Piper’s Notes from a Sort of Sick Bed

This seems entirely appropriate today.


1. Isn’t it great, Mom, that I got sick on a Saturday? You don’t have to cancel anything. You’re welcome.

2. Why doesn’t my body have enough skills to fight a little ole fever? Geez.

3. Uh oh. Time for a zebra pack. (Z-pak antibiotic)

4. More orange spice tea, please. Wait. Did you put in extra honey? Mmm. You’re such a good mom. Wait. Are you trying to cover up some medicine with that yummy honey?

5. What if I wake up a cheetah? Wouldn’t that be cool? I’d be a nice cheetah, though. I wouldn’t hurt you, Mom. Question! Do cheetahs get sick?

6. Pharmacies shouldn’t have candy. Candy doesn’t make you feel better. Toys make you feel better. Pharmacies should give away toys with medicine.  Just like Old McDonalds.

7. Can you stick that thing that beeps in my armpit again? I’ve got an itch in there.

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City Kid

Yesterday our morning breakfast was interrupted by hovering helicopters. As we ate our waffles with Nutella, sirens screamed by. Then they were closer and louder. Soon, SWAT teams descended into our neighborhood. It should have been alarming. Instead, it was the lack of alarm that was alarming. Sissy and Piper went about their day, packing snacks, zipping up back packs, brushing teeth.

I checked the news and didn’t find any so I went to the real news source: Facebook. A neighbor reported that it was a domestic situation. We chatted about whether the school would open on time. My phone rang and it was the principal on an auto call letting us know that the school was open and in shelter in place. No big deal. Typical urban neighborhood stuff. Sigh.

We drove the kids the three blocks to school rather than walk. The hovering helicopters and search lights were a little much. Dad walked them inside and was greeted by our principal who assured the kids that the day would be a normal school day. Sissy and Piper weren’t even phased. “Gosh,” Piper said, “I hope those SWAT teams are gone by recess!” And they were.

Don’t Quit Your Day Job

Piper wants to know what I do all day. It seems boring to her. Maybe even a waste of time.

“So, you just sit there?” Piper asked me this morning, indicating my desk.


“Well, I guess,” I admitted, “but I answer emails, Skype with students, grade essays, and write, too.”


“Teaching isn’t boring. I happen to love it, P, but I can see how sitting in a chair all day looks boring. Sometimes it is. Want to know what I do when I go to campus for my classes? Want to hear about my teaching?”

“Not really,” Piper said. “I’m off to do important things today. Good luck with your boring day.”

Then, Piper’s daddy and I sat down and wrote this:


It wasn’t such a boring day after all.

Will Walk for Oreos

Piper did her first 5K this morning. She was a champ.

It was our annual MS Walk and we raised over $1000 for Team Forever Young because we have the best friends and family EVER. You know who you are. We’re grateful!

First, there were donuts.


You can tell from our winter coats that it was a balmy 37 degrees. The sun was bright, though, and the donuts and hot chocolate helped. We pinned on our numbers:


We signed the MS Wall of Fame.


Then we walked. And because there was a Piper we also skipped and jumped and watched fish and visited with ducks. They gave out Oreos at the halfway mark. Typical 5 K stuff. Maybe our time wasn’t stellar but our fun was.


Just as the finish line came into view, Piper asked “If we finish the walk, does that mean it’s over?”

“The walk?” I said. “Yep. We’re almost done.”

“No. I mean MS. Is it over?”

“Nope,” I said, “but we’ll keep walking until there is a cure, okay?”

“Okay,” Piper agreed, “especially if there are Oreos.”



Click Here to Donate to Our Team. Piper Will Send You Oreos.

Management Problem

When you send a Piper upstairs to get dressed in the morning, you have to be specific. “Go get dressed!” could mean anything. Piper gets distracted along the way. Pirates coerce her to join their marauding ways. Visiting aliens might attack. There may be kittens involved, even though we don’t have pets. But she will put on actual clothes. The task will be done. Just probably not to your expectation. Again, we may have a management problem.

Here is Piper’s idea of “getting dressed” yesterday morning.


“I’m ready to go, Mom! Today, I’m a cowgirl. And I’m saucy!”

Embracing Your Inner Quack

Piper currently sounds a little like a duck. Her tonsils are swollen in the back of her throat. It’s her seventh case of strep throat.

She’s in good spirits, though, and ibuprofen relieved her enough to get a decent night of sleep (praise be the medicine gods). Antibiotics are doing their magic, too, but still, it’s hard to take her seriously when she sounds like Donald Duck.

As I peered down her poor throat with my flashlight for the hundredth time looking for signs of progress, Piper quacked “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m living the high life!”