It's 2:00.
I'm sitting in the clinic's waiting room with the two babies.
I came 20 minutes early in hopes of getting in faster only to find out the doctor was running 20 minutes behind.
Figures.
Because when I'm late, that's when I get the look of shame.
Neither baby has napped and it's like they are high.
I'm sitting in the clinic's waiting room with the two babies.
I came 20 minutes early in hopes of getting in faster only to find out the doctor was running 20 minutes behind.
Figures.
Because when I'm late, that's when I get the look of shame.
Neither baby has napped and it's like they are high.
 |
| Waiting... |
Katherine is continuously throwing her blue Jellycat elephant on the floor and then proceeds to let out hysterical, uncontrollable laughter.
It's contagious. Except no one in the waiting room is humored. Tough crowd.
I haven't showered since Saturday. I did remember to brush on some powder and a few swipes of mascara just so I wouldn't scare anyone. I left the house in jeans, last night's pullover and a bumpy ponytail. Did I brush my teeth? I can't remember.
I'm so hot it's a miracle no one has stopped me to ask if I might be single and available.
What's holding them back? Oh, these two babies? No worries. They're just on loan for the day.
We were one hour into Brian's four-day business trip when I realized, without a shadow of doubt, that Bobby most certainly had a raging ear infection. His first one.
I called the clinic amid his whimpering cries. They could get me in at 2:00. But the big kids were out of school at 2:45. It would be tight.
And this is where you praise Jesus for good family. My sister came to the rescue and took over pick up duty.
Because when the appointment lady said 2:00 what she really meant was 2:35.
It's fine. No really. I love pulling tricks out of my sleeve for the baby and the toddler when they are tired, hungry and in an endless wasteland of no toys, bad soaps on TV and an array of various viruses creeping along every handle, button and knob.
It's contagious. Except no one in the waiting room is humored. Tough crowd.
I haven't showered since Saturday. I did remember to brush on some powder and a few swipes of mascara just so I wouldn't scare anyone. I left the house in jeans, last night's pullover and a bumpy ponytail. Did I brush my teeth? I can't remember.
I'm so hot it's a miracle no one has stopped me to ask if I might be single and available.
What's holding them back? Oh, these two babies? No worries. They're just on loan for the day.
We were one hour into Brian's four-day business trip when I realized, without a shadow of doubt, that Bobby most certainly had a raging ear infection. His first one.
I called the clinic amid his whimpering cries. They could get me in at 2:00. But the big kids were out of school at 2:45. It would be tight.
And this is where you praise Jesus for good family. My sister came to the rescue and took over pick up duty.
Because when the appointment lady said 2:00 what she really meant was 2:35.
It's fine. No really. I love pulling tricks out of my sleeve for the baby and the toddler when they are tired, hungry and in an endless wasteland of no toys, bad soaps on TV and an array of various viruses creeping along every handle, button and knob.
 |
| Still waiting... |
Under my breath I tell Bobby he is going to seriously owe me HUGE for the rest of his life if he doesn't actually have an ear infection.
And that's when you know you've gone to another place. When you wish for your kid to be sick. Just so everything is justified and you can get the damn antibiotics and hope for a solid four hours of sleep.
While your husband is halfway across the country at one of those posh restaurants with old black and white photos of the Rat Pack on the walls.
Oh but God love him. He knows it's a mountain I'm climbing and he doesn't ever pretend like he's got it worse.
Of course the doctor confirmed Bobby had a terrible double ear infection.
He told me treating the infection with antibiotics was optional.
I consider myself pretty crunchy. But with four kids and a husband out of town all week, now was not the time to go all holistic on The Baby.
So drugs it was.
And then when the pharmacy advertises Drive Thru as one of their perks what that really means is sit in your car and suck in fumes for 20 minutes because there's no way in hell we're helping you before these other customers that are standing right here in front of our face.
I rolled down all the windows so they could hear The Baby screaming. And also the other chilluns running amok in the back seat.
Back at home it was freezer-to-microwave, preservative-loaded, not-an-ounce-of-nutrition, cancer-causing macaroni and cheese. I'm honestly not even sure how they ended up in my freezer in the first place but boy am I glad they did.
I sliced up some red peppers and called it part of this complete dinner.
