I am really trying to post every day, whether or not I think I have anything to say. Writing something is the beginning to writing something worth reading, and this is the forum I am most comfortable writing in. What this means for you is that there may be a lot of dross for the few flakes of gold. Sorry about that.
I must have been much sicker than I thought when I went into the doctor. I knew I felt bad, but generally bronchitis does not mean three days in bed for me, especially not on Zithromax. Usually with Zithromax, I feel a lot better the next day, or certainly the day after. I do feel a little better, just not by very much.
I mentioned this to the Rocket Scientist this morning, and he did not look surprised. He had said he had been prepared to take me into the doctor on Wednesday whether or not I agreed, because he said I looked really ill and he did not want to spend Thanksgiving in the E.R. When I told this to the doctor, he looked at me very seriously and said "You need to tell him thank you."
I am can tell I am getting a little better -- I feel really weak and unable to do anything, but I am bored and developing a bit of cabin fever. I may go out to the drive-in Starbucks just to get out of the house for half an hour, and then come back to bed.
[Edited to add: did that, now I feel like I want to collapse. Bad idea.]
I don't even have the energy to write a post on the "Happy Holidays" versus "Merry Christmas" crap that always rears its ugly head this time of year, like some really obnoxious gopher. (I am firmly in the Happy Holidays and Season's Greetings camp. The best explanation I can give is this one, although that was written at a time I felt a lot more filled with faith than I do now. Even though I currently lack personal and emotional resonance with what I wrote, I find it still valid intellectually.)
I hate being this sick. The Not-So-Little-Drummer Boy is home for Thanksgiving, and I want to go do things with him and his brothers, rather than what I am doing right now, which is lying in bed, writing on my computer and listening to Christmas music through the cable service. Well, we are definitely going to our traditional Saturday morning Starbucks coffee tomorrow, even if I have to go home and sleep the rest of the day.
After he goes, we have two weeks to get the house ready for his return for the holidays. He's bringing a friend with him, so it won't be quite the same, but it still is so lovely to have him around.
Have I ever mentioned how utterly cool I find my kids?
And it's not just mine. I know mine are special, but I know few teenagers that are not at some level interesting. I have never figured out how people can be so dismissive of them.
This may be why we have never faced full-on teenage rebellion. Yes, there are discipline issues, and no, they do not get to do whatever they want (except for the NSLDB, because he just turned *gasp* twenty-one), but we have never been anything other than perfectly clear with them that they are their own people. To the extent that rebellion is a matter of differentiation from parents, ours don't have to do that: they are already different, from us and certainly from each other.
I talk to all of them. I enjoy their company. I know a lot of parents who do not feel the same way.
I am so so lucky.