Sharp

I really, really like the people who run the daycare that we send the kids to. They're sweet people who obviously care a great deal for the children.

But sometimes, they are not the sharpest knives in the drawer.

Routine, everyday stuff doesn't get to them, much, but Penny's diabetes care stumps them. And I could understand that -- it's not something that can be reduced to simple routine, and it's not simple, and it took Matt and I months of day-in, day-out observation to even begin to really grasp, and it took us more than a year to get to the point where we feel comfortable making adjustments to the "calculated" insulin doses based on dozens of tiny factors and our gut feelings. And we still sometimes guess wrong. And the daycare people obviously have more than two kids to take care of.

But they want so much for us to be able to drop her off in the morning and not have to worry about her for the rest of the day that they sometimes hesitate to call us and ask questions. They don't want to bother us -- after all, we're paying them so we don't have to be interrupted every five minutes with questions. And I appreciate the sentiment, but in this case... they need to call us.

I only figured out last week that the reason Penny's been running so low at daycare is that after they treat her for a low (by giving her some extra milk or the candy we keep in her bag for the purpose), they're adding those carbs into her meal total and giving her insulin for them. Which negates the whole purpose of giving her extra carbs to bring her sugars up in the first place. (Also, they weren't writing it down when she had lows, or what they gave her, so I wasn't able to track that information for the doctor.) I think I've finally got them sorted out on that, now.

Some of them have trouble with the "rounding to the nearest half unit" bit, even though I made a chart for them to follow.

A couple of weeks ago, Matt picked Penny up from school to discover that the kids'd had cupcakes that afternoon... except for Penny. He blew his top. We'd very specifically told them to let Penny participate in everything, that we don't want her to ever have to feel excluded because of this. That if there was food involved they could call us and we'd tell them how many carbs it was so they could figure the insulin dose. He growled at the teacher who was there, and I spoke to the other teacher the next morning, and I think we've finally got them straight on that, too.

So earlier this week, when her class went on a field trip up to another branch of the school up in Richmond for a carnival or something, they told us we didn't need to pack a lunch for her that day -- that they'd let her have the hot dogs that they were grilling. Yes, okay! I got behind that. I stressed repeatedly that they should call if they had any questions or concerns. And sure enough, they called at lunchtime, to review what she was eating and to verify that they'd figured the carbs correctly, which they had.

And then they called back half an hour later. "She wants to participate in the doughnut-eating contest."

I nearly fell out of my chair.

Okay, yes, I'd wanted her to be able to participate in stuff, but forget the diabetes: who in the hell thought it was a good idea to have a bunch of five-to-ten-year-olds have a doughnut-eating contest???

Luckily, matters became clearer. It wasn't a contest of "how many can you eat", but some no-hands variant. Each kid would only get one doughnut. Whew. I looked up the carbs (though apparently no one present knew the difference between a yeast doughnut and a cake doughnut) and gave instructions and carried on with my day.

I'm hoping that, just maybe, we're starting to get the kinks worked out. But it'll be something of a relief to get her back to school in the fall, where there's at least a real nurse handling the math.

Click!

Tuesday night, UPS called to let me know that my new camera would be arriving the next day, and that delivery required a signature, and that I couldn't change the delivery address until after they'd tried to deliver.

I grumbled at Matt, who suggested (perhaps jokingly) that I should work from home Wednesday, so I'd be there for the delivery.

And why not? My work computer is a laptop; I have a keyfob that gets me access to most of the office network from home; and I had more than enough work piled up that could easily be done at home. So yesterday morning, I dropped the kids off at school, then swung by my office long enough for a quick meeting and to pack up my laptop.

I always forget how freaking productive I can be when I'm working at home. Do I feel obligated to prove that I'm not just loafing on the couch watching TV, or is it really a helpful lack of distraction? It's hard to tell, but I got more done before noon yesterday than I usually manage in a full day of work at the office.

Which is good, because shortly after noon, my camera arrived. (Of course I didn't stop working altogether -- if nothing else, the battery took a couple of hours to charge -- but it was pretty distracting...)

I really need to remember to schedule myself some regular work-from-home days. Once a week, or every other week, or something.

But the camera is awesome. Even if I just left it on the fully-automatic setting and never played with all the power settings that are the whole reason I bought an SLR, I'd be in love with the pictures it takes.




(These were resized, of course, but not cropped, and not otherwise messed with. I didn't use a flash for either picture.)

I spent yesterday evening and some of this morning experimenting with the settings and seeing what difference they make (seriously -- I took something like twenty pictures of Alex's stuffed hippo) and then fiddling with the software and manipulating the "RAW" images to see what I could do with those.

