Yesterday was an odd day.
Good in some ways.
Stressful, ergo normal, in others.
Em didn't want to go to school.
SURPRISE!
She's been home since the Friday before March Break.
Granted, she has been sick since last Sunday.
But yesterday was Thursday, she was feeling better, not perfect, not 100%, not completely better, but better enough to go to school.
A fact she was not at all happy about.
And made perfectly clear to me.
Mer rails, rants, yells, stomps, tantrums. . . .
And then she's done, like a firework running out of steam.
Keith contemplates.
Sometimes he talks about what's bothering him.
Sometimes he doesn't.
But if he's really upset about something, feels he's been grossly wronged, or is really frustrated (usually by one of his sisters), he'll certainly tell you.
Without any hesitation.
Em.
She's a whole different category all on her own.
Cold.
Icy.
She says nothing.
Just stares at you.
And then, when you least expect it, she says one line.
Sometimes one word.
Proving the addage, "less is more" has great merit.
She was miserable yesterday morning.
I knew that.
Because I'm feeling miserable, too.
We're all suffering, again, from a new strain of virus running rampant through our family.
This would be round three for the viruses.
Or, viruses: 3. Us: 0
Sore, scratchy throats.
Coughing.
Sneezing.
And you can imagine the rest.
But I didn't stay home for three days.
I had to go to work.
And it seemed to me it was time for Em to return to school.
There are other issues compounding how she's feeling.
And we're dealing with those, too.
But this all requires patience.
On her part as well.
Meeting me halfway.
Like going to school and staying there for the day.
Without making me feel like Satan's mother.
The good stuff.
Three times in the span of an hour, I was told that I am looking really good.
Unrecognizable.
Which I took in a good way, thank you very much.
That what I'm doing is working.
Much better than feeling like Satan's mother.
And affirming that avoiding the Montreal bagels, the kolach, the stainless steel, gelato filled containers at Adonis, I am making positive changes.
Good changes.
Good things for my health in the long term.
Even though there are days, like yesterday when the stressors are high, surrounding me like snow during a blizzard.
All the effort and changes are worth it.
With time.
And. . . .
Patience.
And. . . .
Yoga.
I like students because you can never predict what they're going to do.
What they'll say.
How they'll dress.
Or accessorize.
For example, I walked into my Introduction to Qualitative Methods class Tuesday, and while talking about their group presentations for Daniel Wolf's ethnography, The Rebels: A Brotherhood of Outlaw Bikers, I saw a flash of pink my peripheral vision.
Once the students were put into their groups, I went in search of the flash of pink.
And found it.
On the arm of a student, who happily consented to the use of his name: Andrew Lockerby.
The vision of pink?
A bracelet in support of finding a cure for breast cancer, purchased from Boathouse.
A bracelet that proclaims, "I LOVE BOOBIES"
This must be causing a sh** storm.
It's been banned in some places, particularly schools.
I don't know how I feel about it.
On the one hand, I want breast cancer eradicated just as much as the next person.
Stephen's mum is breast cancer survivor.
Who wouldn't want a disease that has taken the lives of countless women eradicated?
And I think we need to move beyond the oppressive right wing conservativeness that still seems to characterize how we talk about sex in the Western world.
But there is something about seeing a pink plastic, I LOVE BOOBIES wristband that makes me feel icky.
I just need to figure out how come.
Title Lyric: Hooray for Boobies by Gang Bloodhound
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