It's the last day of school! It's the last day of school! Urban Dad will be home in an hour and is aaalllll ours until late August!
Join me in the Happy Dance??
(i couldn't find the version i wanted on e-snips, so here's the vid instead)
Friday, June 13, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Quick Updates
Two must-share things today:
1. Re: what happened with Story #2... I'm told that Urban Kid 2 closed the bathroom door, but that everyone was outside of the bathroom when it happened. I'm still not clear on exactly how the door got locked. I asked Urban Dad if he was sure that this was how it went down, and he swears it was. I'm pretty sure that Urban Kid 1 would have ratted him out, er, come up with an honest answer by now if it was not the case. But it did have me wondering for a few hours that day!!
2. Urban Dad was voted Teacher of the Year at Great Big Urban High School...again! This is a school of 4,000+ students, and they're the ones who get to vote for this. And it's his second year in a row of getting the title! So if U-Kid 2 wakes up from her nap in time, we may go over to our neighborhood candy store and see if we can find a treat for him. Of course, U-Dad was not the one to tell me this. A friend and colleague at GBUHS sent me a text message at around 11:30am. I've already called his mom to remind her of how fantastic her son is (sadly, she needs this reminder occasionally). I also called Best Namma Ever! to tell her how great her grandkids' daddy is.
Ok, off and running again.
Happy Thursday!
1. Re: what happened with Story #2... I'm told that Urban Kid 2 closed the bathroom door, but that everyone was outside of the bathroom when it happened. I'm still not clear on exactly how the door got locked. I asked Urban Dad if he was sure that this was how it went down, and he swears it was. I'm pretty sure that Urban Kid 1 would have ratted him out, er, come up with an honest answer by now if it was not the case. But it did have me wondering for a few hours that day!!
2. Urban Dad was voted Teacher of the Year at Great Big Urban High School...again! This is a school of 4,000+ students, and they're the ones who get to vote for this. And it's his second year in a row of getting the title! So if U-Kid 2 wakes up from her nap in time, we may go over to our neighborhood candy store and see if we can find a treat for him. Of course, U-Dad was not the one to tell me this. A friend and colleague at GBUHS sent me a text message at around 11:30am. I've already called his mom to remind her of how fantastic her son is (sadly, she needs this reminder occasionally). I also called Best Namma Ever! to tell her how great her grandkids' daddy is.
Ok, off and running again.
Happy Thursday!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Short Stories
Short Story #1:
The backstory: Urban Kid 1 is friends with Little Molly. They played together a lot at the gym. Molly's Mommy and I figured this out and began hanging out, eventually becoming friends. Then Molly's Mommy met Las Vegas Guy and went head over heels. They moved out there in November to "spend the winter" and are still there. UK1 misses her terribly.
Me: (while looking at a text message) Molly's Mommy is engaged! Las Vegas Guy proposed last night!
U-Dad: That's great! Good for them.
UK1: (slowly, with wide eyes and a very quiet voice filled with worry) Will she still be Molly's Mommy??
Much reassuring followed that yes, indeed, she would still be Molly's Mommy. And that before she is anything for the rest of her life, that she would be Molly's Mommy. That Molly was going to come out just fine in all of this.
Short Story #2:
Backstory: I'm on my way into the eye doctor's office building downtown when my cell phone rings. Also, "Mike" is our wonderful landlord.
U-Dad: Hi! So are you downtown yet?
Me: Yes, just about to go into the building.
U-Dad: Uh-huh, that's great. Soooo, um, where's that key that Mike gave you that unlocks the downstairs bathroom from outside? (he sounds entirely too bright and cheery)
Me: Hanging on the kitchen bulletin board. Why?
U-Dad: Wha'? Oh, um, no reason. So where on the bulletin board? Top half? Lower half?
Me: I don't know. I just pinned it up there when he gave it to me a couple of years ago. It's a skinny piece of metal wound into a loop on one end. You just put it into the hole in the doorknob and why are you asking me this?
U-Dad: No reason, just wondered. (sounding hurried) Ok, good luck at the doctor's office. Let me know how it goes!
(click)
Eye Update: Vision is now 20/40, so I'm legal to drive without correction! Doc expects that it will continue to improve over the next month.
