Funny Girl

I eat fast. Really fast. My mother once asked me if I had perhaps starved in a past life. Sometimes, I don’t think I even taste my food.

My child can take an hour to eat a scoop of ice cream. The words “Hurry up” bring her instantly to tears. She has always moved to the beat of her own drum.

She has been struggling, a bit, with math. It’s too fast for her. And knowing she is being timed just makes it worse. She has always had performance anxiety, which is sad to watch (from where I’m sitting). She’s such a talented singer and artist. But the thought of anyone “watching” her makes her insane. The thought of “messing up” and knowing that people witnessed it is too much for her to handle. I know this is a required step in child development, but it’s a little more than that.

Of course I blame myself for her falling behind a bit in math. It’s not my strong suit. And, by the time I get home I’m hurrying to make dinner, hurrying her to do her homework, hurrying her to bathe, and get ready for bed. I’m not helping. And there isn’t much time for anything else.

Today, she brought home a piece of paper from school. I asked, “When did you do this?” She said, “We had free time during reading.”

Remember…beat of her own drum. The math will come. 

One of Those Days

Wednesdays are crazy. I pick the child up from the after-school program. They’re either inside or on the playground. I go inside, they’re not there. I go to the playground, and somehow I’ve missed them and have to go back inside. This takes about 20 minutes to find her, sign her out, grab her stuff, and get her into the car. 

Today, we ran an errand and I completely forgot it was Wednesday. Thank goodness I remembered because I was about to make two more stops. We rushed home, changed, got to practice (where it was parents vs. kids, and now I know why soccer players wear cleats). Afterward, we stopped by the grocery and grabbed this for dinner: 

 

After dinner, I checked her backpack. Her snack pocket was empty. I noticed this morning that she didn’t eat her snack yesterday. I asked her about it at the grocery and she said, “I was busy doing my homework.” So, tonight, I asked, “Did you eat two rice cakes today, and a Lara bar, and fruit snacks?” She said, “Yes.” 

So, today, my 6 y.o. daughter ate: 2 slices of bacon, an egg, part of a gluten free chocolate chip muffin top, half a cheese sandwich, two pickles, some chips, two gluten free Newman Os, 2 rice cakes, a Lara bar, a packet of fruit chews, popcorn, lox and cream cheese on toast, Cheetos, and a gluten free ice cream cone with vanilla and chocolate ice cream swirl. 

And now, she wants to know what is for dessert. 

Mama Always Said….

So, I have been having horrible headaches for a while now and have been pretty much waiting to die of an aneurysm whilst driving or (even worse) at work. Irrational, I know (though my biological father did die of an aneurysm at 40 years old…so there’s that). 

I was having a particularly headachey day last week at work and took off my glasses and cried. And, wouldn’t you know it, twenty minutes later…headache gone. Glasses back on later, headache back. I decided to go to the office where I got my eye exam done and ask them to check my prescription on my glasses (that I got from http://www.ZenniOptical.com) to see if they were accurate. They were, except I measured my pupillary distance (What the hell is this, you ask? I didn’t know either until I printed the measuring tape from the website to measure it myself, and I’ve been wearing glasses since I was 7 years old) incorrectly and was off by 6 mm. Eye Guy told me this could be the issue. (I mean, I NEVER get headaches. I didn’t even own ibuprofen.) Then Eye Guy said, “Or, you could be allergic to your polycarbonate lenses.” 

WUT

If anyone could be allergic to their glasses, it would be I. Forget physics and such. Just have a blanket understanding that the girl who broke her rod in her back, whose doctor flew around the world to redo other people’s surgeries and had NEVER in ALL HIS YEARS had to redo his own surgery…until…, will be the one to defy the odds.

After work today, I took my sweet child shoe shopping. This has never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever been an enjoyable experience. At some point, we are both in tears. We went to Payless because they have half sizes. The Shoe Girl measured her at an 11 and said, “She should go to an eleven-and-a-half,” whereupon sweet child burst into tears. Tried on all the ten-and-a-half shoes (too tight). Tried on all the size 11 shoes (they flipped off). Cried. Left the building. 

We drove to Kohl’s. Finally found a pair we liked. Walked ten feet. Cried. Returned shoes. 

We drove to another Payless. No go. Left Payless barefoot. Mommy carried sweet child to car. 

We drove to Dillard’s, where the woman who is always there was there. I cannot believe after four years of having us as customers she hasn’t quit her job. Srsly. How does she do it? Sweet child tried on 12 pairs of shoes. And she found a pair! I couldn’t believe it. She left wearing them, because remember…I carried her in barefoot, up the escalator…with my giant purse…past the very expensive men’s shirts: 

(Worth every cent of the $99.50.)

We drove to gramma’s to pick up something, and caught the longest light in history. Took the highway. Got home. Came in. Threw dinner on the stove. Sweet child stapled her finger with the stapler and then dropped it in her applesauce. I wouldn’t let her turn on the television and she didn’t get to watch any television ALL DAY OR PLAY WITH ONE SINGLE FRIEND.

Then I found a note in her school planner that she was missing her homework on Monday. She had a folder full of papers I just assumed were classwork or some activity she received at the after-school program. They’re always giving her little activity sheets and things. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!? 

So, I just ordered new glasses. One more try. 

And I’m drinking wine. White zinfandel. AND I DON’T CARE WHO KNOWS IT. 

Oh, and the sweet child went to bed in winter tights. 

I swear….