I Am Set For the Season

Over the last 9 months I have lost increasingly large amounts of weight.  There is really no rhyme or reason to my weight loss and after having numerous full work-ups with varying doctors and specialists, it has all been chalked up to stress.  I guess I am a little more stressed with Mr. P's injuries than I realize.  Anyhow, because of this weight loss, I own literally NOTHING that actually fits me well.  No shirts, no pants, no jeans . . . you get the drift.

Dear Mother decided that because it is my birthday soon - TOO SOON. . . she would take me shopping.  First off I would like to say "THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU" to Dear Mother because I had an amazing day.  Good shopping, good food and great company.  It has been much too long since we have spent a day together, just the two of us.  

We decided to hit the largest of the 3 malls near where we live, so at 9:45 a.m. off we went to start our day.  We did not arrive home until 3:15 and were both shocked at the time.  It is true what they say about time flying when you're having fun.  

Dear Mother is an expert shopper.  She can spot beautiful clothing and the craziest of deals instantly upon entering a store.  I think she may smell them or something, I don't know. We started at Nordstrom, which I usually do not have much luck in when shopping there.    I know, odd, but it's true.  I find that they have a very limited petite department and all 5 feet of me ends up spending more money in tailor bills than on the actual purchase of clothing if I buy the regular sizes.  But not this time.  Dear Mother found probably over 50 items for me to try on and amazingly, most of them fit me like a glove.  Some of my finds are shown here.  

First, she found this really cool dress for my favorite bro-in-laws wedding coming up in 2 weeks.  I am so psyched, because not only was I pretty stressed about not having something to wear, but this dress fit so well and it looks great on me, if I do say so myself.  

As well as the dress, she found these adorable patent leather Ralph Lauren heels and a clutch purse that look like they were both actually made for this dress.  I am done.  One fell swoop and I had my whole wedding ensemble.  I will be topping it off with a pink pashmina shawl if it's chilly.  Why can't everything be that easy.  We also found this Michael Kors dress - Marked Down (again and again and again) - It doesn't look like much in the photo, but it looks great on.  I am pairing it with these boots and am now also done for the rehearsal dinner.

We also got a pretty good deal on these Joe's jeans.  These I need to have hemmed in a big way - maybe I can get another pair of jeans with the leftover denim and get a 2 for 1 :)  and the cowboy boots and black shoes - both of which look great with the jeans.

On to Talbots we went and they had some pretty great sale prices - I got these loafers (SSOOOO COMFY) and this black clutch (as well as a gray one) Clutches were on sale for $29.99 - Can't beat that.  

Our very last stop was at Coach of course.  I have been promising littlest cherub that to mark her rite of passage into pre-adolescence, I would get her a Coach purse for school.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a relatively inexpensive Coach purse that actually holds things?  I DO!  Anyway, I not only got her the purse, but the little cell phone charm too.  I couldn't resist. I think littlest cherub had a minor heart attack when I gave them to her - She was so happy.

And of course - I couldn't forget myself.  I still hadn't purchased a birthday present for me, so what better time and who better than to buy a gift for?  So, I gave myself this Happy Little Birthday Gift a little early.  I too almost had a small heart attack, I was so happy :)

         

And It Goes With EVERYTHING!

All in All, I'd say it was a productive day.  I couldn't have done any better.  I found some great deals - Got clothes that fit finally - Got enough pocketbooks to get through the entire winter without a care - And spent the day in wonderful company.  What could be better than that?

Thanks Dear Mother for an amazing day and all the wonderful gifts.  I love them and I love you.

Sushi Driven

My family loves Sushi.  Any Sushi.  All Sushi.  Whenever we are discussing our dining options, Sushi inevitably hits the top of the list.  Not that I mind Japanese food, I do like it on occasion.  However, I am allergic to seafood.  Very allergic.  When we hit the Japanese restaurants, I find that many times my food options can be somewhat limited.  Yes, we have found some restaurants that are not Japanese that serve Sushi, but to my brood, it somehow is just not the same.  