Hope everyone's week is going well!
The backstory: Urban Kid 1 is friends with Little Molly. They played together a lot at the gym. Molly's Mommy and I figured this out and began hanging out, eventually becoming friends. Then Molly's Mommy met Las Vegas Guy and went head over heels. They moved out there in November to "spend the winter" and are still there. UK1 misses her terribly.
Me: (while looking at a text message) Molly's Mommy is engaged! Las Vegas Guy proposed last night!
U-Dad: That's great! Good for them.
UK1: (slowly, with wide eyes and a very quiet voice filled with worry) Will she still be Molly's Mommy??
Much reassuring followed that yes, indeed, she would still be Molly's Mommy. And that before she is anything for the rest of her life, that she would be Molly's Mommy. That Molly was going to come out just fine in all of this.
Short Story #2:
Backstory: I'm on my way into the eye doctor's office building downtown when my cell phone rings. Also, "Mike" is our wonderful landlord.
U-Dad: Hi! So are you downtown yet?
Me: Yes, just about to go into the building.
U-Dad: Uh-huh, that's great. Soooo, um, where's that key that Mike gave you that unlocks the downstairs bathroom from outside? (he sounds entirely too bright and cheery)
Me: Hanging on the kitchen bulletin board. Why?
U-Dad: Wha'? Oh, um, no reason. So where on the bulletin board? Top half? Lower half?
Me: I don't know. I just pinned it up there when he gave it to me a couple of years ago. It's a skinny piece of metal wound into a loop on one end. You just put it into the hole in the doorknob and why are you asking me this?
U-Dad: No reason, just wondered. (sounding hurried) Ok, good luck at the doctor's office. Let me know how it goes!
(click)
Eye Update: Vision is now 20/40, so I'm legal to drive without correction! Doc expects that it will continue to improve over the next month.
Hope everyone's week is going well!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Working Vacation
Summer vacation is within reach. This week is the last for the Chicago schools, so Urban Dad is just aboutoutta there. He gave one set of finals on Friday, the rest are today and tomorrow. On Wednesday, Urban Kid 1 will get to teach his kids (the student teachers get younger and younger, I swear). Thursday and Friday to wrap things up, then everyone flees for the doors of the un-air-conditioned Great Big Urban High School.
So what are our first plans? To re-do the UK’s bedroom.
How best to do that? Ship them to Best Namma Ever!’s.
UK 1 will get to attend her first soccer class of the summer a week from tomorrow. Then I take her and UK2 to St. Louis. I stay for one big night, then I drive back the next day.
In the meantime, U-Dad will start taking everything out of their room and start spackling holes. We’ll paint the walls (we’ve been hard on this room, God love our landlord for keeping us!), then work out a new bed situation.
UK2 has always been long for her age. Ok, now that she’s fully mobile, perhaps “tall” is the word to use. I don’t know where she got it – I’m 5’6”, U-Dad is 5’9”. Ok, I know where… we’re both the shortest in our families, so she grabbed some tall genes from somewhere up one of the trees.
Anywhooooo, UK2 is now as long as her crib. It isn’t a standard-sized crib, but UK1 definitely lasted longer in it. If UK2 wants to stretch to full-length, she now goes corner to corner, poor thing.
So she’ll graduate to UK1’s toddler bed that UK1 really needs to get out of. UK1 will go on to a great-big-girl twin bed. And she wants purple bedding, thank-you-very-much.
U-Dad was a bit surprised by this: “There’s nothing between a toddler bed and a twin? Really? A twin bed?
She’s almost five, dude. It’s TIME. It’s been time!
Space is an issue, so we’re opting for this route:
We’ll tuck the toddler bed underneath. Voila! More floor space for another dresser and bookcase!
It's been forever since we've been without either UK. Alone. (UK1 arrived 11 months after our little living-room wedding.) What to do?
We’ll do the U-Dad’s 50th birthday dinner from yesterdays’ post. We’ll shop for a few things. We’ll go see some movies or rent a few that we’ve missed. We’ll open a few bottles ofwine. We’ll take long, meandering evening walks around the city. And what else? Gee, what else could we possibly do all alone just the two of us? How could two happily married adults spend a summer afternoon in the middle of the week with no kids around?
