James came out of school today and handed me his report card. He was really anxious for me to read it, right away, so I took it and quickly glanced at it before pulling out of the parking lot for home. MISTAKE. I was expecting to see "the usual:" all good stuff. But instead, this report had lots of "satisfactory," just a few "exceeds expectations" and a few "not meeting expectations."
The marks were bugging me. I kept glancing over again at red lights to see what I was missing. Meanwhile, James kept asking me, cheerily, if I had finished reading it and what did I think? Ah, the honesty test. "Very nice, James. What do YOU think about it?" He responded that he thought it was good and he was happy. Well, that was my main concern, I suppose, that he would be discouraged to have so many unusually low marks. Obviously, he was taking it okay, so I should be fine with it, too.
But I wasn't fine. It was the particular categories where he fell short: "Independently begins and pursues a task" and "Organizes self, materials and belongings" all "need improvement." So, he is doing fine academically, but has apparently hit a wall with his behavior/study skills/self-management. Parent-angst was building rapidly. Is this it, I thought? Will his ADD catch up to him this year? It looks like he is finally having trouble controlling it. Will we have to consider medication? Will I have to face a reality that he may not ever succeed in school, even though he is more than bright? You can see my thoughts were quickly getting out of hand.
As we pulled into the driveway, I had worked myself into quite a stew, trying to look cheerful for James as I dissected all these thoughts internally. I was so involved, actually, that it took James several tries to make me understand. "Just kidding, Mom." "Mom, no, really, that isn't my report card. That is a fake one that Mrs. A used to explain them to us. Here is my real card."
Hmm. I have to give him credit for convincingness. Or whack myself for gullibility induced by an over-eagerness to embrace bad news, I guess. It was a pretty good joke. (And thankfully, no need to deal with all this angst quite yet.)
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Sick kids
Family:1 , Flu: 4
As of this writing, only Dad is still standing. I cancelled classes today. Spent the morning working from home (catching up on grading and downing 2 pots of herbal tea). Tried to hide in our "home office" (the desk in the corner of the family room) but the kids were a bit of a distraction. Funny how kids who have been raised every bit as much by Dad as by Mom, when sick, suddenly retrench so that they only want MomMomMom all the time.
When Jeremy left for work at lunchtime, the kids and I went into full self-pity mode: oatmeal for lunch, at 1:30 PM, in our pjs. Books on the couch. Books on tape. PBS. Circle the wagons. Kind of nice change of pace, really, if we didn't all feel so yucky.
Fortunately, the misery seems to come and go. One kid at a time would be perky, while another was apparently in a Motrin-energy-low and in the throes of unbearable suffering. So, my lap was big enough for the one (sometimes two) neediest child at any given moment.
Seemed a bit strange. I can't recall the last time I actually took a sick day and cancelled classes. I always figured if I can stand up, I may as well go to work. But this year, with the Provost encouraging us to all do our part to stop the spread of H1N1 flu, I decided to join in the pandemic-mania. It may have been a fatal mistake. It is like falling of the cold-turkey wagon. I have tasted a sick-day, and I may never go back. :)
As of this writing, only Dad is still standing. I cancelled classes today. Spent the morning working from home (catching up on grading and downing 2 pots of herbal tea). Tried to hide in our "home office" (the desk in the corner of the family room) but the kids were a bit of a distraction. Funny how kids who have been raised every bit as much by Dad as by Mom, when sick, suddenly retrench so that they only want MomMomMom all the time.
When Jeremy left for work at lunchtime, the kids and I went into full self-pity mode: oatmeal for lunch, at 1:30 PM, in our pjs. Books on the couch. Books on tape. PBS. Circle the wagons. Kind of nice change of pace, really, if we didn't all feel so yucky.
Fortunately, the misery seems to come and go. One kid at a time would be perky, while another was apparently in a Motrin-energy-low and in the throes of unbearable suffering. So, my lap was big enough for the one (sometimes two) neediest child at any given moment.
