My Very Own Hypochondriac

Listening to: The air conditioner
Mood: Glad to be in a cool room

My eldest daughter has decided that she likes attention. Well, to be honest, this is a really old decision. The new part of this is the obtaining of attention through blowing any and all injuries, no matter how minor, WAY out of proportion. She’s like that creepy person you just met at the bus stand who now shares way too much information and wants to be your bff. The “take a look at this rash” type that makes you inch down the bench and desperately avoid any and all eye contact until the bus arrives. Not that it helps you any, the person will keep talking at you anyhow. Of course this fits in perfectly with my daughter’s innate ability to be the biggest drama queen ever. She doesn’t cry much when she gets hurt, but she will make sure to remind you 546 times in the next 5 minutes that she does indeed have a booboo on her hand. It bled, and yes, it still hurts. It has gotten to the point where any little sneeze, sniffle, or cough will doubtlessly turn into a raging cold or possibly pneumonia. That’s her story and she’s sticking to it until the next possible malady comes along. Recently, she got a nasty cut on her foot without even realizing it. It was only after I noticed that she had managed to smear blood across the floor (a wood one, thank god!) that she even realized it. It was a pretty decent sized cut on the top of her foot, but she couldn’t even think of how it had come to be there. Then we had to go through the band aid routine. I’m sure all mothers have gone through this. I need a one here……and here……oh, and here……and shoot, just give me the whole box with which to decorate my body because they stick so much better than paper stickers!

Sigh. I need a daiquiri. I’m not a drama person anyhow, but I think the heat and the drama are really getting to me. Yes. I am indeed in immediate need of a frozen drink of the alcoholic type.

Becky