After ANOTHER two days of phone tag, I think I've got the Goober's school situation ironed out. She's got to do all kinds of cognitive testing, and assuming she passes (ha), she'll start school late in the middle of September.
Of course if they'd had a coherent answer for me last Wednesday when I first called, that would have sped up the process. Did you know I was supposed to have an information packet? Yes. Finally got that today. I must have made quite an impression on the phone, because people were visibly recoiling and/or hiding from me when I popped over to the administration building to pick up the pile of semi-useless paperwork. The admin building is 3/4 of a mile from our house. Very handy for harassment purposes. The advantage of small towns. (Though I betcha Doctor Shithead is cursing it.)
They had a list of three shrinks suggested for these tests. One had a phone disconnected. One was out of the office for four to six weeks for health reasons. One was on vacation.
That's what I've been dealing with.
Otherwise, not a whole lot. I've been stressing. Not terribly exciting to report. Though apparently the rants over on Twitter were amusing. There was discussion earlier today about me showing up to the next school board meeting dressed as Boudica. Though I think my wild-eyed, lavender-haired, Jeep-tee-shirt-wearing entrance today made quite the impression. Looks like I'm gonna be That Mom. Not sure I'd doubted it, but it's locked in, now.
Remember, oh, a week and a little ago, when I said it was a shame we couldn't get Vans with steel toes to wear as safety shoes? Yuh huh. Today the husbeast bought a pair of leather Chuck Taylor tennis shoes. With steel toes. He was cackling with glee on the way home.
The Goober cried for two hours yesterday when I told her she might not go to school this year.
Now that my kitchen is set up, I'm trying to motivate to cook. But the only thing I feel like cooking is cake, and I'm on a cake moratorium until I lose the four pounds I gained during this move. By, um, eating cake for breakfast. The doc brought up my weight gain at our last appointment. I said yes, I'd been trying to lose weight. He offered a nutritional consult. I said "Well, I'll start with not eating cake for breakfast, and we'll see how that goes." I got That Look. You know, the look doctors give you when you're fucking up.
I'm babbling. It's been an insane last week.
The Goober has spent so much time running through the sprinkler that the grass in that part of the back yard is growing about twice as fast as the rest. (I do not normally water the lawn. I'll skip the 'intelligent use of resources' rant.) The Goob's figured out how to aim the sprinkler and nailed me in the side of the head with a blast of water last weekend. At the time I howled, but looking back? Bwah. That's my ornery kid.
And this seems like a fine place to stop babbling.
Woo sah. Perhaps something coherent tomorrow. I've got a book review I've been wanting to post, and WE ARE GOING TO THE COUNTY FAIR! There's a figure-eight demolition derby tomorrow night. The Goob will plotz.
PS: Have painted my toenails.
That helped the stress some.