Seemed a bit strange. I can't recall the last time I actually took a sick day and cancelled classes. I always figured if I can stand up, I may as well go to work. But this year, with the Provost encouraging us to all do our part to stop the spread of H1N1 flu, I decided to join in the pandemic-mania. It may have been a fatal mistake. It is like falling of the cold-turkey wagon. I have tasted a sick-day, and I may never go back. :)
toddler translations
- John, take the truck off the table.
- Hunh?
- John, no toys on the table while we are eating.
- Hunh?
- John, take your monster truck off the table.
- Hunh?
- John, remove your truck or the monster truck confiscator is going to swoop in and take the truck away for you!
- My truck shoot it, BANG, BANG!
Well, at least he finally acted like he understood me, even if he still didn't obey. Apparently I just need to stick to baby words like "confiscator" for him.
- Hunh?
- John, no toys on the table while we are eating.
- Hunh?
- John, take your monster truck off the table.
- Hunh?
- John, remove your truck or the monster truck confiscator is going to swoop in and take the truck away for you!
- My truck shoot it, BANG, BANG!
Well, at least he finally acted like he understood me, even if he still didn't obey. Apparently I just need to stick to baby words like "confiscator" for him.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
A man's gotta be free...
John has decided to be two. He is asserting his indepent status in a variety of ways.
1) He swore off socks some time ago, so we had resigned ourselves to just leaving him barefoot. For leaving the house, it was actually kind of handy, because there would always be a pile of socks under his carseat in the van, where he will promptly deposit them if we try to shod him before arriving at a destination.
2) Now, he also refuses to wear clothing, much of the time. PJs - a big No. He appears in diaper only within minutes of being changed into nightclothes. (Which is better than the rare times when he takes the diaper off, too.) I wouldn't mind this so much, except that he then wakes in the middle of the night, frozen solid, and climbs into bed next to ME to get warm.
He won't wear a shirt. Really. Not at all. I put it over the head, turn around, and it is coming right back off. Doesn't matter that the rest of us are in two layers - he is bare-chested. It is odd - he seems a bit odd to be so vain about showing off his physique.
3) When he is getting dressed (which is still just an exercise in putting on clothes to entertain us all so that he can promptly take them off) - he must choose the clothing now. If it is our idea, it is going to be stuffed right back in the drawer. He has an uncanny knack for finding my least favorite clothing items, paired in the worst possible way.
4) He likes to get his own cup of water to drink. Now that he has figured out the water dispenser on the fridge door, in fact, we may have to disconnect it. Today, during the time it took me to fix and serve his dinner, he filled 4 separate cups of water for himself, with one sip taken from each. Which is better than yesterday, when he filled a cup to the brim, then dumped it in the "drain" under the dispenser. Except it isn't a drain - just a very shallow reservoir. Much smaller than a full cup of water, it turns out.
5) He has liked to get his own snack for months. We have one lower cupboard that we have always kept stocked for the kids - plastic dishes, crackers, raisins, etc., so that they can help themselves sometimes. Worked great for James and Maggie. John, on the other hand, has been trouble with that from day 1. First, we had to move the raisins out of there (found the whole carton spread about the kitchen). Then, we discoved him eating a whole BOX of crackers, right before dinner. Today, I walked into the kitchen to see him putting something in the trash.
"What are you doing, John?"
"I'm having popcorn!"
"Oh. [I notice he is putting the empty popcorn cardboard box in the trash.] Well, may I take that box and put it in the recycling instead of the trash? "
"OK!"
In the 5 seconds it takes me to cross the kitchen to do this, he doesn't wait patiently for me. He doesn't ask for me to cook it. He just goes about his business. He pushes a chair over to the stove, climbs up, opens the microwave, and tosses in his bag of popcorn. I just managed to stop him from pushing "go" - with the plastic wrapper still on the bag. Not sure, but I think that might have left the kitchen smelling even worse than usual for microwave popcorn.
1) He swore off socks some time ago, so we had resigned ourselves to just leaving him barefoot. For leaving the house, it was actually kind of handy, because there would always be a pile of socks under his carseat in the van, where he will promptly deposit them if we try to shod him before arriving at a destination.
