Healing time

I haven’t been able to sleep through the night lately.  Health issues have once again hindered my efforts to be a normal functioning adult.  I wake several times a night and fight to return to sleep; or, I struggle to find rest and will myself to pass out from exhaustion. Of course, I usually crash in the middle of one of the few shows I enjoy watching out of the hundred mindless broadcasts on TV.

I forced myself to follow the ER doctor’s orders, taking a week off from work to heal from a nasty reaction to yet another simple medication supposed to cure an equally simple ailment.  CIPRO attacked every joint in my body, stiffening my limbs and making mobility difficult . The anti nausea headache pills meant to quell the dibilitating migraine behind my right ear left words on my screen swimming. My vision was so skewed at one point, that I scrapped up my car’s hood when I misjudged the turn to our gated community’s card scanner — it bounced and scratched a deep line on my last new car. No, I wasn’t supposed to drive, but Ri’s school had a gas leak and I had to pick her up within minutes of her dad’s drop off. 

It’s hard to stay home.  There’s a guilt that plagues me when I’m not in charge of my classroom.  I struggle with relinquishing control.  But I’m getting older, and I’m coming to realize that the job doesn’t care about me or the long term issues I might face.  

One colleague reached out daily and I craved her “how are you?” texts .  It sucks to hope someone cares that you’re missing from the building.

 I mean, I replied to an email from work the other day agreeing to use of my class during planning and the colleague was flippant and terse when she said her need was met already.  There was not even a “by the way, hope you’re  ok” aside.  No one should ever wonder why I choose to isolate myself during lunch and free time again. I prefer to be in the company of someone who is genuine. 

I’ve been working at home.  Slowly, I’m reading through essays and stories. I’m commenting extensively on each paper.  the majority will scan for a grade and trash the paper, but some might read suggestions and improve. I hope.  

A parent stopped me in the hall on Thursday as I made my way to the Boundary Committee meeting — she said her daughter was growing concerned and that they were praying.  It was exactly what I needed to hear. 

I’m returning to work for this next short week, mostly to plug in grades . I feel better. The dehydration continues,  but the headaches are minimal.  I am not relying on medication — watching the clock for when I can get my next dose as pain creeps up stronger. This is what progress looks like.

Milking it

Dear Ri,

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You upset your dad today.  He told you you had to use the restroom before he poured you a cup of juice.  You agreed and waited.  Then, when he was sufficiently occupied with work preparation,  you helped yourself to the milk.  Thank you for using a straw.  Even though dad’s a little mad, you technically did not disobey.  You did not drink the juice. I wouldn’t recommend,  however, that you display your intelligence like this again.  He won’t take it well.

Halloween 2016 – Zombie to Death

img1928-copy img1930-copy img1941-copy img1932-copy img1912-copy Our we’re running late and have five minutes for a costume look was this zombie kid.  It was a good look for the Stonebridge Halloween celebration.

Halloween 2016 – Dr. Brain Zombie

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Ri’s costume was a combination of new finds and old imagination play things.  She said she wanted her face make up as a zombie – the first time she’s ever sat for face design of any kind. img1922-copy 

The make up was supposed to be an extension of her supersized brain, but she liked the irredescent blue and wasn’t interested in the veins to sell her look. By the time we got to Halloween ,  she’d decided on “kitty” make up and discarded the brain. The lab coat stayed on.

 I called her “confusion.”  She walked door to door with a lunch box saying “TWICK OR TWEET” and other variations of the candy collecting phrase. And despite the variety of costumed kids she passed, she was unafraid. 

Halloween 2016 – Purple Minion

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 Diva decided to be practical this Halloween. After a discouraging perusal of Spirit Halloween’s $40-50 costumes, she was about to call it quits.  At 13, she is starting to feel “too old” to dress up and enjoy the fantasy that is Halloween. But then, she had an idea: become an “evil” purple minion.

Purple shirt? Already own one.  Jeans? We need a new pair anyway, so let’s get a good fitting set now.  And she’s still holding my Dollar Tree clown glasses (with lenses popped out) hostage since she was Arthur for Spirit Week.  Lest we forget that Ri got an official pair of Minion specs during a store tantrum more than a year ago.  

Finally, the suspenders – purchased new with an assurance that she’d be able to use them in several future costumes, too. Oh, wait.  The purple crazy hair headband… it completed the look, though she prefered spraying her hair with temporary purple color.
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At the library

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