No doubt you've been wondering why I haven't weighed in on the Obama tax proposal, the Ryan Roadmap, or the Debt Commission report. But the computer was sick. It caught a common cold. That’s the best I can figure. For the past week, it would simply shut down after 3 or 4 minutes of work. Freeze up.
But the computer is fine today. It got gradually better over the past few days and now it’s fully functional. Go figure. The only support we called for was from above, and, in the end, our prayers were answered. Miraculous recovery. I sure hope our little computer wasn’t somehow being used as a zombie-drone in the great Wikileaks cyber-war. There’s nothing like 2,000 photos of babies to peak the interest of hackers, right?
In lieu of spending time on the Internet, I cooked, cleaned and went to lots of doctors’ appointments. I don’t have thyroid cancer. That’s good news. My daughter probably has celiac disease. Not so good news. The co-pay for her endoscopy on Monday is $200. Horrible news. I got a sudden request for a little contract education work this weekend. Relief.
My oldest (6) came home from school yesterday and asked, “Why don’t we have a cleaning lady?” I could have smiled sweetly and said with a wink, “But we have a cleaning mommy! Isn’t that better?” Instead I gave a long lecture in an irritated voice about how things cost money and it’s a tough time of year, etc. etc. Her eyes glazed over.
Lying in bed last night I wondered what might have inspired this question. Was the house looking exceptionally messy when she arrived off the bus? How would something like this just “come up” in first-grade circles? Is having a cleaning lady today what having the Barbie Dream House was in my day? This same little one ended the evening by melting down into tears and a few dramatic “you don’t care about what I think!” pronouncements after her father put the toilet paper on the roller “the wrong way.”
“They do it at school for me differently!” she insisted.
The queen must have what she must have. Sawdust in the toilet, too, m’lady?
(Long ago, my mother worked at a non-profit which was honored to have a visit from Princess Anne. The toilets had to be filled with sawdust before her arrival. I suppose there’s nothing less royal than an echoing tinkle.)
My middle child (4) threw herself into the “no media” theme of the week by tossing her drink at the television this morning and breaking the flat screen. Now, we have fluorescent pink, red, and green stripes permanently blocking the right half of the frame. Paules? Peter? Bill? Is there anything handy to be done about this?
Finally, my little guy (2) has started to turn a few phrases on momma. Including, “Calm down,” and “Relax.” If he wasn’t also imitating my exasperated-mommy voice when he said it, I’d be more apt to listen. It’s good advice.