2) Now, he also refuses to wear clothing, much of the time. PJs - a big No. He appears in diaper only within minutes of being changed into nightclothes. (Which is better than the rare times when he takes the diaper off, too.) I wouldn't mind this so much, except that he then wakes in the middle of the night, frozen solid, and climbs into bed next to ME to get warm.
He won't wear a shirt. Really. Not at all. I put it over the head, turn around, and it is coming right back off. Doesn't matter that the rest of us are in two layers - he is bare-chested. It is odd - he seems a bit odd to be so vain about showing off his physique.
3) When he is getting dressed (which is still just an exercise in putting on clothes to entertain us all so that he can promptly take them off) - he must choose the clothing now. If it is our idea, it is going to be stuffed right back in the drawer. He has an uncanny knack for finding my least favorite clothing items, paired in the worst possible way.
4) He likes to get his own cup of water to drink. Now that he has figured out the water dispenser on the fridge door, in fact, we may have to disconnect it. Today, during the time it took me to fix and serve his dinner, he filled 4 separate cups of water for himself, with one sip taken from each. Which is better than yesterday, when he filled a cup to the brim, then dumped it in the "drain" under the dispenser. Except it isn't a drain - just a very shallow reservoir. Much smaller than a full cup of water, it turns out.
5) He has liked to get his own snack for months. We have one lower cupboard that we have always kept stocked for the kids - plastic dishes, crackers, raisins, etc., so that they can help themselves sometimes. Worked great for James and Maggie. John, on the other hand, has been trouble with that from day 1. First, we had to move the raisins out of there (found the whole carton spread about the kitchen). Then, we discoved him eating a whole BOX of crackers, right before dinner. Today, I walked into the kitchen to see him putting something in the trash.
"What are you doing, John?"
"I'm having popcorn!"
"Oh. [I notice he is putting the empty popcorn cardboard box in the trash.] Well, may I take that box and put it in the recycling instead of the trash? "
"OK!"
In the 5 seconds it takes me to cross the kitchen to do this, he doesn't wait patiently for me. He doesn't ask for me to cook it. He just goes about his business. He pushes a chair over to the stove, climbs up, opens the microwave, and tosses in his bag of popcorn. I just managed to stop him from pushing "go" - with the plastic wrapper still on the bag. Not sure, but I think that might have left the kitchen smelling even worse than usual for microwave popcorn.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Kids say...
John's speech continues to increase exponentially. He has been the slowest of the three to speak, so this feels like past due. And yet, he is also the only one to breastfeed this long, and this has interesting results as he learns to talk.
At six o'clock this morning, he padded in to my room and climbed up in bed. "Mommy, I want milky." He silently nursed away while I dozed off, then I heard him mutter something.
"Hmm, what was that, John?"
"How you doing?!" and right back to nursing.
Fancy that, he is learning manners, too.
At six o'clock this morning, he padded in to my room and climbed up in bed. "Mommy, I want milky." He silently nursed away while I dozed off, then I heard him mutter something.
"Hmm, what was that, John?"
"How you doing?!" and right back to nursing.
Fancy that, he is learning manners, too.
Friday, September 25, 2009
A day in the life...
Thursday dawned with great promise. I was up early and ready to go. I got James out the door even a bit early for carpool to pick him up. I was all geared up to spend the day working - first to catch up a bit on grading, then to get a few days of lecture prep caught up, then finally to work on my research project.
Of course, we can't leave an empty day on the calendar. So, we had decided to use this "non-teaching" day to fill in a few errands. We took the van in for an oil change/transmission fluid change/tire rotation, then I dropped Jeremy, Maggie, and John back home and went in to the office, feeling virtuous.
A couple of hours later, I got the call to reverse the process and take everyone back to get the finished van. As always, these things take a few minutes longer than I expect. I had a routine doctor's check-up that I didn't want to be late for, so I was in a bit of a hurry. And the van was parked on a hill, so the door swung open more quickly than I expected. But neither is really an explanation as to why I managed to smack myself soundly in the face with the door when I pulled it open.
