It's All Good Today. . .

It's Friday, and I'm off today, and off Monday.  Still with barking cough, and getting a little bit fed up with it, but otherwise today was good.  I dropped Micah off at Beth Chaim, went over to Princeton to pick up my new pair of glasses (I now have two pairs of tortoise shell frames, the heir and the spare, so the red Ray Ban frames are back on the bench.)  Briefly popped by It's A Grind for a beverage and muffin before coming home and going on a mission that could be best described as the Great Dust Bunny Round-Up of 2011.  Side bonus was one more cardboard box of junk got sorted out and moved off the landing and I hung a few pictures in the bathroom.  I'm back in fighting mode again.

After cleaning, I went back to Beth Chaim to retrieve the boy and zip back to Plainsboro to Thea's school for the Brownies award ceremony.  Today was the day the troop leaders were giving the girls the try-its (badges) they'd earned and the patches for events they had participated in (the Bonfire, Ice Skating, Crafting for the Community and Thinking Day).  Her vest will look much more interesting when I get around to ironing them and sewing them on.

Two minor annoyances this week that fall into that "Be Nice to Me or I Will Blog About You" category:

To get my new eyeglasses I had to have an eye exam, which was with a new provider.  I had ditched the doctor Steve sees after Dr. Felton invited a student into the room without asking my permission which bothered me at the time.  Add to it his personality being in the realm of a soggy Brillo pad, it was time to try someone new, so last time I saw Dr. Epstein and he was fine other than wanting to see me sign up for laser vision correction. But I had to switch my appointment to be able to switch Saturdays with Karen which landed me in Dr. Reynolds schedule.  He was very nice, definitely from my part of the Baby Boomer age spectrum.

He did land one minor nail in his coffin by saying to me which will have me returning to Dr. Epstein or shopping for yet another provider in the group in two years, "I can ask you because you're a year older than I am, you have a five-year old and a seven year old?"

What out of any of that sounds the least little bit positive?  Pointing out that I am OLD? Pointing out that most people MY AGE do not have children as young as mine? Yes, you can ask me, but the answer may not give you all the information you're looking for.

Momentary pause on my part to determine how much information I feel like sharing  with a person I've met not more than ten minutes prior, and from whom my ultimate goal is to obtain a new prescription for glasses without being branded preachy psycho patient from Hell.

So the answer was (wait for it, wait. . . . ), "Yes, I do, a seven year old daughter and a five year old son."  In that way signaling the discussion of the ages of my children vis-a-vis my age was closed.  And on with the exam, is number one clearer or number two, number two or number three. . . .

Yes, I could have been the little ambassador mama for adoption, but his job was to examine my eyes and assess their health and write me a new prescription for glasses, not delve into how my family came about or what my ovaries and uterus may or may not have been up to in 2003 and 2006.  Information that did not seem to be vital for this type of exam.  Yes, I am an older parent.  My 'problem,' if you see it that way, not his.  If I really wanted to deflect, I would have told him my husband is going to be 60 this year. 

The first pair of glasses made at the Optical Shop were ready last week, it took slight longer for the pair obtained through VSP.  I am happy to retire my red/lavender frames which were bought to be a fun, every now and then pair but upon the disappearance of my tortoise frames last year and their failure to turn up when we packed up the house for the move they were 'it'. Major excitement on my part, it does not take much these days.

Next annoyance.  Principal of Thea's school. DR. Wellborn.  Doctorate by virtue of an Ed.D. degree, so in my hierarchical, pecking order conscious mind, Ph.D.-lite.  He's pleasant enough, but when Thea went for testing at Wicoff last July, he introduced himself and was doing the jolly "Welcome to Wicoff" routine and had not grasp of how his audience was reacting.  She took an almost immediate dislike to him since this was the first meeting and she's not great meeting new people especially if she senses someone is being ultra-friendly in a false sort of way, it is is just hopeless.  And me, I'm just not that 'into' people who toss their titles around.  (The principal of my long-ago elementary school was Mrs. Mary E. Long, no letters after her name, respect earned daily by her broad portfolio of skills.)

Anyway this week there were a few snafus with the transportation for Jackson and Thea to their after school Mandarin tutoring, so this email was the 'be on time' wrist slap.

At the beginning of the school year we had form upon form with our contact information, names, phone numbers, emails, etc. to fill in and return. And I also registered with the school district's Infinite Campus system (which I think of as Infinite Pain-in-the-Ass, but that's another story.)  The school district has all my information and then some.

So when the email came with the salutation "Mr. and Mrs. Albin" I wanted to beat Mr. Wellborn, Ed.D.

Initial hostile reaction aside, the school's student population is predominantly Asian and Indian heritages and many of those married couples do not have the same last name, we are not some sort of anomaly in the community where we live.  Secondary reaction, you obviously got the information from something I provided, so if my email address is correct, my name should be too, especially when I get the sense that he tries almost too hard to be the super-deluxe-PC type.

But rather than waste my time and energy getting myself branded psycho parent from Hell for asking that I be addressed by my correct name, I deleted the email.   One more year of that place and Thea will move on to Millstone River and there will be a whole new set of people to irk me (though I remember that most of the Millstone River staff were very nice when Micah was there for ESY last summer.)

Every now and then I think about changing my name, mostly for the sake of having it the same as the kids' last names so I don't feel like I need to travel with their adoption certificates.  But the kids don't have a problem with my last name being different (they rather like it since it gives them a sense of being in the Albin majority in our house and outnumbering the lone Grebe.)  And I like my last name the way it is.