Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Friday, April 02, 2004
..one clear, one even worse stopped up than last time. Same routine as before--anesthetic juice in her ear, wait, have Green Eggs and Ham read to me while I peruse Teen People magazine, and then lots of tears and stuff as wads of horrifying ick was vacuumed out of her ear. And I mean horrifying. She was in a lot of pain just from having it drained, so Doc decided to not try to put in the tube, but to wait and do it under anesthesia, which I have been hoping she would not have to do. ::sigh:: Another checkup in two weeks, and we'll see then what the final outcome will be.
At least this time I had the foreknowledge to bring along various emoluments and bribes to keep her from having to be scraped off the ceiling. Before I left for work yesterday, I got out three Sacagawea dollar coins that I had stashed away with my Susan Bs and put them in my pocket. Those came in handy. We also took Flip the Boneless Cat with us into the exam room for moral support. Flip also came in handy.
Anyway, as the carnival of fun began, I reached into my pocket as Tiny Girl strangled Flip in anticipation of the impending discomfort, and pulled out one of the coins--"Cat, I know you don't want to have this done, but if you want to, when we're all through, you can have this beautiful product of the United States Mint that is worth a WHOLE DOLLAR!"
"What is it?" So, I went into the long discussion of Mint policy and the perceived need to use our coinage to celebrate America's diversity through the use of unattractive design and thin, easily-tarnished outer cladding to amp up the bling factor. Not really.
"It's a dollar coin instead of a dollar bill. See? Says "One Dollar" right there, and you can keep it and put it in your bank, OR -- we can go to the DOLLAR STORE!!" Yes, shameless, I know, but as I always try to go with my strengths.
"DOLLAR STORE! Yes! Can I have another one?"
Stop right there, please--no jokes about "negotiating the price"! This is my baby, after all! But she's as shameless as her pappy, and for some reason was able to figure out if I had one I might have more. She wound up getting all three, of course. Between those and Flip, she managed to make it okay, but it was still quite painful for her--part of it was the anticipated pain remembered from the last time, and part was the result of having a hole jabbed in you. Either way, or in combination, does not for a happy little girl make.
She was one big pouty puss after it was over, and refused to even look at the doctor as he discussed the next steps with me. He left and I petted her and kissed Flip's ear and reminded her about the trip to the store, and in a minute or two, she was back to her old wickedly giggling self. The doctor came back in with her prescription, and she shyly managed a smirk for him, too.
Off then, back across town to home where we stopped at the Dollar Tree and spent thirty minutes picking out the perfect things--Silly Putty, a hairbrush, and a set of plastic costume jewelry. She already has very high standards, guys, so watch out when she's old enough to date.
On then to meet Reba with Boy and Middle Girl at the soccer park. Yes, amongst all of this, there was that, too. Made the handoff of Tiny Terror for the other two, caught up briefly on what all had gone on, then said our goodbyes. And bought Jonathan a hot dog. Probably not what you should feed a kid about to go run around for two hours, but at least it did stay down.
Long practice, and chilly, and completely devoid of diversions--I had forgotten to bring anything to read, and so I just sat and went blank.
That happens a lot.
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