Ouch! And then, OUCH! Wow, that really smarts. Still, I was a bit surprised to pull my hand away from my cheek and find it covered in blood. I still don't know if there was something sharp on that door (that I haven't since found) or it was an impressive impact wound (like splitting a melon?). But there was a gash about an inch long across my face, and it was spurting.
So, I was already late to see my doctor - what could I do but press an old McDonald's napkin to my face and drive away? Sounds convenient, but unfortunately, this appointment was with a neurologist. They are apparently not so savvy with trauma wounds. About half-way through the appointment, as he noticed the dripping blood on my face, he asked if I might like to have a band-aid. Being a very old-fashioned, patient-centered doctor, he actually went and got it himself! Of course, that took a while for him to find one, but I thought it was quite sweet of him.
The check-out process had me sitting with a nurse, so I was finally able to get some medical advice. (Grin.) After she had scheduled me for a follow-up test the doctor wanted (there is an opening at 1:15 today - do you want it? Sure, why not. Things are not gong so well at work now, anyway), she looked under the band-aid and recommended stitches and a tetanus shot. Oh. Rats.
Finished checking out ("$30 copay, please." Umm, I thought it was $15? "Nope, this is a specialist." Oh, that is right. One of the insurance increases this year. )
So, out to the car, armed with my cell phone. The call record is something like this:
1) Ring. Hello, Kim? I am sorry, but I have to cancel our lunch date.
2) Ring. Hello, Dr. Primary Care? (Oops, I apparently still have her old office number programmed in my cell, but she changed practices a year ago.) Yes, thanks, I would like the new number.
3) Ring. Hello? Oh, okay, press 3 to speak to a nurse. Okay, press 2 to speak to my own doctor's nurse. Hello? Oh, voice mail. "If this is an emergency, hang up and call 911. Otherwise, leave a message and the nurse will return your call by the end of the business day tomorrow." Tomorrow? I need another choice! Option A and B don't work for me. Aack! Can I talk to a real person?
4) Ring. Hello? Okay, this time I will press 1 to schedule and appointment. Oh, a real person! Hello! Yes, I need to know if someone in your office can do stitches, or should I just go to the Urgent Care center right across from where I am now? Yes, I already tried to ask a nurse, but I got voice mail and I need to know now what to do...(Receptionist assures me to just hold on; she is transferring me to the "live line" for the nurses so it won't go to voice mail.) Hello? "If this is an emergency..." Aack! She lied! Voice mail again.
5) Ring. Hello? Yes, it is me again. Please, can you find a real person for me to talk to? Yes, I'll hold. (new person comes on the line)
Hello? Yes, I need stitches. Can I come to your office now, or can I get approval to go to the Urgent Care center right across the street from where I am now? What? My face. I need stitches on my face. Yes, I'll hold. (Now person #2 has agreed to go find a nurse and ask in person - this is progress!)
Hello? Oh, you don't do stitches in the office if it is on the face? So, I should go to the Urgent Care? No? Oh, I see, because it is the face you won't do it and you recommend the E.R. so I can get a plastic surgeon if needed. Okay. Can you at least look up my record and tell me when my last tetanus shot was? Great. What? Oh, of course not. You don't have my records, because it has only been a year since my doctor changed practices; you couldn't possibly have found my records there yet. Yes, thanks anyway.
6) Ring. Hello? Yes, I need to cancel my 1:15 appointment. Yes, I know I just made it an hour ago, but I need to go to the E.R. instead. Yes, thanks for understanding. I will reschedule soon.
7) Ring. Hello? Jeremy, um, I guess I need to go to the E.R. I'll let you know when I am done. Yes, well, it is a long story...No, I don't think I should just come home and let you put a butterfly bandage on it. Yes, you did do a great job with a butterfly bandage that time I got my temple split with a canoe paddle, but a nurse just told me I should have stitches.
I then proceeded to the E.R. I decided to try the closest hospital (Blodgett). I had never been there before, but I knew that the E.R. downtown (Butterworth) could be a bit busy. My doctor's office told me to go to St. Mary's because they are affiliated there, but I have never been there and that was just as far as Butterworth. So, Blodgett it was. After all, how hard can it be to get a tetanus shot and some stitches?
