Cheese on My Sweater

Today was the kind of day where there is no place to sit in the lunchroom, so you sit on the couch and dump macaroni and cheese all over your sweater. But hey, at least you remembered to bring lunch.

A parent told me today that I needed to learn when to "pick my battles". She had already played the "are you a parent" card and was feeling pretty confident . . . I'm not sure to what end: either to feel significantly superior (she has created life, you know) or to bait me, push my buttons (her student does this pretty well, why we were having an impromptu meeting). I didn't raise an eyebrow.

Didn't share any of the thoughts in my head. About how, although I have never contributed any genetic material, I have had thousands of children at this point. And since I'm still in this business after thirteen years (most wash out before year three), I think I know something about battles and their selection. But thank you for telling me how to do my job . . .

Nope. Didn't say any of it. Just smiled sweetly. And then explained the battle I had picked. And why. "Oh, I didn't know that what that meant . . . " is what she left saying, "I let them say that all the time at home." Again, why we're having a meeting.

I haven't been writing because I don't have much nice to say. Forgive me. It is an interesting double bind . . . being admonished for being too negative . . . yet, having comments when I don't write. I should just not pay any attention. But I do. I don't want to be a negative person, to be seen as such, but really . . . it may just be in my nature. Mr. Crabbypants isn't really a negative person. He is a great guy, who is really smart and often frustrated with the world. I am also. And am half his genetic material. And quite honestly, Mrs. Crabbypants . . . not exactly "shiny happy people" material either. I love them both to pieces.

One last thing. In Key West, I was bitten by these little minute bugs . . . "no-see-ums" I think they are called. I did see one. It was a teeny-tiny black fly, smaller than a gnat. And I paid no attention, assuming they were like mosquitoes or fly bites, like black flies. Otherwise, I would have bathed in DEET. So after a couple of days, with the itching getting actually worse instead of better and there seeming to be more bites, even though I'm back in Michigan (did I bring them home?), I looked no see ums up on google. Turns out that the bites last forever, blister and sometimes fester . . . which is the best case scenario.

Worse case, I have some horrible fatal disease that kills my liver and kidneys or some parasite that had a horrible name like nematode. Oh, and if you don't get that, too many bites . . . the venom only can cause kidney failure. Kidney failure from little flies that you can't see. I think there should have been signs or something.

Ah, all small stuff . . . and I'm letting the universe take over and not sweating the small stuff . . . or the itchiness . . . but the itchiness is, well, very itchy.