Emma has freaked herself out. She's been sick for the last week, and sometime during her couch/computer time, she stumbled on an ad for a horror movie. She also seems to have stumbled on some stuff during google searches for things like the largest animal --we found some pages for "man has 200 lb tumor on his face" in her browser history. Whatever the specifics, she is now afraid to be in a room that doesn't also have one of us in it. As you can imagine, that's causing a bit of a problem at bed time.
I remember when I was her age (~1973), my dad used to watch those sci-fi B-movies on Saturday afternoons --black & white, really bad special affects, and they totally freaked me out. However, at that time I was sharing a room with my sister, and after she fell asleep I'd just join her in her bed.
For Emma, we're leaving all the lights on --her room light, the hall light-- and allowing her to read until I come up to bed at 10 p.m. She's still pretty unhappy when I come up and turn the lights out, but I can only accommodate her so much --as horrible as it is, she's just going to have to get past it. Just one more way in which I can feel like a bad mother.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Our house is too big!!
I'm ready to move back into a tiny house. Big yard, tiny house.
Emma is not a messy child --she puts her dirty clothes in the clothes hamper, she puts her dishes in the sink. She does fill up surfaces with various art projects in progress, but my husband fills up his share of surfaces too. Emma does like to create little vignettes in her room, which often requires lots of small things on bookcases, and larger objects on floors, but she's not messy.
I just cleaned her room. She's been sick, and it seems like she's feeling better today, so I figured it was a good day to wash sheets, blankets, loveys, etc. Since I was doing that, I also vacuumed and dusted --the lampshade, the nightstand, the floor behind the nightstand, the floor behind the rocking chair, the floor behind the dolls bunk beds, the floor under her art desk . . . it goes on and on. The corners and edges and behinds are so dusty that they needed vacuuming and then windex and paper towel. The dust bunnies have been having lots of babies. Where does it all come from?
If I had a smaller house, I could probably keep up with it better. Because while her room is now clean, the rest of the rooms in this enormous house are not. Yet. Maybe next year?
Emma is not a messy child --she puts her dirty clothes in the clothes hamper, she puts her dishes in the sink. She does fill up surfaces with various art projects in progress, but my husband fills up his share of surfaces too. Emma does like to create little vignettes in her room, which often requires lots of small things on bookcases, and larger objects on floors, but she's not messy.
I just cleaned her room. She's been sick, and it seems like she's feeling better today, so I figured it was a good day to wash sheets, blankets, loveys, etc. Since I was doing that, I also vacuumed and dusted --the lampshade, the nightstand, the floor behind the nightstand, the floor behind the rocking chair, the floor behind the dolls bunk beds, the floor under her art desk . . . it goes on and on. The corners and edges and behinds are so dusty that they needed vacuuming and then windex and paper towel. The dust bunnies have been having lots of babies. Where does it all come from?
If I had a smaller house, I could probably keep up with it better. Because while her room is now clean, the rest of the rooms in this enormous house are not. Yet. Maybe next year?
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Moms: Problem-Solvers
Really, do we not solve all the problems?
"I just downloaded Firefox 4.0 because it told me to, and now I'm getting a message that it won't work with the OS on this computer! #$@*&^*$!"
Problem solved.
"I need a tiny flower pot with a flower for this project."
Problem solved.
"How am I going to attach this flower pot to the poster board so I can take it off and pass it around?"
Problem solved.
"I need crushed oreos for my ice-cream!"
Problem solved.
"But this is due tomorrow!"
Problem solved.
"I have to attend this meeting at the same time you're teaching. What do we do with Emma?"
Problem solved.
"There isn't anything for dinner."
Problem solved.
Really, I should be grateful rather than tired --someday there are going to be problems I can't solve. That'll be a bummer.
"I just downloaded Firefox 4.0 because it told me to, and now I'm getting a message that it won't work with the OS on this computer! #$@*&^*$!"
Problem solved.
"I need a tiny flower pot with a flower for this project."
Problem solved.
"How am I going to attach this flower pot to the poster board so I can take it off and pass it around?"
Problem solved.
"I need crushed oreos for my ice-cream!"
Problem solved.
"But this is due tomorrow!"
Problem solved.
"I have to attend this meeting at the same time you're teaching. What do we do with Emma?"
Problem solved.
"There isn't anything for dinner."
Problem solved.
