Pre-Trick-or-Treat drama

My dreams of a child who enjoys the eve of All Saints Day as much as his nearly middle-aged father does are dashed once again.

We went through WEEKS of prep to prepare for this day. We carefully selected a Sam-approved costume. We discussed said costume with everyone who would listen. We compared the get-up to that worn by Fireman Sam himself. We went to two Halloween parades. We ate candy every night just to prove that it's all worth it in the end (ok... that last one is just pure self-indulgence, really.)

All for naught.

That pouting picture? It's mild compared to what ensued when Ms. Krystyna (GASP) asked the kids to sing Halloween songs. Sam's response was nothing short of melodramatic. He whimpered. Then he whined. Then he cried. Then he bawled. Then he gave up and left the group to curl up with me.


The poor kid! It's a holiday that's supposed to be fun. I will admit his mood brightened when I became the mom passing out Cheetos to all of the kids in his class. He even smiled and asked for "more cheesy puffs, please!"

We'll see how it all goes tonight. I think it's possible the cold he's fighting just wasn't allowing him to be his chipper self. Well... I'd believe that line myself if the child had EVER enjoyed Halloween. He just cries and whines every year.

We kept Sam home from school yesterday in the hopes that he'd rest up and be happy today. He woke up crying this morning. I asked him if something hurt, expecting him to say his throat hurt or that his nose was stuffy. An aside: his nose should have hurt... His face and bed were totally covered in blood this morning. It looked like some horror flick had been filmed in the bottom bunk while he slept.

But, no. What hurt Sam today? "My arm."

Off to school you go!

Sad day

Well... I haven't blogged in a while because the biggest thing brewing in my personal life was job-related and I didn't think it prudent to do too much speculating before the proverbial chickens had hatched. Turns out that was wise. For the first time in my career, I did not get a job that I interviewed for. Blogs have ears, so I don't want to put pen to paper too much in discussing what the job was and the reasons I was given for the decision, but suffice it to say I'm sad today.

The good news is that I'm blessed to have a job that I love. I said from the get-go with this other opportunity that I wasn't looking, but wanted to consider a position that took me in a new direction and might have reduced my national travel. It's still frustrating. I'm too Type A! Not to mention competitive. When I want something, I like to think I can get it! Who doesn't, though.. right?!

I like to think I'm an emotionally healthy person and that I lived up to my own personal standards today. I took the whole experience as a maturation process (as my mentor so nicely put it.) Going through the motions of an interview forced me to give some deliberate thought to where I can see my career going, and I close this chapter with some good ideas in that regard. I'm also incredibly lucky to have friends in many of the right places. When a few of my closest work friends heard the news, I immediately started getting condolences backed up with discussion of other opportunities. I'd put a few discussions on hold to consider this most recent position, so it's nice to know I'm still marketable... no pun intended!

In other news... Sam CRACKED US UP at dinner today. We decided to take the night off and go out to dinner. While waiting for our meal to arrive, Sam was playing with a new truck at the table. Rob leaned over to give Sam a sweet little kiss on the head, and Sam replied with, "Daddy... What are you DOING to me?!"

Rob said, "Well... I'm just being affectionate. Do you know what that means? Can you show Daddy some affection?"

Sam quickly shot back, "Daddy... Do you need me to take you to the doctor for your affection?"

We laughed so loud we drew attention to our table. How typically "three" is it to think affection and infection are the same thing? I think he's only aware of the word "infection" because I keep telling Rob to call the doctor because I think he's fighting a sinus infection.

Sam's other hilarious moment of the day came on the way to school this morning. As usual, when he saw a large truck, he told me that he was going to grow up to be a big rig driver. I asked him if he knew what Daddy's job was. He said, "Yes. Daddy is a teacher. Maybe I'll be a teacher too. As long as I can drive my 18-wheeler to school. Wait. Maybe I'll be an 18-wheeler teacher!"

Good deductive reasoning, my child. Indeed, it is possible to teach people to drive big rigs for a living.

When I asked Sam if he knew what Mommy's job is, he had to think.

His response? "Mommy... Your job is to fly on planes and take care of me."

Not really that far off, actually!

I spoke too soon

I opened my big mouth before I should have on two accounts.

First, did I actually have the gall to whine last weekend that the adoption "personal data form" was too long? Silly me. I was rewarded for my disloyalty to the process with a big fat pack of papers in the mail on Monday morning. Holy cow. I really did forget how much paperwork there is!

One more rant about the sometimes ridiculousness of this process: Why, oh why, do we need to get fingerprinted again? Don't they track serial killers based on decades-old prints that are on file for years? Is there something about my faulty fallopian tubes that made my fingerprints change since April of 2005? If there is, I will happily stand corrected. For now, I just don't get it.

My second premature celebration is, as you may have guessed, related to the @#$@ fever. It's back. Not with the vengeance that it could be, but still. I cursed myself by actually typing the words, "Am I cured?" to Dr. Fancy Pants. Smart man that he is, he replied that only time would tell. Apparently "time" meant just under 12 hours. That's about how long it took me to go from 97.4 to 101.6.

A coworker suggested it was stress after a particularly trying and disappointing week at work. I wish that's all it was, but perhaps it does provide some perspective.

Speaking of stress, for my fellow Stand Up and Scrappers, is it just me, or does the whole anonymous-wait-for-the-results-for-days-on-end-ness of this whole thing make it just a wee bit stressful? Especially for a hobby! I obsess in ways that I didn't even know I was capable of.

I'm all posted up for this week, though. That's my strategy. Create, allow just a few hours of indecision (not days,) and post away. That leaves much more time for self-doubt... which I'm even better at!