Fast read and Funny: Eye'm on his Hippa, so it's good he isn't blind

Remember when my dad had the eye infection a few months back? Well a few days after I drove him home from his eye doctor, the eye place called me.

Eye place employee:  I'M JUST CALLING TO EXPLAIN WHY YOUR DAD NEEDS THE DROPS.

Me:  OH, OK. (confused, because I didn't think it needed explaining)

Eye place:  WELL, HE HAS AN INFECTION. YOU NEED TO LET THE DROPS WORK FOR A FEW DAYS BEFORE YOU SEE ANY IMPROVEMENT. 

This little beach was on Lake Wiley in Rock
 Hill, SC. The water was warm, like bath water
 warm. I was so surprised. This pic includes
 some cousins and the two little girls.

Me:  UM, OK. BUT I KNEW THAT. IS THERE A REASON YOU'RE CALLING ME?

Eye place:  OH, WELL SOMEONE FROM THE FAMILY CALLED. YOU'RE THE ONE LISTED ON HIS HIPPA, SO WE CAN ONLY CALL YOU. 

Me:  (laughing) OH, THAT MAKES MORE SENSE. YEAH, THAT WAS PROBABLY ONE OF MY SISTERS. THEY GET UPSET WHEN THEY AREN'T IN COMPLETE CONTROL. IT IS GONNA KILL THEM WHEN THEY FIND OUT I'M THE ONE LISTED ON HIS EYE DOCTOR HIPPA.

My friend works in the office and I texted her about his Hippa, she knows the background with my sisters. She was like, Yeah - we got a good chuckled out of it. 

I texted in the sibling group chat to explain the drops and the phone call that was returned to me. My sister was like, WELL, I CALLED BECAUSE IT'S STILL RED. (the day after she texted this his eye was totally fine)

Coach:  YOU'RE GONNA GO DOWN HARD FOR BEING HIS HIPPA PERSON IF HE ENDS UP GOING BLIND. 

Of course he's not blind and everything ended fine, but Coach nailed it with his funny remark.  

Anyone have a humorous take on something that could've been frustrating lately?

                          

A blog friend meet up & these are the people who ride the train

While we drove home from SC, I noticed that Jenny from WV mentioned in her comment that she was in Chicago for a conference. I was like, WAIT, TILL WHEN?

Unlike the days leading up to our travels to SC and Louisville (swim meets, cooking tons of food, baking, TOVA tests, tutoring, bloodwork for Mini, dog walking, b-ball practice, multiple therapy sessions for the girls, and an annual GYN exam), I didn't have much going on Tuesday. The stars aligned. 

Mini dropped me off at the 1:33 train. The ride was supposed to be a little over an hour, but a passenger had a medical emergency. We sat for about 15 minutes until paramedics arrived, etc. I never saw the person, so I have no idea what the issue was. I hope he/she is OK. 

I don't take public transportation often, and this was a reminder of how weird it can be. A woman sitting a few rows behind me was travelling with a niece (I assume, based on their conversation). She spent most of the train ride describing her many travels and the places she still intended to visit, as if all of the other passengers were dying to know all about her. She had a snooty air about her that made me cringe. 

Then an older woman sitting diagonal from me handed a young girl (maybe 8 or 9 years old) a tweezers and presumably instructed the girl (they spoke a foreign language) to pluck her facial whiskers. The girl spent 10 minutes working away at her elderly relative's chin. On.The.Train. 

Guess who was ready to exit the train by the time it pulled into Union Station? 

I let Jenny know that the train was delayed and I walked briskly to a Starbucks along the river where she was waiting for me. She was the only woman sitting alone at a table outside (which was what she told me), so I walked up and said, Jenny?  Yep.

I rode the train home with Tank a few hours later, because he commutes into the city for his internship and he leaves a car in the lot near home. (Did I ever share the story of how he got the internship? I can't remember). He asked me:  What if the only person sitting outside the Starbucks had been a mysterious looking man, and he was like, HEY, ERNIE - I'M JENNY. (in a scary voice)

Why is my son so jaded and ready to conjure up a dark story? Too many movies? Anyway, Tank made me chuckle. 

No Tank, she was delightful and was not trying to spook me or anything.

We walked along the river and chatted. I don't get into the city often, but Mini recommended Tiny Tapp and Cafe on the River Walk. We tried to enter from one direction, but it was roped off. We went back up to street level and tried entering from the other direction. This time - it was roped off and there was a police presence. 

I asked what was up:  A woman fell into the river. It's a crime scene. The restaurant isn't open. 

That was unexpected. 

We decided to eat at the next spot on the river and enjoyed good food and conversation while looking out at the water and the boats.

I didn't arrange my
 poke tacos very
 well, so they didn't
 photograph
 well, but so tasty.

I learned that Jenny and I both enjoy  Colleen's blog, and that's how she stumbled on my blog. So, thank you Colleen. Jenny travelled by train to Chicago for her work conference. Back home in West Virginia, she has a sweet 14 year old dog named Colby. 

