Bloggity Blog Blog
I wish I had a gimmick, like the girl who used her crockpot every day for a year, or like Julie Powell from the Julie/Julia Project. I wish people were writing that they wished they had a gimmick like Christy D. only they knew my whole name because I was clever enough to sell my blog. Not that I want to be famous, I just want to be clever and creative and not overworked and stressed. I have a million blogs in my head, but none of them are all that exciting and it’s sad. I can’t seem to get this blog on some sort of path, I’m all over the place. I wish I knew enough about something or was interesting enough to blog about something cool every day. Okay, enough about wishes, let me tell you the real dirt.
For the past three weeks I’ve been exercising in the morning. Everyone that knows me knows that I am NOT, I repeat NOT a morning person. So much so that the last few years when Shelby was carpooling, I would wake up just long enough to yell from my bed for her to get up and then that I loved her when she was leaving. Maybe my blog should be a nomination for mother of the year…….or not. So anyway, the first week I was out of the house by 6, but apparently that wasn’t early enough for Heather because the following two weeks I was out of the house at 5:50 am. Did you know the day doesn’t start at 6? Also, did you know that three people on my street leave at 6:30 am and they have to be completely dressed and ready for the day? I find that crazy, but they probably think I’m crazy. At least I’m in workout clothes so they can’t assume I’m doing a walk of shame. I apologize if you have an early day, but I don’t and even if I do, it’s not pleasant. I could do a whole blog about how much I appreciate the fact that Heather calls and gets me up every day and I feel so much better after I get that done for the day. And then today, when I put on a one size smaller pair of pants and they were loose, I almost jumped for joy!
Why do you think people say they want privacy in their personal struggles and then go on Larry King? It makes no sense to me. You know what I do when I want privacy? You’re thinking “YOU want privacy?” Maybe sometimes I might want privacy. But if I do, then I stop talking about it. I don’t mention it again and everyone goes on with their lives. I could want privacy sometimes. Maybe when I sell my blog and I’m famous and gimmicky. I know, give it up.
Let me tell you about my poor Kasey. She has bad skin. She’s always had bad skin, like eczema and she has a pigment disorder. I’ve probably already blogged about this, but when she was little I had to take her to the dermatologist to prove that she wasn’t retarded. Mentally challenged, maybe? Anyway, she was probably about 2 and she had this skin disorder and they said because birthmarks are connected to the central nervous system she could have some retardation. We call it schmenarded, it sounds nicer somehow. Try it. So I take her to the dermatologist and my dad goes with me because Shelby wasn’t in school yet and I had to take her too, so he kept her in the waiting room. There I am with my 2 year-old and the doctor is examining her and looking at her skin and asking if she’s “normal”, and if anyone knows Kasey they know that’s a tough diagnosis. But at 2, of course she was normal. I told the doctor she’s perfectly normal and then she fell out of the chair. Like just right out of the chair. I have no idea what she was doing, but no sooner did “she seems perfectly normal to me” come out of my mouth and then I was picking her up off the floor. Then I started overexplaining, because that’s what I do, and I kept thinking that the doctor was thinking, “DELUSIONAL”. Then we were done and I felt like I’d convinced him she was fine, or more likely, he didn’t see whatever he was looking for, and we left. As we were leaving, she ran into the door. Seriously, she was like one of the stooges or something. I got to the waiting room and I was almost hysterical. My dad laughed for years about that.
The whole point of that was to tell you that Kasey called me from school yesterday to tell me that her head was bleeding. I told her to stop whining and go back to class. (Mother of the year, anyone?) An hour later, the nurse called me to tell me that she thought Kasey had lice. I asked if there were any bugs. Nope. She thought she might have lice eggs. I explained about her skin and what I thought it was and she told me to come get her and she’d show me what she was talking about. Great. I took her to the doctor because I didn’t think it was lice, I just thought her eczema had moved to her scalp, which is actually closer to what it was, but I took her anyway. What she actually has is dermatitis of the scalp and it’s not pleasant, but it’s cortizone and TSal shampoo for 10 days. The school nurse examined everyone’s head at the school and told them that a girl had lice. Couldn’t she have just said it was routine? Of course, Kasey didn’t have lice, which I informed the school of, but is there going to be a retraction? I’m sure not. And even if there was, it would be in a little article on page 25 of some newspaper no one reads because that’s how retractions are printed. She, of course, was mortified. It’s all perception at 11.
So this is like three blogs in one. Maybe if I split them up then I’d have more to blog about instead of one really long, boring blog every two weeks. I’ll work on that. Enjoy!