Our insurance changed with the job changes and I'm glad. Our office visit co-pay went down $5 just in time for us to go in twice in the last week. After our visit to the hospital for Harrison's minor surgery two Fridays ago, he was back in last Tuesday with a broken finger. I truly questioned even going in. He wasn't complaining, but the bruising and swelling looked pretty bad. Needless to say, he was not excited about going back to the doctor after his experience with the surgery.

During his time in pre-op, he was fairly calm. He fooled all of us. However, when it came time to put on the mask with gas, he freaked. His screaming brought both Chris and I to tears. He was so scared. The anesthesiologist apologized afterwards - as if it were her fault. It was that bad. So bringing him back to a doctor, a mere four days later, was almost cruel. He got a little nervous in the x-ray room, but overall came through like a trooper.

That brings us to last Saturday - the big party. I looked pretty good. My hair calmed down. My outfit was semi-flattering, even slimming if I stood the right way and sucked in enough, and I was in a good mood. Until I decided to be domestic. I was hurrying around trying to keep busy because the sitter was here, but Chris was not ready. This particular sitter is extremely shy - oh hell, she's mute. So making glib conversation with her is pointless. She's great with kids, but not with adults. So I decided to take out the trash. As I was taking the bag out of the can, it caught on the edge and the heavy, metal IKEA can came crashing down on my big toe.

It hurt. A lot. I winced and waited for the pain to subside, but it didn't. Until I drank wine. I actually wore heels to the party and was so excited to be in a social setting that I didn't notice the intense swelling and pain down below. When I finally laid down after midnight, I was well aware that my heart had inexplicably moved into my big toe. The throbbing was very distinct and heartbeat-like. The next morning it was pretty clear that something was wrong. I googled "toe injury" and learned that I probably had a subungual hematoma. Treatment: DRILL HOLE IN TOENAIL. Over. My. Dead. Body.

I suffered all Sunday with intense pain. I waited for it to subside, but it just got worse. Parent Teacher Conferences were yesterday and I wore Birkenstocks with dress pants. Yes. Really. With socks to cover the purple mess that is my left big toe. After hobbling around for hours, I finally decided that I had to go to the doctor. I whined, begged and groveled for lenience. That's when he told me that he had just done this procedure on a 5-year-old two days prior. LIKE I CARED.

It didn't hurt. I know that's what the doctor told me, but I wasn't just going to take his word for it. The smell, however, was unexpected. He used a drill - on my toenail - and it burned my nail. Then it bled for about three hours.

I feel better, but still have a lot of pain. It's not broken. (Of course I was in an X-ray room for the second time in seven days) It's just badly bruised.

Things could be worse - it didn't ruin my party!

43 going on 22

Today has felt a bit like a weekend day in college. I went to an Indoor Cycling class (not to be confused with Spinning class, of course) at a local college’s fitness center. The class was small, probably due to its early hour (11:15 AM), and that meant I was forced to interact with the few college students without hangovers. They complained about homework, fretted about upcoming tests and papers, and of course spoke about their upcoming nuptials to returned missionaries.

The music during class was great. It saved me from collapsing due to the intense burning in my lungs and quads. Exercising with college kids is a tad different from my usual classmates at my spinning class – let’s just say that I’m one of the younger members. We listened to “My Sharona” – The Knack and “Beat It” – Michael Jackson right off the bat. I knew this was the class for me. As another song came on, the instructor (a.k.a. naïve’, Mormon, 21-year-old bride-to-be) asked if any of us had heard it before – as if it were new. I burst their bubble and told them that it was really old. It was “Come On Eileen” – Dexys Midnight Runners (I looked it up) circa 1982…THE YEAR I GRADUATED FROM HIGH SCHOOL. They were dumbfounded. Then one of the other students said, trying to make me feel included, “Music from the eighties is the best!” At first I laughed, but then remembered what I revered musically during college – sixties’ songs: Van Morrison, the Beatles, Eric Clapton, Bob Dylan, the Stones, etc.

After class, I was released from taxi duty for the kids and actually took a shower and worried about styling my hair. Why? Because I cut it off and now have to do something with it. Thursday night I paid a ridiculous amount of money for someone to take away my comfort – my long hair. It is shoulder length now – or should I just say “old lady length”. At first it looked great. I’m convinced they put magic potion in the water at salons. They massage and rub all the frizz and tackiness out of your hair so that for one day you look trendy and attractive. I knew that once I washed and dried my hair the magic would be gone. I wasn’t prepared, however, for how ordinary and boring it looks. I wouldn’t care as much if we weren’t going to a party tonight.