I was so excited to meet a longtime reader, that I almost forgot to give something I'd stuck into my bag. After we hugged good-bye and headed in opposite directions, I started walking to the train station. I stuck my water bottle in my bag, 

OH NO! MY TREATS. 

I called Jenny and told her to freeze, so I could catch up to her. Then I raced down the sidewalk and gave her a piece of pumpkin bread and a few cookies to enjoy on her long train ride back to WV. 

I rarely go into the city and I had a great time connecting with someone who I would not know if it weren't for my blog! Thanks, Jenny,  for commenting on my blog regularly, for insisting on treating me to dinner, and for spending your free time before your train hanging out with me. I so appreciate my blog friends.

*******

If any of you ever find yourself in or near Chicago, give me a shout. Anyone care to share a blog meet up story of their own? This is my 3rd blog friend meeting. I was thrilled to have lunch once with Kari (of course I sort of already knew her, since she was at my wedding - have you heard that story?), and I had the pleasure of meeting Suz in Florida during spring break '22.

SC recap: a few funny pics and my suggestion box comments

It's Sunday and we're driving back from the b-ball tournament in South Carolina. Curly's team won 3 of their 5 games. One of the games was a tough loss. We were down by 10 or more and fought back to tie it up. Ultimately we lost, but dang - so exciting. That team might end up winning our bracket. Ugh. So close. 

The game before that we won by 20 points. Our 3-pointers were raining down. The tough-loss-game, our shots were rolling around and popping out. It happens. That team was probably better than we were, but we kept it interesting. 

One of the courts had a strange seating area. The bleachers were set back quite a bit from the court. I turned to the other parents on our team and told them:  WELL, THIS SEATING ARRANGEMENT WON'T WORK FOR ME. WE'RE TOO FAR FROM THE ACTION. HOW WILL THE REFS HEAR ME? 

This was the Adidas championships. If they had a suggestion box:

1.  Condense. Maybe consider adding an extra location. All games were played at a very nice facility, but they used an entire court in the center of the place to allow coaches to sit on a raised platform even though there was plenty of courtside seating for recruiters. This tournie dragged on too long. We played 2 games the first day (Thursday), then we played once a day:  Fri, Sat., and Sun. Or invite fewer teams. 

2.  Communicate:  Our team made it to the consolation bracket champ round to be played on Monday. Our coach was told early on that our last/latest game would be Sunday at 2 pm. We were the only people who drove. Everyone else had Sunday  flights. We won't be in SC to play in that game. (Did I suggest to the few other parents who were there, as most just sent their player, that they fly home with Kay and Rae to free up space in our car and leave the players with us to play in the Monday game to drive home with us afterwards? Yep. But I wasn't really serious and none of the girls wanted to change flights and sleep on the floor of Curly's grandparents anyway). 

3.  Shouldn't they love their shoes? The players are required to wear Adidas shoes and gear to Adidas sponsored tournaments. Um, our team dislikes their Adidas shoes so much that they begrudgingly wear them when necessary. For non-Adidas tournaments, they swap their shoes for their favorite pair. Hmm.  

All of our games were competitive, which is more than I can say for several of our other tournaments this year. One hopes that long distance travel ends up  I would've been fine if my kid hadn't been tossed to the ground quite as much as she was, but that comes with the territory. 

Our team went to SC with 6 players. SIX, as in - one girl sat on the bench and every team we faced typically had 10 girls or more. Like a whole other lineup of girls to come in fresh off the bench. Our team plays at a high speed. They race up and down that court and move the ball like they know what they're doing. We LOVE watching them play. *note:  the girl whose mom is a pain in the neck opted not to come to SC and the rest of the girls click so well, as do the parents. 

Curly's travel season is a wrap. There were quite a few challenges that were out of our control during the season. I drafted a post about it, and will share it soon. 

A few pics:  Curly doing the jump ball. That's her foot to the right side and a blur of her head. Perfect blog pic. 

We stayed at Coach's folks' townhouse that happened to be 15 minutes from the basketball venue. What are the chances? They winter there, so it was vacant and FREE. It was 9 minutes from Coach's brother with the 9 kids. The little girls had an amazing time hanging with cousins. 

Saturday morning, Coach was trying to get his workout in using body weight. He was bound and determined to do pull ups. So . . . he used the ladder to reach the upstairs balcony. Well, I was a little nervous he was gonna fall, but he got it done. 

Why was the ladder so handy, you ask . . . because the night before the smoke detector went off. LOUDLY - as if there is another way for a smoke detector to go off. I was keyed up from the tough-loss game and had just gone to bed, read for a little bit, and then closed my eyes. **BLARE** Coach and I sprung out of bed in the first floor master. No fire. No nothing. He went into the girls' rooms upstairs (Curly stayed with the whole team at a lake house, because this was the one game when the coach and another mom offered to take the girls. We opted to travel anyway, because of the opportunity to see Coach's little bro and our right-price lodging).

