I'm typing in a hurry. Cade set up our anniversary surprise for today. He bought me some new clothes (which I'm supposed to wear.) He got me some cute jeans and a shirt as well as a spring dress. I'm supposed to be straightening my hair right now, but since that doesn't sound fun, I decided to write my blog really fast instead.
P. S. I CAN NOT WAIT to find out what Cade's been planning. He seems pretty excited.
So, yesterday I got a call for The Scribe's teacher. Do you notice a trend here? Why is it always about The Scribe. The Hippie has only called me once--in two years! The Scribe or her teacher must have me on speed dial.
"Hello?" I said.
The teacher sounded panicked, really worried. "Ummm . . . Elisa?"
"Yes." The woman talks to me so much, she even knows my voice! "Is everything okay?"
"Well, I think your daughter has been visited . . . by Aunt Bea."
"Who's Aunt Bea?"
"You know, Aunt Bea?" she said.
"She doesn't have an Aunt Bea."
I heard a groan on the other line. "She's . . . Her granny's in town."
That lady had turned from the best teacher to the worst physic ever. "Actually. Her grandma isn't in town. I don't know why you've called, but--"
"Look, all the kids are in the room . . . I don't want them to know what I'm talking about. She's got the painters . . . she's surfing the crimson wave."
I gasped. "Are you trying to say that she started?"
The teacher sighed. "Finally, we're on the same page."
"She's only nine."
"Well, sometimes it happens. There's already one other girl--in this same class."
I slumped on the couch in my front room. "Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. Anyway, your daughter's a little freaked out. I gave her a P-A-D," she whispered. "I hope you won't be mad, but I had to tell her a little bit about the facts of life. She's just so terrified."
"What did you tell her?"
"Just about . . . Aunt Bea."
So, now The Scribe knew about The Birds and Aunt Bea's! It made my heart sink. How could this be happening? Nine is way too young for such a spunky kid to go through that. We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone. Less than ten minutes later, I got another call.
"Mom?" a weak voice said on the other line. "I'm in the nurse's office, just feeling bad for myself. I've been lying here . . . for . . . forever. So, you have to do this once a month?"
"It's gonna be okay, Sweetheart, but I want you to be tough. Don't let this get you down. You can still do anything you want to do, just be tough, Sweetie."
"I always thought boys were cooler. Now I know why!" She sighed into the phone. "I know about life now. I told some of the girls in my class. I think I'm the popular kid now, except that some of them didn't believe me."
She actually told them! I worried then, thinking her teacher will be getting some calls.
"Well, I better go. I'm gonna lie here and then try to go back to class soon."
"Call if you need anything," I said, already knowing she would.
"O-kaaaay," her Eeyore voice tailed off sadly. "I'll talk to you . . . later. I wish . . . I was a boy."
So, after a very dramatic day, The Scribe called home again. Excitement poured from her voice this time though. "I'm okay, Mom. I'm okay. I talked to the nurse and she said it's usually more that just a drop of blood."
I put my face into my hand. Had a heard her right? "A drop? You just said a drop? A DROP!"
"Well, yeah. I told my teacher I was bleeding, but when I told the nurse how much . . . anyway. She said I'm okay."
That child is going to kill me! Turned out all she'd suffered from was a case of constipation and a pity-me attitude. I'd worried for her for a good chunk of the day! That child had rested in the nurse's office forever--for a drop--A DROP?
When she got home, she smiled and then looked thoughtful. "I'm glad I got rid of that band-aid. That was horrible. I can't believe people wear those."
"What did you do with it?"
"Oh, I just flushed it down the toilet."
I nearly choked on my coke. So, she'd hogged the sick bed, clogged a toilet, freaked me out on my anniversary (which thank goodness we're really celebrating today), and learned the facts of life all in one day.
"Wow," I said, "all in all you had a pretty exciting day!"
"Especially when I told the other girls about their monthly gift."
I snorted, just thinking about "gifts" and the single drop that had caused all the drama.
"I can't believe you do this every month, Mom. If every month is like today . . . I don't know how you live. Today, well today was horrible!"
I shook my head and laughed. The Scribe is such a goofball.