Back to the college reference, I’ve spent a large portion of the day worrying about going out tonight. I am fretting over my hair (check), I do not know what I’m going to wear but have four options on the bed ready to try on (check). I bought a new tube of lipstick (check). I tried on multiple trendy shirts at Target only to be completely disgusted and deflated (check). Doesn’t this sound a bit like college? Actually having time to fret and plan about the evening ahead.

The sisters that are giving the party are beautiful and fit. They dress up for their soirees and truly enjoy entertaining. This will not be an ordinary party. There will be large buckets filled with ice for the white wine, fancy hors devours, and tons of attractive, intelligent guests. It’s great, but a little nerve wracking at the same time.

Can you imagine how freaked out I’d be if I were single?

Of course he got a laptop...

...and a new fancy phone with email, a private office, lunches out downtown and a trip out of town. Usually business travel is unexciting - dreadful to some - but no, not for Chris. He's going on a private jet, bringing his golf clubs, attending a meeting or two (between sushi and drinks) and then ending it all with tickets to the Monday Night Football game in two weeks.

I'm not jealous exactly. I'm not sure what I am. Probably just angry that I'll be planning a bake sale (seriously), for the club I advise, so that we can continue to contribute money to needy families in our school. I know, I know. I'm in an extremely noble profession. I help people. I change lives. Blah, blah, blah. Some days I just want a corner office with a view, a coffee maker to use that someone didn't bring in from home, and more than 28 minutes for lunch.

I'm thrilled for my husband. He deserves this extraordinary, new opportunity. He's worked for years to get to this point. Some days, however, I just wish that my profession had more solid validity in our country. I know there is a bumper sticker that says something like this - "What would happen to the military if it were funded with bake sales?" I think that sums up my feelings pretty well.

I know we need to protect our country, resources and other countries, but I just dream of a day when this country could wholeheartedly support its children. How many issues and problems would disappear if our children were properly cared for and educated?

Ok - no more soap box. I'm just mad that I don't have a laptop nor access to blogs during the day!

One for the road

The last few weeks have been a blur. My job has calmed down a bit, but continues to challenge me and push me. These are good things. The kids seem to love their new schedule. School all day and then a fun aftercare program right in the same building. Skating ended tonight and now they each have one activity. Much saner! Harrison plays soccer and Ella finally agreed to a dance class. The house is in disarray - all home improvement has slowed to a halt. We will try to catch up financially and start again in a few months.

Just when I thought we had everything under control, Chris decided to follow his dream and start a new job on Monday. Tomorrow is his last day as Harrison is having minor surgery on Friday so we are both taking the day off. We're cautious and nervous (about the anesthesia), but know that he'll probably be just fine.

Bottom line - I have to give up this computer. It's Chris' work laptop and I guess they want it back. I don't know if he'll get another laptop, and I can't blog or check email at my work (incredibly cruel employers that block all things interesting since I work in a school district), so I don't know when I will post again.

Here we go again - on another new adventure.

Have you seen these? Greatest things ever invented - little Ben & Jerry's cartons...50 cents.

My baby....

...starts Kindergarten tomorrow morning. This is her "first day" outfit of choice, but we've settled on a more subtle pink and brown number.

Don't try this at home

Well the day finally arrived. The rocket car, which was given to Harrison on his birthday back in May, was launched this afternoon.

This day took hours and hours of planning. Harry became bored with the whole thing after about the first 20 minutes of assembly. Then I think it took Chris about two more hours to finish it.last June. Of course it wasn't completed in one sitting. So after it was done, we did what any sane, normal parents would do - we hid it. Chris just couldn't bear to see all of his hard work damaged in one fell swoop!

Harrison knew it was on top of the china hutch in the dining room, but patiently waited for us to come to our senses and let him use it. Since our driveway is short and steep, we knew that it was not going to be launched at home. We also needed fuel. Lots of vinegar and baking soda. This involved a special trip to the store.

So this morning, the rocket car was down. The "fuel" was on the counter. And Chris was ready to sacrifice his lamb. We all climbed in the car and headed to a large, flat parking lot in our neighborhood. We had enough vinegar for three launches and it was really great.

Sometimes these things turn out better than you think they will, but Chris glared at me during preparation and said, "Do not EVER buy a model ANYTHING for this boy." I guess he doesn't get into tiny, tiny plastic parts and lethal stick-forever glues.