Sunday after my football game I came home to find that none of my Christmas stuff had been taken down from its high place in the garage. I use to be able to get the boxes down myself, but with the addition of our new garage door came the addition of a bar across the space that we use to house the boxes. It requires a tall person with long arms on a ladder and I don't fit that bill. So instead I pulled out the boxes that are stored on the ground level and put up what I could which amounted to some indoor stuff and the wreaths that I hang between my football flags outside.
Monday I decided to get out the wrapping table. This is a card table that sits in my Steelers room and it is full of boxes, tape, scissors, paper, etc. used for wrapping up all the gifts that I have yet to buy. I did this because it made me feel Christmas productive and because I had purchased some things for Darcy on Saturday. Turns out I had purchased quite a bit for Darcy on Saturday. Seven packages to be exact and that was doubling up on some of the clothes items. Moral: It pays to let people know what you want.
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Now if only I had a tree to put the wrapped gifts under. Last year my husband was all Christmas gung ho on getting a tree the earliest we have ever gotten one. This year? I'm not sure the man knows the holiday is approaching, although I take that back, he does because he gave me a list. Which is so uncharacteristic that I should be suspicious. Now he is under the weather and getting a tree is the last thing on his agenda. I suppose I could go out and attempt this job on my own. My friend Kelly does this and has no trouble, but she is a strong, independent, single woman use to taking charge, whereas I am a kept woman use to having a man manhandle these types of jobs. Besides we have a code; he takes care of the outside of the house and I take care of the inside. Trees fall in the outside category despite the fact that they come into the house. And I have a bad back. And I take down the tree every year. Last year I even drug the thing through my house and tossed it to the curb. Perhaps Kelly could assist me?
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Sunday was the annual holiday concert in Tampa put on by a local radio station, the Jingle Bell Ball. The headliner was Justin Bieber and other acts included Ke$sha, Sean Kingston, and One Republic. Tickets were pricey, according to Darcy who desperately wanted to go because her friend was going. On Thursday I read in the paper that there would be a free concert outside the venue in the afternoon with Good Luck Charlie's Bridget Mendler performing. I thought, "wouldn't that be nice of me to take Darcy to see her," but immediately my back and legs seized up in memory of my last teeny bopper outdoor concert and I threw the paper in the recycling. Besides the show was on a football day and nothing gets in the way of Cara's football.
I made the mistake of mentioning this free concert to Darcy and immediately on Sunday she went into Darcy mode. She did her homework. She read the article in the paper. She looked up directions to the venue. She blinked her eyes at her father and told him he would really enjoy Bridget Mendler. She was lucky. Tom had spent the entire day Saturday on the couch blowing his stuffy nose and coughing and he was ready to get out and about. Off they went to Tampa. Off I went to my buddy's house to watch the Steelers. Halfway through the game I got a text with a picture of Bridget Mendler singing on stage and "we will be home late".
True to Tom fashion (I see where Darcy gets it) he had scored tickets to the Jingle Bell Ball for $20 up in the nosebleed section. True to Darcy fashion (this she gets from her Grandmothers) she told him she would pay for her ticket out of the money I owed her for couponing this summer. Deal. The two went to the Jingle Bell Ball and returned with no hearing from all the screaming of teen girls anytime the word "Justin" or "Bieber" was mentioned. So far she has yet to put his picture on her wall.
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Why is it that schools want to end the grading period in December before holiday break? Darcy has finals the last week. The teachers are up to their necks in cramming in last minute lessons and the kids are sweating it out trying to keep up. Add in, in this area at least, the fact that this is the month for shadowing high schools because you don't just attend your neighborhood school in these parts. We have to choose a high school based on curriculum and programs and to do this students have to leave middle school for the day and shadow the high schools. This annoys the middle school teachers (none of ours have these aged children themselves) who then cram in more things as a punishment and the stress level climbs in the kids. Whatever happened to celebrating the end of the year?
Darcy told me on Thursday night that she wasn't able to catch a deep breath. Her body told her she needed some good air, but when she sucked it in in a deep breath she didn't feel fulfilled. Instead tears rolled down her cheeks. Of course, it was after hours and Tom was pulling an all-nighter at work so I did what any mother would do in this situation; I panicked. First I yelled at her for not mentioning this issue during doctor's hours. Then I ranted and raved about horrible things that it could be. Then I became motherly and held her. Eventually, during a conversation with the husband who told me to tell her to quit drinking soda and eating candy, I remember my friend SueG was a respiratory therapist at our children's hospital. I texted her. She called me. She was at work, but she listened, offered up suggestions to do, and calmed me down.
Darcy wasn't turning blue. Her pulse was fine. SueG had me give her water to avoid dehydration since she didn't want to eat and we tried to take her mind off of things by watching General Hospital, an addiction I am trying to pass on to my girls. She slept through the night and the next morning I went into the doctor. We spent four hours running around town getting chest x-rays and blood work to have it all come back excellent. Diagnosis? Stress. Anxiety. Middle school kids go through a lot the doctor said. No kidding. Holidays are stressful for adults, but I think we have to remember that this time of the year is also stressful for the kids too.
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13 days until Christmas!
1 comment:
well I feel all caught up now!
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