Really, I should be grateful rather than tired --someday there are going to be problems I can't solve. That'll be a bummer.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Carrots and Hips
So, Rob has taken Emma off to run some errands, and I have a couple of hours to myself. Well, had --I've already wasted one hour trying to find a new jigsaw puzzle to purchase. I found one I LOVED, called "Meet the Imaginaries" by artist Philip Straub, but it's out of stock. All the rest are too sentimental or boring. An exercise in frustration.
So, I wandered around the kitchen, looking for a treat. Then I figured I might as well get one last load of laundry in for the week ahead, and make the beds. I came back down to the kitchen, still looking for a treat. Now I'm in here with carrots and blue cheese dressing. I'm not really sure why, although god knows I need the fiber. Yeah.
Since I started on the Celebrex several weeks ago I've been walking on the treadmill at a snail's pace. I have to go at a snail's pace in order to make my left hip operate like a hip should while walking. I literally have to concentrate on each step to make sure I don't go back to my non-normal walking stride, which I've been using for a couple of years now because of the pain in that hip. If I go too fast, my hip gets startled and scuttles back to its old ways. The good news is that I have less and less pain as I use the hip normally, even though I do still have to concentrate. After I've been walking for about 15 minutes, I get sort of back in the groove --I still have to be vigilant, but it actually feels like normal walking! Who knew how grateful I'd be to just to be able to walk?
Now I'm back to my carrots and search.
So, I wandered around the kitchen, looking for a treat. Then I figured I might as well get one last load of laundry in for the week ahead, and make the beds. I came back down to the kitchen, still looking for a treat. Now I'm in here with carrots and blue cheese dressing. I'm not really sure why, although god knows I need the fiber. Yeah.
Since I started on the Celebrex several weeks ago I've been walking on the treadmill at a snail's pace. I have to go at a snail's pace in order to make my left hip operate like a hip should while walking. I literally have to concentrate on each step to make sure I don't go back to my non-normal walking stride, which I've been using for a couple of years now because of the pain in that hip. If I go too fast, my hip gets startled and scuttles back to its old ways. The good news is that I have less and less pain as I use the hip normally, even though I do still have to concentrate. After I've been walking for about 15 minutes, I get sort of back in the groove --I still have to be vigilant, but it actually feels like normal walking! Who knew how grateful I'd be to just to be able to walk?
Now I'm back to my carrots and search.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
British Mysteries
I love to read British mysteries. Actually, I also like to view them --they're often my favorite shows. (Although there are a couple of exceptions --the Brother Cadfael and the Inspector Lynley are both really poor reproductions of the books, which is a shame.) For the most part I like my entertainment gentle, about people and plot, not about action and suspense. Usually I'm anxiously awaiting new novels from my favorite authors, but recently I came across two new series that I'm really enjoying --one on video, one in the traditional book form.
The video series is called The Last Detective, and is based on a book series (Dangerous Davies by Leslie Thomas --I've never read these books). The first two of the series were a bit off-putting because DC Davies is treated badly by his superior officers. But as he solves several mysteries, that end of things improves, and the relationships he has with an almost-ex-wife and an odd friend add a lot of humor to the series.
The books are by Patricial Moyes, and star DCI Tibbett (and his wife Emmy). These are classic Christie-types, although lovable characters can sometimes be involved in the crimes. The characters are complex enough that you can both like them and understand that they have handled a problem in a way that must be punished. I've only read two of these so far, but I've really enjoyed them. Of course, they were written from 1959 to 1993, and are mostly out of print, but I've been able to get them from second sellers on Amazon. The pity is the pressings are all in tiny type and hard on my old eyes! I wish these things were available on my Kindle.
The video series is called The Last Detective, and is based on a book series (Dangerous Davies by Leslie Thomas --I've never read these books). The first two of the series were a bit off-putting because DC Davies is treated badly by his superior officers. But as he solves several mysteries, that end of things improves, and the relationships he has with an almost-ex-wife and an odd friend add a lot of humor to the series.
The books are by Patricial Moyes, and star DCI Tibbett (and his wife Emmy). These are classic Christie-types, although lovable characters can sometimes be involved in the crimes. The characters are complex enough that you can both like them and understand that they have handled a problem in a way that must be punished. I've only read two of these so far, but I've really enjoyed them. Of course, they were written from 1959 to 1993, and are mostly out of print, but I've been able to get them from second sellers on Amazon. The pity is the pressings are all in tiny type and hard on my old eyes! I wish these things were available on my Kindle.
