By now, many of you are wondering if I’ve taken a serious turn for the worst. Or is it worse? I’m never sure about that, and I don’t feel like looking it up. It’s true that my body continues to weaken, and it’s getting harder to breathe. My speaking voice is really quiet, which means that Otto just laughs at me when I tell him not to do things (he openly mocked me by eating my peanut butter sandwich off the counter last week while I looked on, and later he acted all innocent like he just hadn’t heard me telling him no. I hope he gets diarrhea.)
My intention was to blog twice a week when I started in 2014. Now my intention is to blog today, and we’ll just see what happens after that. Summer was good, although as usual it went by so quickly that I feel like I went to sleep in June and woke up in September. Scarlett got prescription glasses and went to her first sleep away camp for one week. The glasses are already broken. I mean, did I really even need to say that? We didn’t even send them to camp with her, because it’s not like we’re amateurs here. But we did think she should wear them to school, and clearly that is where we went wrong.
Sleep away camp was a great success, and when we picked her up she informed us that Read More>
Have you ever seen one of those lists of reasons why a toddler is having trouble going to sleep? I’m too lazy to look for one at the moment for direct quotes, but they include things like:
27. Toddler’s shirt is touching toddler.
42. Earth’s rotation is causing toddler to feel hungry, are there any bagels?
8. Toddler feels like dancing.
15. Toddler’s bed is scratching toddler. Toddler requires new bed immediately, yes yours will do just fine.
Those lists have always made me laugh, because having raised a toddler, I know much of this to be true. But I suddenly have a new appreciation for the plight of the small and somewhat helpless. When Rob puts me to bed at night, he settles me on my back, putting pillows under my elbows and one across my chest that my arms can wrap around. He fastens braces on my feet, and sets them against wedges that lean against a wooden chair which is kept in place by a leather ottoman. He stretches my legs and my arms and places my mask on my face. It’s a little more involved than our long ago life in Manhattan, when I would get up from the couch at bedtime and announce that I was going to bed. And then I would do that. Read More>
Scarlett and I have been watching a new show called Just Add Magic. It was recommended by a friend at school, and it seems my daughter is learning the concept of binge watching. We do three episodes in a row, and they’re only 25 minutes long, but still, when one ends we look at each other with that look that all obsessive television viewers know, the one that says “should we do another yes we should do another let’s do another right now.” The show is about three 12-year-old girls who discover a magic cookbook. It is awesome.
On Friday, while we were watching, we opened a bag of chips and Scarlett fed herself and me. I’m not a big person, but I can take down tortilla chips like someone three times my size, so it’s pretty frustrating to not be able to just do it by myself. Every five seconds, I was saying “chip please,” which quickly changed to just “chip” so that I wouldn’t interrupt the show quite as much. Finally Scarlett got annoyed with my constant chipping. “Stop saying that,” she ordered, stuffing two triangular blue chips into her mouth.
“Well, I’m hungry,” I said. “What do you want me to say?” Read More>