It remains to be seen if this is an actual replacement for my everyday snapshot camera (it is bulky and heavy, and I certainly can't toss it in my purse or stuff it in a pocket and go) but for the time being, I love it. And just in time, too -- we'll be having dinner with my family on Sunday for Penny's birthday!

Sanguine

I went in for bloodwork a few weeks ago, because my synthyroid prescription is just about done and I can't get a new one unless I've had my thyroid levels tested in the last six months.

I got an automated message from the lab before my appointment, instructing me to not eat anything that morning. Which I found odd; they've never made me fast for my thyroid tests before. But whatever, it was a 9 AM appointment, so putting breakfast off until 9:30 wasn't that big a deal.

I went in, I suffered through the usual rigmarole that goes along with having deep, rolly veins, I pocketed the card they gave me that told me how to access my results, and promptly forgot about it.

This morning, I found the card and realized I'd never collected my results. So I dialed in, and discovered why they'd had me come in on an empty stomach: In addition to my thyroid levels, my doctor apparently attached a rider requesting cholesterol and blood sugar screenings. Both of which are more accurate if you're fasting.

I was almost annoyed (even at my fattest, I've never had significant problems with either of those) but then I was sort of curious about whether my much-improved weight and increased exercise regimen have changed things much. I know, for instance, that my blood pressure has come down -- it used to be at the high end of normal, and the last time I had it checked, it was close to the low end of normal, so much so that the doctor asked if I sometimes felt dizzy when I stood up too fast (why yes, actually) and cautioned me to take position changes easy, to be safe.

Well, the doctor didn't tell me my thyroid or blood sugar results, except to say that they were both "normal," so I don't know if they've changed at all. I can do my own blood sugar test, though, with Penny's kit, if I'm all that curious about it. And while thyroid problems can affect your weight, the reverse is not generally true, so I doubt it shifted much.

My cholesterol is gratifyingly shifted, though -- the last time I had it checked was when I was pregnant with Alex, and it was within normal bounds, but only barely -- 190-something, and my LDL (bad) level was actually a bit higher than the tolerance level of 100. Now my total is 158, with the LDL down to 77. So yay, diet and exercise and decreased risk of heart disease!

Now I just need to call my doctor's office and get them to re-up my synthyroid prescription for another six months.

Which Way Did It Go?

Did anyone catch the number of that weekend that ran over me like a speeding bus?

Not that it was a bad weekend... On the contrary, it was really fantastic.

The reunion was wonderful. Matt and I were among the first people to arrive ("The few, the proud, the punctual," he quipped) but among the other early birds were people I'd hung out with and been in classes with, so I didn't have any of that awkward, "Do I know these people?" sensation that I'd worried about. Not everyone I'd hoped to see came, but I was excited to see quite a few of those who were there.



Matt was fantastic (and patient). He followed me around and gamely made small talk and fetched food and drinks for me. He joked about the spouses needing a different color name tag, or a sticker, or something, so that no one had to pretend to know who they were. I told him I should just write "arm candy" under his name and be done with it.

Every conversation started with the same three questions, which I found amusing: Where are you living, what are you doing, and do you have kids?

It was also funny to see everyone fall into the same old groups and cliques from school -- though that kind of made sense, since those were the people you were friends with and so most eager to catch up with.

The DJ was too loud, but eventually it didn't matter, and we started dancing. That was like the old high school dances, too, and at one point, I leaned across the space to yell at Carl and Tina (the DJ really was too loud) to wonder whether they'd end the evening with "Stairway to Heaven," which is the song that always, always ended school dances. They laughed hysterically -- but sure enough, someone had made sure to tell the DJ to close with it. Even if our star athlete leaned over the mic and talked the whole time.



I exchanged email addresses with several people, and made plans to meet up with some who still live locally. (Whether those will actually happen or if they were "oh we really must..." plans remains to be seen, but I'm hopeful.)

When Matt and I got home, my parents told us that the kids had been fantastic all evening -- not that they'd admit to it if they hadn't, I'm sure, but they were convincing, at least. Penny managed to drag out her bedtime until an hour later than usual, but I'd pretty well accepted that would happen, so I was amused, not annoyed.

I'd expected Sunday to be quiet and mundane, but that didn't happen, either. Matt mentioned at lunchtime that he was still hopeful about going to see Up. I put Alex down for a nap, and then checked showtimes -- the latest we could go was a 2:30 matinee.

When a movie is scaled back to two matinee shows and none in the evening, you know it's about to get pulled entirely. And if Alex slept a full two hours for his nap, there was no way we'd get to the theater on time. I suggested that Matt take Penny to see the movie, and we'd try Alex on some other movie, eventually. He reluctantly agreed.

