Weekend Coffee Share: Boring Week

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that we have mostly been hiding away inside all week. With temps over 100, there wasn’t a lot of going outside until over in the evening. Luckily, my dad fixed the problem with our AC unit (apparently the breaker didn’t have enough…voltage or something and kept tripping), so we were able to stay cool indoors at least.

We had to go to the girls therapies and get her hair cut this week, but otherwise, it was pretty uneventful. I didn’t have much planned in the way of indoor activities and crafts, so we mostly read, played video games, watched movies, and played board games. A couple summers ago, I had crafts and science experiments planned for pretty much every day, but this year has been much lazier. I have been pinning stuff on Pinterest, so at some point, that will change.

Speaking of reading, LM has been complaining. In my Facebook Memories, one popped up from a couple years ago, where he had read for 3000 minutes at this point for the library program. That’s 50 hours, or a little over an hour per day, which isn’t a lot, but still good. He hasn’t even finished a book this summer, which is very disappointing. I make him (yes, I have to make him) sit down every day, but he’s only halfway through a Harry Potter book. He told his dad that he shouldn’t have to read because he’ll get enough of that when school starts. What happened to my little bookworm?! He only wants to play video games and build with his LEGO blocks.

BG, on the other hand, can’t get enough of being read to. As some of y’all already know, she read her first book out loud yesterday. It was one she hadn’t read before, and she zoomed through it so quickly that there’s no doubt in my mind that she has been able to read at least somewhat for a while now. I rather doubt that she’ll read much for others just yet, because that’s how she rolls, but I’m so proud of her. She has struggled in a lot of areas developmentally, so it’s great to see her “win” one.

So, coffee folks, if we were still drinking, I’d tell you that I’m at a loss for anything else to tell you for this week. I swear, my life has gotten so boring lately in terms of juicy (or interesting) stuff to share. That or my memory sucks, and I’m pretty sure it’s the former. Boredom is good, I suppose, since that means there’s no shit hitting the fan anywhere.

As the random girl who popped into the break room in college, looked around, and then quickly darted off said, “Ta-ta for now.”

Weekend Coffee Share is hosted by Eclectic Alli.

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Female Randomness

The girl wanted me to paint her fingernails. LM was disgusted and said, “Aren’t we raising her better? Nail polish is absolutely pointless!”

True, BG hasn’t been a girly girl. That’s due in part because of me, I’m sure, but I read that ASD girls are typically more tomboyish, so maybe I’ll fall on that the next time one of the grandparents points a finger at me.

Really, though, I’ve always encouraged BG to make her own choices. The first time I let her get a “baby” at Walmart, I let her choose from a plush Elsa and a plush Spider-Man. It was Spidey, of course. She does love the superheroes (but who doesn’t these days?), the body organs, the road signs, and now the dinosaurs and the solar system. I so love her interests because she’s truly doing her own thing. And choice-wise, she also gets to pick out her clothes, and while she mostly gravitates towards superhero stuff (some of which we get from the boy section), she has picked out the occasional dress. So she’s not 100% tomboy.

Enter the nail polish.

A couple of weeks ago, she mentioned wanting to paint her fingernails. She asked if we could paint our nails together, too, sweet girl that she is. I’ve only painted my nails once or twice over the past few years, but I was down for it. I found some non-toxic polish for her at Target because she has her hands in her mouth constantly. She wanted red and blue for Spider-Man, but they only had blue. I got a plum color for myself.

Cute, right?! After painting them she told me she wanted to take it off, but I encouraged her to give it a couple of days. I didn’t have nail polish remover, and even if I had, I didn’t particularly want to use it on her hands. We saw all the grandparents over the weekend, and the grandmothers were so pleased with the polished nails. I could see visions of pretty hair bows dancing in their heads.

Did I ever tell y’all how my mother-in-law bought BG around 100 hair bows? She constantly bought those things starting when we found out BG was going to be a girl. She was not a fan even as a baby (although we did get a few cute pictures of her wearing them before snatching them off), and never became one. That didn’t stop my MIL, though. Up until the girl was 4, she continued buying them, convinced that it wasn’t a matter of BG not liking the bows so much as just not finding the right one. LOL.

The nail polish has since worn off, but I’m glad she asked for them to be painted. It was a fun mommy-daughter time, ya know? My polish is holding strong, and let me tell you, my husband is not a fan of my polish.

“Why are you trying to be all goth?” he asked when he saw them.

I held my fingers in front of his eyes in the light and showed him they are a plum color.

