So I had signed up Mr. Personality for an art class. Monday was the first day of class, and he was very excited about "painting with the paintbwush."
The instructor of the class is a woman who speaks to the children in an almost squeakingly high, overly sweet voice. Every sentence is punctuated with an exclamation mark ! of enthusiasm. That voice grates on my nerves. She seems like a nice person, and she may talk that way all the time, for all I know. But it is a little disturbing to me when she goes over to the children holding a rather scary looking bear puppet saying in her sing-song voice, "Now who wants a hug from Mr. Huggy Bear!?" I almost applauded the children who looked at her, then back at the bear, and refused. "Oh, that's ok, we understand when people don't want hugs!" Unfortunately, Mr. Personality was game, and gave Mr. Huggy Bear a huge hug that he would never give me in a million years.
That is him in a nutshell. Mangy looking bear he has never seen before in his life=big hug. Mommy who cares for you and feeds you every day=nada.
The class formally began with a story, and like all the other mothers, I stupidly sat on the floor behind Mr. Personality, who at least was provided with an old carpet sample. At the time, I felt no pain. I felt at one with the rest of the class, a devoted mother sitting with her delighted child, just like everyone else. Then, I got up.
My back sharply reminded me that I was a damn fool, and what was I thinking sitting on what was basically concrete with no support? I tried to ignore it, but it was very insistent. Then, I had to pick up and hold the 32 pound Mr. Personality in order to see the samples of the crafts that the instructor was making. I kept wishing she and her exclamation point voice would hurry up. Of course, chairs were only provided for the young children with healthy backs, and of course, I had to bend over to help him.
Suffice it to say that my morning today was spent crawling around on the floor, much to the delight of Mr. Personality. He was certain that Mommy was playing a most wonderful game, and if only he could climb on top of Mommy's back, the fun would be multiplied. I literally could not stand up. This has happened before, and I also spent the morning screeching at various nurses on the phone who were refusing to renew my pain pill prescription because my doctor was not in today.
"You have to come in to get the prescription," they would say. I agreed with them, "I have no problem seeing a doctor, but what you don't understand is that unless you wheel me in there on a gurney, I cannot get to the doctor." Various stupid procedures were quoted, and the conversations mostly ended with the nurses being very annoyed with me and my persistence. I understand that both medications have a high rate of addictiveness, but really, if I was a Vicodin addict, I would not have waited almost a year to get my fix. Finally, complete bitchiness won the day, and I am now the proud owner of my Vicodin and a bottle of Soma. I am actually feeling a bit better, but it is nice to take them overnight, since my muscles really tend to be stiff in the morning.
And, as they are both starting to take effect a little bit more quickly than I thought, I will end this rather rambling post. Just know that next week, my butt is going to be sitting on a chair during storytime.