so much rambling

Sick Day Ramblings
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Sick Day Ramblings

First illness of the fall season is upon us. I had such a terrifically sore throat that I went to urgent care to ensure it wasn’t strep (it wasn’t) and it was a great opportunity to observe people at urgent care. The receptionist, as seems to be true of many (all?) healthcare receptionists, was an unsmiling, no-nonsense person who did not waste a single word. When I regretfully informed her that I had forgotten my insurance card, her expression did not change, nor did she say anything at all. I was flipping quickly through the photos on my phone, hoping I’d remembered to photograph the insurance card, and then trying to log in to my online patient portal because surely there’s a copy of my insurance card THERE, when she wordlessly handed me some consent forms, including one that magically had all my insurance information on it.

She was equally charming with the elderly gent who checked in after me. He had to ask her what “DOB” was (date of birth) on the form he was signing. I love that we can all go through this world at roughly the same time, having roughly the same experiences, and still acquire (or not acquire) vastly different stores of information.

I had made an appointment and still sat in the waiting room for 45 minutes. It didn’t seem particularly busy, but maybe they only had one PA on staff. Obviously, I have no idea why anyone else was there, but I was the only person wearing a mask. They did have a helpful box of tissues next to the seat I chose. No trash can, but that’s what pockets are for. The worst part was listening to someone in one of the exam rooms cough so repeatedly and so intensely that it resulted in vomiting. There but for the grace of God, etc.

Modern medicine really is something. The nurse scraped my tonsils with a cotton swab and in fifteen minutes I knew that I was strep, influenza, and RSV negative, but positive for rhinovirus. Because of the online patient portal, I got my results before the PA returned to the room. What a time to be alive. Although it would be nice if technology found a way to collect your sample without jamming a dry stick down your throat.

I always feel a little melodramatic when I show up at the doctor, feeling like death is upon me, and all I have is a stupid old ordinary cold. The PA was very sympathetic, though, and gave me a long, thorough list of all the ways I could address my symptoms. She even handed me a printout with helpful information on it: acetaminophen and ibuprofen for symptom relief, steam inhalation or nasal saline for congestion, practice frequent handwashing.

A friend of mine recommends a cocktail of an antihistamine, pseudoephedrine, zinc, and elderberry. My personal cold survival cocktail involves a ton of ice water, a ton of hot tea, and as much sleep as possible. I also throw in a Benadryl at night, to help me sleep. When I’ve reached the coughing portion of the virus, I typically force myself to mainline cough drops, which I HATE. I hate the flavor, I hate the click of a lozenge against my teeth, I hate the way my tongue goes fuzzy from back-to-back usage. By the time the cold has run its course, I never want to see a cough drop or a mug of green tea ever again.

It’s hard to know which part of a cold is the worst: The runny nose part, where you can’t stray too far from a box of Kleenex because your nose will turn into a faucet at any moment, and you scrape your nostrils raw with all the facial tissue. The sneeze portion, where you are either in the midst of sneezing or are sitting there, eyes watering, pressure building behind your nose, unable to sneeze. Or the cough segment, where your throat has a constant tickle and your abs, head, and neck ache from the effort of forcing air through your airways.

I’ve always been extremely lucky with illnesses. When I was a kid, I think I got sick once or twice a year. Usually a barfing illness in the middle of winter and then a cold or two. It seems like I always had tonsillitis as a kid, which I always thought was the name of an illness but is really just a description of swollen tonsils. In the 80s, it seemed like kids left and right were getting their tonsils out; I still have mine. And it doesn’t really seem to be as much of A Thing these days; at least, I’ve never heard of a single one of my daughter’s classmates getting their tonsils removed. Wait – no, I do know of one kid, who also endured an adenoidectomy. Carla has had strep throat a few times, but her doctor has never mentioned the word “tonsillitis.” I wonder what changed?

My mother advocates for chicken soup as a curative for any illness. Alas, I dislike chicken soup. But I do enjoy curling up in bed with the cat. He would rather be watching squirrels, but once I make it clear that’s not an option, he’ll settle in next to me and purr.

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Annual Pre-Birthday Fret Fest, Activate! 

Oh, hi. It is That Time of Year when I begin to fret about Carla’s birthday party. 

Didn’t we already take care of this, you may be wondering? And yes, yes, I thought I had taken care of it way back in April.  Well. The best laid plans, etc. 

To keep you updated: The theme is still Beach, the party is still at our house. It is still ostensibly a pool party. Will we be able to use the pool or will there be thunderstorms? Who’s to say, Internet. Who’s to say. Also, there is no lifeguard because “securing a lifeguard” in April does not mean securing a lifeguard. It means that your need for a lifeguard goes into some sort of system – but not a system accessible to all the people who work at the lifeguard staffing place – and then you have to call back a month in advance of your event and then thrice a week after that to be told, every time, “Call back on [date two or seven days hence] and we should definitely know whether we have a lifeguard for your event.”

