Friday Report

Sorry to have been so quiet this week--I've been sick. Nothing terrible, just a bug that has made me deeply fatigued. I actually went the clinic yesterday to get a Strep test, since when I felt this way last summer that's what I had. The test came back negative, and the doctor was all "you'll just have to suck it up til you feel better' about it. This is why I don't go to doctors much. If they can't figure out what you've got, they make you feel dumb for even bothering them about it.

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Despite being sick, I finished my revision this week. I was determined to have it done by today, and by golly, I did. Won't be surprised to learn that everything I typed was gibberish, and I won't care, either, as long as the check's in the mail.

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Today was Dress Whacky Day in the fourth grade, only Jack and I both forgot. I feel guilty that I forgot--not that Jack is a big dresser-upper/whacky guy, but still--and I also feel profoundly irritated that I feel guilty for forgetting something that Jack should have remembered. Of all the feelings I hate to feel, guilt is the worst. Don't like being angry or sad, but I really, really hate feeling guilty.

Note to self: Jack will forget all about Dress Whacky Day by tomorrow afternoon. Or else he'll be plagued by horrible nightmares about it for the rest of his life.

My advice to him at drop-off: Turn your shirt inside out, put it on backwards, and switch your shoes to the wrong feet. Whacky!

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Will is sick. After I dropped of Jack at school, I stopped by Target to buy popsicles (sore throat) and berry-flavored ibuprofin (fever). And I finally invested in an ear thermometer. Why I've waited until my youngest child is six to cough up the dough for a thermometer that actually works, I don't know. Well, I do know: I'm cheap. Also, I'm never sure if our thermometers work or not. We're a family whose average temperatures run to 97.4, so who knows what it means for one of us to run a fever? Will was burning up this morning, and the new thermometer registered 98.3. Fever? Or ice running through his veins? Or maybe I just don't know how to use a thermometer. Beats me.

Another guilt trip: My friend Meg decided to have a last minute birthday party for her son Matthew, one of Will's best friends. It will be a small gathering at their house, a group playdate sort of thing, and she planned it around our schedule. Now Will's sick and probably won't be able to go. My fault? Not at all. Still, I'll feel guilty about it and tempted to send Will if he's feeling at all better (and then he can give all the other kids what he's got--more guilt for moi!).

Someone somewhere wrote that guilt is a wasted emotion because it doesn't make anything happen. I don't know if that's true or not. If I ever felt guilty about things that I was actually at fault for, I'd have a better idea. But I like to save my guilt feelings for stuff I have little to no control over or that don't matter in the least.

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I will return to you next week in the Christmas spirit (one hopes). We are decorating this weekend. For the first time, we're going to do some decorating in the boys' rooms; nothing fancy, just some tinsel and lights. Jack is a Christmas fanatic, a fourth grade believer in Santa, who can tell you to the hour how long it is until a) when we'll get our tree; b) Christmas Eve; and C) Christmas day.

And no, that never gets annoying.