Huh. I’m stumped for ideas………
So what are our first plans? To re-do the UK’s bedroom.
How best to do that? Ship them to Best Namma Ever!’s.
UK 1 will get to attend her first soccer class of the summer a week from tomorrow. Then I take her and UK2 to St. Louis. I stay for one big night, then I drive back the next day.
In the meantime, U-Dad will start taking everything out of their room and start spackling holes. We’ll paint the walls (we’ve been hard on this room, God love our landlord for keeping us!), then work out a new bed situation.
UK2 has always been long for her age. Ok, now that she’s fully mobile, perhaps “tall” is the word to use. I don’t know where she got it – I’m 5’6”, U-Dad is 5’9”. Ok, I know where… we’re both the shortest in our families, so she grabbed some tall genes from somewhere up one of the trees.
Anywhooooo, UK2 is now as long as her crib. It isn’t a standard-sized crib, but UK1 definitely lasted longer in it. If UK2 wants to stretch to full-length, she now goes corner to corner, poor thing.
So she’ll graduate to UK1’s toddler bed that UK1 really needs to get out of. UK1 will go on to a great-big-girl twin bed. And she wants purple bedding, thank-you-very-much.
U-Dad was a bit surprised by this: “There’s nothing between a toddler bed and a twin? Really? A twin bed?
She’s almost five, dude. It’s TIME. It’s been time!
Space is an issue, so we’re opting for this route:
We’ll tuck the toddler bed underneath. Voila! More floor space for another dresser and bookcase!It's been forever since we've been without either UK. Alone. (UK1 arrived 11 months after our little living-room wedding.) What to do?
We’ll do the U-Dad’s 50th birthday dinner from yesterdays’ post. We’ll shop for a few things. We’ll go see some movies or rent a few that we’ve missed. We’ll open a few bottles ofwine. We’ll take long, meandering evening walks around the city. And what else? Gee, what else could we possibly do all alone just the two of us? How could two happily married adults spend a summer afternoon in the middle of the week with no kids around?
Huh. I’m stumped for ideas………
Sunday, June 8, 2008
The Post of Insufferable Urbanity
Ok, remember how Urban Dad turned 50 recently? And how his mom sent a check meant for us to go have a ridiculously overpriced dinner at some swank-a-licious spot? (she's into swank and thinks we should be too -- twist my arm.) And how we joked about if we could get through a six-hour 20-course dinner together at one particular place? And we were thinking of going here for dinner, which is not the six-hour place?
Well, we're now going to the six-hour place. However, we are not getting the six-hour menu (aka: the "tour" menu). We're doing the "tasting" menu. They want to know which one you want when you make the reservation. (is an eyeroll appropriate here?)
And where was I when I made this reservation? Go ahead. Guess.
Yes folks, while walking on a treadmill at the gym while squinting at the restaurant section of Chicago magazine in one hand and holding my cell phone in the other. (if it helps, there were only about five of us scattered throughout a rather large cardio room, and everyone else had on headphones -- and an eyeroll is definitely appropriate here.)
Commence cyber-smacking. But what the heck -- if you're going to do the experience, you may as well embrace it from the very first moment. Perhaps I'll even send something back to the kitchen. (ok, no)
On lighter notes:
Mommy Brag Moment: Urban Kid 1 took Little House in the Big Woods off of the shelf and started reading it out loud virtually perfectly while U-Dad and I stared slack-jawed. I was so not doing that before five.
Wife Brag Moment: Great Big Urban High School had its graduation on Friday night. Urban Dad was mentioned in the valedictorian's speech -- again! -- who was a former student of his -- again!
Well, we're now going to the six-hour place. However, we are not getting the six-hour menu (aka: the "tour" menu). We're doing the "tasting" menu. They want to know which one you want when you make the reservation. (is an eyeroll appropriate here?)
And where was I when I made this reservation? Go ahead. Guess.
Yes folks, while walking on a treadmill at the gym while squinting at the restaurant section of Chicago magazine in one hand and holding my cell phone in the other. (if it helps, there were only about five of us scattered throughout a rather large cardio room, and everyone else had on headphones -- and an eyeroll is definitely appropriate here.)