I prefer to send out invitations to an event no fewer than four weeks in advance. That deadline flew past, because I was not going to invite umpteen children to my house without a lifeguard on hand. I know my limits. Finally, two weeks before the party, I convinced Carla to cull her list down to five and sent out the invitations. These kids are all good and experienced swimmers, and my husband and I are going to watch them every second. My in-laws will be there to do things that require leaving the pool area – showing kids to the bathroom, getting waters, answering the door for the food delivery. We are not having any parents stay, in part because that’s a whole additional level of stress but also in part because the more people on hand, the less confident I am that anyone will be watching the swimmers. 

Listen. I understand, fully, that the lifeguard staffing place has a lot of factors to consider. First, summer JUST started, and it’s prime lifeguard season, and I’m sure they’ve been scrambling to find enough high school and college kids to staff all their clients’ needs. Plus, I am guessing that their primary business comes from country clubs and community centers and camps, who all need multiple lifeguards for multiple days a week, and I completely see how it would be a priority to staff those bigger clients before my tiny one-time party. 

And yet… if you cannot promise a lifeguard for an event, perhaps do not promise a lifeguard for an event?!

I pulled this meme from somewhere on the internet and I’m sorry about the typo.

The most maddening thing about the lifeguard issue is that when I finally called them, a week before the party, and told them I no longer needed a lifeguard because I couldn’t deal with the uncertainty (I left a message and I promise I was as nice as possible over the phone; it’s not the fault of the people who do the scheduling), they called me back later that day and left a message that said, “We have a lifeguard for you, in case you change your mind.” ARGH. 

Other people probably would have taken the lifeguard staffing person’s promise of “Oh, I’m SURE we’ll have someone for you.” (followed, always, by, “But call back next Monday just to confirm”) as good enough, but I couldn’t do it. 

MOVING ON.

You may have noticed back there a few vents ago that I referenced food delivery. And lo, we are no longer having a taco party. My husband convinced me and Carla that getting takeout from a local restaurant would be better and easier. (And more expensive, probably? But I didn’t do any sort of price comparison because I don’t want to know.) 

Carla also vacillated WILDLY about what kind of dessert to serve. We began, back in April, with beachy cupcakes. Then she decided she didn’t want cupcakes, she wanted some sort of frozen treat. 

Carla did vacillate back to cupcakes and now I’m making watermelon cupcakes.

I couldn’t put together exactly the right LOOK she wanted (I get the feeling her entire vision was based around Ken from the Barbie movie and I could not get that vibe together), so we settled on flamingoes. (There are a ton of cute flamingo options out there, if you are looking for a flamingo theme.) But then she decided she wanted flip flops as part of the theme, too, and then watermelons… and there seem to be plenty of options available if you want to throw a watermelon-themed party or a flip-flop-themed party, but nothing that effortlessly already combines watermelons and flip flops and flamingoes and beach. So now the whole thing feels very chaotic to me. I realize this is a Me Problem, and none of the kids will care, and it will be cute, and the theme will be, loosely, BEACH as intended, and it will be fine and I should waste NO MORE TIME on thinking about this at all. 

Should, of course, being the operative word.

Okay. Food and theme sorted. Now I am in the throes of What If Our Pool Party Becomes an Indoor Party? anxiety, because – as you already Well Know if you’ve read this blog for any length of time – a party at my house is my nightmare. 

Every year since Carla was, I think, three, I have outsourced the party part of her birthday to someone else: a paint-your-own-painting place or an indoor playground or a petting zoo or a nature hike. This is important to me for two very important-to-me reasons: 1. I don’t have to have a bunch of people in my home which I find stressful on cleanliness/food prep/introvert levels, and 2. SOMEONE ELSE TAKES CARE OF THE ENTERTAINMENT. I do not know how to entertain people! I am not entertaining! The only reason I agreed to having a party at my home is because the pool is the entertainment. If we remove the pool from the equation, we have nothing. NOTHING. 

Taking a step back, I think – I really do – that the kids would be okay if they all just hung out in Carla’s room and chatted and did whatever it is tweens do when they are together. But my FEAR is that they will be bored and teenagery and they will have a terrible time and blame Carla for it and she won’t have any friends. 

Yes, yes, ths is catastrophic thinking at its finest (speaking of, of course I have spent many many hours worrying about drowning and other pool related injuries, don’t think I haven’t), I have taken The Threat of the Indoor Party way too far; it will be fine. Even if they are a little bored, it will be fine. Maybe the weather will even be swimmable! Who knows! 

