Ever have one of those days? You know, the kind that start off kind of crappy and then rapidly spiral downward?
Well, please allow me to share my day with you:
Last night I had insomnia. We've all had head colds this week and I just don't sleep well when I'm unable to use my nose. Sorry, I'm a freak like that.
So you know how it goes, I want to sleep, but somebody's up and that's that. Only Charlie felt feverish this morning and LAWD the kid is never feverish. He's had wild gallumping sores of the mouth, been hospitalized for it, and still never gotten a fever.
And thus begins my panic. The rabid dialing. The listening to automated voices stringently warning me about colon cancer that are interrupted by other automated voices telling me to stay on the line.
The waiting.
The screaming, angry toddler who wants to be held, but can't be because mommy is selfishly trying to schedule him a doctor's appointment.
The irony of the situation is that we're actually going to the doctor tomorrow--only it's an orthopedist and not a pediatrician so I'm trying to fit the ped in today so we can still make it to the ortho tomorrow. Wanna know why health care costs are sky-rocketing? Might be because I've got to schedule two professionals to look at one tiny person. Just a thought.
Well, I get an appointment with the nurse practitioner at four o'clock. Ever notice how doctor's offices can save money by hiring nurse practitioners, but I still have to pay the same co-pay?
I digress.
It was one of those days. The ones where you open your credit card statement and find out that somebody had some fun in France, also bought some kicks and expensive hats with your credit card. And when you call to get that straightened out, the fussy, sick toddler decided that is the perfect moment to take the mother of all dumps and then begin screaming.
Yeah.
And going to the pediatricians office had me all worried anyway. You see, the other day my husband accidentally gave Charlie what could only be described as a chemical burn. Yeah, I know, our Parent of the Year Awards are in mail. Hubs, you see, is sometimes a man of excess. If one is good then five is probably better--he's that kind of guy. So when Charlie got stuffy, Hubby took a bottle of Eucalyptus oil that's supposed to go in a humidifier and instead sprinkled it directly on Charlie's collar. And we got this:
Apparently, it's not so good directly on the skin. I swear this is the result of over-zealous caring and not, you know, putting out cigarettes on his neck. Although it is hard to tell.
Since a previous visit has already got the pediatrician questioning my overall skill as a parent, it didn't really seem fair that I was going to be the one to go in and explain about his neck! I mean, they're going to start thinking I'm some mommy-blogger who ignores her kid all day.
On the way to the appointment I get stuck behind someone who is driving approximately fifteen miles below the speed limit. You know, for funsies. When I finally pass her, I see that she's chatting on her cell phone.
I get the last spot in the parking lot. I managed to score it because the person in the adjacent spot is actually occupying about a foot of it. Sweet. That'll make it really easy to get Charlie out of the car. And the whole non-ambulatory thing? Can't get him to crawl across the car either.
Sheesh.
We get there. We get seen immediately. Hmmm. . . day is looking up.
We put Charlie on the scale. Administrative chick is with-it enough to know that Charlie still needs the baby scale. . . getting better.
We weigh Charlie--first time ever, he's able to sit instead of lie on the scale. . . huzzah!
And then. . .
drum roll please. . .
he's gained over two freakin' pounds.
If you've got a kid with cerebral palsy then you know how huge this is. If you don't, well, just imagine that there are little g-tube fairies constantly circling your kid even when they eat a ton, so this. . . is fabulous.
I take it back--the day wasn't that bad.