Friday, March 18, 2011
A Relaxed Day at Home
Emma came down kind of suddenly with a head cold yesterday --I think she spent all the hours from after school to bed time sneezing, poor kid. Really, it's not a bad one --no more sneezing today, just a stuffy head. Since we're on spring break, it's easy to keep her home. She's actually spent several stretches of time outside --the novelty of being able to finally be outside again. I remember when I first moved here just how shocked I was at the difference between a winter sheltered between two Great Lakes and the howling-wind-bitter-cold of a winter out here on the prairie. Playing outside in the winter is a rare occurrence here, happening only on those rare days when the temperature edges up into the lower 20s and the winds calm down to 15 mph or so.
We've been looking over possible rental houses for our northern California vacation. For Emma, vacations have all too often been hours spent bored at grandparents houses. While she loves her grandparents, it's not very exciting for a kid. So, this summer we're going to fly out to Eureka, Ca. and spend a week looking at redwoods, black sand beaches, and hopefully some whales and sea otters. We're not southern California crowds kind of people, so this will be a chance to see and play in the Pacific Ocean without trying to find a spare inch of space on a southern California beach to put your towel.
And now we've made some yummy blueberry quick bread, and I can go back to my book.
We've been looking over possible rental houses for our northern California vacation. For Emma, vacations have all too often been hours spent bored at grandparents houses. While she loves her grandparents, it's not very exciting for a kid. So, this summer we're going to fly out to Eureka, Ca. and spend a week looking at redwoods, black sand beaches, and hopefully some whales and sea otters. We're not southern California crowds kind of people, so this will be a chance to see and play in the Pacific Ocean without trying to find a spare inch of space on a southern California beach to put your towel.
And now we've made some yummy blueberry quick bread, and I can go back to my book.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Spring Break is Almost Over
How did that happen? And I didn't read a single book! My plan --and I even verbalized this-- was to sit on the couch all week and read. Somehow, no one reminded me of that objective during the week. In fact, I've gotten very little done in general. Today I even completely forgot that my car was in the shop and I should be checking for phone messages --those people looked at my car at 8 a.m., and I didn't manage to call them back until after 3:30 p.m.
However, it was actually spring-like, which is unusual for spring break. Last fall Rob put up an awesome swing for Emma --a single rope with a platform hanging from the bottom, hung from a high branch of one of our majestic Black Walnut trees (the bane of my gardening life, but that's a different blog). When you swing on that, you really swing! She loves it, of course, and has needed pushes each day after school this week. My pushes are okay --I can get her going a bit, and add to it with extra pushes as she swings back in range. But Rob's pushes --oh my! He will actually push the swing above his head as he runs under her --she gets higher than our rather tall bird feeder, and there are screams --three quarters delight, one quarter fear. For her birthday party last November all the kids had to have pushes from Rob, and the three boys clung to that rope with all their might during their turns :-)
It has been nice to have the time this week to wander around the gardens and look at the green tips poking out --always reminding myself that we'll likely have more snow this month. April 12th is my "last snow" date --before Emma was born, so about 11 years ago, we had a major snow (4 inches or so) on April 12th --I figure we're not really safe until after that date.
It has been nice to have the time this week to wander around the gardens and look at the green tips poking out --always reminding myself that we'll likely have more snow this month. April 12th is my "last snow" date --before Emma was born, so about 11 years ago, we had a major snow (4 inches or so) on April 12th --I figure we're not really safe until after that date.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
The Earring Wars
Emma got her ears pierced about 10 weeks ago. She anxiously counted down the six weeks until she could change earrings --a calendar in her room, she crossed off each day before she went to bed.
Since we reached that day, we've been in the trenches of the Earring Wars. We're not warring with each other --no, we (mostly her) are at war with the earrings themselves.
Each time she decides to change earrings, it's a catastrophe. The first time, it was so hard to get the backs off the starter earrings that her ears were too sore to get new earrings in. It took at least an hour. Yesterday, she got her earrings out, got one new one in, but we couldn't get the second one in at all. Finally, in the second ear we went back to the former earring --it slid right in! Why didn't the new one do that? Then, of course, we had to change the first one back to the old earring. Got the new one out, couldn't the get older one in! And this was the ear that she had been able to switch on her own. Three hours later . . . . finally both older earrings in.