Despite knowing that it will be fine, here is where I am: in a mild state of panic (much milder, I swear, than the all-caps multi-thousands of words might imply), and trying to soothe my panic with rational thoughts and also trying to plan non-boring and fun and cool tweenage things to do just in case they get all bored and mopey and why-did-I-come-herey and I-want-to-go-homey. 

Just to be 100% clear: I FULLY REALIZE I am overthinking things. That is sort of my brand, the overthinking. I promise you that I KNOW I can simply plop the kids down in front of the TV and they will be fine. BUT. It helps me to have A Contingency Plan, and so that’s what I’m trying to assemble. 

Help me? Please?

Here are my ideas so far:

1. A Treasure Hunt. Always a good option. Always fun for me to put together, even if they are stressful and tie my brain in knots. In my experience, group treasure hunts aren’t that great – there’s always one kid who reads really fast and takes over and the other kids are left to trail behind. But I could divide the kids into teams of two and they could compete with one another; in fact, I panic bought a bunch of clearance items from Michael’s that I could use as door prizes. But treasure hunts are a LOT of work and they always take far less time for the kids to complete than they take me to put together. 

2. Truth or Dare. The kids seem to love to play truth or dare, as I did when I was their age. Because I am (tada!) an overanxious parent, I would probably come up with some pre-planned truths and dares and print them on slips of paper for the kids to choose. That way, we could hopefully avoid destructive/dangerous dares and awkward/hurtful truths. (Like “what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten?” and “what superpower would you want?” instead of “what’s your most embarrassing moment?” or “who do you have a crush on?”) (By the way, this is probably a worthwhile topic for another day: the intervention of parents in their kids’ lives in order to prevent them from experiencing awkwardness/weirdness/discomfort. I have wildly conflicted feeling about that, and also have a child who attends a school where keeping kids comfortable is the norm, for all the strengths and weaknesses of that approach. Which means all her friends have that as their norm, which makes me feel like I need to uphold it when I am hosting them. Again. Different, MUCH THORNIER topic.)

3. Beach Themed Scattergories. I can make a Scattergories scoring card in Canva and print it out for everyone. This might keep them busy for a while, and I could give prizes to the winners of each round.

4. Who Am I?/Celebrity. This one is fun, but it strikes me as kind of difficult because I don’t know which celebs the kids know. It’s not like they are all sitting around watching Full House and Saved by the Bell and a handful of the exact same shows everyone else is watching the way I did as a kid. TSwift and their math teacher are pretty much the only people I can think of that they are all guaranteed to recognize. (They also all probably know our current and former Presidents, but since we all come from different spots on the political spectrum, I don’t think that’s a good option here.)

5. You vs the Birthday Girl? Originally, I thought it might be fun to do something like, “who knows the birthday girl best?” but I would want to be careful not to weight it too heavily in favor of Carla’s best friend. So I’m thinking of a game that awards points for things they can compare, like, “has the same number of letters in her name” or “has the same color eyes” or “has bigger feet” or “is wearing earrings” or things along those lines??? 

6. Nail Polish Spin the Bottle. I saw this on a website somewhere and to be honest, I’m not exactly sure how it works? I think the gist is, you line up ten bottles of nail polish, then spin a bottle of clear polish in the middle, and then you have to paint one toe or fingernail the color you land on. This requires a lot of nail polish… but I could get some from the dollar store. My biggest concern with this game is that the kids will get nail polish on the carpet. 

7. Guess That Tune. We no longer have an Alexa, so we can’t play Song Quiz. But my husband could probably set something up and the kids could keep track of who wins. I don’t know though – seems like a lot of work for a small payoff. 

8. Hide the Candy. I could totally buy a bunch of small, wrapped candy (like tootsie rolls, hork) and hide those all over the house. I feel like maybe Elisabeth did this for a party in the near-recent past, and I recall reading it and feeling astounded by its genius and its simplicity.

9. A Craft. The craft store (yes, I did go to both Michael’s AND the craft store, what of it) had some little flamingo suncatcher crafts on clearance: buy one get TWO free, and that was a theme appropriate deal I could not pass up. It is quite young for the kids – you just paint a plastic thing – but it’s On Theme and it could be something to do. A LAST RESORT, if you will. If we don’t do this craft during the party, I will pop the packages into the kids’ favor bags.

10. Poke a Prize. Carla mentioned this idea briefly – once – awhile ago, and I kind of mumbled and changed the subject, because it is TOO much work, and it also requires some sort of competition so the kids can pick a prize. I did it once in 2020, and it was glorious, and I plan to never do it again.