So, naturally, Alex woke up at 1:30. We all packed up and headed out to the theater. Alex wasn't too sure about the whole "movie" thing, but then Matt sat down with a huge tub of popcorn, and Alex sat on Matt's lap and dug both little fists into the bucket. It was hysterical, especially since the bucket was nearly as big as Alex. If the light had been better, I'd have taken a picture. I think he was more excited by the novelty than actually hungry -- he fed me as many popcorn kernels as he ate himself, I think.

He actually did pretty well, once the movie started -- he sat on Matt's lap or mine for at least an hour before deciding he was Done with this whole Staying In One Place Thing and demanding to be put down. I took him out to the lobby, where he spent half an hour running around and going back and forth through the front doors, and looking at the big water fountain out front, and climbing up on the benches, and... But he wasn't fussy, just in need of some activity.

So Alex's first movie wasn't a triumph, but it went better than we'd expected.

After all that, I was so exhausted, I planned to go to bed at 9 last night. But that didn't happen. I started reading, and got sucked in, and didn't go to sleep until Matt came to bed and mocked me at 11:30.

And then I woke up again at about 4 -- we'd had some terrific thunderstorms off and on all night, and one of them apparently blew the power. By itself, that wasn't enough to wake me, but then the smoke alarm in our room (or maybe it was the one in the upstairs hallway -- it's hard to tell) started chirping. And by the time that wore off, I'd become aware of a low beeping noise coming from downstairs that I couldn't identify. So I dragged myself out of bed and went to find it (it was the battery-powered baby monitor, complaining that it couldn't find the signal). I turned it off, then got out my phone and programmed in an alarm for the morning, and then went back to bed. But by then I'd been moving around enough to have started my brain going, and it took far too long to get back to sleep.

The power came back on about three minutes before six, just in time for Matt's alarm to go off, and then my phone's alarm... I didn't want to get out of bed. Not even a little.

It's gonna be a coffee day today, for sure. Maybe tonight I'll get to bed early.

...yeah, right.

Twenty Years

Twenty years ago, I graduated from high school.

It doesn't seem possible that it's been that long. Kids who graduated this summer weren't even born yet when I graduated.

That one girl who got pregnant in high school and was gone for a while to have the baby...? Her baby graduated a few years ago, most likely. She could be a grandmother now.

Doesn't seem possible. But it is. I'm going to my 20th high school reunion tomorrow night.

I'm trying not to have too many expectations and hopes for it. I was not part of the In Crowd, back then, though I was friends with some of them.

The thing is, I really enjoyed high school. I had my own group of friends, and we always had something happening. I have so many wonderful memories of that time: passing enough notes in various classes to fill an entire notebook (I still have that notebook, somewhere, in fact). Going to football games, and to Pizza Hut to celebrate after the game (almost always to celebrate, anyway -- we had the championship team). Going to the dances that the school held every other Saturday to hang out with friends (and make out with boyfriends). Wandering the halls during sixth period with my photography class partner and taking what I thought at the time were very artistic shots. Sneaking out of class to have balloons delivered to my boyfriend on his 18th birthday. That moment of awakening in Calculus class when Mrs. Gore led us to the notion and definition of the derivative, and the simple perfection of the math stunned me so hard that I couldn't talk for an hour afterwords, and I knew I was going to major in math in college. A similar moment in AP English, as Mr. Eaton disassembled "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" one word at a time, like pulling petals from a rose -- I had never realized that the English language could be so elegantly dense. My own first tentative steps as a writer, collaborating with friends on horrible stories that are probably better lost to the ages. Staying after school to scramble to finish the newspaper deadline. Terror and pride as I argued with the school principal -- entirely solo -- over the literary magazine's pitiful budget... and won (and subsequent hours spent slaving over the little magazine, trying to prove that it was justified). Dozens of sleepovers at my best friend's house, folded up at opposite ends of the couch with cokes and cheez doodles and books, trying to pretend I didn't have a crush on her brother. Pleading "female troubles" to get out of gym class so I could sit on the bleachers with my other best friend, passing a really horrible novel back and forth and giggling over the sex scenes (sometimes I wish I could get my hands on it again, just to see if it was really as shocking as I recall). The day school was canceled on account of a broken water main, and a bunch of us spontaneously packed up a cooler and went to the beach.

I could go on and on and on. I could fill a book with the vignettes and moments of those few years.

I don't know who's attending the reunion, or how many of them might remember me. I don't know how many of them will remember that I don't remember.

I admit to a little nervousness. It could go so well -- or so badly.

It can't change those memories, though.

Insanity

As Matt and I were putting the kids to bed last night, I felt terribly sleepy. I didn't want to do the Wii Fit workout that was on my to-do list for the evening; I just wanted to curl up on the couch and read for a bit, and then go to bed early.

But I was good. I turned on the Wii Fit and I did my 40 minutes. And you know -- by the time I was done, I felt a little better about it.

"You know what tonight is?" Matt said, as I was turning everything off and shoving the Fit board back under the couch.