Anyhow, as you all know, Friday was Dear Hubby and my anniversary.  We were going out to dinner to celebrate.  Little cherubs decided that they wanted to come too.  Why stay home and eat fast food or microwave meals, when we can go and eat the veritable feast?  This is how my entire family thinks.  I am the only mom in the USA and maybe the world over that gets moans, groans and sometimes downright anger when offering up the unhealthy but quick "Let's get McDonald's" option.  From Dear Hubby to Littlest Cherub, they must, I repeat, MUST have the full meal with salad, carb, meat, and at least 2 or 3 other veggie dishes at supper to be satiated and happy.  

When dining out, our dinner bill is usually grounds for re-mortgaging the house.  There will be no kiddie meals for my youngsters.  We usually order an appetizer, a soup or salad, the entree (consisting of Prime Rib, Lamb, Veal and anything or everything in between) Why, oh why can my children not just order Chicken like everybody else.  

Anyway, I digress.  Mr. P and little cherubs LOVE Sushi.  In a conversation that lasted longer than the meal itself, we tried to decide where to go to celebrate our wonderful day.  Many options were thrown about.  Many options were close to home.  Many options were very affordable for a family of four.  But then it was mentioned . . . 

"I know" states eldest cherub, "Let's go to that buffet place that has all that Sushi."

"Yeahs"  All Around - expect from mom.  Remember?  I can't eat Sushi.  But being the loving and doting wife and mother, I calmly say, "Sure, but that is a 1 1/2 hour ride, it's raining.  Do you really want to drive all that way for Sushi?"  This question is in hopes that Dear Hubby will catch the drift and reply with a "No Way, that's much too far, let's go somewhere closer to home that has food mom can actually eat."  NO SUCH LUCK!

His reply - "Absolutely, we're not in any rush - let's go!  But, you'll have to drive, I'm having a tough day."  Mr. P was feeling some pretty bad pain in injured areas that day, I think the weather may have played a large part in that.  

So our little family of 4 piled into the car and with me at the wheel braving wind and rain started out on our 1 1/2 hour trek to get Sushi.  Dear hubby decided to go shortest route instead of fastest on our handy little GPS, so our 1 1/2 hour highway, traffic-free trek turned into a 2 hour lovely yet stop and go scenic tour of much of Massachusetts and MOST of Rhode Island.  We left at 5:00 p.m.  Arriving at 7:00 p.m., family jumps out of the car and rushes the restaurant, (It has been at least 3 hours since they last ate.  They might wither away or something if they do not get in there fast.) leaving dear old mom to park the car and get to the restaurant alone, in the pouring rain, with no umbrella.  

Upon entering the restaurant, family is nowhere to be seen.  I wander about aimlessly for a few minutes until I see Mr. P sitting alone at a table in a corner.  

"Where are the kids?"

"Up at the buffet."

"Already?"

"They wanted Sushi."

"Ya Think?!  Are you all set? Do you need a plate?"

"Sure, just grab whatever, and if you see the Spider Crab Sushi, get a lot of that."

"OK"

So, off I go in search of "Whatever" and Spider Crab Sushi for Mr. P, and whatever I can find of interest for myself.  I must say that this particular restaurant has THE LARGEST buffet I have ever seen.  If you can't find something to eat, you are definitely not trying.  It is all Japanese food, but they have everything you can ever possibly imagine, so at least there is a substantial choice of options for my meal.  

Upon return to the table with Mr. P's plate heaping full, I realize that he already has 2 plates (more heaping full than the one in my hand) in front of him.  Wonderful cherubs took care of dad.  Both children knew he didn't feel great and took it upon themselves to load up plates to bring back to him.  They do surprise me sometimes.  

"That is just gross.  You are never going to finish all this."

"Wanna Bet?"  And in he digs.  

After about 20 trips back and forth to the Sushi section of the buffet and about 200 pieces of Sushi later, eldest cherub declares that he believes he has an actual baby Tuna growing in his belly and he thinks he may be done eating.  Littlest Cherub agrees and says she doesn't even have room for dessert left.  Satiated and happy, Dear Hubby asks for the bill so we can be on our way.  It is 7:15 p.m.  That is just not normal.  I think that my family had suction hoses attached to their throats. 