This morning she lost an earring back at some point, and when I was toweling her hair after a shower, the earring came out. Couldn't get it back in --the front of the hole was red, the back had crusted over. Good grief. After leaving it an hour to see if it would feel better on its own, I finally numbed it with an ice cube and rammed the earring back in. Emma tells me how she's so glad I was able to hurt her and get it back in --she'd never have been able to do it herself.
I've told her that the current bright green fuzzy peace sign earrings are staying in for the rest of her life!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Realizing the Baby Boomers
Emma's choir was held in the auditorium of a retirement community "town center". Seeing this place involved coming face to face with a reality I don't see very often --the huge number of older people in our society. The baby boomers. Teaching at a college, I mostly see lots of beautiful 18 year olds.
This retirement community is only one of many in this area, and I had heard the name before because a few years ago my father-in-law had considered moving to our area. He and Rob checked out several of the retirement community options. At that time, however, I believe it consisted mostly of an apartment-type complex, with some central gathering rooms in the building. Now, across the street from that original building, there's a whole town! There is a whole subdivision of condos, and then there is this enormous building, with rather luxurious apartments. This building is called the "town center", and includes a gym, an auditorium, and restaurant (perhaps several restaurants --I didn't check it out really).
The concert was in the auditorium. Even though our kids were singing, we had to buy tickets. A's mom and I went in the wrong door --this elderly woman sitting in the audience scolded us quite strongly about that. It was weird.
Even stranger, however, was to sit in this audience of about 200 older people. Gray and thinning hair everywhere you looked --the woman in the chair next to me pretty much slept through the concert, and she wasn't the only one. This same sleepy woman next to me yelled some unpleasant comments too, when she couldn't hear well enough. That was weird too.
A's mom and I joked about how luxurious the complex was, and how it might be quite nice to move into a place like that after retirement. After being scolded, and hearing the rather grumpy, rude comments of my neighbor, I had second thoughts about that. I'm not sure I want to live that close to people I might not like.
I'm rather glad that Emma's concert next week in back in the Mendelssohn Center.
This retirement community is only one of many in this area, and I had heard the name before because a few years ago my father-in-law had considered moving to our area. He and Rob checked out several of the retirement community options. At that time, however, I believe it consisted mostly of an apartment-type complex, with some central gathering rooms in the building. Now, across the street from that original building, there's a whole town! There is a whole subdivision of condos, and then there is this enormous building, with rather luxurious apartments. This building is called the "town center", and includes a gym, an auditorium, and restaurant (perhaps several restaurants --I didn't check it out really).
The concert was in the auditorium. Even though our kids were singing, we had to buy tickets. A's mom and I went in the wrong door --this elderly woman sitting in the audience scolded us quite strongly about that. It was weird.
Even stranger, however, was to sit in this audience of about 200 older people. Gray and thinning hair everywhere you looked --the woman in the chair next to me pretty much slept through the concert, and she wasn't the only one. This same sleepy woman next to me yelled some unpleasant comments too, when she couldn't hear well enough. That was weird too.
A's mom and I joked about how luxurious the complex was, and how it might be quite nice to move into a place like that after retirement. After being scolded, and hearing the rather grumpy, rude comments of my neighbor, I had second thoughts about that. I'm not sure I want to live that close to people I might not like.
I'm rather glad that Emma's concert next week in back in the Mendelssohn Center.
A Disfunctional Concert Experience
So, Emma had her first choir concert last night. Goodness, what a mess! There are some things I really love about her choir teacher (Mrs. B), but organization is definitely not one of her strengths. The kids in Emma's age-group choir were definitely not ready to give a concert. Emma was in worse shape, because she'd missed rehearsal the week before (when she was down with the flu), so she wasn't even sure which songs they were singing.
What a stressed child! She held up pretty well, managed to mouth some of the words, but there were definitely some deer-in-the-headlights moments for her. Plus, Mrs. B really embarrassed her age group when they were on stage without the older kids --some of the things she said about how they weren't very well prepared made it sound as if they were worse than they really were. At the very end of the last song Emma actually smiled. A's mother, who was sitting next to me, said "Well, she looks happy now." "Well, that's good --I'm really not trying to torture her." was my reply. The concert didn't end until after 9 p.m. (the time she normally goes to sleep on a school night). She completely broke down in the car, and had an incredible tension headache. She needed a snack, motrin, and a snuggle before she could go to bed, so she had quite a late night.
