Milo has a ReallyBadCold. I worried it was pertussis because he woke up last night unable to get a good breath in. I ran around desperately trying to find the spacer for the inhaler because he couldn't get the hang of using it by itself -- kept just getting the albuterol on his tongue. Finally, I grabbed a toilet paper tube and used that -- I'm sure half of it ended up in the tube but I gave him four squirts in about 15 seconds and he got enough of it in to breathe. Cough, cough, cough, cough. He sounded HORRIBLE. Finally he worked it all out, calmed down, fell right to sleep again.
Cranked up on adrenaline, I drifted in and out of sleep from 2:00 to 3:00 and then got up shortly before 7:00. I had an interview for a little administrative assistant position that wouldn't have brought in more than a couple hundred dollars a month, but was related to Max's piano and it seemed like it would work with everything else I was doing. I'm glad I left early as I was pretty hopelessly lost and used every minute of the thirty minutes I'd left early to get there just right on time.
It was a nice interview but I left feeling no more sure that I really wanted the job. When they called later in the afternoon and said they'd decided to give the position to a long-time parent (it's a parent-run organization) but they really hoped I'd join the board as the piano parent representative, etc, etc, I agreed to think about it and sighed happily. I guess I really *didn't* want the position. I have so much to do already and lately carving out minutes to knit or just spend time with the kids and hubby have started to bring little bits of normalcy to our lives that we haven't experienced in what seems forever.
I have these moments where I'm watching the kids and they're so dang HAPPY and I'm thinking, "Look at that! They're having a childhood." I could kiss Max's friend from down the block every time he comes over because it's just so great. I was swinging in the backyard the other night waiting for Thor to finish marking the 700 little bushes and trees in the backyard (but a man-dog's gotta do, what a man-dog's gotta do) and looking up at the tops of the trees that are awfully far away. How did this happen? How did we end up a few hours from the place I lived the longest as a child? How did we end up back with the birds I heard outside my windows as a child? I look around and all these people could have attended the Methodist church we went to in Georgetown.
I think I mentioned that when I got off the plane the weekend I came out to look at houses here I picked up the car and headed out into a snow storm. Once I found the right freeway I settled back and peered out the window, chugging slowly along at 35 mph because anything faster was impossible. And I saw a Giant food store. That was my grocery store as a child. And I saw a CVS and a Victorian house with an old, old metal swingset in the backyard. And it hit me like a hammer on the head that I had inadvertantly brought my family back to My Home. I didn't think much beyond that. Just that, how about that? The going got tough so I boxed up the family and took them to the place I Knew Best.
But lately I'm realizing that there are implications far beyond just "Wow, how subconscious was that?" It means they'll have, by and large, an East Coast childhood. This is the first time my son has chased and caught lightning bugs. And it means, well, I don't know. I don't feel as homeless as I usually feel. I don't have that "not from around here" feeling.
Sometimes you put a knitting project down and you don't pick it up for EONS. And then you do. And when you finish it there is a feeling that goes WAY beyond the usual, "I'm done with this" feeling. Well this is kind of like that. Like I've picked up an unfinished project and started knitting on it again. Only this time around I'm a *much* better knitter. I know a lot more about that yarn and am not nearly so akward with the needles. I know I can really makes something with that yarn.
I hope that makes a bit of sense.
Anyway, back to Milo. I got him to the doctor's after my psuedo-interview and we ruled out pertusis and he prescribed some albuterol in liquid form and some kind of steroid. I didn't *want* them because we're switching insurances this week to get everyone on one plan and save a ton of money and the last thing I need is anyone thinking the boy has asthma, which he doesn't. So I took the prescriptions to the little corner pharmacy which does not accept Milo's existing insurance. I asked for the cash price and braced myself.
$22 and some change for both. Total. YEAH!! I paid. We left. And not only that but apparently this stuff has been around so long that they figured out how to make it taste GREAT because Milo begs for it. "PWEEEEEEZE, Mommy!"
Now, little by little, everyone else is getting it, too. Oh well. It'll be nice to have a quiet weekend.