Something went right at Northeastern! Holy mother of ... I almost can't believe it. Today I went and GOT my book waiver without having to kill, maim, threaten or otherwise injure anyone. Then I went and got all my books with NO problems. Good thing, too, because that shit cost $308!
So I'm officially ready for the semester to start. Bring it on. The exciting thing? Those books are all totally books I'd read even if I wasn't going to school :)
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Not Just Words
Yesterday while I was at work, my mother called and said that Daimean needs stitches. Now, my mom is sorta the Lady Who Cried Wolf so I tend to ignore a lot of what she says. She said he had a huge cut on his finger and that she could see the “meat” sticking out. He claimed he didn’t know how it happened, he just noticed it hurt. So I figured, Can’t be that bad then. Told her to put a band aid on it and I’d assess it when I get home.
Got home and saw the crazy tape job she did on his finger, told him to take that off so we could clean it and bandage it right. He takes it off and yowza – he’s got a hell of a cut on his finger. I ask him how it happened, he says emphatically, “I don’t know!” While there’s no “meat” sticking out, you can see the subcutaneous fat, which is a bit unnerving. Clean it, close it, Neosporin it, bandage it. Ask again how it happened. He sticks with his story that he doesn’t know.
I look my darling child in the eye and say, “You know you can tell me anything. So why aren’t you telling me the truth about this?”
He turns around and walks to his room. Climbs up on his bed and unwraps his Swiss army knife from a tangle of blankets where he’s hidden it. He said I could throw it away.
I explained that I’m not going to take it from him, but that it’s obviously not a toy. We got it for our camping trip. Not to play around flipping the blade open and closed. Which is how this happened.
THEN when I get the rest of the story it just breaks my heart. It had happened the night before, after bed time. He said he was flipping the blade, caught his finger, and panicked. Ran to the bathroom and ran water on it and used tissue to hold over it. Just thinking of him being too scared to get in trouble that he didn’t ask for help is awful. So we talked a LOT about it yesterday. Went over what could have happened. I made him promise that no matter WHAT happens, whether to him or anyone else, he must always come to me or his father for help. Part of our bedtime ritual is me asking him, “Who’s always on your side no matter what?” and his answer is You Are.
Not just words.
I’m careful to make sure that I don’t overreact when he tells me things, asks whack job questions, or does stupid things that can –and do- get people hurt. He’s a kid. It’s his job to find out how the world works, and it’s MY job to try to guide him through it with all of his digital appendages intact.
Got home and saw the crazy tape job she did on his finger, told him to take that off so we could clean it and bandage it right. He takes it off and yowza – he’s got a hell of a cut on his finger. I ask him how it happened, he says emphatically, “I don’t know!” While there’s no “meat” sticking out, you can see the subcutaneous fat, which is a bit unnerving. Clean it, close it, Neosporin it, bandage it. Ask again how it happened. He sticks with his story that he doesn’t know.
I look my darling child in the eye and say, “You know you can tell me anything. So why aren’t you telling me the truth about this?”
He turns around and walks to his room. Climbs up on his bed and unwraps his Swiss army knife from a tangle of blankets where he’s hidden it. He said I could throw it away.
I explained that I’m not going to take it from him, but that it’s obviously not a toy. We got it for our camping trip. Not to play around flipping the blade open and closed. Which is how this happened.
THEN when I get the rest of the story it just breaks my heart. It had happened the night before, after bed time. He said he was flipping the blade, caught his finger, and panicked. Ran to the bathroom and ran water on it and used tissue to hold over it. Just thinking of him being too scared to get in trouble that he didn’t ask for help is awful. So we talked a LOT about it yesterday. Went over what could have happened. I made him promise that no matter WHAT happens, whether to him or anyone else, he must always come to me or his father for help. Part of our bedtime ritual is me asking him, “Who’s always on your side no matter what?” and his answer is You Are.
Not just words.
I’m careful to make sure that I don’t overreact when he tells me things, asks whack job questions, or does stupid things that can –and do- get people hurt. He’s a kid. It’s his job to find out how the world works, and it’s MY job to try to guide him through it with all of his digital appendages intact.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Today, on As the Woman Whines
Went to Colorado. Loved it. Rode a horse. Went rafting. Made smores. Came back. Dryer not working. Dog continues to eat shoes = bad. Working toilet on 1st floor = good. Financial aid nightmare at NEIU is still going strong. Kids started school. Gained 50 lbs (at least it feels like I have) Foundation giving a hero award tomorrow to family that found baby in trash in Brighton Park. School starts for me soon. Too soon. My family is having another legendary fight. I’m staying out of it. Don’t like this hair length. Must cut it again. Growing out takes too long. Want to go to the movies. Hubs’ days off don’t mesh with mine though. Want to see Halloween II. And The Time Traveler’s Wife. Even though I hate Eric Bana.
I’m being a whiny jerk today.
Want to go home and go to bed.
To spare everyone from listening to me whine.
Hell, to spare ME from listening to me whine!
I’m being a whiny jerk today.
Want to go home and go to bed.
To spare everyone from listening to me whine.
Hell, to spare ME from listening to me whine!
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