What a stressed child! She held up pretty well, managed to mouth some of the words, but there were definitely some deer-in-the-headlights moments for her. Plus, Mrs. B really embarrassed her age group when they were on stage without the older kids --some of the things she said about how they weren't very well prepared made it sound as if they were worse than they really were. At the very end of the last song Emma actually smiled. A's mother, who was sitting next to me, said "Well, she looks happy now." "Well, that's good --I'm really not trying to torture her." was my reply. The concert didn't end until after 9 p.m. (the time she normally goes to sleep on a school night). She completely broke down in the car, and had an incredible tension headache. She needed a snack, motrin, and a snuggle before she could go to bed, so she had quite a late night.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
The Menoblahs
I didn't make that up --I just read a post about the "menoblahs" over at Midlife Bloggers. I was going to post a comment, but I couldn't find a way to comment, which sent me here to write.
Menoblahs simply describes so well how I'm feeling right now. I don't always feel this way, which is actually part of the problem. This evening everything feels so blah. I don't want this, but I don't know what I do want. And I can't think of anything that would be worth looking forward to. Perhaps this has more to do with a tough week --it seems as if I've had absolutely no "me" time. I'm not sure exactly what I'd do with me time right now --perhaps just walk on the treadmill --even that seems to be so difficult to do without interruption when Emma is around.
This parenting stuff is for the birds. Sure, I love her like crazy, but parenting also drives me nuts. I really find myself envying --envying-- people with no ties. No one to take care of, to worry about, to feed, to placate, to wait on. I can't even imagine anymore what it would be like to have all that removed from my life and the back of my mind. It's always there, like a weight. And although there is no going back --no leaving it behind, once you've fallen in love with your child-- I'm not convinced it's worth it. Would I make the decision to be a parent, knowing now what I do? I'm not sure I would. If I had to weigh the loneliness of no partner, no family, with the freedom of no worry, no constant interruption, the ability to actually do what I want to do --which would come out on top?
I'll admit too, that I'm not good at taking time away from Emma. She seems so attached to me that I feel mean if I choose to spend time away from her. I've been thinking of taking a day trip to visit a friend, but if I do I have to deal with the inevitable "but why can't I go with you?" when I have nothing except a selfish answer.
And what if I'd done all this earlier? Been a younger parent? Would I still feel this way, or is this all part and parcel of the menoblahs? Ahh, who knows. Right now I don't think I have the energy to figure it out.
Menoblahs simply describes so well how I'm feeling right now. I don't always feel this way, which is actually part of the problem. This evening everything feels so blah. I don't want this, but I don't know what I do want. And I can't think of anything that would be worth looking forward to. Perhaps this has more to do with a tough week --it seems as if I've had absolutely no "me" time. I'm not sure exactly what I'd do with me time right now --perhaps just walk on the treadmill --even that seems to be so difficult to do without interruption when Emma is around.
This parenting stuff is for the birds. Sure, I love her like crazy, but parenting also drives me nuts. I really find myself envying --envying-- people with no ties. No one to take care of, to worry about, to feed, to placate, to wait on. I can't even imagine anymore what it would be like to have all that removed from my life and the back of my mind. It's always there, like a weight. And although there is no going back --no leaving it behind, once you've fallen in love with your child-- I'm not convinced it's worth it. Would I make the decision to be a parent, knowing now what I do? I'm not sure I would. If I had to weigh the loneliness of no partner, no family, with the freedom of no worry, no constant interruption, the ability to actually do what I want to do --which would come out on top?
I'll admit too, that I'm not good at taking time away from Emma. She seems so attached to me that I feel mean if I choose to spend time away from her. I've been thinking of taking a day trip to visit a friend, but if I do I have to deal with the inevitable "but why can't I go with you?" when I have nothing except a selfish answer.
And what if I'd done all this earlier? Been a younger parent? Would I still feel this way, or is this all part and parcel of the menoblahs? Ahh, who knows. Right now I don't think I have the energy to figure it out.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Her First Kiss
Emma is holed up in a closet that she has turned into a little cozy reading room. She finally went back to school today, now that she's been fever-free for 24 hours, and when I picked her up she wanted two things: strawberries to dip in chocolate, and a chance to read her book, because "Winnie just had her first kiss, and another boy likes her too. She's in a difficult situation."
I told her that I wasn't ready for first kisses, and that perhaps she shouldn't get any older than 10. She disagreed: "Then I'd be forever anticipating my first kiss!". I guess I can see her point.
