Wow, today.
Chris did not have to wrestle the OT guy. OT guy took one look at my hand and said, "Wow, you've got a rash!" He said he'd never seen an allergic reaction to that material before. "Why didn't you come see me?" he asked. Uh, because I thought wearing plastic was supposed to suck? I figured it was supposed to be sweaty and itch. Apparently I was wrong. He supported the idea of leaving the splint off and had me leave it with him so he could dispose of it. He said to use the fabric splint if my hand acts up and to try to avoid lots of gripping activities... like writing. I'll bring my laptop to school to take notes (once again I am inspired to thank Tracy profusely for giving me her laptop) and Camille- it looks like more and more of my letters will be typed. I think that sucks because I really like handwriting. Maybe I will become ambidextrous.
Jennyway, where the hell was I? Um. So the OT guy told me to go see Urgent Care because the rash looked like heat rash but he wanted to make sure it was seen by a doctor. Before I left he asked if he could show the other OT. She was equally amazed, she had also never seen a reaction to that plastic before. "Well, I am special," I said. Ta-da!
In Urgent Care I was assured that it was in fact an allergic reaction. They added notes to my chart but also warned me to remember that I have an allergy to plastics and the next time I have an IV I should ask for paper tape. Sheesh. Maybe I'll start carrying Benadryl with my insulin. Lol.
I came home from VA exhausted. It has been a really long week. I took a quiz Wednesday and found out yesterday that I got a 95. I don't know how many other people did that well, but the teacher said the highest grade was a 95, the lowest was 50. Ouch. I felt confident until she went over the quiz on Thursday and I was sure I had a C. Then she handed them out and I felt both proud and a little guilty.
Much like the surgery, I knew this class would be intensive, I just didn't know HOW intensive. The class starts at 8 and I'm having some trouble getting up. After school I'm going to work and trying to read and accomplish things in a boring environment. There isn't a lot to do, but there are lots of people and interruptions. I come home from work feeling- and probably looking- like a zombie.
Today I came home from the VA and started to read my fun book only to start dozing. Chris volunteered to pick up Bubba and I gratefully headed to bed. I woke up when Chris thundered in, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow." Huh?
He was all excited about having a weekend off, but his boss got a call from one of their regular clients talking about a show and the sound guy needing to be in Minden at 3. I think he woke me up around 5:30. He was out the door so fast. It was a horrible way to wake up, especially when I found out that all the equipment he had hoped to drop off with his boss that was needed for the show was packed into the Dodge and he didn't have time to transfer it to the van.
Ant and Bubba hovered nearby as Chris grabbed a shirt and some underwear and ran out the door. Ant politely asked if he and Bubba should play outside for a while so I could nap. "You look sick," added Bubba. I'm not sure if that was legitimate or an attempt to get permission to go play. I told them to be in and done in an hour and started trying to become coherent. I checked the kitchen and realized we would be walking to Little Caesar's for dinner.
When the boys came in I got to visit with Bubba for a little while. He told me what had been going on with some family issues and why we were asked to take him for the weekend. Ant was talking back and showing off in front of Bubba. I warned him twice and finally invited him to sit on his hands in the hallway. As we were preparing to go Ant asked if they could go look for something they'd found on their earlier adventure. I said no, that we were walking to the pizza place. He told me they'd be outside, told me to hurry up, and slammed the door. I suppressed the urge to throttle him. I gathered my purse, a zippy, and bags to carry the food. When I opened the door I saw Bubba, but no Ant. Jesus. Bubba went looking for him for me while I shook my head. When they returned Ant gave me the feeble story that he thought I said yes. Child...
Keep in mind this is the kid who has not turned in his book reports. He is in trouble. We took Bubba because Bubba's dad is someone we can rely on and we like to be there for them too. Our kids are best friends and sometimes it's hard to get them together. I was not enthused about rewarding Ant with a weekend-long sleepover but Bubba is treated like a member of our family, not a guest. He is responsible for his own messes and knows where the line is with me. I am not worried about entertaining him all weekend. He volunteered to help Ant with his book reports, because Ant WILL be working on his book reports. Not all weekend, but this is not going to be all party time.
So we're walking and Ant is being a monkey. I allow this to an extent because he's got energy to burn off and he's excited that Bubba's there, but of course he's taking it WAY too far. He comes close to eating it several times and once we get to Little Caesar's he's pulling their balloons off the wall and trying to swing on a sapling outside. KNOCK IT OFF.
The pizza takes forever and the children are practicing parkour outside. I am hoping to be abducted by aliens.
I get the requested 3 meat pizza for the kids, cheese for me, and a 2 liter of Diet Pepsi. "Aw, why didn't you get root beer," cries Ant. I decide that pouring the soda over his head could be construed as child abuse. We make it around the corner where the kids continue hauling ass across the parking curbs. I am certain that they will plow right into some customer and corral them both. I ask them to stop.
We make it all the way into the apartment complex where Ant decides he is not done yet.
There are two fences dividing our apartment complex from a retirement home. On our side is a chain link fence, theirs is wood. Their side has a big drop. These fences are right up against one another and on our side is a curb. Ant ran to parkour his way across the fence. Can you imagine what happened?
Ant's foot went through the bottom of the chain link fence between the fence and the curb and continued at a downward angle underneath the bottom of the wood fence where his shoe caught. The curb kept his leg on the diagonal while the rest of his body tried to fall to the asphalt. He was immediately and quite comically stuck. He panicked and started screaming at Bubba who was trying to unpin him as I set the pizzas down. Together- and with a lot of effort- we freed him.
Inside we ate pizza and the boys watched a movie. Afterwards Bubba wanted to play video games but Ant knew he was grounded. He tried apologizing as he took the dogs out but I was not satisfied with the I-want-something-now apology. I told him to think about it and come back in to talk to me.
When he came back in he was almost in tears. He said he was upset because everyone was yelling at him today. Of course I was one of those people, but who else? "My teacher," he said. She yelled at him in class over the book reports, embarrassing him in front of everyone. Then he told me about the tie he wore to school- the one he got at a thrift store. It's neon green and black checks, a very emo looking item. The boys said it made him look gay, but the girls liked it so he kept it on all day. During a math test some kid was staring at the tie and making rude gestures. Ant waved him off and earned trash duty from the teacher. "I guess that's why I had a bad attitude," he said. Then he told me that the teacher said that we must not care about his school work at home so she'll have to take care of it there. Excuse me, what? He said the other 5th grade teacher had seen Ant and Chris laughing together while heading into the store to get shoes. She reported back to Ant's teacher that Chris obviously didn't care about his child's education. Oh hell no. I think this parent teacher conference is going to involve the principal.
By the way, Ant has been working on the book reports. He read the book while we were at the laundromat on Wednesday, when we got the call from the school counselor. Thursday he read and began working on a rough draft. Today he worked on the rough draft at school. He'll be working this weekend. I want him to turn in something he's worked hard on, I want this to be his best effort, not some rushed piece of crap. He got all annoyed on Wednesday when I told him we would be reading new books rather than using a book he'd already read for the projects. "But that will take forever," he whined. Not if you spend a lot more time per day reading. Shouldn't have put it off, huh?
We talked a lot about the consequences tonight. He felt like the teacher was being mean, (which she totally was, but I'll be taking that up with her) but I really wanted him to associate that feeling with the choice he made to avoid and delay the problem. We went over a lot. He says his teacher will be at school tomorrow so he's hoping to pick up his rough draft. I'm also hoping she's there, but for a different reason.
No comments:
Post a Comment