Back to School!!! Do you hear the trumpets?
Ruby is now in second grade, and Carl in the final year of Pre-K. With Ruby, I am having one of those trite “how did my baby get so old?” moments, and with Carl, it’s more like “why aren’t you in kindergarten already?” It’s not just me, either; one of the teachers was asking him how he liked first grade. It’s hard being the oldest and biggest one in your class.
As per Montessori practice, both kids have the same teachers again this year, so the only drama is about the new kids in class. Carl reported the first day that he made two new friends: “one named Michael and one I don’t know his name.” The schedule in Ruby’s class has changed a bit from last year, and she’s reluctantly adjusting to that and the new faces.
We are all getting used to having L, our new live in babysitter/houseguest/friend around. Ruby is starting to feel the loss of her room. She is happy to give L a place to stay, and she understands why we did it and that it’s not forever, but having to stay out of her former space is harder than she thought it would be. For example, we had some friends over for playtime on Monday afternoon, and normally Ruby and her friend would have been playing in Ruby’s room, but suddenly, there was no “Ruby’s room” available, and the kids can’t run in and out of it at night when they’re getting ready for bed, either. I think things are going to be fine once we get through the adjustment phase, though.
It is strange not having the kids at home all day, but I haven’t been home enough to miss them much yet. Monday I had a celebratory breakfast with some other moms, followed by errands and frantic housework. Tuesday I made phone calls, and then headed out for an afternoon of doctor appointments. I started with my regular doctor, who was impressed enough with my fever, pallor, and enduring cough to order a chest x-ray and give me antibiotics and steroids. Then, I went on to the back doctor, who took more fancy composite x-rays like you see here from various angles, and told me 1) I can have all the steroid shots I want until they stop working for me, 2) that I should put off back surgery as long as I can possibly stand the pain, but 3) he’ll be ready to straighten and fuse the whole disaster when I finally decide it’s time. Yippee.
Later, I went to what I thought was a plain ol’ boring meeting of the bariatric surgery support group, as I’m trying to get my brain ready for that adventure sometime this fall. It turns out it wasn’t really about renewing your diet and exercise motivation; it was about revving up your mid-life (and perhaps post-surgery and post-dramatic weight loss) sex life and it was extremely surreal. I sort of resented the implication that my love life might need any resuscitation, although after a month of illness, I guess it might. (The tips: Exercise. Masturbate ten minutes a day. Do your Kegels. Try some of the fun gadgets the therapist brought along. There, I probably just saved you a $150 sex therapy appointment.) Then I went to the movies with friends, even though I was yes, sick, and strictly speaking, had no business being out, but I justified it by saying it was more restful than putting kids to bed and cooking dinner. We saw Julie & Julia, which I recommend with only a few reservations, and can I please go back to Paris now?
This morning brought word from my doctor that, no surprise, the blood work and chest x-ray were consistent with pneumonia, and I’ll likely need a second course of antibiotics. That was the good news. The bad part is that there were some “spots” in my right lung that they not sure about, so I have to get a CT scan tomorrow to rule out the ominous-sounding Something Else (lung cancer, I guess? inhaled Legos? TB?)
Let’s pause now to reflect on what an idiot I am. If I had found a baby sitter and gone to the doctor when it first became clear I wasn’t getting well fast enough, I might be healthy already. I might have spared myself the weeks of feeling lousy, the massive radiation dose of the CT machine, the large financial expense, and the slight niggling worry of this whole ordeal. But no, I waited. Moral of the story: When it's your turn, and assuming you have insurance: don’t be tough, people, it’s not worth it.
So, I’ll let you know if I turn out to have anything exciting. Tonight, I’m filling out 18 pages of school forms per child. It seems a little excessive and more than a bit redundant, but I’m trying to stay positive and supportive this year. Then, I’m going to bed on the early side, because….that’s right! I don’t feel good!