We Are So Wimbledon

I’ve been neglecting the blog a little bit lately. This post . . . isn’t really going to make up for that.

Sunday – wracked by allergies after eating dinner practically outside, I spend most of the day on the couch. The husband, also wracked by allergies, does the same. When I am asleep, he is awake. When he is asleep, I am awake. This goes on for most of the day.

The only way I’ll be able to enjoy the outdoors in the future.

Remarkably, the little man decided to cooperate; he happily watches television and plays with his toys. Aside: When the little man was three, he had a less-than-stellar teacher for about a month. Three days in a row, she sent his sheet home with a note saying his was “uncooperative.” Perhaps she had never worked with toddlers, disabled or otherwise, but my head nearly exploded.

Monday – we roll out of bed to get the daughter to school then head to the local Children’s Hospital for the little man’s appointment with his neurologist, including an EEG and Botox shots.

It didn’t look anything like this.

Everything went fine. The little man’s brain waves are “remarkably good” (woo! way to go brain!) and shots sucks. I almost fell asleep in the room, but fought past my allergies and made it home. With a bonus cup of hot chocolate from the café in the lobby. I fell asleep on the couch for a couple of hours, and then slept off and on for the rest of the evening. The husband was feeling tolerable, but I was majorly dragging.

Tuesday – I woke up feeling moderately better – maybe 50% better – and headed to work. I started my day with great news in my email inbox (can’t share yet, but you wouldn’t find it interesting anyway). After several hours of business, I rushed to meet with our mortgage broker. We are refinancing our home and I had all sort of paperwork to sign. Toss in a little extra talk about good books to read and it was a pretty nice mortgage meeting. In general, mortgage meetings are pretty pleasant when people aren’t questioning whether or not you can afford the loan and you save money in the end.

Looking good, piggy bank.

Back to work for a few more hours before picking up the girl at dance. Except she called in sick to dance and I got to go straight home for a short talk with the little man (I’m assuming he told me all about his day and what an awesome mom I am) and a quick ten-minute dinner.

Stressed from a non-stop schedule, I listened to Wimbledon by the Rich White Ladies to brighten my day. Works every time, although my significant other hates it.

The husband went straight into a conference call about cheerleading while I prepared for a phone interview for some freelance writing I’m doing. Finally, at 8:30 I sat down on the couch, enjoyed a glass of wine, and typed this up for you, dear readers. Still fighting off allergies.

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