Well, I got the quick part, actually. I walked in and was ushered immediately into triage. (Hah! My blood pressure was fine, despite that series of phone calls.) So they weren't really busy, good for me. Even better for me - the entire computer system had just gone down. So, they couldn't do any of the official registration procedures that usually take forever. I was in an examining room, meeting my nurse, within 5 minutes of arrival. A person from admissions actually came and sat down in my room with me, with a clipboard, because she couldn't sit at her computer and have me come to her. How pleasant!
Of course, I then discovered that my repairs would be handled by Tom, the Physician's Assistant. Now, I have nothing against P.A.s. I have been treated by them often. But I thought the point of going to the E.R. was to find a plastic surgeon, not a P.A. Argh. Then, he had a P.A. student tailing him, so I got to hear the whole thought process out loud.
"Well, 90% of the time, I recommend stitches. But that is for areas under tension. I don't think that spot on your cheek is under much tension; I think I will glue it instead." Ummm, okay. "I just need to get approval from the Attending ... be right back!" I had grading along, so at least I was getting some work done, in between all the popping in and out.
The P.A. returned quickly. "So, actually, a change in plans. I think we will do stitches after all, just because it is on your face." (Hmm. The Attending changed your plans without even looking at me? Should this give me confidence in your ability to assess, diagnose, and choose treatment?)
So the stitching up went pretty smoothly, except for a few more reassuring monologues from the P.A. to his student. "You see, as I flush with this saline, how the cheek swells way up? [In an aside to me, "Don't worry, your body will re-absorb all that fluid eventually." Good to know.] That is where the wash fluid is being taken up by the subcutaneous tissue. So that is an indication that the laceration actually affected the tissue much deeper than we had realized." [Well, gee, that is more reassurance that diagnosis skills are spot-on.]
Time to check out. Amazingly quick and smooth with the computers down. "Sign here - Bye!" says my nurse. Bye? Is that all? Okay. "Oh, wait, the computers just came back online. You better stop in here and see if they need more info." Well of COURSE they do.
"Co-pay, $100, please." What? It is only $50! "Nope, it says right on the card..." Oh, of course, another bit of inflation in insurance this year. Note to self: next time I whack myself on the face, do it last year, when the copay is only $50.
Aah, so just a mere 4 hours after I left the office to pick up the van, headed back to get some work done. Another productive day, underway. Well, nothing can stop me now. Except why do I suddenly feel a headache coming on, I wonder?
Of course, we can't leave an empty day on the calendar. So, we had decided to use this "non-teaching" day to fill in a few errands. We took the van in for an oil change/transmission fluid change/tire rotation, then I dropped Jeremy, Maggie, and John back home and went in to the office, feeling virtuous.
A couple of hours later, I got the call to reverse the process and take everyone back to get the finished van. As always, these things take a few minutes longer than I expect. I had a routine doctor's check-up that I didn't want to be late for, so I was in a bit of a hurry. And the van was parked on a hill, so the door swung open more quickly than I expected. But neither is really an explanation as to why I managed to smack myself soundly in the face with the door when I pulled it open.
Ouch! And then, OUCH! Wow, that really smarts. Still, I was a bit surprised to pull my hand away from my cheek and find it covered in blood. I still don't know if there was something sharp on that door (that I haven't since found) or it was an impressive impact wound (like splitting a melon?). But there was a gash about an inch long across my face, and it was spurting.
So, I was already late to see my doctor - what could I do but press an old McDonald's napkin to my face and drive away? Sounds convenient, but unfortunately, this appointment was with a neurologist. They are apparently not so savvy with trauma wounds. About half-way through the appointment, as he noticed the dripping blood on my face, he asked if I might like to have a band-aid. Being a very old-fashioned, patient-centered doctor, he actually went and got it himself! Of course, that took a while for him to find one, but I thought it was quite sweet of him.
