Thrifty Thursday

Hello dahlings...

A good portion of today was spent procuring fabulous bargains from the ever present garage sale across the road. Did I mention that my neighbour directly across the road has a semi permanent garage sale set up? She shops estate sales and dorm rooms as students are fleeing town and it's amazing what she comes away with. I never fail to find things there to stir my soul. No time to photograph or chronicle it all today-maybe tomorrow. Ask me about the bunny. So much less sad then it sounds. Ask me about the "grill to go" ask me about the 2 video iPods...for $10 (ask me if we have managed to make them work...)

The other part of the day was spent installing a fabulous find from last week. A beautiful posted headboard/baseboard for $5. Suitably princessy for Gracie. With a couple of fresh coats of paint, and a handy father who fenagled a way to make it all work with an existing frame and scraps of wood in the garage, we put it all together in her bedroom tonight. Happy day. Well until we started pulling furniture away from the wall and discovering all that was stuffed behind it. This child boggles my brain. I don't know how she does it. Did we not JUST have major purge in that room? It's been 3 weeks tops since I last tore it apart and gave 90% of her possessions to Goodwill, the recycling centre and the landfill. Apparently she has been working industriously to fill the void. I'm not sure how or why.

Surely, surely it would be easier to toss a dirty shirt in the hamper outside of your door, then to shove it into a plastic pumpkin with wheels under your bed? But where would the fun in that be? Where would the creativity come in? Gracie is an artiste after all. I take due responsibility for the lack of daily inspection. Even so, she has a formidable talent. I'm not surprised she is so taken with the show Clean House. Left to her own devices, that could well be her future. One thing in her favour is that she likes it to look neat on the surface so that may stand between her and being buried alive by stuff.

Ok so moving along...to something completely different. On Monday my Finny-face went for his kindergarten check up and dun..dun..dun...shots. Oh what a happy little boy he was about this prospect. No, really. He was thrilled to bits. I guess he thought the whole shots thing made it that much more official. His siblings assured him that it wouldn't be that bad. A poke and a pinch...nothing unbearable. He was nervously excited. It was pretty heart-breaking.

He sat angelically through the waiting room, through his older brother's physical, through his own physical, more of the waiting, and some more. He was getting increasingly anxious, telling me he was a bit scared but still grinning. Finally the time arrived. He hopped up onto the crinkly paper covered bed. The nurse offered to let me join him to hold his hand. I soon realized this was not so much a kind offering as a mandatory instruction, and it was not so much about comfort as it was about immobilization. So I hunched over his head area whispering comforting words to us both in his sweet little ear. I felt him tense up as the first shot went in, then really tense up and whimper as the second jabbed him, it was at this point that the nurse barked, "no! don't touch that" and I was compelled to grab his hands. Sad. Oh, so sad. The third shot elicited a strangled yell of shock and pain, "this hurts! this really, really really hurts". And the fourth was just one long shrill scream. My poor little poppet. The saddest part was that at the end when he was sobbing on my shoulder, he kept insisting, "mommy, it really, really hurts!" I said, "I know, but it's over now". Finally he says, "I don't want 3 more of those". He thought all that was just the first of his four. I could tell he had resigned himself to his fate even though he really, really didn't like it. As the girl who ran out of the Dr's office and wrapped herself around a lamp-post on the pavement at the prospect of one shot, I was impressed with his bravery and resolve to deal with what..sixteen (!) jabs . Four days later and he still has to gingerly climb in and out of the van because of his sore thighs. The exquisite tragedy.

Today it really hit me that the Summer is drawing to an end. Only days until my kids are no longer mine all day. I got a bit verklempt about it all today, not overtly but my little Finny sensed it and crawled up into my lap to give me a hug and a kiss. He is truly such a comfort to me in my old age, he is my little soul-mate and I do not know what I will do when he is going ALL. DAY. LONG next year. But we will handle that therapy inducing moment when it comes. One trauma at a time. One trauma at a time....

I think it would only be appropriate that given all the pain and suffering outlined in today's post, the giveaway should be of the chocolate variety. Up for grabs to one lucky commenter-a deluxe box of Ferrero Rocher as featured in this post

Please note that it will be a reasonable facisimile of the box featured. Since I don't have it in hand, I can't be sure of the availability of that exact one but be assured it will be more then the 3 pack you get at the check-out line.

Same rules apply, one entry per comment, you can add more comments by doing the stuff outlined in yesterday's post (become a follower, yada yada). I shall announce the soon to be blissed out bubble bath winner tomorrow.

Chocolate covered kisses......


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10 comments:

MrsM said...

I'm sorry about the shots! Those are terrible =(

I must admit-unschooling is crazy and difficult, but I can only imagine how difficult it would be to put Monkey on a bus next year!

You're all being so brave!

Melissa said...

Finny's going to K? I just can't believe it! He was just a baby when we left BG!

I totally identify with Grace. I was horrible about stuffing things under the bed, in the closet, everywhere! No idea why, but I did it. Good luck!

Melissa said...

And I'm still a follower :)

Eva Gallant said...

Hi there. Sorry about the shots. It hurt Mom as much as it did him, I'm sure.

I have a serious chocolate fetish so please enter me in the giveaway!

Stopping by to say hi from SITS; hope you'll do the same!

nyn said...

Oh how I relate to hoarding children and shots. This week has been similar to yours, except that my kids went to school, already!! Today marks the third day. I can't believe it. My house is very un-nervingly quiet and yet very nicely quiet. I am glad school starts for me in a week. I don't know what to do with myself. Once your kids start school let me know, we can enjoy the quiet together.

Megan Gery said...

I had a roommate who hoarded like Grace,only worse. On any given day you could find running shoes and dirty laundry crammed into her microwave (grosss) and dishes that needed washed stuffed into her minifridge. (doublegross.)

Megan Gery said...

i'm still a faithful follower.

Megan Gery said...

you've been facebooked. :)

jill said...

You'll like this one Kirstykins... I took Danie (whose 14) to get her high school shoots...gardasil, meningitis, and tetanus. Knowing her dislike for needles, the nurses double teamed her. Right away she started yelling and the nurse told her it was only the alcohol wipe....yep that's my girl. She whined and yelped the whole time telling them to stop. When they were done they told me they have no record of ever having her hep B which is mandatory for college. She should have had it as a toddler. I'm pretty sure she did but there is no record of it. We have 2 choices...start the series of 3 shots or get her blood drawn to see if she has the antibodies to prove she had the shot. While they are explaining this to me she is BEGGING me to just leave saying she doesn't need to go to college. We opted for the blood draw. The nurse was fantastic and quick. Danie yelled and I wish I was exaggerating but she yelled "TAKE IT OUT, TAKE IT OUT, TAKE IT OUT!". She very calmly looked at her and laughed and said "I'm done, its a cottonball." I am the worst mom in the world cause I laughed from the moment the shots started until we left. Good times...

Anonymous said...

Am I wrong, or am I picturing a certain Kirsty hanging onto a pole outside the doctor's rooms when we lived in Fishhoek?? Had to go and have a rubella shot because there was a bit of an outbreak and mom was pregnant?? Any nudging of memory there? Poor little Finster. Kiss his little sweet face for me.
Marmie.