Docs and Pee Sticks and Dancing on the Table

So, I hope everyone had a chance to read my last post. If not, read up and donate what you can!! Emma will be so excited to get her bike and you can feel great that you helped make that smile on her face happen!

Now, since I left my site for a week, here is what you missed. Are you biting at the bit to read about this glamorous life? Me too! Whose life are we reading about? I want to read about someone's glamorous life. Because mine is...not.

Here we go.

Monday. I took my son to a new doctor for his 15-month well-child check-up. Now that our son is on government health insurance, we had to go to whatever doctor the state assigned us and leave our current pediatrician. The pediatrician who knows my son's rocky history with vaccines and lets us give him one vaccine at a time. Yippee. My child's health is in the hands of our state government. I'm pumped.

We were assigned to a family practitioner instead of a pediatrician because all the peds in our area have met their charity case quotas. Stupid economy.

I walked into the office, filled out the paperwork, and sat in the waiting room for not 15 minutes, not 30 minutes, not 45 minutes, but an hour and 10 minutes!! With a toddler. Not ideal. Especially since I had to keep my son in his stroller the entire time. He is like a pinball who thinks every room is his personal pinball machine and the more things he touches, the more points he gets, so in public, we have to keep him in his stroller or pay the ultimate price of exhaustion and embarrassment and watching him lick things like the arms of chairs and electrical outlets.

The mother sitting across from me had her 18-mo. old son sitting on her lap. Totally still. Just lookin' around, quiet, clinging to his mother. My son couldn't be more the opposite of that kid.

After an hour, I told the not-so-friendly lady at the front desk that I would have to reschedule. I couldn't wait any longer. My son had already eaten all the snacks I brought, drank all the milk in his sippy cup, played with all the toys in his diaper bag, and I had already sung every song in my repertoire. She told me I was next in line.

So, I waited another 10 minutes and finally went back to the exam room, where we waited another 30 minutes for the doctor (who was nice enough and let us come up with our own vaccination schedule. Whew). Then another 15 for the nurse to show up and give my son his shot.

In order to give him the shot, we had to catch him first. He was busy pinballing from one wall to the other. He started crying before he even got the shot because he was having to be still for two seconds, and as soon as it was over and he could run around again, he stopped crying. Who cares about the shot, Mom? Just let go so I can lick that door stop and dump out that jar of Q-tips!

My son's appt was at 8:30 am. When I got home, it was 11:30 am. And I live down the street from the doctor's office. Longest morning of my life.

Wednesday. Has it already been a month since my hopes and dreams of getting pregnant with our second child were dashed? Oh it has? Well, give me another one of those sticks to pee on! Can't wait! Okay, peeing, waiting the three minutes. Oh! Here are the results! I'm so excited!
Reading...

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT YOUR UTERUS IS A HAS-BEEN AND ENDOMETRIOSIS HAS TAKEN OVER YOUR BODY? NOT PREGNANT! DANG, LADY! YOU'RE PERSISTENT!"

Oh. Fine. You don't have to yell.

Later, watching cartoons with my son and nephew, I was crushed to discover that Blue's Clue's and Little Bill were both about having a baby. Really? Thanks Nick, Jr. Rub it in.

Thursday. My son figured out how to open the baby gate, climb up onto the dining room table and the table behind the couch, all in the same day. I found him standing on the table, swinging his hips to Blue's Clue's, while I was making his lunch. Why, God, why?

Friday. I told my husband about the dream I had the night before where we finally found our son's missing "M" magnet from his magnetic alphabet on the fridge. He said, "Man, we need to get you out of the house more." Then, he commented on all the dishes in the sink after two more straight 8-hr days of me watching our 1-yr old son and my 3-yr old nephew, so I had to whip out the smack down and hit him with the phone book. Or, maybe I just yelled a little and cried. Either way, what's the difference? I made my point.

I did enjoy wrapping presents this week and drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows AND whipped cream, and watching my son be in awe of the Christmas tree, and playing "hit-me-in-the-back-with-a-rubber-ball-and-I'll-pretend-to-be-surprised" with my nephew and son. And all those hours of Batman and talking about Mario and Luigi and Sonic (his three favorite video game heroes) with my nephew. The little things saved me from those big things. And isn't that how we all get through it sometimes? The little things carry us through.