For the past few days, I've been suffering from some massive headaches. While I can attribute a good bit of them to my sinuses, there's a damn good chance that a portion of them are psychosomatic. In the next two weeks, there are several big milestones occurring that I'm just not prepared to face.
Zoey turns five on Sunday. F-I-V-E! It seems like yesterday, blah, blah, blah. I don't want to get all sentimental here, but damn. She was just a baby a month ago, wasn't she? Damn, I feel old.
Damn, she is old.
And then there's the birthday party. I don't know how we're going to fit forty kids, a pony, a Laurie Berkner cover band, a merry-go-round, some poor college girl dressed like a mermaid, and a few inflatable pools in the backyard. Actually, that's the party she wanted. The one we're throwing her will be much more low-key. But I do know we'll be putting her gifts in three piles this year: Keepers, Returns, and Recalls.
And then she starts kindergarten on Tuesday. I've gone back and forth and back and forth and back again on whether or not we should've redshirted her, but we're locked and loaded and she'll be there if we can get our lazy butts out of bed in time (school starts at 7:45 AM). She's nervous, but not as nervous as I will be. I'll be the one crying in the parking lot.
Zed will start preschool after Labor Day. This scares me. I don't know how he's going to do. His preschool and his teachers have experience with autistic children, but he will be the only child with autism in his class. I'll probably hang out in the parking lot for the first few weeks, sneaking a peek in the window every once in awhile. The school will probably take out a restraining order against me.
Ugh. My head still hurts. Pour me a drink.
No wait, tell me a joke. Dirty, political, whatever. Just make it funny. I could use a laugh.
Song of the day: Hotel Yorba by The White Stripes
The Headache Of Trepidation
