One of those days that can only be summarized by a whole hell of a lotta run on sentences . . . .
I woke up early thinking only about showering my, "oh-my-god-I-slept-too-hot" body and washing away the headache, the bloating, the cramps and the already sour mood. I sipped iced coffee and cursed hormones. I staggered through the morning routine partially sneaking about the house so as not to wake the youngsters. Damn dog. She woke the youngsters. Fed the swarm. Checked in at work. Caught up on email. Send four cards and a reply. Took Mimi to 'nastics. Came home. Took Big to the orthodonist. Yes, braces are in the future. Yes, her bite is skewed. But time is critical. The plan is to wait six months and revisit the panoramic x-ray to see if the five remaining baby teeth are out, almost out or pressing in troublesome spots on adult teeth that have already erupted. Thanks for the referral, Mom of 3J's. I liked Dr. Josh and his office. Came home. Fed the swarm. MOTH took three to the gym while I took Middle for an eye appointment. Can't remember if I ever blogged about her eyes, vision therapy and glasses on kids, but . . . . . blah, blah, blah. It's too late for that. Suffice it to say her eyes are more far-sighted than ever, but she compensates really well (like off the charts well) by focusing, so . . . the plan is to keep the new prescription in my purse until and unless she complains of eye strain and/or headache. Until then, she can wear the old prescription. Good news. Far-sighted with good focus means that she actually sees ONE beam and t doesn't float around in space. That's important. I did my eye exam too. I have great vision, but my eyes tend outward. I've never complained about that before, but I confided to my eye doctor today this: I can't go shopping at night or when I'm tired. It feels like the rack hangars are coming at me and are gonna jab me in the eyeball. Truth. I thought I was just wacky and it was "my tired eyes". Truth is . . my eyes tend outward and with strain, the don't look forward and they don't work together. Thus, a shopping optical illusion. All of the pegs really do feel like are out to stab me. I have to squint and keep my head down and order the kids to "get this .. . . get that." She did a prism prescription. It's heavenly. I think I'll actually be able to drive at night and not flinch and twitch when oncoming lights come toward me. My spicy friend surprised me with a spontaneous, "I'll pick that stuff up" which saved me a boat load of time and drive energy today. Then to school. Then back home exactly 20 minutes of down time before it's Middle's turn to be at 'nastics. MOTH was still gone with the other three. Hmm. I stopped off at King Soopers for dinner provisions. I got sucked into the make-up row. Can I wear eggplant eye-liner? I looked at hair products. I had an "oh-my-god-I-look-so-old" moment last week that was fueled by my photographer cousin saying, "don't squint . . . lift your forehead . . . your brows are furrowing . . . . ". It gave me a forehead wrinkle complex, which I swiftly remedied by chopping some bangs for myself. I know, I know, you shouldn't cut your own hair. Whatever. It's done. Then home to drop off dinner, and intercept one kid. MOTH came home from the gym and errands with a brand new shiny Kindle for me. I'm in love. Second thanks in one post to deal diva, aka Mom of 3J's for her ad-spotting eagle eyes in the Best Buy ad. I love saving $25 over Amazon prices. Then to kindergarten orientation tonight where I spoke to 200 incoming parents about the joys and glories of PTA. And WatchDOGS. Now I'm home, typing, decompressing and snacking on a sandwich. Joy.
Cattie is going into a cocoon . . . . MOTH just walked in. He says, "do you think he's really going into a cocoon?" I don't know. It's either a cocoon or it's dead. Whatever. Don't throw it out yet.
Gotta go. Eye drops are needed. Tuck ins are needed. I need a drink, damnit.