*achoo*
Daniel's been sick and it's been a nightmare, and now I'm sick and, bleah. The sudafed didn't even work yesterday and I was on day 2 of a weekend seminar (yes I left my son with a babysitter while he was ill and I was off enjoying myself I also got my nails done on Wednesday don't judge me) and I needed it to work. Instead I spent the day snorting the crap out of my left nostril and wishing I could afford the fucking nose job that would fix the annoying one sided blocked up jobby I'm currently sporting.
I blame that stupid twenty first birthday celebration and I really blame that stupid, stupid champagne cork that went flying out of the bottle, through the crowd, out the window, past the barbecue and around the tree to hit me slap bang in the middle of my face, breaking my adorable little button nose and giving me a bump and an excellent (and true! ) story to tell my grandchildren.
You see, having my face fixed changed my nose, not enough to cause children to run screaming from me mind, not at all, but enough to make it a little more crooked enough to make it a lot more easily blockable, and the nose job that would both fix it (joy!) and give me the nose of an angel (luxury!!) would cost an extra five grand which, hahahhaha. I might as well fly to the moon.
Anyhoo, Daniel's been really sick and his temperatures have been scary high and it's taken the better part of the week for him to do anything more than be almost delirious from the constant fevers - and before anyone even quietly thinks to themselves why oh why didn't I take him to the doctor, are you high? Of course I took him. Fucksake. He was at the paediatrician's for a routine follow up when he crashed in the first place, so blood draws, results, expert advice, more doctors, more opinions, more phone calls and the diagnosis is that it's a cold.
Then I left him with a babysitter for two days while I went off and enjoyed an AMAZING seminar. It was for something called Emmett Technique and it's a remedial touch therapy and something I absolutely intend to continue to do. It was great to learn it, but the presenter worked not just with our knowledge base, but with our selves and we all had the opportunity for incredible personal change and growth and oh my fuck, I sound like I've been on a religious retreat and found jesus. I don't know how to describe it without sounding like that though. It was incredible and I'm pretty dead sure it's not just the afterglow of an eventful weekend giving me this excitement about what we did. I'm think differently about myself and my abilities and for the love of god, shut up now, aibee.
In other news, Daniel is back in my lap and apparently trying to cough up a lung. Odd thing is, he's got no chest ickiness so this lung hacking isn't actual lung stuff, it's all gunk running down from his head. Leaking brain matter is what I'll tell him when he comes home from school that first day and cries and asks why he can't read yet.
Speaking of reading: now I don't know if anyone has picked up on it, but I don't like to indulge in the whole My Kid Is SO Smart gig. He is, but only because he'sa kid and all kids do incredibly smart and impressive things. If he's super dooper smart, then it;s not soemthing I want to bang on about anyway. I want to recognise his abilities, but I also don't want to put pressure on him BE exceptional, even if he IS exceptional. Which to all parents freaking out about their infant's supreme intellect, isn't it a little too soon to tell? Also, what does it matter? (Spoken like the true product of high achieving parents, what oh?) I want to teach Daniel to be, and if his being is exceptional, then so be it. (Ha ha). I guess my reticence to bang on at him about how wonderfully smart he is is because of my personal trauma about being made to feel different from everyone else, and that it was important to BE exceptional, which even if you are, you don't feel you are simply because you ARE that, so being made to feel you must be that meant to me that I had to try so very very hard to be so much better than I was, and I'd rather Daniel felt good about himself, not because of what he can achieve, but because of who he is. Feeling good about oneself does, in my opinion, means one will achieve all the things one wants to for themselves and not because some of rabid stage mother standing in the wings forcing them to do it because they want them to do it.
If you want me to, I can over explain it a little more, but the POINT BEING, I'm not bragging when I tell you that given a novel with no pictures and only words to identify up from down and back from front, Daniel will turn the book the right way around and start to turn the pages in the correct fashion. He doesn't paw the pages and has never, even torn one, the little freak, and he looks for all the world like he's reading. Which I highly doubt he is, but man, it is a little freaky.
I blame that stupid twenty first birthday celebration and I really blame that stupid, stupid champagne cork that went flying out of the bottle, through the crowd, out the window, past the barbecue and around the tree to hit me slap bang in the middle of my face, breaking my adorable little button nose and giving me a bump and an excellent (and true! ) story to tell my grandchildren.
You see, having my face fixed changed my nose, not enough to cause children to run screaming from me mind, not at all, but enough to make it a little more crooked enough to make it a lot more easily blockable, and the nose job that would both fix it (joy!) and give me the nose of an angel (luxury!!) would cost an extra five grand which, hahahhaha. I might as well fly to the moon.
Anyhoo, Daniel's been really sick and his temperatures have been scary high and it's taken the better part of the week for him to do anything more than be almost delirious from the constant fevers - and before anyone even quietly thinks to themselves why oh why didn't I take him to the doctor, are you high? Of course I took him. Fucksake. He was at the paediatrician's for a routine follow up when he crashed in the first place, so blood draws, results, expert advice, more doctors, more opinions, more phone calls and the diagnosis is that it's a cold.
Then I left him with a babysitter for two days while I went off and enjoyed an AMAZING seminar. It was for something called Emmett Technique and it's a remedial touch therapy and something I absolutely intend to continue to do. It was great to learn it, but the presenter worked not just with our knowledge base, but with our selves and we all had the opportunity for incredible personal change and growth and oh my fuck, I sound like I've been on a religious retreat and found jesus. I don't know how to describe it without sounding like that though. It was incredible and I'm pretty dead sure it's not just the afterglow of an eventful weekend giving me this excitement about what we did. I'm think differently about myself and my abilities and for the love of god, shut up now, aibee.
In other news, Daniel is back in my lap and apparently trying to cough up a lung. Odd thing is, he's got no chest ickiness so this lung hacking isn't actual lung stuff, it's all gunk running down from his head. Leaking brain matter is what I'll tell him when he comes home from school that first day and cries and asks why he can't read yet.
Speaking of reading: now I don't know if anyone has picked up on it, but I don't like to indulge in the whole My Kid Is SO Smart gig. He is, but only because he'sa kid and all kids do incredibly smart and impressive things. If he's super dooper smart, then it;s not soemthing I want to bang on about anyway. I want to recognise his abilities, but I also don't want to put pressure on him BE exceptional, even if he IS exceptional. Which to all parents freaking out about their infant's supreme intellect, isn't it a little too soon to tell? Also, what does it matter? (Spoken like the true product of high achieving parents, what oh?) I want to teach Daniel to be, and if his being is exceptional, then so be it. (Ha ha). I guess my reticence to bang on at him about how wonderfully smart he is is because of my personal trauma about being made to feel different from everyone else, and that it was important to BE exceptional, which even if you are, you don't feel you are simply because you ARE that, so being made to feel you must be that meant to me that I had to try so very very hard to be so much better than I was, and I'd rather Daniel felt good about himself, not because of what he can achieve, but because of who he is. Feeling good about oneself does, in my opinion, means one will achieve all the things one wants to for themselves and not because some of rabid stage mother standing in the wings forcing them to do it because they want them to do it.
If you want me to, I can over explain it a little more, but the POINT BEING, I'm not bragging when I tell you that given a novel with no pictures and only words to identify up from down and back from front, Daniel will turn the book the right way around and start to turn the pages in the correct fashion. He doesn't paw the pages and has never, even torn one, the little freak, and he looks for all the world like he's reading. Which I highly doubt he is, but man, it is a little freaky.
posted by aibee at 08:15
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