“They look black, like you’re trying to be all goth.”

I refrained from gouging his eyes out even though I was in prime position to do so.

I just laughed at him, of course, but that reminded me of when I was in middle school and painted my nails a midnight blue color. It also looked very dark when not in the light, and my busybody old cousin (she’s like 30 years older than me) told my grandmother that obviously I was on drugs because I had black nail polish. I was sitting right there, too.

Y’all.

Can you imagine that? Being told you’re on drugs because you have a darker color nail polish? Crazy.

This is also the cousin who told my grandmother that I wasn’t really hard of hearing and that I was just faking so I could get the TV turned up louder. (Let that sink in.) When she told my grandmother that she used to whisper and make low noises to “test” me to see if I was faking it, my grandmother was super pissed. (And the cousin said the results of her “test” were that I was simply ignoring the noises and whispers because I wanted to continue faking them.)

We didn’t care for that cousin, but my grandmother put up with her because she was her sister’s child. She would always come over making snide comments about my grandmother’s home and other stuff. She even makes passive-aggressive comments on my FB page at times about not visiting her mom. Which I do feel bad about, but they talk major shit about people’s kids, and I’ve heard them say much worse about kids who are far better behaved than BG. And I’m not dealing with anyone talking shit about her when I don’t have to.

Wrapping it up…this enough randomness in one post for you? We’ll just call it a stream of consciousness post, which I hadn’t intended, but here we are.

A Rant And A Recap

Well, this was meant to be posted on Monday, but here we are on Wednesday.

I’m a pretty handy person, but I cannot undo the damage my husband did to our front door. He thought the handle was sticking a little, so he tried to fix it. And his fix means that it is now damn near impossible to get in the front door of our house. You have to press down on the button thingy on the handle with both hands, apply a lot of pressure (more than what our 100-pound son can muster), and if you’re lucky, it’ll open. It usually takes several tries and a handful of curse words to open.

And the back door is bad, too. He thought some air was getting in under the door last winter, so he screwed a strip of wood or something in the door frame. Because maybe he’d save a couple bucks on his power bill. And now, not only does no cold air come in (and I was confused about the air that was getting in last winter, because IT WASN’T COLD), but I also cannot close the door tight enough to lock the deadbolt. My husband is the only person in our home who can lock the back door. He says the door is fine and we’re just not doing it right and insists on keeping it the way it is.

Last week, I noticed that the door was unlocked and my husband was already in bed. Rather than wake him (and likely get no response), I tried to lock the door. I leaned on that door as hard as I could, but nope. I even took a running start and rammed my shoulder against the door in the hope of getting it close enough to do the deadbolt, but also, nope.

I need different doors or locks, people. Or a husband who will leave stuff alone.

Rant over.

We had a pretty good long weekend. We did fireworks on the fourth. We don’t usually do fireworks and the such because we aren’t very patriotic, but BG wanted fireworks, so she got them. She later regretted this when one of the fireworks “attacked us.”

So, my husband lit one of the big fireworks he bought and it started going off, but it was firing sideways. I told him I didn’t think that looked right, but he insisted it was fine, even though it was dangerously close to hitting the neighbors house. And then it shifted somehow and fired where I was standing with the kids. Like, two feet away from my head. I grabbed BG and ran (sorry LM) while fireworks whizzed past us. We did not become an ER statistic that night, thankfully. The girl has complained a lot about how her daddy attacked us with fireworks. Never again.

On Saturday, the kids stayed over with the grandparents while my husband and I went to a cookout at a friend’s house. I was not looking forward to peopling, but they had so much rum. So much. Between the rum, a pool, and a hot tub, I enjoyed myself. I tried to play volleyball and embarrassed myself, but that would’ve happened rum or no rum, because I suck at volleyball. 

We didn’t do much on Sunday, and yesterday, BG had to go to the doctor for her five-year checkup. Just ten minutes after we got there, BG loudly announced that she had been waiting for two and a half hours and she was ready to go. After much shushing, she shifted gears from complaining to filling up my camera roll with her random pictures:

That’s her Forky and heart. I’ll pass on including the ones where you get a good look up my nostrils.

The checkup was all good. BG’s still petite (9th percentile for height and weight) and didn’t grow much from last year. She’ll probably have a growth spurt after we buy and take the tags off of her school uniform stuff 😉 We talked to the doctor about the ASD diagnosis, and she said she was glad that we got a second opinion and that’s what she thought was going on, too. She gave me a list of books to check out that she said she found helpful with her own child, so my stack of books is continuing to grow.