Okay, here is where you come in. Do any of these games sound reasonable? (We are not going to discuss whether my need for A Contingency Plan is reasonable.) Do any of them sound like instant party sinkers? Do you have any other Awesome Tween Appropriate Games or Activities in your back pocket? Is having gifties/prizes a good idea (to incentivize participation) or a terrible idea? (They will all also get identical treat bags at the end of the party.) I was kind of planning on making sure each kid gets one prize, but maybe that’s… infantilizing? Eleven-year-olds are VERY aware of being babied, based on my limited experience. And, I mean, a pencil case is fun but is your life going to be ruined if you don’t get one?

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Hi.

Have you ever had a friend you talked to regularly, with whom you shared a lot of your life? And then, for whatever reason – opposing schedules, illness, vacation, depression – you fell out of your regular pattern of conversations and then just… couldn’t get back into it? After a while, you feel like you have so much to tell your friend that you can’t really find a solid block of time for the surely Epic Catch Up you are going to have. And then, after even more time passes, you feel a little… embarrassed. Like maybe you weren’t as close as you thought you were, because clearly it’s OKAY that so much time has passed without talking. And maybe your friend won’t even be interested in all the mundane details of your life that have accrued since your last conversation. More time passes, and you begin to a) feel like the little things you normally would have shared with your friend are meaningless and stupid and not worth sharing and also b) forget the things you would normally have shared with your friend. And maybe some Big Things have happened during your communication break – but they feel too big to share casually on a catch up call; they should have merited their own immediate phone call. And maybe you have gotten really into How to Get Away With Murder or have started going to bed really early and you just aren’t sure how to work regular friend conversations back into your life.

But you miss your friend. You have to pick up the phone at some point and be your dumb, normal, overly awkward self. And hope that your friend won’t be too disappointed in/annoyed by/indifferent to the prolonged stretch of silence.

 

I stopped blogging back in May because I was having a tough time. Nothing was Specifically Wrong; my family and I are very lucky to continue to enjoy good health. I had just become mired in one of the bogs of sadness I periodically find myself stumbling into, and then everything – gestures wildly at The Entire World – grew so overwhelming I didn’t know how to grapple with it here. Writing about Good Things seemed like it missed the mark. Whining about feeling overwhelmed when I am one of the lucky ones seemed like it missed the mark. Posting my Pandemic Dinner plans seemed wrong. I don’t know. Nothing felt right, so I stopped.

And then Officer Derek Chauvin killed George Floyd and the Black Lives Matter movement took center stage, and popping back up to talk about the extreme awkwardness of Zoom meetings or plans for my daughter’s birthday cake seemed intensely off topic and inappropriate. Black lives matter. But talking about my own response seemed equally inappropriate; no one needs another overprivileged white woman chronicling her bumbling attempts at anti-racism. The things that I am doing – filling Carla’s summer learning sessions with Black voices, talking to her about racism, explaining to her what’s going on in our country and how Black people are marginalized and criminalized and killed; buying and reading books by Black authors and other people of color; interrogating my own internalized racism and taking a cold, hard look at how my own privilege has enabled me to ignore what for many people is a life and death situation; looking for ways I can become involved in anti-racist activities in my community; working out how to get past the inertia/laziness and uncertainty/fear that keep me from being an active force for change – are small and inadequate and hardly worth talking about.

However, I started to worry that NOT posting that Black lives matter was wrong, too. And I found I was on a seesaw between “you must say something or saying nothing says everything” and “this is a time to listen to and learn, not to say something just to say it.” The kind of extreme, all-encompassing ambivalence that leads to paralysis.

What it comes down to, for me, is this: this blog is not really a space for deep thinking; I’m not over here excavating deep moral and ethical topics and inspiring people to change their lives, and I don’t pretend to do so. This space is for frivolous and mundane things like dinner plans and mooning about my kid growing up too fast and proving how socially awkward I am. It’s an escape, for me — and, I hope, maybe, for you — from the constant barrage of awfulness we get from all sides. Or, if not an escape, exactly, perhaps a gentler exploration of some of the less (ha) fraught things we’re going through — grocery store trips, mask wearing, socially-isolated childcare — in These Unprecedented Times.

Well. All of this has been swirling around in my brain these past two months. I stopped writing, and the longer the silence has stretched, the harder it has been for me to know how to break it.

But I do miss this space. And I miss you. So, like it or not, going about it the right way or not, I am going to try to fumble my way back into blogging again.

Well. I can’t promise anything. Maybe the next post will be about cake.

 

P.S. Thank you so much to all you lovely people who have checked in on me via email or comments. I appreciate you more than you know.