The check-out process had me sitting with a nurse, so I was finally able to get some medical advice. (Grin.) After she had scheduled me for a follow-up test the doctor wanted (there is an opening at 1:15 today - do you want it? Sure, why not. Things are not gong so well at work now, anyway), she looked under the band-aid and recommended stitches and a tetanus shot. Oh. Rats.
Finished checking out ("$30 copay, please." Umm, I thought it was $15? "Nope, this is a specialist." Oh, that is right. One of the insurance increases this year. )
So, out to the car, armed with my cell phone. The call record is something like this:
1) Ring. Hello, Kim? I am sorry, but I have to cancel our lunch date.
2) Ring. Hello, Dr. Primary Care? (Oops, I apparently still have her old office number programmed in my cell, but she changed practices a year ago.) Yes, thanks, I would like the new number.
3) Ring. Hello? Oh, okay, press 3 to speak to a nurse. Okay, press 2 to speak to my own doctor's nurse. Hello? Oh, voice mail. "If this is an emergency, hang up and call 911. Otherwise, leave a message and the nurse will return your call by the end of the business day tomorrow." Tomorrow? I need another choice! Option A and B don't work for me. Aack! Can I talk to a real person?
4) Ring. Hello? Okay, this time I will press 1 to schedule and appointment. Oh, a real person! Hello! Yes, I need to know if someone in your office can do stitches, or should I just go to the Urgent Care center right across from where I am now? Yes, I already tried to ask a nurse, but I got voice mail and I need to know now what to do...(Receptionist assures me to just hold on; she is transferring me to the "live line" for the nurses so it won't go to voice mail.) Hello? "If this is an emergency..." Aack! She lied! Voice mail again.
5) Ring. Hello? Yes, it is me again. Please, can you find a real person for me to talk to? Yes, I'll hold. (new person comes on the line)
Hello? Yes, I need stitches. Can I come to your office now, or can I get approval to go to the Urgent Care center right across the street from where I am now? What? My face. I need stitches on my face. Yes, I'll hold. (Now person #2 has agreed to go find a nurse and ask in person - this is progress!)
Hello? Oh, you don't do stitches in the office if it is on the face? So, I should go to the Urgent Care? No? Oh, I see, because it is the face you won't do it and you recommend the E.R. so I can get a plastic surgeon if needed. Okay. Can you at least look up my record and tell me when my last tetanus shot was? Great. What? Oh, of course not. You don't have my records, because it has only been a year since my doctor changed practices; you couldn't possibly have found my records there yet. Yes, thanks anyway.
6) Ring. Hello? Yes, I need to cancel my 1:15 appointment. Yes, I know I just made it an hour ago, but I need to go to the E.R. instead. Yes, thanks for understanding. I will reschedule soon.
7) Ring. Hello? Jeremy, um, I guess I need to go to the E.R. I'll let you know when I am done. Yes, well, it is a long story...No, I don't think I should just come home and let you put a butterfly bandage on it. Yes, you did do a great job with a butterfly bandage that time I got my temple split with a canoe paddle, but a nurse just told me I should have stitches.
I then proceeded to the E.R. I decided to try the closest hospital (Blodgett). I had never been there before, but I knew that the E.R. downtown (Butterworth) could be a bit busy. My doctor's office told me to go to St. Mary's because they are affiliated there, but I have never been there and that was just as far as Butterworth. So, Blodgett it was. After all, how hard can it be to get a tetanus shot and some stitches?
Well, I got the quick part, actually. I walked in and was ushered immediately into triage. (Hah! My blood pressure was fine, despite that series of phone calls.) So they weren't really busy, good for me. Even better for me - the entire computer system had just gone down. So, they couldn't do any of the official registration procedures that usually take forever. I was in an examining room, meeting my nurse, within 5 minutes of arrival. A person from admissions actually came and sat down in my room with me, with a clipboard, because she couldn't sit at her computer and have me come to her. How pleasant!
Of course, I then discovered that my repairs would be handled by Tom, the Physician's Assistant. Now, I have nothing against P.A.s. I have been treated by them often. But I thought the point of going to the E.R. was to find a plastic surgeon, not a P.A. Argh. Then, he had a P.A. student tailing him, so I got to hear the whole thought process out loud.