Commence cyber-smacking. But what the heck -- if you're going to do the experience, you may as well embrace it from the very first moment. Perhaps I'll even send something back to the kitchen. (ok, no)
On lighter notes:
Mommy Brag Moment: Urban Kid 1 took Little House in the Big Woods off of the shelf and started reading it out loud virtually perfectly while U-Dad and I stared slack-jawed. I was so not doing that before five.
Wife Brag Moment: Great Big Urban High School had its graduation on Friday night. Urban Dad was mentioned in the valedictorian's speech -- again! -- who was a former student of his -- again!
Thursday, June 5, 2008
The Gory Details
Ok, I miss everyone. I miss reading your blogs without squinting at the screen. I miss typing and (re-)editing my own humble posts. I miss shamelessly stealing images from Google. I miss finding typos. I miss reading the newspaper. And I'm missing the book that I started before the surgery. It will take a few weeks for the vision to clear up more thoroughly, but I'm certainly functional. I've even driven twice and didn't even have to parallel park using the Braille method. You see, with LASIK, you get x-ray vision right away. With PRK, you have to be more patient. But I've already yammered on about that.
So... wanna hear about the operation?? Squeamish folks, leave a kind comment now and head to your next blog.... it's ok. I'll understand.
About 1 1/2 hours before my appt, I had to take a pain killer. And it makes you feel weird. I don't know how else to explain it. It isn't punchy or dopey or anything. Just weird. Like you took something. Best Namma Ever! returned for more punishment -- er, came back to help out -- and we all headed to Urban Kid 1's soccer class. She felt like she would be ok bringing the UKs back home (city driving scares her a bit), so I left to grab some transit to Northwestern. Feeling all weird and full of nervous energy, I walked more than I rode. I was making good time and don't often get the chance to take in the Mag Mile area anymore.
Once I arrived, they had me sign my life away (I understand that the power may fail and my procedure may not be completed????? wha'?). Then they gave me 5mg of Vaaaaaliuummmm. Then the good doctor took me into an exam room and gave me numbing drops -- seriously, they rank right up there with the laser for making this all possible -- ok, that and Valium. Then he touched each of my eyes with a pen...TWICE. As he did this, I sat silently, exhaled slowly and screamed inside of my head. I figured that if I screamed out loud, I might not get my vision fixed after all.
After donning a fashionable shower cap, we were off to the procedure room. Once flat on my back and noticing "hey, look at the neat little flashing orange light," they gave me a sweet teddy bear to hold. Awwwwww........
Somebody then covered my left eye with a patch, scrunched a headrest around my ears and asked if I was comfortable. Hunky dorey, dude!
Someone then proceeded to tape my eyelashes open! The first image that came to mind was Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory -- if you don't know what I mean, be glad -- and my knees and sneakers started to move up towards my torso. There was a chorus of, "are you okay?????" But either my zen started grooving or the Valium started working or (probably) both. But I managed to relax and stare obediently at the flashing orange light.
Next came a gallon of numbing drops. Keep 'em coming doc, keep 'em coming.
I think I saw the scraping next. Didn't feel a thing. But I saw some sort of instrument going back and forth. And a film of some kind going with it.
My left eye was blinking like mad, but I kept that right one staring straight at the flashing orange light. Which sometimes looked a little stripey, like it was moving.
I think some more fluid was dumped in. I can't quite remember. Then came yet another reminder to keep staring at the orange light. And the doctor's fingertips on my forehead with a gentle reminder of "don't move." (eeeeyuh. no worries, dude) Then, "zap zap zap zap zap" while a woman counted in the background. The whole world went away in a darkening circle of black, but guess what was in the middle of it? That's right -- a flashing orange light!!
Then more fluid.
Still that damn light. And I think the teddy bear's arm was about to get wrenched off. But I was not. going. to. move.
Then some nice cool fluid. And it kept coming. Then more of it. And it was feeling cold. And colder. (remember the flashing orange light is still there) And then really cold. And then came a bit more silent screaming in my head because I was getting a blaring headache from the ice-cold s*** being dumped in my eye could you please knock it off already!!!!
