Why, thanks for asking, friends. I've been cleaning clutter out of closets and rooms. It's been truly heroic, if you want to know the truth, so I needed to take a break. Pull up a chair. Grab a cup of coffee. Be sure it's caffeinated and that maybe you are knitting or clipping your toenails or watching paint dry because LOW EXPECTATIONS, people.
So, for some reason this week, I scheduled approximately 76 doctor's appointments for my kids and myself. I think the problem is that for about 11 1/2 months out of the year, I forget about the importance of things like well checks, teeth cleaning and the fact that perhaps it's not normal for a kid to not be able to see the tv without sitting five inches from it. In any event, suddenly it's co-pay mania around here.
Yesterday Kyle had his yearly well check and I had to bring a litany of paperwork for the pediatrician because when your child is going into high school athletics you have to fill out a mountain of forms otherwise known as YOU CAN'T SUE US JUST BECAUSE YOUR KID THROWS HIMSELF AROUND THE BASKETBALL COURT LIKE SOME SORT OF PSYCHO KAMIKAZE. The physical form had me answer 7,653 questions about every scratch and bruise Kyle has ever had. I had to mention the time he had his heart checked as a baby for a murmur which gratefully, was declared to be an innocent murmur. I left out the time when Joe launched a Rescue Hero at Kyle's head and he had to have his forehead glued back together.
(If you're keeping score, Joe was not declared an innocent brother.)
Then there are the other emergency contact forms, concussion awareness forms and finally the REALLY, HONESTLY, NO JOKE: YOU CANNOT SUE US, OK? forms. I have no choice but to sign on the dotted line there because I could hardly win a lawsuit like that. The defense would show without a shadow of a doubt that Kyle enjoys launching his 100 pound body into various immovable objects including, but not limited to, the floor, the bleachers, the wall and any number of players three times his size.
"Ma'am, your case is dismissed and also, your son is crazy."
Anyway we got all those forms signed and found out that Kyle is healthy which always makes for a good day, but the highlight of the doctor's office visit (and perhaps of this post) was that our doctor told this joke:
"How do you know if someone is ticklish?
"You give them a TEST TICKLE."
(Keep that one in your back pocket the next time there's a lull in the conversation at the family reunion.)
After we found out that Kyle was perfectly healthy, he asked if we could drive through Chick-Fil-A because sometimes the American Academy of Pediatrics recommendations regarding nutrition do not fully sink into a teenager's brain. Also, Kyle knows that for his mom a fountain diet Coke with Chick-Fil-A ice is as close to heaven as one can get on a Monday morning. I will point out that the drive through guy tried desperately to up my parenting game after I ordered a large diet Coke, a 12 piece #5 with fries and a fruit punch by continuing to repeat, "So you'd like to add a fruit cup?" about 30 times.
Oh, how Kyle and I laughed at that dear man. Bless his heart. Heavens, no. Who knew Chick-Fil-A even offered a fruit cup? Certainly not us.
After that, despite his many protests, I took Kyle back to school. I came home to clean out the hall closet where we keep school supplies, blankets, coats and other items that need to be thrown in there due to the times that a child yells, MOM, SOMEONE IS AT THE DOOR! I got a little emotional when I realized that we have no need for the multiplication flash cards any more. I also don't know in which season of life I thought we might need 19 Sharpies. We also somehow had two rulers which listed the US Presidents, six blankets, four baseball caps, five empty binders and a bunch of Pokémon cards.
Don't you know, I gave the good Lord thanks and praise right then and there that that phase of childhood is over now?
After that monumental task was completed, I sat down here to scan the internet for world news and found that a certain magazine cover has swept the nation. And it's being called brave and courageous. And you know, what? This is America and God bless it because there are all kinds of bravery and courage. .
It just got me thinking. There are so many brave people in the world. I can think of a few other women who will likely never, ever stare out at the world from the cover of a national magazine. Their names are Sandy and Roya and Anna. There are others like them. And I'm fairly sure that they are the most beautiful, most courageous women I will ever meet. They each have buried a son. Their boys' lives ended right around the age of the boy who giggled with me in the drive through line yesterday. The task of cleaning out a cluttered hall closet would be a piece of cake for them. Because they've faced the possibility of having to pack up an entire bedroom. An entire life. Those women get up every day and take care of their families and love on their friends and hold up their husbands when I wonder if I was them if I might not be in a constant fetal position or sitting in the corner talking to plants. Yep, there are all kinds of brave. And I guess it's just that there aren't enough magazine covers in the world to give them all their due.
Because if there were enough, you might want to consider this, Magazine Editors of the World. Yours truly is pretty much at the end of her rope with the packing of lunches. It might be that I have been singing, "Jesus take the
Y'all. I tell you what. I am somethin' else.