"Did you people even taste your food?"

"It was awesome" . . . "So worth the ride" . . . "Best Sushi ever" . . .

My family is JUST. NOT. RIGHT.

At 10:15 p.m. we walk through the door of our home.  (Weather had gotten worse which made for a longer ride)   By 10:16, 3 of 4 of our bathrooms were occupied . . . By 10:20, there was not a peep to be heard as all three of my loves were happily sound asleep in their beds, probably dreaming about the wonderful Sushi they had eaten.  By 11:00, little Miss Beatrice had done her business and she and I settled ourselves in for the night.  As I lay in bed, ready to sleep, it dawned on me how funny and great it was that such a simple gesture as making the ride so family could get their fix was such a big and appreciated thing for all.  So again, I say, Happy Anniversary To Me, I did good.  And again, I'm glad my family was happy - we'll have to go again soon.

Happy Anniversary To Me

Today Mr. P and I have been married for 16 years.  Jokingly, I tell everyone "16 years of wedded bliss".  Unfortunately, the word "Bliss" doesn't even come close to describing our life and years together.  

Our dating was far from a courtship.  It was a whirlwind of parties and bars and friends.  I remember early on in our dating asking Mr. P why he never took me out alone, just the 2 of us.  Did he not enjoy spending time with just me.  His response was that really, right now, his friends were just more important, but if that ever changed he'd let me know.  About 1 1/2 years into this lovely courtship, I told him that I loved him.  His response to this was, "Boy, I really love this song".  At the time we were in his pool and listening to the radio.  Can you say, 'Please let me drown now?'  As much as these things make my dear Mr. P sound mean and like a big jerk, you gotta give the guy points for honesty.  I guess that was part of what made me stick it out for a little while longer.  

Fast forward a little and we come to the day he asked me to marry him.  So untrue to Mr. P form, he actually asked my dad if he could marry me before he asked me.  When he did ask me to marry him, it was truly unexpected.  We had talked about marriage before, but he always said, "I will ask you if and when I'm ready, but never before, so don't push me on the subject," and to be quite honest, I don't think that really bothered me, I guess I just felt like I knew that someday it would happen and I didn't need to rush things either.  We were very young and had our whole lives ahead of us.  So, me at age 22 and Mr. P at age 24, on September 12, 1992, we got married.  Of course, coming from the Italian family, it was a grand affair.  (We laugh at the thought that our wonderful hindsight tells us we probably should have taken the monetary equivalent of the cost of the wedding and run).  

16 years later, we are still together.  We are still madly, truly and deeply in love.  Mr. P may not be the sexiest man or even the smartest, but he is by far the truest, nicest and most thoughtful person I have EVER known (as well as the most annoying sometimes).  He is caring and considerate.  He is not a man who sends flowers or gives extravagant gifts on special occasions, but he is the man that always gets me a cup of coffee or water or candy bar at the store when he is running errands, just because.  He is the man that knows my moods (sometimes better than I do) and knows to treat me with kid gloves or harsh words if necessary.  He knows which stupid jokes and actions will still make me laugh and which will just aggravate me and when to actually use them.  He knows my favorite color, food, song, tv show, hobby, place, article of clothing . . . shall I go on?  But most of all, he knows me.  All of me.  The good, the bad, the ugly and the insecure.  He knows most (if not all) of every little secret or embarrassment I have ever had.  He is my life, my world, my one and only.  

Our life and marriage has been many things.  Blissful is definitely not one of them.  We have been through amazing times and dreadful times.  We have laughed, fought and pushed on together.  We have been through the birth of two amazing children together, one of which was a hellish ordeal in and of itself.  

We have been through some pretty scary and earth shattering changes in our life and marriage,  including some pretty intense sicknesses and injuries (the latest of which poor Mr. P is still battling), building his business together from the ground up, financial highs and very low lows, births of friends' and family's children, deaths of friends and family members, and so many other major life events, I would be posting for months to complete the list.  

