recaps of the last six weeks

9.  Appointments have taken over my life.

Obgyn, Pediatrician, Dentist, Orthodontist, General Surgeon, Family Physician, Optometrist, Mammogramist, Podiatrist... I am kind of thanking God I don't have to visit a Proctologist.  Yet.  I suppose. 

My husband has been reminding me to make an appointment at an optometrist office.  I am not sure what his real motive is in bringing the subject up - recently, on a daily basis.  Our eldest daughter needs to visit one for this current year -- surely, that cannot be the reason for his daily watercooler chat regarding eyes.  And, really I am amazed at my husband's sudden on-going interest in optometry because he cannot recall any of my other one-sided conversations over the past six weeks. 

So, daughter #1 and I venture off to the "eye doctor" for a morning of dilation fun!! 

Sidenote: 

Surprise, Surprise... I am older than this doctor TOO !  Currently, I am older than all our doctors except my OB.  Seriously thinking about changing all doctors so that they are all older than me!  During my initial call, I need to ask how long these doctors have been practicing before I commit to an appointment.  This eye doctor probably graduated last May.  I am hoping he already passed his exams.

We had a few minutes of waiting time in the exam room.  We passed the time away by MEMORIZING the Eye Chart!  Yes, that's right.   I helped my daughter CHEAT on her eye exam.  

The eye doctor arrived and asked me to sit in the hotseat to demonstrate the proper way to read the chart without squinting, staring, or over-focusing.  No problem.  I have these letters memorized.  Plus, my Lasik is holding up well! 

Victoria passed with flying colors! 

But not me... OH NO... I need READING GLASSES.  The advanced-age eyewear.  Farsighted?  How can this be?  I was Nearsighted before... like I was considered legally blind for driving... with a 20/450 vision on a good day!  This conclusion was reached during my "demonstration", I was then sent for dilation, and reprimanded for memorizing the wrong chart!   What are there -- hidden cameras in the exam room?!

NO MORE READING FOR ME. 

PS These glasses make me dizzy.  I don't think they are working. 

PPS I have only worn them ONCE.

PPPS  I am really not reading anymore. 

recaps of the last six weeks

8.  Reading

I love to read... especially chic-books.  Previously, I read Kristin Hannah's True Colors and it was a good read.  So when I decided to start reading (instead of falling asleep) during my middle-of-the-night feedings...  I chose another book by Kristin Hannah; Firefly Lane.  Firefly reminds me of the early summer fun we had catching fireflies and putting them in jars to watch their evening glow.

Well, it was a good read...

Except for the fact that I prefer "Happily Ever After" endings... just saying... actually that's all I am saying.  Because hormonally-speaking, I prefer not to cry -- it gives me a headache at 3AM and a red, stuffy nose and swollen eyes and a raspy voice. 

So, if you are up for some hormonal-emotional-rollercoasting... I have a book for you.  Email me if you want the book and I'll send it along.  :+)

in denial ...

Reclining in room number 5 of my OB's clinic.  I am admiring the blank monitor as it reads my name and birthdate and baby's estimated due date when the ultrasound tech enters room 5. 

She begins to prep me for my ultrasound to (a.) determine gender and (b.) verify that the baby is healthy.

Ultrasound tech begins to move the wand over my belly, "abracadabra, show me a sign".  "Abracadabra, baby move your legs".

The brain looks great.  The heart is beating at 147 bpm.  There are four chambers, whew.  The spine is good.  The flesh at the base of the neck is in proportion.  Baby is cooperating.  The wand magically sweeps below the bottom and ...
I shout, "IT's A BoY!"

The ultrasound tech did not acknowledge my shout, so I did it again, "IT's A BoY!" 

She responded this time, "Actually, that is the umbilical cord."

You know, I have had so many ultrasounds in all my pregnancies that I clearly knew how to read one.  So I asked her to show me again.  And again.  And again. 

Exasperated, she finally went to get the Doctor.  The real ultrasound reading professional.

Doctor entered the room and waved the magic wand over my belly and declared, "Please give my condolences to your husband.  No single household should have that much estrogen under one roof." 

