- My teenage daughter still doesn't have her driver's license. This is not entirely her fault, since we are only allowing her to drive our
beatervan, which is my husband's primary car and is rarely here. So, though she is 16.5, she has very few hours logged and is still awhile away from getting her license. As this school year started, we became more committed to getting those hours in and working toward her license. With that commitment came the realization that we just need to let her drive. On real streets. With real cars and stoplights and speed limits higher than 30 mph. So we have. And it's been nerve-wracking. I sit on the edge of my seat, talking non-stop (which I'm sure she thoroughly enjoys), and praying we live. I'm only half-kidding. Truly, she's doing just fine, but there are so many details she just needs to experience before feeling comfortable. So if you see us on the street in the Astro and I have a look of fierce determination on my face, please say a little prayer as you snicker.
- My eldest son wants to be a lawyer when he grows up, and is interested in politics as well. It is a family joke that he will run for president in 2036. So I was so excited to find a shirt for his birthday that said "Vote Me for President". But he politely asked me to return it, saying that he felt it was too lofty and arrogant since he really has political aspirations. I was disappointed, but I understood and respected his viewpoint. Still - I'd vote for him in 2016!!
- The other night, I was awakened at about 11:30 by a ruckus in the hallway. I quickly got up to find one of our children in obvious distress. My husband was with the child and we pulled the child into our bedroom to assess the situation. The child was making continuous, loud anguished wails, so much so that another child woke up because of it. When asked, the child thought that yes, an ER trip was in order, so bad was the pain. The child was struggling to take in a full breath, but I have to admit, I was vacillating between two emotions: that there was something severely wrong and my child might be in real danger, or that nothing was really wrong and the child needed to fart or poop. But we couldn't take any chances, so my husband started to get dressed and I helped the child get some clothes on. At about this moment, the child let out a burp heard 'round the world. My dear readers, for realsies. This burp was epic. All rapid movement toward the ER slowed as we asked the child if the ailment had subsided. While the child still didn't feel well, the child admitted that, indeed, the pain was not quite as severe. We decided that we would perhaps save our $150(!) ER copay, and see if the child would be okay to live through the night. Good news - the child is fine.
- My 10-year-old son is still wearing his cast on his broken arm. He is doing pretty well and is able to get along with most of his activities as normal. But his bed is a top bunk, and we haven't wanted to risk him climbing up (and more importantly, climbing down) one-armed. So he has been bouncing from room to room, sleeping in different beds and displacing their occupants. For the last several days, he has been sleeping on an air mattress in our eldest daughter's room. Though last night she reported that the bed was "messing with her mojo" by sticking out from under her loft into the room, she has been incredibly accommodating of her little brother-turned-roommate. She did request, however, that he please, oh please pick up his random clothing items that had accumulated around the air mattress (dirty socks, shirts, shoes. . .). He complied and everyone thinks they can hang on for the nine more days until normalcy. Not that we're counting.