Anyway, I say Happy Anniversary To Me.  I DID GOOD!  There are many decisions I have made throughout my life that I am not proud of, wished I hadn't made or just hoped things could have gone differently.  Being married to Mr. P is not one of them.  I love him - past, present and for always.  He is my man, my world.  I may have my I hate Mr. P moments, but they are always short-lived, for Mr. P undoubtedly and expectedly can find just the right action, phrase or gesture to make me smile.  And he sure knows how and when to use them.  So, again, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME!   Oh, and you too, Mr. P - I love you.

The Final Checkup

I had a lump in my right arm for about 2 years.  It had progressively gotten bigger, darker and uglier as time passed.  It was quite sore, but I got used to it being there.  Over those 2 years, friends, family and even the occasional acquaintance would see the lump, profess how disgusting it was and insist that I get it checked.

About 2 months ago, I decided to have it looked at.  After calling 4 (yes 4) dermatologists, all of whom "Are not seeing new patients", including my former dermatologist (it was so long since my last visit, I would now be considered a new patient), a friend of mine recommended a general surgeon that she had seen and really liked.

Off I went to see my new doctor.  After a few Ahha's and Uhmhmm's, he told me that he thought it was either an ingrown hair or oil gland that had not only an infection, but a secondary infection as well.  No Big Deal.  We'll just take it out.  

My first clue that this might not be the surgeon for me was that he asked me how long it took me to get to his office.  After I told him about 10 minutes, he decided that when he had some "spare" time, he would have his office call me and I could pop in to have it removed.  "Oh, OK" was my response. . .  and off I went.  A little later, it dawned on me that this might just possibly be the strangest scheduling of a surgery that has ever happened.  The next day, I called and discussed this with the office.  We then set an ACTUAL date and time for the removal of the lump.  

Clue #2 that this might not be the surgeon for me - yes, there are more - I am pretty thick-headed and clueless on occasion.  After checking in and getting settled, with dear hubby by my side (I am a big baby and always need moral support if any kind of pain is involved in a procedure), the surgeon enters the room with his trusted nurse.  

After a brief "Hello", the fight ensues.  Nurse hands Surgeon his gloves.  Surgeon sniffs - yes, sniffs - the gloves and says, "These better not be the gloves that smell like fish."  I am thinking, Did I hear him correctly?  So I say, "Fish?"    "Yes, fish, they bought gloves that smell like fish, I don't like them, I like the minty fresh gloves."    At this point, dear hubby and I are looking at each other dumbfounded while Surgeon and Nurse have a 10 minute argument about the fish vs. minty fresh gloves.  I wonder at this point if I should run for the door, or at least ask to see his credentials.  But, no, I continue to lay prone on the little table and wait for Surgeon to use his minty fresh smelling hands to cut me open.  

Clue #3 - After a very painful bout of numerous pokes with a very large needle to numb the area, I swear to you he numbed from shoulder to elbow, Surgeon proceeds to cut around the offending area.  "Oh, hmmm, I don't know what this is?  I've never seen something like this."

WHAT??!!  You've got to be kidding me, he did NOT just say that!  "What?" I ask.   "Oh, it's not what I thought it was, actually, I don't know what it is, but the good news is, if it were something bad, I would probably know what it was."    OH MY GOD!  OH MY GOD!  OH MY GOD!  Get me out of this nightmare.   "That's OK, we'll just pop it down to the lab for the biopsy and call you with the results."   

This is just grand!  Please, just sew me back up and let me get out of here.  

A gazillion minutes and 20 stitches later, I am running for the door, wishing I had just pressed on and looked for an actual, legitimate dermatologist.  But, at least it's over, I'm done and I only have to come back in 3 weeks for my follow-up and never see this man again. 

2 weeks go by.  I don't hear from Surgeon's office.  I assume everything is fine and the biopsy is fine and I happily go on with my life.  WRONG!  

Clue #4  - Phone rings, it's some moronic woman from surgeon's office.  Remember, 2 WEEKS LATER! 