I told her that I wasn't ready for first kisses, and that perhaps she shouldn't get any older than 10. She disagreed: "Then I'd be forever anticipating my first kiss!". I guess I can see her point.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Clinic Doctors
Clinics. I have a love-hate relationship with them. It's taken me a long time to find a doctor I like --and luckily she's a family doctor, so I just switched Emma from the pediatrician to this doctor. She's great, but she's a 45 minute drive from our home. In general, it's definitely worth it.
But Emma started running a high fever Sunday afternoon, and Monday night was really awful --even with motrin she had one of those nights where you toss and turn and have all kinds of weird thoughts/dreams because of the fever. She ended up in my bed, because I was too worried about her to send her back to her bed --she hasn't been this sick in a long time. Because it started with a fever and cough, and she doesn't have a head cold, I figure she's actually got the flu this time. (How this has happened, when Rob had the flu a couple of weeks ago and she didn't get it, I don't understand.)
Well, this afternoon she was feeling really poorly. I'd given her motrin at 5:30 a.m., when she woke up still feverish and with a sore throat, and she spent the whole day on the couch --unusual for a 10 year old, unless they're pretty sick. I gave her some more motrin around 2:30, and then, about 15 minutes later, asked her how she was feeling. She was still feeling badly enough that she actually wanted to go see a doctor.
So, since our doctor is 45 minutes away, and the chances of getting in to see her were slim anyway, we went to an immediate care clinic near us.
First, the nurse was a bit off-putting. Something about her attitude made me feel like she didn't believe anything I was saying. Emma is so hoarse that she wasn't really doing much talking, but the nurse kept insisting that Emma answer her --as if she didn't trust me. Then the doctor came in --and he was even worse! He was very unfriendly, and he gave the impression that we were wasting his time. At one point, he asked Emma if her ears hurt, and she tried to explain that they had hurt earlier, but didn't at the moment. Instead of taking the time to listen to her, he interrupted her and said impatiently "Just yes or no --do they hurt." Then he started looking at medications --as if he was looking to see which medication he would prescribe. But I'm not big on antibiotics if they aren't necessary. I was worried because her cough sounded bad, and with her asthma, that always worries me. But I wasn't there for antibiotics --I was there to find out if there was anything that indicated a bacterial infection, rather than a viral infection. When I finally got him to talk to me, there didn't seem to be any reason for antibiotics, so we finished up and left.
The whole thing has left me with a really bad feeling. And I resent that.
But Emma started running a high fever Sunday afternoon, and Monday night was really awful --even with motrin she had one of those nights where you toss and turn and have all kinds of weird thoughts/dreams because of the fever. She ended up in my bed, because I was too worried about her to send her back to her bed --she hasn't been this sick in a long time. Because it started with a fever and cough, and she doesn't have a head cold, I figure she's actually got the flu this time. (How this has happened, when Rob had the flu a couple of weeks ago and she didn't get it, I don't understand.)
Well, this afternoon she was feeling really poorly. I'd given her motrin at 5:30 a.m., when she woke up still feverish and with a sore throat, and she spent the whole day on the couch --unusual for a 10 year old, unless they're pretty sick. I gave her some more motrin around 2:30, and then, about 15 minutes later, asked her how she was feeling. She was still feeling badly enough that she actually wanted to go see a doctor.
So, since our doctor is 45 minutes away, and the chances of getting in to see her were slim anyway, we went to an immediate care clinic near us.
First, the nurse was a bit off-putting. Something about her attitude made me feel like she didn't believe anything I was saying. Emma is so hoarse that she wasn't really doing much talking, but the nurse kept insisting that Emma answer her --as if she didn't trust me. Then the doctor came in --and he was even worse! He was very unfriendly, and he gave the impression that we were wasting his time. At one point, he asked Emma if her ears hurt, and she tried to explain that they had hurt earlier, but didn't at the moment. Instead of taking the time to listen to her, he interrupted her and said impatiently "Just yes or no --do they hurt." Then he started looking at medications --as if he was looking to see which medication he would prescribe. But I'm not big on antibiotics if they aren't necessary. I was worried because her cough sounded bad, and with her asthma, that always worries me. But I wasn't there for antibiotics --I was there to find out if there was anything that indicated a bacterial infection, rather than a viral infection. When I finally got him to talk to me, there didn't seem to be any reason for antibiotics, so we finished up and left.
The whole thing has left me with a really bad feeling. And I resent that.
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