Coach messed with the smoke detector and we thought it was over, so we went back to bed. About ten minutes later . . . **BLARE** C'mon now!

I went into the hallway and sure enough there was a smoke detector out there too. I think they were hard wired, or whatever. He yanked that one out of the ceiling, as in no-more-Mr.-nice-guy. There was a battery in it, so he removed it and then put it in the garage, so if it made another peep it would maybe not bother us. 

Coach also stayed there a year ago in the spring when Reg had a tournament nearby. Again, his folks weren't there. That time Reg bumped the toilet base with his foot and a bolt popped off (had rusted thru) and water started spraying everywhere. His dad was like, Oh that just happened to the other toilet and I replaced the bolt. I guess I should've replaced both of them. 

Coach was amazed that his dad knew exactly where a spare part would be, since he'd purchased more than one when the first toilet broke down. Um, you know I'm the one who usually cleans out our garage, right? I'll make no further comment about the state of our garage and the organization of someone's tools and spare parts.  

We believe this was just a low battery thing. Talk about timing. Why must batteries decided to die at 1:30 am?  The place has been empty since late April. Dumb luck. 

How was your weekend? Hang off of a balcony to get your pull ups in? Have any smoke detector batteries die on you at an inopportune time?

what day is it anyway? Hell no SIBO update from SC & a funny ha-ha

A handful of Shenanigans drove to South Carolina for the Adidas championship tournament on Wednesday. A 12 hour drive. Tuesday night, I stayed up till 1:30 am cooking:  a few team meals, a few meals to leave at home for the big kids. Plus earlier in the day, I baked some goodies for the team, for us, and for the cousins who live in South Carolina that we were going to visit. (Coach's brother with 9 kids)

Monday was my busiest summer day, so I squished the cooking to the last minute. Also, I wanted to cook veggies that I bought and then forgot about. I didn't want them to go bad before we returned home. 

vegetable potato
dish (pictured here around
 midnight, ready to go
in the oven) to feed an army

My point:  on Tuesday, it felt like Thursday was a long way away, plenty of time to write a post. Turns out, it's easy to forget what day it is after a busy day, a marathon cook-a-thon, and a road trip. 

So here I am in SC with a whole list of things to write about, but I'm leading with my SIBO update at the risk of boring you to tears, followed by a funny story. (feel free to skip to the funny ha-ha story at the end, totally up to you)

For new-ish readers, I was diagnosed with SIBO (small intestinal bacteria overgrowth) in spring of '23. SIBO often crops up in people, like me, with celiac. Did my GI doc miss this diagnosis for YEARS? Yes he did.  I'm at a new doc now. I did the antibiotics to rid myself of SIBO in May of '23, but I tested again in November of '23 and I still had it. This didn't surprise me, because I didn't feel any better. 

My doc started me on a low dose of an antidepressant in late Jan, or early Feb, who can remember?  All I recall leading up to when I caved and agreed to try the antidepressant was that I was struggling to sleep for more than 3 hours a night. Grr.

Just before I started the antidepressant, I also started to loosely follow the FODMAP diet. 

FODMAP stands for fermentable oligosaccharides, disaccharides, monosaccharides and polyols, which are short-chain carbohydrates (sugars) that the small intestine absorbs poorly. Some people experience digestive distress after eating them.

This meant I couldn't eat apples, green peppers, onions, ice cream (C'MON, HOW IS ONE SUPPOSED TO LIVE?), cashews, some processed meats/poultry, sugar snap peas, milk, yogurt (again NO WAY), high fructose something or other and the list goes on and on. 

I met with a dietician and she said it was best not to eliminate everything on the list, but to limit things. I started the antidepressant, because I was losing my ever-lasting mind, and then the FODMAP thing sort of became unnecessary, because (drum roll here), I started to sleep. It was glorious. 

But, I still have some issues:

* my lips always taste salty. It's ridiculous and annoying to have a salty taste on my lips 24/7. 

* weight gain - I'm trying to just accept it. Most people probably wouldn't even notice, but I do. It's frustrating, but it is a side effect of the antidepressant. 

* the medication might help me sleep, but it doesn't always feel like I'm SIBO free, because there is still SIBO related stuff happening. Hmm, to put it delicately, sometimes all systems are go and sometimes they are not. It's a mystery, because I eat almost the same thing every dang day. 

* also, I am falling asleep, but I still have days where I wake up really freaking early or don't sleep well. It's fine and such an improvement, but I'm just saying that I still prefer to fix my dang gut.  

* horrible dreams - I don't think this is from the medication. I think it's from SIBO. This doesn't happen every night, but certain nights (maybe when I'm constipated?) I have what I think might be classified as night terrors. I wake up, heart pounding, and I'm breathless. The dreams are vivid and TERRIFYING. What is going on here? 

When I suggest to my GI at the important UIC hospital that I want to get rid of SIBO, she tells me that I'll never get rid of it, or if I do, it'll just come right back since I'm predisposed to it.