 "Hi, I'm calling to let you know that we need to change your follow-up visit to a re-incision." 

 "Why?" 

 "Oh, I guess there was a problem with the margins of the first one."  

"Problems?  If there are problems with margins, doesn't that mean that it is possibly something bad?  What did the biopsy say, was the lump malignant?"  

"Hold on . . . Weeelllll, the report doesn't say malignant, so I would ASSUME that it isn't.  I wouldn't worry, we just need to schedule a new surgery."

"I would really like to talk to Surgeon, please."

"He's on vacation for the next 2 weeks, but I can have Partner Surgeon call you tomorrow."

"No, I would like Partner Surgeon to call me TODAY."

"Oh no, he can't possibly do that."

"Just have him call me please."

So, Partner Surgeon calls me later that afternoon.  

"What exactly did my biopsy say?" I ask.

"Oh, not to worry, it was a benign tumor, they just want to make sure we got it all.  The margin issue is microscopic so it isn't a big deal.  Just keep your follow-up and Surgeon can re-incise then."

"Oh, OK.  Thanks."  VERY confused, I hang up the phone and wonder what is going on.  Still a little misguided and clueless, I don't think to really question all of this.  

A few days later, the phone rings.

"Hi, we need to schedule your re-incision."  It is moronic office lady.

"Partner Surgeon said that I could have it done at my follow-up with Surgeon."

"Oh no, he won't have enough time.  You need to come in on the 15th."

"I can't come on the 15th, I am working."

"You have to, it's the only date we have."

"I can't, you don't have anything after that?"

"I'll have to call you back."  Please note, not said very nicely.

A week later, I get a message on my cell phone.

"Hi, you are scheduled for the 18th."

I call back and confirm.  On the 18th, off I go, sans Mr. P this time, he has to work.  

Before the surgery begins, I ask what exactly is going on?  What exactly is the report.  "Didn't my office call you?"  Surgeon asks.  After telling him my saga, he says, "Apparently you were misinformed."   WHAT?!

Clue #5

Surgeon tells me that the biopsy went to 2 labs.  The first lab could only confirm that there wer 'Spindle Cells' present, but could not diagnose any further than that, so they sent it off to lab #2.  Lab 2 determined that it was one of three things.   2 of which are malignant and not a good thing and the third being a benign tumor.  They were favoring the benign tumor, but wanted another biopsy to make sure.  Apparently, as the story goes, Partner Surgeon only read the last page of the report.  The first two diagnoses were on the previous pages.  YOU HAVE  GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!  Does this office communicate AT ALL?!  Now, in a panic, I ask Surgeon what happens now and he says that we are doing more removing and sending it to the Mayo Clinic this time.  Great.  He tells me we will go from there.

Again, the numbing process seems to last forever and Surgeon begins his digging. After quite a while, he says "Oh!"  Oh no, not again!  I am beginning to wonder if I am actually in some foreign country, in an illegal doctor's office that sells chicken heads in the front room and performs the surgeries in the back.  "What?" I ask, although I am not sure I really want to know.  "Well, your body seems to have rejected the sutures from the last incision."  "Rejected?" "Yes", he further explains that in basic simple terms, that although my skin closed up, I had a large gaping hole just under the surface of the incision.  My body apparently did not like the material of the sutures and decided to get rid of them altogether.  Any longer, and I could have had a nasty infection.  "You are going to use different sutures this time?"  You never know with this guy.  "Of course, I'm going to use silk."  Silk is good.  My body shouldn't reject silk.  We like silk.  

So after more digging, . . . I thought the margins were very small. . . Why is he digging so much? 60 stitches and an "I'll call you" later, I go off yet again, upset, confused and terrified.  Is it malignant?  Does this guy even know what he is doing?  How did I end up here?

