ramblinground

What a day. Actually not a bad day, just busy. constant motion for me and kids: Supertarget to get supplies for Frank's birthday party. Hot dogs, tons of fruit for fruit salad, which is Frankie's favorite food. Ordered spiderman cake that Frank picked out, with SM and a many armed creature fighting on top of it. "I want the fighting one", he kept saying to me. He wouldn't go for my attempt to steer him toward the cute "Madagascar" cake with jungle animal figurines on top. My boy is turning 5, and he's no baby anymore.

Also got word from Gastro MD office that labwork taken last week suggests PBC. This after a call from clinic to cancel my appt. for Monday, and no time to reschedule until May. I asked for a call back with lab results, which were not surprising. Next step is a liver biopsy. My intuitive, internet educated self-diagnosis appears to be right. Shite.

Missing mom tonight when Tim told me I should turn the TV off after "that 70s show" and go to bed, since I'd just been complaining about how much I have to do tomorrow. Thanks for the advice, buddy, but no thanks! He has no understanding or respect for a tired woman's need to sit in front of the tube, late at night, and be completely entranced by the nonsense. Or sometimes by something entertaining, like "The Closer" on TNT. Or perhaps something soothing, like the NASA channel update about the happenings at ISS, which had a crew change just last week. ( I liked the chemistry between the last crew-members: Valery Tokarev from Russia and the North Carolinian commander McHenry? McAndrew? McNeill? One of those interchangable Mc Names. ) Anyway, my mom was always up for late night TV watching, and I miss that time with her. It was one of the little things in life that we could enjoy together, and that we saw eye to eye on. As long as we stayed away from the news channels and the Catholic channel. And CourtTV, which I hate and she loved.

Oh well, guess I should go to bed finally since I DO have a lot to do tomorrow. But first must say that all mothers should receive flowers or some such sweet smelling beautifier on their kids' birthdays.

I want tulips, Monsieur McGuire.