I'm on three medications because of this stupid thing. Antacid, or I won't sleep at night. My cholesterol is elevated, which can be caused by SIBO and since I eat healthy and workout and I don't have a family history, so I'm blaming SIBO. Plus, I'm on this antidepressant. 

I wonder if I stop the antidepressant and follow the FODMAP diet religiously, can get rid of SIBO? For good? Is the doctor right, or is she just shrugging her shoulders because my case is baffling?

A mom "Lorie" that my friend, Becky, babysits for has SIBO. Lorie teaches at our junior high. Her insurance wouldn't cover the antibiotics, so she saw a holistic doctor and did the FODMAP diet and supplements or something. I haven't checked back with her recently to ask what happened after the (was it 3 months?) of trying the FODMAP diet. 

It's a little weird, Hey, you teach Rae, and I know you personally, and how are your intestines these days?

Life with SIBO isn't terrible, but I'd like to ditch it.

I want to leave you with a funny, ha-ha. A reward for reading my poop-drama. 

When I washed the team's uniforms in Louisville, Curly and I sorted the clothes back in our room. A large pair of black, lacy Victoria Secret thong underwear surfaced. We didn't think that anyone handed those off to be cleaned, but I wanted to be sure. I told Curly to text her close friends on the team and ask them. 

(I'd gone into the Coach's room while they were on their sightseeing tour, because his daughter never handed hers in. He gave the front desk permission to let me go in his room. Could I have grabbed her underwear? I didn't think this was her size, but what do I know?)

Curly: OH NO! MOM, I JUST SENT A PIC OF THOSE UNDERPANTS TO A BOY IN MY CLASS BY ACCIDENT. 

It must've been on snapchat, because she was able to cancel it before he saw it. She was doubled over laughing, assuring me I CANCELLED IT. IT'S FINE, BUT OMG WHAT IF I SENT THAT TO HIM AND DIDN'T REALIZE IT?

We were cry-laughing.

Curly:  I barely even talk to him and I almost just sent him a text of woman's underwear, because I hit his name by accident since I wasn't sending it in the team chat. The caption was:  I JUST FOUND THESE. ARE THEY YOURS? 

Have you texted anyone something that was meant for someone else? Hopefully not a photo of underwear. Ever cook till after 1 am? Have you heard of the FODMAP diet? Do you/have you used a holistic doc? Taken a 12 hour road trip recently?

read while humming 'It's a Small World', & this mom, seriously?

The weekend in Louisville was so much fun. Many of you commented that it sounded like just the thing. It really was. I have a post drafted about Curly's travel team and some upheaval that happened in mid May. Suffice it say: two of the girls on this team are Curly's besties. She considers them more like sisters than friends. I hung out by the fire pit all.three.nights, chatting with those besties' parents. Good times. 

This b-ball tournament was called Run for the Roses and there were about 1,000 teams competing there. I say this so you grasp the sheer number of people in attendance. 

Me:  Good luck, Curly. (I turned to find myself a seat and a man was standing two feet away from me)

Man:  Hi Ernie. Remember me? 

I could not place him, but his face was familiar. 

Man:  Chris. I used to live in Shenanigan-ville. I coached Lad in 7th and 8th grade football at his Catholic school.

Now I knew him. I was stunned. He and his wife moved to our town from Ohio when Curly was a baby. He volunteered to help coach the boys' football team. I ran a mom and tot group to help build community and funnel families into our school's new preschool. 

side note:  I managed the school's marketing efforts. The name of the school included the word 'Peace'. I called my mom and tot group, Little Peaces, utilizing puzzle pieces in my marketing materials. This is irrelevant to my story, but I always thought it was so cute. If I don't say so myself. Anyway, Chris' wife attended my Little Peaces events. They had a daughter the same age as Curly. They moved back to Cleveland shortly after the second daughter was born, when Curly and her little friend were three years old. 

The point:  I HAVE NOT SEEN THIS FAMILY IN 13 YEARS. 

What are the chances that we both attend the Run for the Roses b-ball tournament and we actually cross paths there? C'mon. Crazy, right?

Chris asked for an update on Lad. I tend to be an open book, but I refrained from 'splaining Lad. I stuck with:  He's selling cars, but looking for a new sales type job. 

Chris reached out to him then and there to see if he wanted to work at a bank in Chicago. I refuse to get invested in this job search. 

Stop it! The one mom I do not enjoy spending time with on Curly's team really grates on my nerves. I'm not alone. She is challenging. She hovers over her child and doesn't let her breathe. This poor girl seems to be somewhat void of a personality and I do think the mother's overpowering, controlling tendencies are at fault. 

The team went sight-seeing one day when they didn't have a game until 6 pm. I opted to stay at the hotel. I texted the group and offered to wash the girls' uniforms in the hotel's laundry room. I brought a sharpie to the lobby and collected the smelly stack of laundry from them, instructing them to write their names in their shorts. 

Ms. Grate-a-lot:  HA. I TOLD DAUGHTER SHE DIDN'T NEED TO USE THE SHARPIE ON HER SHORTS. YOU WON'T GET HER SHORTS MIXED UP WITH ANYONE ELSE'S SHORTS. 

