I could write a post called "An Ode to the Flu," but I will not. Because no one wants to read that post. But...we have been living with the flu this week. And apparently some fortunate, blessed mothers like me actually do get to call in sick from their mother jobs because my own sainted, blessed mother moved in with us for three days and took care of everyone. She just left today, and I felt like crying I've become so used to her here. She brought homemade chicken soup. With homemade noodles. I laid in bed and slept for two days while she took care of my (also sick) girls. Wow.
But...we seem to be mostly better now. Sometime in my delirium I was composing a blog post in my head that had something about "Waiting for Godot" and Pelagius and some of Yeats in it. But alas, I've forgotten it. Aren't you devastated to have missed that?
However, one thing I don't want to forget about is Darren's and my first parent-teacher conference that happened last week. We were so giddy. It was kind of surreal. I actually took off work for the day to attend a 20-minute conference. We're walking into this elementary school and saying to each other, "We're actually someone's parents! Here for the parent-teacher conference!"
So, we met with Lucy's teacher and saw her progress and all the things Lucy can do now. Get this--she journals. Except she can't write yet? So she dictates to her teacher. It was one of the cutest things I've ever seen. They were learning about dinosaurs, and she drew a picture of one and then journalled about it. Her dinosaur was "planning to fly to London and England." (As Darren says, "Hello, apple? Meet tree.") Her teacher commented about how, well, kind of...advanced her vocabulary and manner of speaking is. I said, "Kind of like a little elderly lady?" and she burst out laughing. Then she said, "You know, one thing that you may want to work with her on--she doesn't know her address or her phone number."
She doesn't know her address? We've forgotten to teach her our address? Oh.
Then a day or so later, and I'm not sure exactly how this came up, Darren asked her, "Hey Lucy, what's your middle name?" "[our last name]," she stated positively. "No, that's your last name; what's your middle name?" "Lucy!" she said (in a voice that sounded kind of like..."you moron!")
Then I chimed in and said, "No, Lucy, your middle name. What's Elaine's middle name?" "Frances." "Right. And what's yours?" She thought about it for awhile and said, "Cocker." This is because ever since she was a baby her godmother called her "Lucy Cocker Spaniels." (hi Jennie!) We finally had to tell her that her middle name is Nan. Then, as if sort of clearing the mists of time from her mind, she said, "Oh yeah. It's Nan."
I've always rebelled against being one of those flashcard moms or pushing her academically or robbing her of her childhood or whatever, but man. I guess I needed a parent-teacher conference to know that my daughter doesn't actually know her name and address. As always, I'm blazing trails in underachievement! So, we'll be working on that.
In other news, this is my 99th post. Apparently in the blog world when you reach your 100th post you're supposed to write 100 things about yourself. I don't even know one hundred things about myself (it's a perk of being shallow). But maybe I'll come back in a day or so with 7 or 8 things about myself. You know, in keeping with my reputation for underachievement. And I may even throw some Yeats in this time.