Sunday, March 31, 2013


hank egg hunt
EB hid all the eggs in the backyard. I don't know why that chair is there.
My sister has a LOT OF NERVE. On my SubMat facebook page (you click that little fb logo up there on the left and "like" my page and then you don't miss a minute of her 'tude), she's all, "Um, blogging 'every day in March.'" This from someone who hasn't blogged in a coon's age. And I was like, March is a long month, gah, and then my Dad helpfully pointed out that there's a difference between metric March and Imperial March. Or something to do with the switch to the Gregorian calendar?

Anyway, I think I liked having my previous post at the top of the page for a couple of days. And we had kind of a whirlwind weekend here so far.

We celebrated Easter with the kids on Saturday morning, because Laura has since headed to the beach with her friend's family for Spring Break and wouldn't be home on Sunday morning. Matt the Easter Bunny hid two dozen eggs out in our backyard, which is a lot of ground to cover and a lot of different terrain. Before long, the kids needed hints. He requested a garbage bag, I brought it to him, and he told the kids that for every few pieces of litter or broken plastic crap they gathered, they would get a hint to an egg location. So they were out there picking up trash and finding eggs at the same time. Truly, he is the Master of Revels. Also, his hints rhymed:

"If not at first an egg you see, get thyself to the crook of a tree."

"If eggs you seek, follow this command: look deeper down into the sand."

There were a bunch of these, each more poetical than the last. I sat on the porch drinking coffee and cracking up, proud to have helped him pass his genetic material into the next generation of humans.

I spent the rest of the day helping Laura get ready to go, with a few bumps in the road. She had recovered from her virus and went to school on Friday, and was feeling fine, but then Saturday afternoon, she went for a run with Matt, and came home complaining that her ear hurt. I was all, damnation. I didn't want to send her off with another family for a week if there was a chance her viral head cold had turned into an ear something. So we headed to the clinic at the CVS. That place looked like an extras casting call for "Walking Dead." There were about six people ahead of us and the nurse was at lunch.

I thought, "To heck with this, I'm calling my neighbor." One of Hank's little buddy's mothers is a pediatrician. They live around the corner from us, I see her almost every day, and I have never never sought her medical opinion or asked for a bus stop consulation. I don't know, I just feel like it's an imposition? Though she has never said anything that would give that impression. But I texted her and asked her if she would look in Laura's ear, and she came right away.

She couldn't get her little ear flashlight to work, but she said the easiest thing, given that Laura was going out of town, was to prescribe an antibiotic and call it a day, so she phoned the pharmacy from my kitchen and we were all good. Normally I would have just kept a watch on her and not gone for the ab's, but Laura was nearly in tears because she thought her trip was imperiled. And I didn't think it was an ear infection, I thought it was exercise-induced ear pressure. But I am not that kind of doctor. Anyway, my neighbor told me several times that she was really glad I'd asked her, and I thought, well maybe she became a pediatrician because she wants to help children, even if they just live around the corner. And her husband is a plastic surgeon, so between them, we're covered.

Later, to Matt, I was like, "That was so convenient!" And he was like, "Having the doctor come to your house? Yes."

As Laura gathered her things together to get out the door, her ear pain lessened and lessened until it seemed she'd made a full recovery. I think my ear-pressure diagnosis was correct. Humanities PhD power! So I delivered her into the care of the other family. Matt and I feel comfortable with her instincts and judgment, as well as with that family, so I'm thinking she'll have a wonderful week. My biggest fear is drowning, and I told her not to go past her knees in the Gulf, which she won't because she thinks there are a lot more sharks than there really are.

Then Matt and I, the carefree parents of one child, threw all our stuff together and headed up to the mountain house, late. Hank fell asleep immediately, and we rode along companionably. One fun topic for musing was, if our family life were a sitcom, who and what would be the best potential spinoffs? Like Archie Bunker spun off the Jeffersons, who were the Bunkers' neighbors. Following that template, we thought the telegenic black family around the corner (my friendly kitchen pediatrician!) would make good viewing. And we conceived of a hipster office comedy involving Matt's twenty-something employees.

I guess the two of us have already talked about all the important things.

Now I'm just telling you everything that happened to me since we last spoke. Sorry.

I hope you have had a wonderful weekend. xoxo


Elizabeth said...

Please don't let this be the last Suburban Matron post. Please.

Becky said...

Elizabeth! I'm not going anywhere!

delaine said...

I always enjoy your recounting of the days in your life. Amy has absolutely no right to chastise you for missing a day blogging! She's missed months! Pot, meet Kettle.

Amy said...

That Matt. He is somethin' over somethin'! Trash collection and rhyming egg hints, indeed. And THANK YOU for aiding in passing along his genetic material. Not to mention your own, which bears mentioning.

Enjoy your carefree practically kidfree time! smooches, Amy-who-would-never-point-an-unbloggy-finger

Amy said...

That's hurtful, Mom. You wound me!

delaine said...

I'm sorry, Amy. I repent. Can I still be your favorite mother?

Camp Papa said...

Amy, I am so sorry that your mother has pierced you so cruely. It reminds me of when she nearly killed you with the math book. (All that said, it wouldn't kill you to blog, already.)

Amy said...

Mom, as Tyra Banks would say, "You're still in the running to be Amy's next top mother!"

Dad, yes it is reminiscent indeed. As for blogging, I have absolute faith that it might possibly happen someday!

Star said...

Loved the post, as usual, thanks for sharing. And, wowee, what great Easter egg hunt hints and trash-collecting ideas!

Anonymous said...

Becky, you did volunteer to blog every day in March. Amy is just being supportive & reminding you of goals you set for yourself. Also, I'm sure she enjoys reading your missives, too, and maybe feels disappointed in your missing one or two because she missed them. She misses you! You had a chance here to set an example for your sister about blogging frequently & its importance in family relating [this is where a child's eyes start rolling] and -- I thought you did great, I did -- but you could have shown her a way, without showing off, but you fumbled the ball and she's just saying. And I'm just saying that you said you were going to do something & you didn't do it & now you are trying to make demands of her & that probably doesn't feel fair.

[Then later, the opposite child, the Amy, will say, "You *were* talking a little bit too much." But that child will say it with one foot on the stairs to make a fast getaway, the minute they hear, "Welll" Ahahaha!]

Becky, there are times where if I don't just throw out there everything which has been happening to me, I maybe would never blog between page-turnings. Enjoy the rest of your leisurely, one-child break. Try to keep your blog-calendar current. À plus tard!

Anonymous said...

You know, I think I love the comments from your family as much as your posts. xoxo