Her daughter is a bigger size than any of the other girls on the team. The mom actually said those words OUT LOUD. I was so taken aback. What on earth? 

Curly's team won all five games they played. So exciting. Most games were competitive. One game we won by 30 points, but the others were nail-biters. Woot woot!

************

Anyone else have any small world moments recently?

This was gonna be Hell No SIBO, until another HELL NO happened

I'm a little late in posting today. Partly because my world fell apart early this week, and partly because when I arrived in Louisville last night, I thought:  

plenty of time to draft a post from my hotel room. 

But then? I gathered with a handful of other parents around the little fire thing on the patio while our girls/players ate pizza at a nearby table. I thought, Oh, fun. I like social time. I'll hang here for a bit. 

One mom had white claws, and I do not enjoy white claws, even when a little booze sounded divine. There was a Publix next door and I vowed to visit and pick up some adult beverages the next day so I could partake in drinking then. 

Then the one dad realized I wasn't drinking and asked what I like to drink. 

Me:  Anything sweet. No bubbles.

He went into the hotel bar and bought me a bottle of Moscato (he knows how shattered I am - he drove Curly and I to Louisville, and he is a lawyer who works in an area protecting kids who, well, land themselves in dire straights).

Did I return to the lovely hotel room (that Curly and I both agree we could live in and we both have mentioned that we are tempted to just stay here Indefinitely) in enough time to draft a post? No, my friends I did not.  

I hung by the fire with the parents of Curly's two closest friends in the world (more like sisters than friends) and I drank wine from a coffee cup, asking if I fill a big coffee cup with wine, did it still count as a glass of wine? And it was lovely, not just the generous glasses of wine, but talking and laughing and venting and more laughing. I went to bed at 1:30 am. Who even am I? (it was 12:30 in Chicago, so it didn't feel like 1:30, mind you). 

Give me a decent sized fridge in a clean,
uncluttered hotel room with a queen
bed to myself and I might decide to stay.

Did I get up early enough to go for a run, as planned, before Curly's first game? Nope. I did a little strength training in the indoor gym, and texted a bunch of damage control with Coach and the girls' social worker before running to shower. Then I was late for my ride in the lobby, because in my haste to shower and dress, I dropped my phone. It landed in the practically empty garbage can in the room. I didn't pick it up right away and then I couldn't think of where it was and I had no one in the room (Curly left with her team earlier) to call my phone so I could find it. 

Our room is well appointed. Kitchenette. Next door to Publix. Clean. Might be brand new building. Enough closet space for the ridiculous amount of clothes that I brought, because I lost all day Tuesday to damage control and had no time to think about packing to leave Wednesday.

Curly (after I dumped a bag of shoes out on the hotel room floor):  What? Why did you pack so many shoes?

Me:  I couldn't remember what clothes I brought, so I just grabbed all.the.shoes. 

THE ISSUE:  Monday evening, stuff got real, as in 'not sure where to go from here' real with one of the foster girls. While I tend to be an open book, I'm gonna refrain from sharing the unfortunate situation we find ourselves in. My guess is you can imagine a few scenarios that would make us pause and re-examine. As Coach told their social worker:  Not sure our family is the best place for them. 

Exhausting doesn't begin to cover it. My mind flips back and forth

1.  One minute:  We can do this with the right therapy. 

2. The next minute:  hell no. This is the thing we always said we would not feel equipped to handle. 

I feel like a chump. There were people, when we said we were trying this again, that raised an eyebrow. Some said -don't do it. I kept wondering what they knew that we didn't know. 

Tuesday night:  After the swim meet Kay, Coach and I sat on our driveway in my car and spoke to our family therapist on speaker phone. We are crazy about her and she gets us and is so supportive. "You are not connecting with them right now. Your obligation is to keep them safe and feed them. It's OK not to connect. You need a little time to figure this out. I'm not sure this is gonna work. Maybe?"

Me:  I leave tomorrow at 11 am to go to Louisville with Curly for b-ball. I'm not sure if me leaving town is terrible timing, or THE BEST timing EVER. Hell, I may get to Louisville and not come back.  

Family therapist:  In that case, Coach. I'll see you and (the child with the issue) on Monday at 3:45.  

We all laughed. Laughing felt good. 

I explained to her that I feel like I'm pregnant and worried about a possible miscarriage. I had 6 miscarriages forever ago. That first trimester was always a rocky, emotional roller-coaster. I'm pregnant, well - unless I'm not pregnant. I'll know more . . . eventually, but not necessarily right now. The waiting was always so hard. 

This waiting is different. With a miscarriage, it's all Wait and See. 

With this, we need to make decisions, hope, and pray that they are the right ones. Try to gather enough information to make the right decision. It's not easy. 

If you pray, we appreciate prayers right now. If you send good thoughts, we will accept that too. 

