It’s been one heck of a morning so I am going to indulge my inner screaming hulk-ette and give in to a rant. Feel free to grab some popcorn and follow along.
I should back up.
When Jerry and I got married and decided to have children, I started to match up our features to see how our children would end up. It’s a totally futile process but something I think most new parents toy with as they start their journey into the great unknown. Maybe he’ll have my hair! Or your nose! I hope he’s left-handed like me one might say. Or Right handed-like me, says the other. It’s all fun and games until you get to the hope-nots.
You see, my husband brings to the table a stunning metabolism (in the time it takes him to utter the words “I should lose a few pounds” he has already dropped 5), perfect teeth (not one cavity), perfect 20/20 vision, and clear skin. I on the other hand, have been getting cold-sores my whole life, have a mouth full of fillings, 15lbs too many, and am legally blind without my contacts.
As luck or fate or Murphy would have it, Oscar now has his second cold-sore (near his eye like the first), will probably need to get glasses according to today’s check-up and has always been at the top of his growth charts. Thankfully, he is not overweight, but he is quite tall like his daddy so I am hoping he will get the fancy metabolism too. The verdict on teeth is still out, but research shows that children tend to emulate their mothers in that department. So that ‘s great.
Aside from my genetic maladies, Calvin currently has croup so our visit to the Dr. was quite the cough-fest. Oscar had to get three shots today which meant sobbing for the first half of the appointment. Of course it was nothing 3 lollipops couldn’t fix. Sidebar: What nurse in her right mind shows up with THREE lollipops (one for each shot) and says you get to have ALL THREE! before clearing it with mom first? Like I am going to say no, just take one and be the jerkface?! Thanks nurse. I WILL NOT FORGET.
So the Doctor confirms that we do indeed have a second cold sore and says he will call in a prescription to Target as soon as we leave. We chat about Oscar’s sub-par performance during his vision test which, the Dr. thinks will lead to glasses as soon as we see an Optometrist. And while there is a certain amount of shock-value to saying, your kid probably needs glasses, it really isn’t that surprising when I stop to think of the sheer number of times he literally just falls down.
Standing still? Bam. Sitting in a chair? Crash. Sleeping in your bed in the dead of night? Thumpawump, “ouuuuuch”.
So while Calvin is standing there coughing up the last of his lungs, I decide to file the glasses in the “deal with THAT later” part of my brain and move on to the immediate needs. I promised them Chick-fil-A for lunch and now we had to get a prescription from Target.
We can do this.
We drove to Chick-fil-a, got our lunch without much fanfare and tried to sit in a corner. Only now Calvin’s cough medicine had worn completely off and he was starting to cough up MY lungs in addition to his own. Oscar finished his lunch and we traded his book for ice cream to-go. Calvin refused to eat and was so loud I was sure the entire restaurant went straight to urgent care when they finished their meals. I packed up my salad to eat it at home and we tromped out of there lickitysplit.
Down to Target we went in search of Oscar’s medicine. It wasn’t ready, they said, but they would look for it. I sat Oscar on a bench with his ice cream, Calvin screaming for a bite, getting one and then swatting it away in frustration and anxiously waited to hear my name.
Mrs. Updyke? …..The…… Doctor hasn’t called in your prescription yet ……… and we called their office……….. but they are closed until 1pm…….. I am so sorry. We will call you later this afternoon when it’s ready and you can come back.
It was somewhere between this phrase, Calvin’s coughing, and Oscar’s frantic cries of “I have to go potty right NOW! I don’t think I can make it!” from his car seat as we pulled into the driveway that I began to float above myself, wondering if I will ever get off this crazy train.
And I feel like I should leave you with some kind of uplifting moral to the story. But the truth is, we got home, pottied it up and I stuffed my face with the nearest slice of pizza. I am currently drowning my sorrows in a Coke Zero because sometimes? Being a mom sucks.
And that’s the long and short of it.