside, or what?

This time of year, as we all well know, can bring out the absolute BEST in many people. While I openly admit I am a bit of a big fat crybaby, I tell you sometimes the generosity of people can simply amaze me.

On the other hand. Ahem. Sometimes people can really fucking bug me when it comes to charity, generosity, and helping those less fortunate than ourselves.

For instance. The other day I witnessed a conversation where one person wanted to know opinions on a particular Gift Tree. The person then went on to say quite a few judgemental statements on how absurd these strangers were for asking for things that cost $40 - $50 or more. Topping it off with “How needy are you if you have an ipod?” Then later admitted that it wasn’t that she wanted to participate but couldn’t afford the request, but that she could afford the $50 but really didn’t want to spend that much. Which, by the way, is totally her call. I have no problem with that.

What I did find distasteful was the blatent judgement and open disdain for those asking for help. I offered my thoughts which basically amounted to: “If you don’t like it, then don’t be a part of it.” Because honestly I think it’s quite tacky to go on and on about how greedy people are who ask for things that might cost more than five, or ten or even twenty dollars. What the fuck?

This group, the members, they pride themselves on being so “open-minded” and openly revile any sort of Stepford-mentality. Which is why it was so disappointing to see one after the other chime in and support her statements about how they must not really be needy families if these were the things they were asking for. It was literally astounding to me.

Yes, I know there are people who ask for help who don’t really need it. I know there are people who abuse the welfare system and take more than their fair share, without contributing their fair share either. BUT. Not everyone who gets public assistance is taking advantage of it. Not everyone who gets public assistance stays on it forever. Furthermore, not everyone who is poor is dirt poor and lives in a hovel and begs for every nickel and dollar they get to buy food.

It’s actually a very real and very common occurrence that someone makes just enough not to qualify for public assistance but no where near enough to pay the bills every month. In that case - why is it so wrong that they ask for assistance, and might even have a few “fancy” items - like wanting to buy clothes from the Gap? I have a friend in a situation close to this - she’s a single, WORKING mother - works at least full time (more if she can manage it) and lives within extremely modest means. Yet she still struggles to make ends meet. She doesn’t look forward to Christmas and birthdays, because to her it’s a reminder of what she CAN’T provide.

Look at it this way, would you be so discriminating if it were a children’s cancer ward requesting a $50 gift certificate to Chili’s? Would you consider the child to be greedy then?

What I am trying to say, in so very many words, is that you either want to contribute, or you don’t. And if you do - then you don’t get to dictate what the money is spent on - even if they want to spend it ALL on hookers and booze. And please. Shut the fuck up about what people do with the gift cards, or the type of gifts on their wish lists. If you think they don’t deserve those things - well, button your lip and go on about your way. If it were me asking for the help, I sure as fuck wouldn’t want it from the likes of you.