To make a long story a little less long, today was my follow-up.  According to Surgeon, everything is gone, my body accepted the sutures and the incision is healing nicely.  It is quite large, but healing nicely.  The bad news is, they never did find out EXACTLY what it was.  The new sample was full of clean cells, old sutures and a little scarring, but nothing else.  Great, second time around was just for kicks, I guess.  They are "favoring" a benign tumor, whatever that means.  The good news is that whatever it was is now officially gone.  In a lot of after- thought, I requested copies of everything and also copies to be sent to my physician.  

Needless to say, the top of my TO DO LIST says, call physician, make appointment, discuss Surgeon and have her get me in to see a Dermatologist.  Hopefully, if I can make the commitment to a Dermatologist, I won't be so quick to put things off and end up with a doctor that I am now not so sure really has a license.  

Moral of My Story:   MAKE SURE YOU DO YOUR HOMEWORK REGARDING YOUR HEALTHCARE PROFESSIONALS AND NEVER EVER GO ON THE RECOMMENDATION OF A FRIEND. 

Apologies All Around

I was chastised yesterday for my last post.  I was told that it was very mean and that I should not say those things about my child.  They make her feel bad.  

I apologize to those I may have offended, but you need to understand that both children of mine, as well as dear hubby and I both, have a very unusual and a little bit dark, sense of humor.  I did however, take the chastising to heart and felt very bad about my post all day.  So, I decided to go straight to the source and approached youngest cherub after work.  

I started by apologizing to her and asking her if it hurt her feelings or if she was upset by my post or by the way we speak about her and her clumsiness or quirky behaviors.  I also told her that I say many of these things in jest and I thought that she knew we were kidding when we call her "Cyclone Mary" or make fun of her clumsiness, etc. . .  But, if she was upset or doesn't like it and it makes her feel bad, then we will certainly stop and never say or do those things again.  

The following conversation is what ensued:

Littlest Cherub:  "What Post?"

Me:  "The one I wrote about you and the nurse on the first day of school.

LC: "You wrote a post about me going to the nurse?"

Me: "You haven't been reading my blog?"

LC: "Mom, it's really boring.  I haven't read it in a really long time."

So, I showed littlest cherub the blog post about her and the school nurse.

LC:  "Mom, you left out the part where I told you that I got to go barefoot almost all afternoon."

Me:  "I didn't think that part was important.  I was talking about how you always go to the nurse and how aggravated I get about it.  I was also, talking about how clumsy you are and how I make fun of that, even if it's in my own head.  I was told that it is very mean and that I probably hurt your feelings.  I'm SO sorry, I won't say things like that anymore."

LC:  "But I am clumsy.  Even I know that.  That's why we have the 'Body In Space' code."

Me:  "Well, I know, but I feel bad that dad and I are always making jokes about it."

LC:  "Mom, if you didn't make jokes about it, how would I know you really love me.  It's what you do."

Me:  "I guess.  So you're not sad about it?"

LC: "No, but if that's all you have to write about, I think you should try to get some friends."

Me:  "Great, I'll keep that in mind, thanks."

Me:  "By the way, you know we don't love Beatrice best, don't you?"

LC:  "Yeah, I know, but I do."       "Just Kidding Mom!"

So, again, if I have offended anyone, please accept my sincerest apologies.  But please know, that Mr. P, JP, Miss Samantha and I have a very unusual familial relationship.  Our teasing and jesting only means we love each other and that love is most definitively, pure, true and unconditional.  I have never meant to lead anyone to believe that we do not adore our children.  The little idiosyncrasies and quirks that we each use to fodder our teasing only make each and every one of us a little more lovable and if we ever stopped, I truly believe our children would then believe we have stopped adoring them.  

As for littlest cherub,  I am pleased to say that she is just fine with the post, but apparently thinks I need a life.  So, feeling a little better about the fact that I have not just added to the numerous life events and let-downs that my children will be in therapy for in their adult lives, I leave you with this . . . every family shows their love in their own ways.  

For us, it is through digs and jokes and a little bit of dark humor.  My kids get it, I get it and so does Mr. P.  Again, as I leave you, I will be thinking of something a little nasty to greet Mr. P with at the door when he gets home from work . . wouldn't want him to think I don't love him. :)

 

It's Only the Beginning

Yesterday was the first day of school.  It is littlest cherub's first year at the Middle School and eldest cherub is in his last year of Middle School, so for one year, I have the comfort of both cherubs being in the same place at the same time for a full 6 hours.  Oh, Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy!