*Coach is home juggling all of it and touching base (so many of my friends were stepping up to babysit for the girls). Even with a WHO GOES WHERE note and sketches with arrows and text reminders, he has questions. Of course we dropped the minivan off to get the brakes checked after I left for Louisville (but there were still 3 working cars for 4 drivers), and hours later, Tank got off the train and Tex wouldn't start. Reg drove there with the extra key Fob, and then drove away. Not waiting, to ya know - be sure it was just the Fob. Um, the other Fob wasn't the answer and Reg didn't look at his phone/notice Tank was texting, HEY, COME BACK AND GET ME. I'M STILL STRANDED. 

Sometimes, Louisville is the place to be. 

family funny moment that always delivers, fun on the 4th, and who remembers soft sculpture?

This might be the shortest post I've ever written. I have a post almost ready to go, but I think reviewing that one will take longer than just sharing a few funny-ha-ha moments with you and I'm bound and determined to get to bed. 

POV:  me trying to decide if being very tired is impacting my contact lens issues. Thus, my need to get to bed. I slept freakishly long night before last and,  . . . what's this? My contacts felt fine all day.

Today I decided to dig in and bond with Kay. She is attention seeking. She annoys most of us. Turns out being stared at (harmless, YEP, annoying - you betcha) and being subjected to fake laughs (see:  attention seeking) among other things are triggers that push my dang buttons. Coach is good at reminding himself that it is not her fault that she behaves the way she does. I do know this, but I also spend a lot more time with her on any given day. My reminders to LET IT GO, well, let's just say, Anny from Frozen would ban me from her choir for not embracing the song as much as needed. I'm trying. It'll get better. (it has gotten better. Baby steps)

    So, today (Sunday) - I went on a bike ride with her. Then I took her to Joann Fabrics to buy  supplies to make soft sculpture. Anyone else know what that is? I took a park district when I was in about 6th grade. 

I showed Kay some of the steps of the project we will do, but then we went to the pool and after that I met up with another Irish dancing mom and her daughter with Mini and Curly. So.much.fun. 

Coming soon:  update on bonding over soft sculpture craft project. 

Fun fact - I attempted to make knock-off Cabbage Patch Kids in junior high after my soft sculpture park district class. Photo evidence to follow, sometime soon. 

THE 4TH of July:  Coach's brother, his wife, and their 9 children came to town on Wednesday. We hosted them for lunch. They continued to drive north, dropping off a handful of their kids at various cousin's homes till the reached his parents' house near Wisconsin. (we didn't take in any strays, for obvious reasons. We're at maximum capacity over here in Shenanigan-ville).

We enjoyed spending time with Coach's side for 3 days. Kay and Rae over the moon with cousin time. My contacts were so gritty and impossible Friday evening, but I hung in there because the girls were having a blast. I told Coach's brother who lives up there, Hmm, maybe we should move up here and send kids to our alma mater.  

Highlight:  Coach's father is an outspoken, barky type. He's chilled out considerably over the years. Praise the Lord, because whoa baby, do I have stories from way back. I've probably shared some here.

The story we were reliving, the one that's funny now .  .  . My BIL, let's call him Bill, because that seems easy . . . well, Grumpy Grandpa was giving Bill suggestions on the golf course when Bill was visiting them in Florida decades ago. Grumpy Grandpa turned to Bill and asked him in all seriousness:

WHY IS THIS GAME SO HARD FOR YOU?

We all laugh about that now, but who says that to a new-to-the-family SIL who is trying to learn the game? 

Then, they are still on the golf course. My FIL blurts out:  

bobcat. BOBCAT. BOBCAT. 

Bill :  What does Bobcat mean? (thinking this was golf lingo that he didn't understand).

Grumpy grandpa:  I want you to know there is a bobcat right behind you.

Even though I've heard the story before, I died laughing. (it gets told about every 5 years)

********

Ed skipped the 4th gathering to attend his girlfriend's family's annual 4th of July party, but he was here for our lunch on the 3rd and then he golfed with the guys on the 5th. His girlfriend's mom sent little cheesecake bites home with Ed, because she knows we love them. 

* The next day when I was counting them out to protect the stash from someone thinking they could eat ALL of them and live to tell about it) . . .

Tank:  Are these GF, Mom? Can you eat them?

Me:  Yep.

Tank:  Hang on, let me sprinkle some bread crumbs on them. 

The lengths my people will go to in order to call dibs on food. 

******

I really did think this was gonna be a short post. 

Heard of soft sculpture? Own a Cabbage Patch Doll? Do your people call dibs on food? Any stories in your family that are retold every so often, but still make you laugh?

eeny meeny miny moe, what high school should Curly go to?

I promised more info on Curly's situation. I drafted a funny post about nutty parenting quirks, but that'll have to wait. 

Curly made friends freshman year. She was so happy. Those friends have been a bit disjointed of late. One girl, Jess, was part of the group some of the time. She hung with Curly and her lovely group in grade school, when it was convenient for her. She's a climber. The parents are loaded. I used to joke that one day Curly was gonna come home with a pony after a playdate at Jess' house. 