I focused my way through it with thoughts like: "Remember labor with UK1...and you've run a marathon...and you've taught high school...and for god's sake you've worked in advertising... you can certainly do this."
Then a contact lens. "Aaaaand gently close your eye, Valerie."
Same thing on the other side, of course.
As I was there with both eyes closed, the ever-so-nice assistant helped me sit up, then asked me to slowly open them. And I had a really emotional moment where I said profound and deep things like:
"Dude, I can see your face! I can see that clock! I can see this entire room!"
He reminded me that this wasn't going to last, that things would deteriorate and then improve. We then went back to the exam room, where he talked me through how to use about 15 different drops (ok, three). I listened politely and reminded myself to check the written instructions later. (i mentioned the valium, right?)
My girlfriend Sandra picked me up downstairs and drove me home. I was having a really hard time keeping my eyes open. The surgery? The valium? Dunno. But she saw me to my door, where Best Namma Ever! saw me to bed. I went into the bedroom at 2pm and emerged at 7pm. At some point, Urban Dad popped in to say hi and ask how I was. I looked at the clock on his side of the bed and said, "It's 5:17." He smiled and let me go back to sleep.
The next few days varied. One morning, I could not open my eyes. They just refused to listen to my commands from the brain. One night, I sat in a dark room wearing sunglasses and still complained about light sensitivity. But the worst seems to be in the past now. I'm down to one set of drops. I can see well enough to drive short, familiar trips (*ahem* says me). Now we wait. Those who I have spoken to say that it will happen. It's just hard to be patient.
Ok, I'm off to bed. I get to put in a set of drops and don an attractive mask so that I don't rub my eyes in my sleep. New baby cells forming there -- don't want to smush them away. That, plus my mouthguard are making me really, really shexshee.
Thanks for checking in. Looking forward to catching up to your blogs tomorrow and over the weekend!
Oh, and I have no idea how that poor teddy bear did by the end of things.
So... wanna hear about the operation?? Squeamish folks, leave a kind comment now and head to your next blog.... it's ok. I'll understand.
About 1 1/2 hours before my appt, I had to take a pain killer. And it makes you feel weird. I don't know how else to explain it. It isn't punchy or dopey or anything. Just weird. Like you took something. Best Namma Ever! returned for more punishment -- er, came back to help out -- and we all headed to Urban Kid 1's soccer class. She felt like she would be ok bringing the UKs back home (city driving scares her a bit), so I left to grab some transit to Northwestern. Feeling all weird and full of nervous energy, I walked more than I rode. I was making good time and don't often get the chance to take in the Mag Mile area anymore.
Once I arrived, they had me sign my life away (I understand that the power may fail and my procedure may not be completed????? wha'?). Then they gave me 5mg of Vaaaaaliuummmm. Then the good doctor took me into an exam room and gave me numbing drops -- seriously, they rank right up there with the laser for making this all possible -- ok, that and Valium. Then he touched each of my eyes with a pen...TWICE. As he did this, I sat silently, exhaled slowly and screamed inside of my head. I figured that if I screamed out loud, I might not get my vision fixed after all.
After donning a fashionable shower cap, we were off to the procedure room. Once flat on my back and noticing "hey, look at the neat little flashing orange light," they gave me a sweet teddy bear to hold. Awwwwww........
Somebody then covered my left eye with a patch, scrunched a headrest around my ears and asked if I was comfortable. Hunky dorey, dude!
Someone then proceeded to tape my eyelashes open! The first image that came to mind was Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory -- if you don't know what I mean, be glad -- and my knees and sneakers started to move up towards my torso. There was a chorus of, "are you okay?????" But either my zen started grooving or the Valium started working or (probably) both. But I managed to relax and stare obediently at the flashing orange light.
Next came a gallon of numbing drops. Keep 'em coming doc, keep 'em coming.
I think I saw the scraping next. Didn't feel a thing. But I saw some sort of instrument going back and forth. And a film of some kind going with it.
My left eye was blinking like mad, but I kept that right one staring straight at the flashing orange light. Which sometimes looked a little stripey, like it was moving.