With the comfort of knowing that eldest child was with youngest child to show her the ropes and send her off in the right direction, I happily dropped them off at the bus stop and headed off to work.  As I sat down for the first time in many weeks, musing at the fact that I would not receive the 502 text messages, phone calls and/or distractions of the issues that ensue each day and without the worry that the 2 cherubs left home alone to their own devices would not fight, maim or kill each other and without the worry of the entire neighborhood being in peril, I began my workday with an abundance of clear-headed focus.  

Alas, my clear-headedness and worry-free day were VERY short lived.  Around 1:00 my cell phone rang.  Wondering who could possibly be calling, because I knew the cherubs were tucked safe and sound in our wonderful school system, I tentatively looked at the caller id.  "Nope, don't recognize the number".  Thinking that it might be one of Mr. P's many doctors with some important, urgent information, I decided to answer the call.  BIG MISTAKE!

"Hello, Mrs. Day, this is the school nurse."  

"You've got to be kidding me, it's the FIRST day of school!"  Yes, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head.  Again, I receive the Mother Of The Year Award, because I am not concerned, just pissed. 

"No Mrs. Day, I'm afraid not."

"Why is Samantha there?"  I knew from the moment I heard who she was, that this call would not be for eldest child.  For eldest child to visit the school nurse, he must either be spewing blood, completely on fire, or so sick, he needs to be medivacked down to the school nurse's office.  Littlest child, however, will visit the school nurse for headaches, stomachaches (both of which occur on a daily basis, along with a host of other quite interesting ailments), and occasionally for the bruise, hang-nail, or just to say Hello.  I guess she figured, "Why Not?  New school, new nurse, no better time to get to know her."

"Well, she has a headache . . ."          

"Of course she does, is it warm in the school, she gets them when she is too warm.  Let her rest a few minutes and she'll be fine, then send her back to class."

"Well, she also broke her shoe."

"Broke her shoe?"

"Yes, she would like you to bring her new shoes."

"Those were new shoes.  It's 1:00, school ends at 2:00, I'm at work and for me to go home, get her new shoes and bring them to the school, it will take at least an hour.  She'll be home before I even get to the school.  How bad is it?  Can't you staple it or tape it back together or something and send her on her way?"

"I'll try, but I just wanted you to be aware of the situation in case she falls down or hurts herself because of it."

"She'd fall down and hurt herself anyway - not because of the broken shoe.  That's probably how she broke it in the first place."  No, I didn't really say that, but I was definitely thinking it!  Instead, I said, "Can you fix it well enough so she can still wear it and get through the rest of the day?"

"I think so, but I just wanted to let you know."

"Thank you so much for calling, if the headache doesn't go away shortly, call me again, and we can decide whether or not I need to come get her."

"OK, thank you, talk to you soon."

"I bet you will!"  Again, only in my head!

As cherubs 1 and 2 walked through the door later in the afternoon, I asked all the typical first day of school questions.  Eldest cherub left it at "Good" for pretty much any and all queries and littlest cherub was full of how wonderful Middle School is.  Not even a mere mention of the previous proceedings of the day.  After just the right amount of oohing and aahing at her recount of EVERY SECOND of the day (sans visit to nurse), I let it be known that I was not happy to have gotten "The Call" on the first day of school and there would be consequences to pay for future calls.  I also let it be known that no matter what she wears to school whether it be shorts, jeans or a prom gown, the shoe of choice for the remainder of the year will be SNEAKERS.  They are a little harder to ruin.  

So, with the first day behind us, I will be making my own phone call soon.  The one to the school nurse to educate her on how my littlest cherub's mind works and to inspire her with the many creative ways we have come up with in the last 5 years to prevent the daily nurse's office visit.  I have a funny feeling that it is going to be a VERY LOOOONNNGGGG YEAR!