Half of my pack was in bed by 6:30. And the other half was bathed, jammied up and reading books on the sofa before seven bells.
It was some kind of awesome.
The night wasn't a total loss. I felt accomplished when I finished scrubbing the kitchen floors even if I was cursing my mother the whole time for giving me these stupid OCD genes that say, "MONDAY IS CLEANING DAY. DO NOT DEVIATE!"
Showering is for the birds.
These are the days they don't tell you about when you're 7 months pregnant with your first baby and you're shopping at Pottery Barn Kids trying to hunt down the perfect bumper and matching crib skirt.
I kid you not, Bobby sleeps in pink bedding. Pink.
They're going to pee, poop and puke all over it anyway.
I sound bitter. I'm not.
It's just that when your kid is sick and your husband is away and you're just trying to survive by eating cancer noodles, you realize none of that crap matters.
Throw some love on those kids and all will be fine.
Today is a new day that included a hot shower. And a happy baby. And lots of coffee. It has been divine indeed.
And that's when you know you've gone to another place. When you wish for your kid to be sick. Just so everything is justified and you can get the damn antibiotics and hope for a solid four hours of sleep.
While your husband is halfway across the country at one of those posh restaurants with old black and white photos of the Rat Pack on the walls.
Oh but God love him. He knows it's a mountain I'm climbing and he doesn't ever pretend like he's got it worse.
Of course the doctor confirmed Bobby had a terrible double ear infection.
He told me treating the infection with antibiotics was optional.
I consider myself pretty crunchy. But with four kids and a husband out of town all week, now was not the time to go all holistic on The Baby.
So drugs it was.
And then when the pharmacy advertises Drive Thru as one of their perks what that really means is sit in your car and suck in fumes for 20 minutes because there's no way in hell we're helping you before these other customers that are standing right here in front of our face.
I rolled down all the windows so they could hear The Baby screaming. And also the other chilluns running amok in the back seat.
Back at home it was freezer-to-microwave, preservative-loaded, not-an-ounce-of-nutrition, cancer-causing macaroni and cheese. I'm honestly not even sure how they ended up in my freezer in the first place but boy am I glad they did.
I sliced up some red peppers and called it part of this complete dinner.
Half of my pack was in bed by 6:30. And the other half was bathed, jammied up and reading books on the sofa before seven bells.
It was some kind of awesome.
The night wasn't a total loss. I felt accomplished when I finished scrubbing the kitchen floors even if I was cursing my mother the whole time for giving me these stupid OCD genes that say, "MONDAY IS CLEANING DAY. DO NOT DEVIATE!"
Showering is for the birds.
These are the days they don't tell you about when you're 7 months pregnant with your first baby and you're shopping at Pottery Barn Kids trying to hunt down the perfect bumper and matching crib skirt.
I kid you not, Bobby sleeps in pink bedding. Pink.
They're going to pee, poop and puke all over it anyway.
I sound bitter. I'm not.
It's just that when your kid is sick and your husband is away and you're just trying to survive by eating cancer noodles, you realize none of that crap matters.
Throw some love on those kids and all will be fine.
Today is a new day that included a hot shower. And a happy baby. And lots of coffee. It has been divine indeed.
Oh man Jenny, and I thought I had a hard week. I hope the antibiotics helped that you're finally getting some sleep. And in the hopes that this makes you feel a little bit better about your craziness, I'll share a little secret with you...All 3 kids had colds from last Thursday until yesterday. Monday night, Tessa was sooo miserable from not having slept in days that I totally drugged her. :o\ Half a dose of benadryl and she got the first decent night's sleep in days (and by decent I mean she only woke up twice).
ReplyDeleteSo there you have it. You fed your kids cancer-noodles and I drugged my baby. Sometimes you just have to do what you have to and then have a good laugh :) xoxo
Oh, sweet sister, yep, I have been there and I know what you mean. I especially love how you call them cancer noodles. Made me laugh. Today is another day, and I hope those ear infections are healing up right quick. Good luck, and love on those babies.
ReplyDeleteI wish I lived closer. Were on the same parenting wavelength. Max had a cookie for breakfast because it's the only way he would go to the bathroom. That's before the school breakfast of Pop-tarts. We've had take out pizza 2 days in a row. I can barely survive with one. You are my mom superhero and I think you are doing an amazing job.
ReplyDelete