These Things Happened

Annie has started taking piano lessons this summer, and she is supposed to practice every day.  So far she really enjoys her lessons, her teacher, and noodling around carefully and happily on the keyboard upstairs for fifteen minutes every day - except when I am up there to hear her.  Then, it is a totally different story.  She plays the songs quickly and messily, and when I tell her to slow down and play well, she collapses in a pile on the keys and cries about how she's no good at the piano.  Does she do this for Jason?  No.

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The girls spent last night at my parents' house, both to do some fun activities (see a play, swim in the lake) and so that I could spend three hours at the allergist's office first thing this morning.  (More on that later.)  For this overnight, I forgot to pack 1.  Annie's underwear, and 2.  Jemma's bathing suit.  It's just not summer around here if I don't forget to pack a bathing suit and/or underwear at least once!


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The reason I spent three hours at the allergist's office this morning was because I have had "seasonal allergies" ever since the minute I became pregnant with Jemma.  (Thanks, pregnancy hormones!)  In the last couple of years, however, "seasonal" has come to mean "sneezing my head off every single morning of the year and gouging my eyes out while trying to itch my ear canals," and I decided it was high time to do something about it, Jemma going on five years old this winter and all.  So I got a recommendation, called the office, and made an appointment for what people like to call a "scratch test."

I've talked to enough people who have had this scratch test (or whose children have had this test) to have had a pretty solid idea going in about what would happen.  I pictured wearing a gown, lying on my stomach on a table, and a getting a bunch of very minor pricks (scratches, if you will) to the skin on my back.  And this morning, that did indeed happen - 38 pricks, to be specific.  And it really did feel like a quick scratch, and it did not hurt, and it was No Big Deal.

But then.

THEN, there was a part two of the allergy test, which nobody has ever spoken of to me, and which should not be lumped in with the scratch test but should instead be called the "Insert a tiny needle full of allergen subcutaneously under the skin of your inner forearm and jiggle it around until a bubble of blood comes out" Test.  IT DID NOT FEEL GOOD.  I got to experience 13 jabs/jiggles on my right arm and five on my left, and now I have neat rows of red hives marked with ballpoint pen decorating my arms, because it turns out I am allergic to everything.  The good news is that I did not pass out from the needles even though my blood pressure continues to be 98 over fifty-something on the regular.

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Jemma has a friend, MC, with whom she has semi-regular playdates.  They usually play every other week or so, alternating houses, and Jemma has been there at least five times.  I had this conversation at the pool yesterday afternoon with MC's mom.

MC's mom:  Jemma, we'll have to figure out a day next week when you can come to our house and play.

Me:  Jemma, that sounds fun, huh?

Jemma:  Yeah, I've never even seen MC's house before!

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Jason noticed Annie carrying a dollar around the house the other day and asked her where she had gotten it.  She told him that Jemma had promised to give her a dollar if she would both taste and smell Jemma's finger.  She did.