"Well, 90% of the time, I recommend stitches. But that is for areas under tension. I don't think that spot on your cheek is under much tension; I think I will glue it instead." Ummm, okay. "I just need to get approval from the Attending ... be right back!" I had grading along, so at least I was getting some work done, in between all the popping in and out.
The P.A. returned quickly. "So, actually, a change in plans. I think we will do stitches after all, just because it is on your face." (Hmm. The Attending changed your plans without even looking at me? Should this give me confidence in your ability to assess, diagnose, and choose treatment?)
So the stitching up went pretty smoothly, except for a few more reassuring monologues from the P.A. to his student. "You see, as I flush with this saline, how the cheek swells way up? [In an aside to me, "Don't worry, your body will re-absorb all that fluid eventually." Good to know.] That is where the wash fluid is being taken up by the subcutaneous tissue. So that is an indication that the laceration actually affected the tissue much deeper than we had realized." [Well, gee, that is more reassurance that diagnosis skills are spot-on.]
Time to check out. Amazingly quick and smooth with the computers down. "Sign here - Bye!" says my nurse. Bye? Is that all? Okay. "Oh, wait, the computers just came back online. You better stop in here and see if they need more info." Well of COURSE they do.
"Co-pay, $100, please." What? It is only $50! "Nope, it says right on the card..." Oh, of course, another bit of inflation in insurance this year. Note to self: next time I whack myself on the face, do it last year, when the copay is only $50.
Aah, so just a mere 4 hours after I left the office to pick up the van, headed back to get some work done. Another productive day, underway. Well, nothing can stop me now. Except why do I suddenly feel a headache coming on, I wonder?
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Progress On My New "Get Healthy Plan"
7:00 AM: ate 2 slices whole wheat toast with homemade raspberry jam
7:30 AM: large mug of Earl Grey black tea - fully caffeinated
12:15 PM: 25 minute jog and 15 minute walk, pushing the stroller with a 30 pound toddler
1:45 PM: 1 pita, 1 sliced radish, 3 Tbsp hummus, 1 apple
3:00 PM: 1 cup mini-pretzel rods. Make that 1.5 cups. Oops
6:00 PM: healthy vegetarian dinner of brown rice with fresh-veggie ratatouille (eggplant, zucchini, bell peppers, onion, tomato, a bit of parmesan cheese). Pretty.
6:45 PM: 2 squares of premium chocolate bar. Dutifully split the entire bar between 5 people in the family, to avoid overeating.
10:00 PM: found giant-size premium imported milk chocolate bar with almonds. Pkg claims it is 5 servings, but I only split it with one (very aggressive) toddler who had climbed out of bed, found mom binging, and was demanding, "Chocolate! Mommy, chocolate!" as if he hadn't just learned how to pronounce that word at that exact moment. I probably got more than a healthy percentage of the 950 calories in that bar.
Aah, well, tomorrow is another day.
7:30 AM: large mug of Earl Grey black tea - fully caffeinated
12:15 PM: 25 minute jog and 15 minute walk, pushing the stroller with a 30 pound toddler
1:45 PM: 1 pita, 1 sliced radish, 3 Tbsp hummus, 1 apple
3:00 PM: 1 cup mini-pretzel rods. Make that 1.5 cups. Oops
6:00 PM: healthy vegetarian dinner of brown rice with fresh-veggie ratatouille (eggplant, zucchini, bell peppers, onion, tomato, a bit of parmesan cheese). Pretty.
6:45 PM: 2 squares of premium chocolate bar. Dutifully split the entire bar between 5 people in the family, to avoid overeating.
10:00 PM: found giant-size premium imported milk chocolate bar with almonds. Pkg claims it is 5 servings, but I only split it with one (very aggressive) toddler who had climbed out of bed, found mom binging, and was demanding, "Chocolate! Mommy, chocolate!" as if he hadn't just learned how to pronounce that word at that exact moment. I probably got more than a healthy percentage of the 950 calories in that bar.
Aah, well, tomorrow is another day.
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