shiredancer: (Hiding bunny by CCBarton)
I *am* alive and well, though my moods are so widely variable that it's sometimes hard to tell. The Fall quarter began on Thursday and that makes my work life so busy, busy, busy. I was a pirate wench at the Lake Casitas Pirate Festival last weekend, flirting like crazy (right next to my patient husband!) with all the handsome, sexy, roguish, rakish pirate men walking around. That was a good day with Kidlet... she and her friend were having a ball being as wenchy as they could, little vixens. I sent them off with proper cautions and I think they learned a bit about rebuffing unwanted advances. Once I hovered near when I overheard some guy trying his best to engage them in bawdy conversation, signalling "Do you need a rescue?" as clearly as I could, but was waved away. Then as I departed she called out "Bye Mom!" so that the pervy guy was nonplussed and then tried to play it up to mom. Kidlet and friend giggled wildly over that exploit. *Shakes head*

Otherwise, though, I'm still not adapting well to the teenage crisis. There are some good days like above, and lots of bad, completely shut away, uncommunicative days. How many hours can she stay locked in her room watching Buffy and Angel? Indefinitely, apparently. Everybody I know tells me it will pass, it's the age, it's a phase. My own mind says I've failed utterly and have lost her completely, that the biggest mistakes I ever made were coming on line four years ago and buying her that damn DVD player/TV for her room last year. Two nights ago I teasingly told her I didn't like this growing up stuff, and when were we going to play a game together again? And she replied that I had my chance but I turned away when I started doing nothing but playing on my computer, and now it's too late. OUCH.

And so it goes. Been falling asleep early, wanting to hide in fics while wanting to hurl the laptop across the room, and crawling in bed with the cats whenever it gets too much. Swinging from deeply depressed to a rebound back to my optimistic, this *will* get better, self. Getting dizzy from the swinging.

Sorry, not my usual fare here. *Sigh* Better next time, I hope!
shiredancer: (Mother and child by Lord Frederick Leigh)
So.. . last week was one of my vacation weeks for the summer. Did I go anywhere glamorous or exciting? No, I did not. Did I sit by the pool or on the patio sipping cool, lovely mixed drinks or wine coolers? No, I did not.

What I did, after spending one day helping to tear down the Peter Pan set (which always makes my heart cry just a little bit) and attending the cast party, was take Kidlet in on Tuesday to have her tonsils out. And seeing my Kidlet coming out of surgery full of nausea and pain makes my heart cry a *lot*. She's a stoic little trouper, is my Kidlet, and she braved it out. At thirteen, it was more of an ordeal than it is for little tiny kids. I'm not sure why -- more awareness of what's going on, maybe, and not healing quite as fast. Anyway, it was definitely an ordeal for all of us. She took her nice, strong, narcotic pain releivers 'round the clock, and I bought ice cream and popsicles and yoghurt and every cool, soft treat I could think of -- to no avail. She was either too nauseated from the drugs, or it was just too painful, for her to eat. Poor kid! To be so hungry, and then have everything you try to eat just *hurt*. Then she got sick of the sweet stuff, so I mashed potatoes and made creamy risotto and really soft, buttery zuchini -- and still she couldn't get more than a spoonful down.

It was also the hottest week so far, full of humidity, and when I wasn't waiting on Kidlet, I was sitting by the fan (or fans, if I dragged the downstairs one up) and reading. I couldn't even summon the energy to post to my journal -- kept up with a few comments, I think, is about all. I've been sleeping in Kidlet's bed with her and keeping her company watching Buffy -- we're up to season 5. Gah. She's just starting to get better now, a week and a half later -- no more pain meds, and she finished the course of antibiotics to prevent infection. She still has to be careful with what she does -- another week and half of not raising her voice or being rambunctious, and she can't go more than a 30 mile radius out of town because of the possibility of bleeding starting. At least the worst is over.

So that was last week. Not the best on record!
shiredancer: (Chessie)
Kidlet is an eighth-grader, and that means... science fair. So, she came up with a pretty interesting project (at least, I think so): she wanted to test the effects of caffeine on growing plants. She planted six snow peas in separate pots, watering one with plain water (as the control plant, of course -- see, I know some scientific terms!) and the rest had different dilutions of plain instant coffee, from half strength up to double strength. She's been carefully watching and measuring their growth, recording it all in her notebook -- counting the leaves, etc. Last night they had grown enough so that the little 2-inch pots were being outgrown (roots starting to come out the bottom), so we very carefully repotted them in the 6-inch pots and she figured out just how much to water them in the new size. The plants all looked very healthy and happy.

Then one of our cats ate them in the night.

Well, ate all the top leaves off of three of them, anyway. So, what exactly does this do to the experiment, I wonder? Invalidate it completely? I'm thinking she should just add it in to her notes as a small disaster or something, and carry on. *Crosses fingers that teacher will agree.*

I also think she should include a photograph of the culprit, clearly placing the blame.

Life -- it sure has its dilemmas, huh?

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