Monday was going to rock hard. I had pulled together an awesome project for Math, History and English. Printed and stapled. Ready to roll. As we started the school day I whipped out the Math project and it went over very well. Boy was impressed with it- his mission: to measure out a quarter of a mile with a device of his making. We haven't finished yet, but it turned out to be the perfect project, hard but not too hard, relevant, engaging. I'm very pleased.
A few minutes into the day we get a phone call from Boy's friend, asking if he gets the day off. WTF? For what, I ask. For Columbus day, he says. I'm thinking, no, no way. Today is going to be my best day so far, and I hate Chris Columbus. I ask Boy if he really thinks we're going to be celebrating Christopher Columbus, bringer of death to the Americas, and he says he guesses not, so we're back on track.
But as we make our way through the problem, I start sneezing. And not just any sneezing. Fits. I've never before thought I'd sneeze till I puked, but I was getting worried. I decided it might be something in the trash molding, so I tied the bag up and set it outside the door for Boy to take out later.
As we made our way into the history lesson, things only got worse. The lesson didn't suffer though, and Boy was getting the gist of what I was shooting for. Last week he asked why we bothered to study history at all, which sent me into a rage. I came out of it with a lesson, oh boy oh boy, a good lesson. We started with what happened in Tianamen Square, and about how today's students at Beijing University don't even know it happened. Then we went on to a study about how little history American college freshmen know. And I finished it with a dry essay on why people should study history. This was a more than one day thing, of course. I had thought things were going OK. Today we got to part where he answers why he thinks he should study history, and he throws the same crap at me, about how it's useless, as if he hadn't read yesterday's essay at all. So I spent the morning lecturing about history's importance, giving examples, etc. until he finally "saw the light". Not that he ended up needing shades, or anything, but I finally got through to him.
In the end, the truth is I can't make his learn it if he doesn't want to, and I freely admitted that, but I asked him if that's really what he wanted. He assures me he does not. I said that if he wanted different books to read, or different projects to do, or anything, he's welcome to it. We will find other things and ways to learn. To say that history isn't worth learning, though, is a shame and an untruth.
Look for an essay by Boy on the topic next week on his blog.
I've already strayed pretty far from my original topic, but since I'm way over here in left field, might as well enjoy the view. Have you seen Boy's Blog? It's at http://weaslestomper.blogspot.com/. And no, I'm not making a link because the little bugger has stattracker and I don't want him to find my blog. You'll just have to copy and paste if you're interested:)
To get back to my story, we were moving on to English when I decided I was truly suffering. I called my Dr, who said there was nothing I could take. Nothing at all. I don't believe it, but I decided not to take the Claritin I had been eying just in case.
I barely paid attention to Boy as he dug into the essay Simon found about why Harry Potter is a loser. Boy sure sunk his teeth into that one. He was outraged, and produced a pretty good opinion piece in a jiffy.
Lunch was a blur. Boy ate something. I ate something. I sneezed.
After lunch I decided I could care less what happened. I was soooo miserable, with my nostrils of fire, teary eyes and numbing fatigue. I decided we'd walk to the post office, then I'd try to take a nap with Peanut and Boy could do some Spanish or trumpet without me.
And since I was feeling sorry for myself, I thought we'd get some ice cream. (Simon is saying, Hey!, right now, but it's ok, because...) Horrors! The ice cream shop was closed! Arg! No Ice Cream for You! I stumble down to the post office with Boy to discover that the Post Office is closed too! Fucking Columbus. So we trudge back to the family dollar, where I pick up some kleenex.
Back at home the BABY WON'T SLEEP. Nope. She won't.
So I decided to get started on dinner and muddle through anyway. Simon comes home and tells me to take a Benadryl, for Christ's sake. I do, but it only makes me more tired. I end up pumping early and going to bed at 7:30. Simon is an angel, and says he'll put the Boy to bed, etc. All I can think about is how many days it's going to take for whatever is making me sneeze to quit blooming.
The next morning I wake up... strangely snot free. Perfectly normal. Not one sneeze. All I can figure is that whatever it was really was in the trash, and now that it's out of the house and the dust has cleared I'm fine. Go figure. Simon says he can't believe I let the trash fester till it made me sick. Ok, but it wasn't full and it didn't stink, so why not wait to take it out, really?
Sure do have a reason now, Boy Howdy.
We're still coasting on the lessons I had ready. I'm so pleased with myself. If I can just keep it coming, we'll do alright.
Going to pump, eat lunch, and generally get on with my life,