Better

Alyssa is much better. So much better, in fact, that the one day her school was in session this week (it's been a rough snow week here in the midwest) she actually went! Oh yes, there was much celebration upon her return to school.

Alas, this wonderful event heralded in the necessity for me to pack her lunch again.

Oh how I loathe packing school lunches. I know, I know. How dare I admit to such a thing? My beautiful, amazing, brilliant second grader deserves nothing less than me getting up fifteen minutes early every single day to pack her lunch.

Except...boring. So, so boring.

I informed Alyssa this morning, quite cheerfully, that I will pack her lunch until she's in the seventh grade and from that point on, she's on her own. I'm such a mean mom.

When I dropped the girls off at my mom's this morning, she told me about a conversation she and Olivia had the day before.

My mom had taken the girls outside for a bit to enjoy the snow and frostbite and biting wind.

Alyssa had left her snow pants at our house and so she went out in two pairs of sweat pants with stern orders not to wallow in the snow.

But upon going back in the house (everyone still had all their fingers and toes) my mom had Alyssa take her pants off so they could go into the dryer.

Alyssa was given a pair of pajama pants to wear while her pants dried.

Olivia was quite concerned about this change of wardrobe. She probably hadn't approved it and she fancies herself the stylist of every member of the family.

She followed my mom from room to room, trying to articulate her distress over Alyssa's pajama clad legs.

She'd point to Alyssa and say, "She's wearing those pajamas, Gram."

And my mom would nod and leave the room to attend to something.

Olivia would follow her, again saying something vague about Alyssa's pants.

Finally, Olivia figured out exactly how to word her concern and she asked my mom quite clearly, "WHY? Why is Lyssie wearing those pajama pants?"

My mom was so proud of her. She explained, "Well, Livie, Lyssie's pants were wet and cold from the snow. So I'm drying them and so Lyssie is wearing those pajama pants until her own pants are dry."

Oh, the relief at understanding why this was taking place. Olivia smiled at the explaination and went to find some lip gloss.

It was a minor breakthrough in communication in the House of Gram.

While I'm declaring Alyssa better and even going so far as to say she's no longer sick, Tom insists that her residual cough, the one that shows itself, oh, three times a day, is proof that she's still sick and should be lounging on the couch at least three hours a day. We clash here a bit.

I say she needs to build her stamina by just being eight and playing as an eight year old plays. He says she needs to rest and get lots of fluids.

I feed her when she's hungry and provide plenty of fluids for her to drink when she feels thirsty (or bored, or both) and say that she's gotten pretty good at knowing when she's tired enough to need actual rest during the day.

We're at an impasse. When she's with me, she's treated like she's not sick. When she's with him, she's an invalid.

I think the poor kid is getting confused. Last night, she asked me if she could go upstairs and get something. I looked at her like she was nuts and said, "Of course."

Tom was in the basement at the time and when he came back up, he asked where she was. I told him and he said, "I haven't been letting her go upstairs. I don't want her to wear herself out."

Oh. Oh wow. Well, good thing we have each other to balance out the obvious tendancy toward INSANITY.