November 28, 2004

Supposed to be a good day The cookies (oatmeal with raisins and rainbow sprinkles) were baked and ready to take to school. The cake mix was bought, as was the icing sugar and red food colouring. We planned on getting the wrapping paper today and the gifts were ready to go. Alexander was excited, having received three birthday cards in the mail this week and an e-card last night. The plan: a regular day with a little party at school, then home for pizza and orange pop (Alexander's choice for the meal) and chocolate cake and gifts. The reality: Alexander has a stomach bug and spent last night throwing up. He's asleep right now and feels horrible. We still have to drop the cookies off at school or else 25 kids are without a snack today, but unless we have a miraculous recovery, Alexander has to stay home. I'm home too, and I have to reschedule the first research interview I planned for today (shit). I feel so badly about Xander being sick on his birthday (though am very thankful we didn't have a kiddie party planned or anything). He finally "got" the idea of birthdays and anticipation and all that--but we'll do it all tomorrow or Sunday when he's feeling better. Since it's a mother's perogative to get all mushy/nostalgic on her kid's birthday (and since I haven't had a chance to touch my knitting), I'll post some pictures of my little guy a few days old, and at six months: And yes, I did make him that sweater. Hard to believe he's four already. And I'm hardly in a rush to for him to grow up, learning what I have about teenagers from Stephanie (a laugh I really needed this week).
It's not going to be a good day when you're making play dough at 4:45am So Craig's alarm goes off this morning at 4:30 and I'm trying to wake up enough to be sure he gets out of bed and doesn't miss his plane when all the sudden it dawns on me that we forgot to make the play dough for Emma's class this week. (New play dough is required weekly for hygienic reasons and we all signed up for the job--the fact that it's in my Palm and I've known for weeks didn't seem to help). Crap. So I get out of bed and find the recipe and I'm standing over the stove at 4:45am making blue fucking play dough. I don't have enough salt (1 cup) so I wing it and I'm cooking blue goop on the stove that's making me a bit queasy. I wait for it to cool and knead it into a nice blue blob and set it on a rack to cool a bit before I go back to bed. Of course, I can't sleep, but since I have about an hour before I have to wake up I give it a try. Then I play with the snooze bar for about an hour and wake up late. Crap. Things go fine getting the kids to daycare and I come home to do my very first research interview for my project. I've tested the machinery--tape recorder with a fancy hook-up to the telephone to tape the interview and all is fine. I do the interview and it's great. She provides lots of detail and information and is really easy to talk with and I'm really satisfied with the information I get. The call ends and I rewind the tape and (you're seeing where this is going, and it ain't good) nothing. Fuck. Well not nothing, my voice is loud and clear and is obviously being recorded over the telephone. Her voice is not there but instead it sounds like a vacuum in the distance. Nothing. Fuck. I can't call and do it again since it would be a big demand on her time. Fuck. I try to write out what I remember based on listening to the tape and what I ask her but it's not the same. Fuck. (I immediately called my Dad and tried the recorder and it worked fine--I have no idea what went wrong. I even called the switchboard of the interviewee and it worked, maybe there's some freaky insulation on her phone or something--I'm getting conspiratorial in my defeat). Now I'm a wee bit afraid to leave the house in case disaster strikes again. I have a meeting with my Principle investigators this afternoon and will have to confess the technical glitch. I know they'll say these things happen and all that, but shit, I didn't want it to be on the first frickin one. Grrrr.

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