My belle-mere is resting comfortably at home tonight with a fistful of percosets and no gall bladder. All is well except that I spent the day after her 6 AM procedure overeating and then forgot about Mouse’s Daisy meeting until – ugh! half an hour after it started. Now sitting in lobby at community center, waiting for meeting to end. Since Mouse has not stormed out weeping, I assume that her progress toward earning the coveted Pink Petal has not been affected by our lateness.
Fun parenting fact: assisting Riley Dino with his math tonight (greatest common factors), I rapped him on the knuckles lightly with a pencil and said, “Riley, you are not attending!” when he wouldn’t stop goofing around. It felt so 18th century. I continue to be horrified by the fact that kids aren’t learning multiplication tables, but – on the bright side – I am relieved that BoyMan does seem to have mastered basic multiplication and division at last. Shut up about “he’s in 7th grade,” it’s hard-won progress.
For the record, I did not/not help myself to my mother-in-law’s percoset. I am sure my eating binge this afternoon has nothing to do with this fact.
At outpatient clinic this AM, I made the acquaintance of a lady who was there with her adult son and in the mood for conversation. This wasn’t bad, but it diverted me from my goal for the morning, which was reading and commenting on novel drafts by Dr. Johnson and Suitable Match. So. Jealous. I wish I had the attention span and lack of self-absorption to write something more than an ongoing chronicle of my life. It’s obviously not a matter of time or technical competence, since I maintain the blog pretty faithfully – I just have trouble thinking that far outside myself. Drat. My best hope for immortality, barring some future achievement by the Dinos, is becoming dissertation fodder for some women’s studies or cultural history program. That would be pretty cool, actually.