And I’m going to wrap up the post because a) it’s two days late and I can’t remember how I wanted to end it and b) my son wants to have a staring contest for some reason.

That’s What She Said

Some of y’all know that The Office is one of my favorite TV shows ever. The boy has watched it with us for a long time. We used to be careful about which episodes he watched, but since turning 11, we haven’t paid attention as much. And this has resulted in him saying a few things that are rather inappropriate.

I’ve heard, “That’s what she said” about 500 times. In all fairness, that became a thing at LM’s school. A lot of his classmates also watch The Office, so they have all picked up on Michael’s favorite saying. The kicker? They don’t have a clue what it means judging from the examples LM has given me. For example, if the teacher said, “Read blah blah for homework,” one of the kids would say, “That’s what she said.” Or if the teacher said, “Line up for lunch,” someone would say, “That’s what she said.”

They basically think the phrase is supposed to be used for whenever a female says something, which is hilarious. LM accidentally used it appropriately recently. I commented on something being a mouthful, and he said, “That’s what she said.” He had no clue why I thought that was hilarious vs. my lack of laughter when he later told me, “That’s what she said” after I commented on how good the tacos were.”

Remember this one?

Yeah…LM called his sister that a few weeks ago when he got pissed off at her. I was driving at the time, and driving isn’t a good thing to be doing when you hear your son call his sister that. After telling him not to ever repeat that again, I asked him what he thought it meant. “It means she’s a dumb brat,” he told me. Uh, no. Just no. And even then, we don’t call names.

(BTW, when I had to reorder checks last year, I tried to have this printed on my checks. I know, I know, not mature, but the lady in the office at LM’s school is someone I don’t like at all, so I wanted to print them for her — every time I send in a check, it’s in an envelope only she sees. Unfortunately, the company canceled the order.)

And just last week, LM made a reference that caught his dad off guard. He was in the bathroom supervising the kids brushing their teeth when I heard him yell, “NO! Don’t ever say that again!” LM said this:

And we’re back to making sure he only watches certain episodes of the show.

Home Alone

Y’all remember how busy my June was? Well, it was riddled with stomach bugs, too. I guess that’s the price you pay when the kids a) go to camps and b) constantly have their hands in their mouths. They pick up everything.

The last bug didn’t involve puke or diarrhea, so that was nice at least. It involved fevers, headaches, earaches, muscle cramps, and a sore throat and lasted a few days. And now that I’ve written that out, I realize it sounds a lot like the flu. Do people get the flu in the summer? I’ve never heard of it, but if anyone would get that, it’d be my two.

The girl won a free stay at a themed hotel/water park near us, so that was planned for Sunday. Unfortunately for me, a migraine hit on Saturday, and then I woke up in the middle of the night with a fever and the absolute worst headache I’ve had in my life. The rational part of my brain knew it had to be a double whammy of the migraine and their bug, but the non-rational part (which tends to be a big part at times) was convinced I was gonna die. When I had that cochlear implant surgery, they told me there is an increased risk of meningitis, so I was freaking out a bit. WebMD suggested a brain hemorrhage, by the way. I don’t know why I even bother with that site.

I woke my husband up after I took my temperature and told him I might be dying. He said “Sorry” and went back to sleep. So in between groaning over my head throbbing, I silently fumed at him.

I stayed home from the trip. Hearing the girl scream at the top of her lungs in the other room made my head hurt worse, and there was no way in hell I was gonna try to be in the car with her for an hour. Plus I knew I’d just be in the hotel room, so no point in going. I’m 35, and that was the first time I have ever stayed alone at night. I don’t necessarily want to be around people, but I don’t like being alone either, because I’m a fraidy cat. On the rare occasion I was supposed to be alone in the past, my baby brother would stay with me. He works weekends now, though, since he’s a cop.

Y’all would’ve laughed at my paranoid self. I had the house all set up so I would hopefully hear any intruders. I put stuff at all the exterior doors that would crash over if anyone broke in, had the lights and TV on, and I stuck a door stop thingy under the bedroom door. And then it occurred to me that if I super felt like I was dying in the night and had to call 911 that they wouldn’t be able to get to me. Paranoid/anxious person problems.

No one got me. And the possible meningitis obvious was just a migraine and bug. Whoo hoo, I made it!

Hopefully with July being slower, and staying inside more because of the heat wave, we can avoid more bugs. 🤞🏻