Once again it's Saturday, that day dominated by the random, when I make random observations to anyone who cares to read.
I was sick Thursday. Sick as in unpleasant g-i symptoms, curled up in fetal position, pain on a level of 8 or 9 out of 10, calling the girls to instruct them what to do if I passed out sick. I mean seriously, the closest thing I've ever experienced to this level of pain was childbirth, and at least there the contractions stopped occasionally. Steve and Secundus were in Yellowstone and their cell phone reception was intermittent, and I couldn't think clearly, so for the first time in a few years I voluntarily called the doctor for myself. They wanted to see me that day. After a few hours with a heating pad the pain receded to the point where I could function again, and I kept my appointment that afternoon. I paid my $30 copay, the doctor ordered a few blood tests and informed me that it would be okay to take Tylenol or Advil for the pain. Now I know I should be a good patient and not snark at the doctor, and I didn't say this at the time because I was still not very functional, but how was I supposed to keep it down? I was out of there, including the bloodwork, in less than 25 minutes. Maybe, just maybe, this is why I don't voluntarily go to the doctor.
Thursday evening was the open house to meet the teachers and see the classrooms at Tertia's school. This year the school district has placed special ed students in either a "developmental" or "intensive academic" special ed classroom. Tertia will be in the "intensive academic" classroom, which I was a bit concerned might still be too restrictive for her... we've pushed all along for her to be mainstreamed as much as possible. We want her to be independent and function well in the general population as an adult. So I was mildly surprised when I realized that I may be a rarity among special ed parents. For almost all of the other parents, this was the first move outside of a self-contained special ed classroom, where their kid might be walking the halls of the school to attend other classes like 6th grade literature or art or social studies instead of safely sheltered in the walls of one classroom the entire day. They expressed concerns about bullying, unkind words/ teasing, homework load, and comprehension. While I can certainly understand all those concerns, it seems like this might have been the first time the other parents had to think them through. It was very strange, because my primary concern is still that her involvement in the special ed reading program might not be challenging enough for her. But I was glad, very glad, that we had been pushy parents all through the elementary school years and insisted on her being mainstreamed in her local elementary school. Now, going into 7th grade, it truly seems like no big deal for her to be in a class where there will just be one para-educator to help the teacher. I just pity the kids in the "developmental" class, because I'm afraid it will be more of a ghetto for them than ever. But maybe that is what their parents want.
But the highlight of the whole evening for me was when the teacher asked Tertia to tell everyone something about herself. There was a pause, and then she spoke up, "I like princesses." This is so true.
On to the next bit of random: the fleas. This summer I let it go too long, and the cats had a very bad case of fleas before I took time to treat them with Advantage. Now, 2.5 weeks later, 99% of the fleas have jumped off the cats and are lying in wait to jump onto human legs somewhere in the carpet. I swear they have sensors to detect warm-blooded creatures walking by. And yes, I have been vacuuming, but it's a big house and I'm afraid it will be a gradual thing. I will celebrate the first flea-free day. I almost made it twice, but not yet.
Steve and Secundus are back now, and we had to take the van in for some engine service. We stopped at the Vancouver Farmer's Market on the way back -- we hadn't been for over a year since we get such lovely veggies every week with Grace's Garden. But it was fun to see all the different vendors. Steve, always a sucker for pastries and blueberries, bought some blueberry kolaches at one stand. That got me to reminiscing about growing up in northeastern Ohio with all the Eastern European immigrant population there, and how all the church ladies were such good cooks that I knew about kolaches, and povatica, and I just assumed that such things were universal and church ladies all knew how to make such fabulous things.