Mommy Mafia

A group of "first grade" moms congregate on the same patch of grassy lawn as school is dismissed. The mafia of moms varies daily. The rich moms. The fit moms. The tan moms. The dowdy moms. The intellectually-challenged moms. The mis-fit moms. The mis-understood moms.

Today the conversation is dull, braggart, and nauseating. We all "pay" the same tuition. We all "wear" the same uniforms. We all "have" the same teacher. We are all "getting" the same education. WE ARE ALL THE SAME. Maybe. Maybe NOT. NOT. Definitely NOT.

Mom A announces, "My Sara is reading on a second grade level already". (Woo Hoo!) Mom B counteroffers, "Dillyn is so smart. She has been accepted in the Children's University for summer!" (Another Woo Hoo to YOU!) Mom C agonizes with her statement, "Lizbeth is reading on the seventh grade level according to the latest testing at ESU" (What is ESU?). Mom D admits, "Where is ESU? My Briella has straight A's". (An amazing feat considering the students do not receive letter grades until third grade!)

I listen without volunteering as the one-ups-man continues in full force. Mom E sighs, "I wish there were another program for the extremely gifted"! Mom F declares, "Yes, I would pay more IF there were only a 'special' extra program for our children"!

I finally interject with my off-kilter humor, "The children are SUPPOSED to be READING???"

Six moms stop and stare at me in shock. They are aghast. It is apparent on their faces. They are oblivious to my sarcasm. Inside I am giggling like a six year old. I am totally pleased with my banter.

Later on, I realize that the gossip has begun. I am its focal point. I am the reason their brilliant children are being "held back" in the classroom. I am the reason their children are just mediocre. BUT, I GET THE LAST LAUGH!!

Yes, Ms. Tellier, There is a Cricket Season

I am having a difficult time concentrating. I am having a difficult time focusing on the twenty-two little people sitting before me. I am NOT just hearing a noise. I am hearing the most disturbing little sound.

"Can any of you hear that?" I question as my sign language interpreter translates to four of the students for me. [Translating, really!] "DO you hear that?"

"There has to be a stuck cricket somewhere in this classroom."

When crickets get stuck or distressed their cricket-clicks get very loud! Our current reading lesson is temporarily on hold. We move right into a science lesson, "Who can find the Cricket?"

Row one checks the windows.
Row two checks the closet.
Row three checks the lockers.
Row four checks the bookcases.

With all the movement in the classroom, the Cricket becomes very quiet. So, our Cricket hunt is unproductive.

We return to reading. After sailing through two pages, the Cricket sounds reappear. The classroom falls silent. It is never this quiet. We all listen to the Cricket. Where is it hiding?

I step outside onto the portable classroom steps. There are no cricket sounds. I return to the classroom. Yes, there's the Cricket!

I try to get beyond the Cricket's discomfort. We finish our reading lesson and prepare for our math lesson. Everyone is distracted, the poor Cricket is on every one's mind.

The intercom disrupts the classroom's thoughts. "Ms. Tellier, could you please send AJ to the office to pick up his lunch?" "Yes, he is on his way," I reply.

AJ selects a friend to go with him to the office. The two boys walk to the main school building while the class continues working on their one-hundred addition problems.

The silence is quickly noted. "Where did the Cricket go?" "I don't hear anything!"

"Class, please check inside, under and over your desks one more time!"

Nothing.

AJ and friend return to the class and begin to finish their math problems. The Cricket is back. We all hear it. Where is the Cricket?

"AJ and friend, can I see you please? I want to do a little experiment.

AJ appears to be uncomfortable and slips his shoes off. Out jump three crickets. I stare in disbelief. I begin to laugh hysterically. The class is staring at the crickets. The class is now in an uproar.

"AJ, did you feel the crickets in your shoes?" I queried.

"Naw, my shoes just felt a little funny, I thought it was my socks," answered AJ.

And in all seriousness, AJ looked right at me and announced, "Ms. Tellier - it IS Cricket season!"

[I still hear the sound of crickets every spring and it always happily reminds me of the class that graduated from high school in 2008. Congratulations Class!]