Category Archives: parenting

PSA

I’m sure I’m annoying those of you who already visited my new site, but for those of you who don’t read blogs on the weekend… Wheels on the Bus has moved.  From now on, you’ll find me at http://emilyrosenbaum.com .  And if you head over there this morning, you’ll find some good news.

In case you missed it

My blog has moved.  You can now find me at http://emilyrosenbaum.com .  C’mon over!

Movin’ on up

After more than three years of blogging here, these wheels are rolling.  Please visit my new site with my very own domain name.  Update your feeds and come along for the next part of the ride.

I know that only a complete moron posts a move message on Friday night, so I’ll post this again on Tuesday, when the internet opens back up for business.

Brave boy

He’s fine, thank you.  The surgery went smoothly, the adenoids are out, and the child is resting on the couch, watching Lassie and eating his second bowl of ice cream.

I’m supposed to keep him in the house for a week, which is fabulous in theory, except that he looked up after his first bowl of ice cream and said, “Mommy, I want to go outside by myself.”  If he’s up for going out ten minutes after we get home, what’s he going to be like by Wednesday?

How many times can he watch Lassie?

More to the point, how many times can his sister watch Lassie?

Please send chocolate.

Pieces parts

We’re off today to get Benjamin’s adenoids out.  I’ll be back around noon, and I’ll try to post an update.  But since all of you know this isn’t really a big deal, I suspect you’re a hell of a lot less nervous than he is.

I’ve been revising the book.  Does that surprise you?  My agent dumped me, but there are plenty of small presses out there.  I can pitch the damned thing myself.  My writing group gave phenomenal advice on a section that has plagued me for years, so I should be done revising and writing the pitch next week.  IAin’t nobody gonna keep me down.

Zach is off to his grandparents today.  We can’t wait to send him.  I love the child, really I do, but he has grown increasingly impossible.  The fact is, he didn’t make a lot of friends during the school year.  He has a few, but we’ve only been able to see them sporadically this summer.  The summer has been hard for him.  He had to transition to camp, and transitions are not his strong suit.  New kids, new place, new routine.  He snapped at me this week, “People always say summer vacation is so fun.  It’s NOT fun!”

“I know kiddo.  Is school fun?”

“Yes, school is fun.  Summer vacation is not!”

This is how we know he’s my child.  I wonder sometimes whether his father really contributed any genetic material.

That’s all for now.  I’m off to take my dude in for surgery.

Mr. Charming

Since we discovered that Benjamin does not have allergies and does have chronic sinusitis plus chronic infected adenoids, he has had four sinus infections.  In as many months.  We get him off antibiotics, and within two weeks, he is miserable again.  Crying, hitting, not sleeping.  Then, we get him back on antibiotics, and twenty-four hours later, he is Mr. Charming.

I took him in to the doctor on sinus infection number three.  “I think it’s time to see the ENT about his adenoids,” she said.

“I think so, too,” I replied.

I took him in to the ENT, who looked at his CAT scan.  “I think we need to take the adenoids out,” she said.

“I think so, too,” I replied.

Now, I’m not a big fan of CAT scans and surgery and general mucking about in a four-year-old’s body.  But I’m also not a big fan of my kid single-handedly creating SuperBugs because he’s rendered all of the antibiotics ineffective.  He’s been sporadically miserable for over two years, and we’ve always tried to correct the behavior.  Turns out, he was just pissed off because he was playing host to a colony of microscopic critters.

So, Friday it is.  They’ll be giving my kid anesthesia on Friday the thirteenth.  He’ll come home sore and not be allowed out for a week.  We’re shipping his brother off to his grandparents’ house for the week because I don’t need Zach pushing Ben’s buttons all week long.

Also because Zach just generally drives me bananas.

But then, maybe, just maybe, Mr. Charming can stick around a bit.

What’s seventy-two divided by twelve-and-a-half?

Well, then.

One day, I’m poking along, writing posts, hearing from no one except Coco and Painted Maypole, who are such staunch supporters that the sky might be falling before they fail to leave a comment.  The next day, I write a post about small blogs, ask for responses, and I hear from SEVENTY-TWO people.

OK, then.  Thank you.  I appreciate the response.  I want other small bloggers to be able to find yesterday’s post reassuring.  My point was – and if you read the comments yesterday, I think you’ll find it holds water – that the “big” bloggers are only big because other bloggers read them.  If you have a small blog, live it, love it.  There are people out there reading you who don’t read the big blogs but do read you.  That means that there is someone out there right now who reads you regularly but has never once read Dooce.  Howdya like them apples?

Now back to our regularly scheduled readership of twelve and a half people.

You will not be getting a post here today because I want you to click over to Babble and read my essay over there.  And there is a recipe attached!  Catherine will love that.

As, I am sure, will Painted Maypole and Coco.