Music: Nora Jones.
I would really love, love, love to share all the cool things I've been doing and learning this week but it involves real people and real lives and their confidential medical and behavioral health history soooo, nope. Can't do that. The only thing that I can share is that I was doing some computer stuff this window flew up:
THE FOLLOWING RECORD IS CONFIDENTIAL
AND IS PROTECTED BY SOME ACT AND LAW
SOMEWHERE AND YOUR ACTIVITIES WILL
BE LOGGED YOU MUST BE ABLE TO EXPLAIN
WHY YOU NEED TO ACCESS THIS RECORD AND
BE ABLE TO PROVE YOUR NEED TO DO SO.
DO YOU WISH TO CONTINUE? Y/N
oH, $HIT. So, I called the Dude Who Is Training me, and he explained that it was okay, and that it would generate a printout somewhere but go ahead, because my use is legitamate. Still. It freaked. me. out. I'm being LOGGED. Me and MY ACTIVITIES.
Oh, well, I can tell you that part of my job involves recruiting research subjects and I'm not allowed to approach them directly, but I can approach clinicians and ask them for help, which involves ingratiating myself to others to a degree that I'm actually pretty comfortable with.
Countdown to graduation for the youngest Mini-Baboo: 6 months left. We just paid lots of money to fix our 4-year old dishwasher and I can't prove it, but I'm sure Mini-baboo broke it. We only communicate by texting now. I worried, for a while, that he is lonely. I remember when I was 15 and my mom got her first full time job since I'd been born, and I hated coming home to an empty house. Or did i? Maybe it's just mom guilt making me remember that.
No, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I liked being alone in the house, raiding my mom's snack closet. (Mine is locked)
So, last week I texted back and forth with him, who I desperately want to graduate on time and get on with his life somewhere else, and it went something like this (I should explain first that Mini just got a cell phone a couple months ago and is still playing around with a feature that lets you put a "signature" in all your text messages):
Me: NO MORE TV OR INET ON SCHL NITES!
Him: WHAT? WHY? >HAVE NO REGRETS<
Me: YR GRADES SUCK FIX THEM
Him: OK. >HAVE NO REGRETS<
Me: & CLEAN KTCHN 2NITE
Him: OK >HAVE NO REGRETS<
This, then, is the meaningful communication that now exists betwe
en my youngest and me, but it's more communication than we used to have. I have to say it's handy to be able to call him and say, "Now, what was the only flavor of bagel that you'll eat for breakfast these days?" while at the grocery.
And, fix his grades he did. He'll do anything for Internet.
I got home last night and ate, and ate, and ate. I'm still trying to figure out how to do the workout thing. I'm starting to feel a lot like the zeftig WonderWoman
I've seen on the Internet. I was worried that I would find myself unable to fit in decent workout, and indeed this has happened, and I'm freaking out because I'm afraid that by December I won't be able to fit through the doorway of our new house.
And I've decided to let my hair grow back out. Maybe to my shoulders. I'm sure that when I do let it grow out I'll be starkly reminded of why I cut it in the first place but all I can remember now is how handy it was to be able to tie it back while still damp and get on with my day.
That's it, I guess. Nothing exciting. Just ordinary, working mom stuff. Oh, and this Friday, I'll be flying to Arizona to volunteer and IMAZ
and watch Baboo
do his, uh, what is this. I think it's his 8th Ironman