Young Curly:  today we went to lunch. Then a movie. The the mom bought us each a build a bear. Then we went out for ice cream. The the mom bought us all matching t-shirts and next time she wants to take us to see a play. 

One girl was not part of the high school friend group, but her group was friendly with her. She sat on the bench on volleyball and b-ball. She was fine, but then Curly discovered that she wasn't nice. Like at all. And she smokes a ton of pot. Pot-girl gravitates towards the girl twin (the one whose Mom died suddenly freshman year). Girl twin is hanging more with pot girl than anyone else. 

Curly was with friends 90% of her free time last summer. This summer? She has done almost nothing with friends from high school. She only spends time with her travel b-ball friends, but they live 30 to 40 minutes away. One lives in the south loop, like she can walk to the Willis Tower. One lives on the north side of Chicago. One is in a south suburb. They literally make up a giant, geographic square. 

Options:

Speaking of Curly . . . guess
who got their license
the other day? (um,
 she realized right
 before the grad party that she
 could've gotten her license the
 end of May, not the end
 of June. Oops. 

All Girls Catholic:  Two of her besties go to the all girls' Catholic school that is far from our house. This is the school we wanted her to attend as a freshman. It's 25 minutes with no traffic and probably 45 with traffic. It's a hike that involves 3 different expressways/busy streets. One of her besties is the next Caitlin Clark, but she doesn't pass the ball so Curly doesn't want to play high school ball with her. Plus, she's afraid she won't make their volleyball team. She loves the upperclassmen at current high school, where she'll play volleyball because they aren't that good. 

St. South Loop:  The other bestie from travel ball goes to a coed Catholic High School in the south loop. (not the same girl that lives in the south loop, oddly enough). Curly would have to take a train into the city in order to go to that school.

Cousin High:  This coed Catholic school where Pat coaches the freshman girls would make the most sense. It's a 15 minute drive without traffic. Both Pat and Mike's kids go there, so Curly would have cousins that she loves. The drawback is basketball. The varsity coach there has a very short rotation, so he won't likely play Curly. He's too committed to his 5 starters. Plus, Curly once played travel ball with a few of those girls and they were REALLY mean. She really dislikes them. She can certainly meet other girls, but she'd be frustrated to play ball with girls who are not nice people. 

Not these two:  There are two other coed Catholic high schools not terribly far from us (note - none are very close). One I won't consider because when Mini played against them, the coach ran up the score so that we lost like 68 - 20. It was positively silly. They full court pressed us the whole time. What were they trying to prove? The other coed Catholic school is known for snobby students. Plus I don't think there b-ball program is decent. 

Where Coach and I went to high school:  Dare to dream! But lately, I think about moving. Starting fresh. Ya know? Coach and I went to the same Catholic high school. It was boys in one half of the building, girls in the other half. Now it's coed. I can't say enough good things about it. The downside - it's literally a 45 minute drive without traffic. It's up near the Wisconsin border and Curly would have to move in with Kari or Coach's brother (whose 2 sons will be freshman/sophomore there - while Curly will be a junior). His brother would have her stay with them in a heartbeat. She could come home a couple nights a week, maybe? Coach pointed out that we'd never get to see her games. Her games would be too far away. This school was life changing for me. I've never heard a bad thing said about it. My SIL and BIL are very happy with it. BUT, not gonna happen. 

Curly claims that friendship-wise she'll be fine at Current High School. She has friends. Her class probably has about 300 kids in it, so she can always hang with different kids. The basketball coach thing is really the piece that is killing it for her. The new coach seems decent, but if he isn't holding kids accountable and teammates aren't taking it seriously, where does that leave a player like Curly?

Like I described last time, Curly had a summer league game for Current High School. She sobbed all the way home, because she was so frustrated. She kept sobbing about the fact that her coach quit her team to coach the boys' team. 

Notice this is a ripple effect after the high school fired Reg's coach. Nightmare. 

Not sure what to do. 

my solo parenting weekend recap a garage clean out, Mr. Magoo, and Thanks for the junk

Coach taught a class in Richmond, VA over the weekend. I let both little girls invite a friend to the pool Saturday. There is less bickering /less whining to leave the pool when they both have a friend to hang with. I got to lay on a chair, napped a bit, read my book and was not pestered or interrupted. Hooray. 

By Sunday afternoon, was I still counting the hours until Coach was coming home? You betcha. 

Sunday morning I took the girls to the grocery store. Each girl took a turn getting on my nerves. I corrected them. I spend plenty of time being silly and joking with them, but I'm here to tell you:  they can be draining. If I want them to behave age appropriate and (please dear Lord) be invited to hang out with friends, well then - I'm gonna give them direct feedback. 