I think some more fluid was dumped in. I can't quite remember. Then came yet another reminder to keep staring at the orange light. And the doctor's fingertips on my forehead with a gentle reminder of "don't move." (eeeeyuh. no worries, dude) Then, "zap zap zap zap zap" while a woman counted in the background. The whole world went away in a darkening circle of black, but guess what was in the middle of it? That's right -- a flashing orange light!!
Then more fluid.
Still that damn light. And I think the teddy bear's arm was about to get wrenched off. But I was not. going. to. move.
Then some nice cool fluid. And it kept coming. Then more of it. And it was feeling cold. And colder. (remember the flashing orange light is still there) And then really cold. And then came a bit more silent screaming in my head because I was getting a blaring headache from the ice-cold s*** being dumped in my eye could you please knock it off already!!!!
I focused my way through it with thoughts like: "Remember labor with UK1...and you've run a marathon...and you've taught high school...and for god's sake you've worked in advertising... you can certainly do this."
Then a contact lens. "Aaaaand gently close your eye, Valerie."
Same thing on the other side, of course.
As I was there with both eyes closed, the ever-so-nice assistant helped me sit up, then asked me to slowly open them. And I had a really emotional moment where I said profound and deep things like:
"Dude, I can see your face! I can see that clock! I can see this entire room!"
He reminded me that this wasn't going to last, that things would deteriorate and then improve. We then went back to the exam room, where he talked me through how to use about 15 different drops (ok, three). I listened politely and reminded myself to check the written instructions later. (i mentioned the valium, right?)
My girlfriend Sandra picked me up downstairs and drove me home. I was having a really hard time keeping my eyes open. The surgery? The valium? Dunno. But she saw me to my door, where Best Namma Ever! saw me to bed. I went into the bedroom at 2pm and emerged at 7pm. At some point, Urban Dad popped in to say hi and ask how I was. I looked at the clock on his side of the bed and said, "It's 5:17." He smiled and let me go back to sleep.
The next few days varied. One morning, I could not open my eyes. They just refused to listen to my commands from the brain. One night, I sat in a dark room wearing sunglasses and still complained about light sensitivity. But the worst seems to be in the past now. I'm down to one set of drops. I can see well enough to drive short, familiar trips (*ahem* says me). Now we wait. Those who I have spoken to say that it will happen. It's just hard to be patient.
Ok, I'm off to bed. I get to put in a set of drops and don an attractive mask so that I don't rub my eyes in my sleep. New baby cells forming there -- don't want to smush them away. That, plus my mouthguard are making me really, really shexshee.
Thanks for checking in. Looking forward to catching up to your blogs tomorrow and over the weekend!
Oh, and I have no idea how that poor teddy bear did by the end of things.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Almost There (I Think)
The bandage contacts are out...thankyouthankyouthankyoucauseihatedthosethings... but the vision was still fuzzy.
Today is better. Left eye is pretty darn good, actually. Right eye is still pretty fuzzy. So the world is lopsided. And it makes me headachy and a bit queasy after too long.
The Urban Dad is going into finals now too. Being rather slow on the computer, he relies on me for grade entry. Again with the headachy and a bit queasy, but what takes me 45 minutes takes him about three days. And at finals time, he just doesn't have three days.
In the meantime, Best Namma Ever! was selected for jury duty. Apparently, being the mother of the Pink Power Ranger did not get her booted. And if it's the case that I think that it is, it's a murder case. Ugh. Think a happy thought for the BNE!
More soon, really! But right now I'm a bit, well, headachy. And queasy.
Today is better. Left eye is pretty darn good, actually. Right eye is still pretty fuzzy. So the world is lopsided. And it makes me headachy and a bit queasy after too long.
The Urban Dad is going into finals now too. Being rather slow on the computer, he relies on me for grade entry. Again with the headachy and a bit queasy, but what takes me 45 minutes takes him about three days. And at finals time, he just doesn't have three days.
In the meantime, Best Namma Ever! was selected for jury duty. Apparently, being the mother of the Pink Power Ranger did not get her booted. And if it's the case that I think that it is, it's a murder case. Ugh. Think a happy thought for the BNE!
More soon, really! But right now I'm a bit, well, headachy. And queasy.
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