Day Seven of Feisty Pants' Captivity

                      Well, I have not posted as much as I wanted to this week.  I really do try to post at least twice a week.  I like to shoot for three, mostly for the self discipline, but that rarely happens.    And the fact that I am sure you are waiting with baited breath for my every syllable.  (What do you mean, not really?!?)  But Feisty Pants has been sick again and home all week.   She has not been kidnapped - don't believe her.  Either her sinus infection never really cleared or was a tad antibiotic resistant or it was just a new one. (You never really know with Feisty Pants.  She can go from fine to OMG call the doctor in a matter of a few hours.)  So we have been home most of the week.  I keep trying to explain to Red Chief that she is not being ransomed but she does believe me. I also try to explain that if she is a captive audience, so am I, but that does not matter either.  She KNOWS it is all a plot to bore her to death.  She couldn't go to school, where the new boy in class is cute.   She couldn't go anywhere exciting (which is defined this week as "anyplace not at home").  Worst of all, no bike rides.  How rotten can we be?  She should run away from home.

                       I shouldn't bitch too much though, really.  She is not in the hospital.   The first five years of her life, she spent  the first week (at least) of August hospitalized.  So merely spending a day at the doctor's office as an outpatient is not awful.  A Feisty Pants who is bitching and complaining is a Feisty Pants who is not too sick.  I worry when she stops complaining.  That means she is either too sick or she is plotting.  Either way, I am in trouble.  It's just that I cannot get anything accomplished.  Between running to suction or help her blow her nose or stopping her from throwing herself off furniture or, my favorite, putting her darn g-tube back in (TWICE this week), we are not getting a lot done here.  As the antibiotics kick in, and she starts to feel better, she gets more bored and antsy.   As I type this, she watching tv and kicking her father saying, "Goo, bath. Hurry. NOW."  Explaining that we are waiting for the water heater to heat back up (we have just finished cleaning)  is making no difference to her at all.  Fifteen minutes is a lifetime when you are eleven and bored.

                         But she is, thankfully, on the mend and definitely better.  So, back off to school in the morning.  Back off to her normal routine of not cooperating with therapists as opposed to not cooperating with parents.  And chatting with her friends.  And making flirty faces at the cute boy.  And, maybe, just maybe, a miracle will occur and I can get something done around here by the end of the week.  Just in time for her summer session to end and her to be boredboredBORED for the last two weeks of her summer before the new school year starts and I have the blizzard of paperwork to shovel out from under again.  Feisty Pants' idea of running away from home is beginning to have its merits...