"Um... Wednesday?"

"Leverage night!" He was already reaching for the TiVO remote as I headed into the kitchen for my soda and fudgie bar.

I was feeling better, but I was not in the mood for TV. Not even Leverage, which is possibly one of my favorite TV shows ever. I still just wanted to read for a bit and then go to bed early.

But there was no sense ruining Matt's enjoyment. I decided I'd watch a little while I ate my fudgie bar, and then if I wasn't hooked, I'd go to bed and watch the rest of it later. (Yay, TiVO.)

But Leverage hooked me, as it always does, and I really enjoyed the episode. (Anyone surprised if I admit that I think Chris Kane is hot? Didn't think so. Also, the chicken-fried steak thing made me squeal with laughter.)

When the show was over, I tweeted: I did not want to wiirkout, but I did, and felt better for it. I wasn't really in the mood for TV, but Leverage sucked me in. / I had wanted to go to bed early tonight, but given how my night's going, maybe I would be better off staying up until 2?

I didn't stay up quite that late, but I wasn't quite in bed yet at 11:30.

I woke up at 5 this morning and couldn't go back to sleep. I gave up trying at about 5:30, and got up and did another 20 minutes on the Wii Fit. (Note to self: Seriously, I need to put my glasses on next time. Trying to focus was making me dizzy. My uncorrected vision is no longer good enough for everything but reading and driving.)

Of course, now that it's too late, I really want to just go back to bed.

Tubular

So yeah, got up at 5:45 yesterday so I could take Alex over to the Surgery Center to get tubes in his ears.

He was perfectly fine (if a bit befuddled) until we actually started heading back to the prep room, and then he started looking pitiful, as if he knew what was coming. He was clingy but mostly okay in the prep room, except when the nurse had the unmitigated gall to take his temperature and blood pressure. That was just brimming over with wrongosity.

Then they gave him a dose of something in a syringe to make him sleepy, and that was hysterical. I know exactly when it hit him, because we were sitting on the bed, reading Max's Bath for the forty-seventh time, and the anesthesiologist came in to go over his part and have me sign the release forms, and he looked at Alex and said "Hey, buddy!" and Alex busted up into giggles. And then he continued to giggle randomly while I signed release forms, and giggled randomly when I went back to reading the book... When Penny had her ear surgeries, the stuff made her drowsy and dopey, but Alex, I swear, was acting high.

("Well, I can see he's already had his medicine," the anesthesiologist said, looking amused. "He's acting a little..." "Yeah," I agreed, "he's reminding me of a guy I dated in college." Which startled the anesthesiologist into a snort.)

He started crying when the nurse took him away for the surgery, and then I sat in the corner and played solitaire on my phone for twenty minutes or so until the doctor came in to tell me that it was done and they were just waiting for Alex to wake up. His middle ear had apparently been full of gunk and goo, so the doctor had suctioned it out and then washed it with an antiseptic solution to reduce the chance of infection, and he increased the number of times per day he wanted us to put the post-op antibiotic drops in Alex's ears. Apparently the poor kid has the same problem I do, where his sinuses fill up his ears before they get to the nasal cavity, and then the ears never do drain completely.

The good news is that with the tubes aiding proper drainage, Alex should see an immediate improvement in his hearing, which means over the next month or so, his speech clarity and vocabulary (understood and spoken) should improve dramatically.

A few minutes later, they brought him to me. I'd known (and been warned again) that kids usually woke up from anesthesia with some disorientation and in bad moods. Penny had cried inconsolably for an hour or more after her surgeries. Alex... was violent. He was not sad, he was angry. He twisted and flailed, threw anything he could pick up, slapped and punched and kicked. And when he was coherent, he screamed for "Mama! Mama!" even when I was holding him.

Eventually, the nurses decided that he wasn't going to calm down as long as he was in the surgery center, and they let me take him home. He switched from angry to merely sad as soon as we started moving, and even stopped crying for a few minutes in the car. When we got home, he realized he was thirsty and sucked down the apple juice he'd scorned at the hospital and another cup of milk, then consented to eat a banana and a little yogurt for breakfast.

He was still randomly bursting into sobs, though, so as soon as he was done eating, I took him up to his crib and tucked him in. This seemed to agree with him -- I heard occasional sobby breaths for half an hour or so, and then it all evened out into sleep, and he slept straight through until 11:30. Despite the maid service coming and making a bunch of noise.

When he woke up, he was cheerful and bouncy and happy. He watched Sesame Street and looked at books and went outside to "draw" on the driveway with chalk, and seemed to take great delight in talking and demanding that I tell him the names for things.

So hopefully his speech will improve, and the ear infections will go away (or at least appear on a normal, once or twice a year schedule instead of every three weeks). Yay, tubes!