After we did the grocery shopping, we tackled the garage. My least favorite chore. I do it once a year, but last year I think it had been two years. The garage door stays open A LOT during drop off for babies and tots. Lots of leaves accumulate and also, crap. When the garage was totally empty, Kay was amazed. WAIT, IS THIS A 3 CAR GARAGE? 

blogger decided to show the photos in reverse order and I'm too tired to rearrange so you get to see the end result first. There are a collection of brown bags with yard waste that need to go into an approved yard waste bag. Those are making my neat area look less neat, damn it. 

the garbage is brimming over with stuff I am hoping the garbage man will take

good thing I didn't attempt this last weekend (I've accidentally done that before - bad timing b/c the neighborhood had a garage sale and all our crap was on the driveway)

yes, I have multiple strollers (less than I used to have) and three extra carseats dangling from the ceiling

I drag a hose from the other side of the house, hook it up inside the garage and hose the whole thing down. I want that epoxy stuff. Please, Lord . . . someday?

the before pic - but taken AFTER we removed all the bikes

also a before pic - taken after we removed the garbage bins

Yep. And we typically only park 1 car here, except for the first 4 weeks after I've cleaned it out. Then we park 2 cars on either side of the 150 bikes and 2 lawn mowers. 

Mr. Magoo:  Does anyone hate wearing glasses as much as me? I'm not sure it's possible. I hated wearing glasses as a kid. I passed out when I tried contact lenses in 8th grade. Hello, Vaso Vagel issue. It took three years of practicing touching my eye in high school to be able to finally wear contact lenses. 

I can't workout wearing glasses -they slide down my nose. I can't read with them on. My glasses aren't transition (bifocals, or whatever?) I wear 2 different contact lenses so I can read when I have my contacts in. When I'm wearing glasses, I yank my glasses off in order to see something up close or to read. Wildly inconvenient. 

When I was reorganizing the study closet days before the party, I took my glasses off a few times and then I couldn't find them. I felt like Mr. Magoo. I had to have Reg come into the study to help me locate them. I was on all fours wiping up the floor, reading papers that I found under the desk, and then - I was reaching in every direction to search for my glasses and I could NOT find them. So silly. 

Anyway, I took the time, even though I felt I didn't have a moment to spare, to see the eye doc a few days before the party. I was desperate for answers. I hate having my eyes dilated. 

question:  If they have a drop to dilate eyes, why not have a drop that can un-dilate them? 

The doc found nothing wrong. My eyes appear a little dry. She started me on different lenses and suggested a rewetting eye drop a few times a day. It has gotten a little better the last few days, but it isn't back to normal and I just don't get it. Or, it feels better for a few days, and then back to feeling like I'm being stabbed in the eyeball. One theory - what if the antidepressant I'm on to handle the effects of SIBO is mucking up my eyes, drying them out? (I have to give  you a SIBO update, but trying to write a relatively short post since I've been longwinded lately. Will dish on the SIBO soon). 

Thanks, but NO THANKS:  A woman that Coach works with (who has worked with him for probably 20 years. Many of our kids are the same age) has been very generous with us since the girls moved in. She gave the girls a bike last year that her daughter outgrew. So awesome. She also gave us a bag of hand me down nice clothes. 

This summer, she's given us a few bags of, well - junk. As in "Here's some stuff I found around the house that we don't want, but I though you might like it." 

Um, thanks? There was a cell phone magnifier in there. Odds and ends like that. 

The night before Reg's party, I went thru a bag of clothes that she'd given us. It included socks with no matches, and tons of very worn sorority t-shirts with a name of a sorority on it that none of us has anything to do with. Plus one random pair of men's underwear. 

Don't get me wrong, her heart is in the right place, but I don't want to spend my time sifting through a bag of clothes/household junk that has nothing useful for our family.

Unexpected surprise:  I came home from book club Thursday night and there were flowers in a vase on the kitchen table with a card that said 'Mom' (and dad in small print). It was from Reg. Very sweet. The flowers are lovely and very fragrant. In his note he praised all my work in making the video, complimented me on great food, and shared that all of his friends had a great time. I so appreciated his gratitude. 

*then at dinner Sunday night, Curly asked me how I liked the flowers and I said they were great. Curly:  Oh good. I helped Dad pick them out. 

womp, womp. Coach arrived home from the airport and the kids were like, Mom is not pleased that you passed those flowers off as if they were from Reg. Coach maintains that Reg wanted to buy them, but I told him I would pick them up for him. Hmm, really? 

*****

So, not the short-ish post that I envisioned in my head. Shock. Anyone undergone corrective eye surgery? *this contact lens situation is THAT bad. How would you handle the donation bags from this well-intentioned woman (who is also very wealthy, and my kids caddy for her husband at the golf course and he tips them very generously). Mini asks:  I mean, she knows Dad gets a paycheck, right?

Coming soon:  Will we send Curly back to the same high school? We are facing a tough decision. Her friend group? Sort of disjointed and funky recently. Most are making poor choices and Curly is no longer gravitating towards them. Basketball - new coach seems fine, but not holding kids accountable. During camp most of her teammates arrived late, didn't show, didn't hustle. Curly is beside herself, but seems more stressed out when we suggest she transfer. Guessing she'll stay put.