…your day becomes a comedy of errors.
You watch as your husband tell your three year old that it is cool to play with a pair of dice that is very important to him as long as the three year old is careful. You know this is going to end very badly. A few minutes after your husband leaves for work your three year old starts screaming hysterically that one of the dice fell down the hole. He meant the heat register. Now, this will be a legitimate accident, dude did not do it on purpose. But you (hello anxiety disorder) will be sure the die will somehow catch fire and the house will burn down. When you float this theory to your husband over the phone he will laugh so hard he will be unable to speak for a few moments. Whatever, husband. What. Ever.
Five minutes before your babysitter is scheduled to arrive the doc’s office will call telling you that the doc is stuck in surgery and your appointment will now be an hour and a half later. You will understand. Hell, if surgery gets complicated with your son you want the doc to move around appointements as well. But here’s the thing. You are scary broke. And now you are going to need to pay your babysitter an extra $20. Which really means something these days, so you are super pissed.
You get to the doc’s. You haven’t been there before and you find the parking lot for the building, although you don’t feel good about all the signs saying you need a parking pass. You check in and ask if it’s cool to be parked in the lot. It is not cool. You need to collect your squirmy 18 month old and wait for the elevator that smells like someone chain smoked a pack and a half within 15 minutes, walk through the slushy lot in the rain, find a spot on the street, and then hustle back to the office. This really isn’t anyones fault, but it has been a trying day and you are starting to freak out.
In the exam room the nurse tells you that your son can’t have the surgery if he has pneumonia recently and you try not to cry. Thankfully this turns out to be untrue, but holy shit you are now actively having an anxiety attack. She then wants to know what is up with the rash on C’s face. The rash that started on his eyelids this weekend and spread to encircle his mouth after a few days. The rash that you have been studiously ignoring after googling “eyelid rash” and finding out it means he has cancer. You tell her you do not know what is up with it. When the doc come in he also wants to know what is up with the rash. You realize you need to call the pediatrician.
Back at home it is now nearly 4 and you leave a message on the nurse hotline explaining the rash situation. A nurse calls back and asked how fast can you get there. Your heart sinks as you say 20 minutes. You start herding the cats that are your sons towards the back door. The eldest is particularly difficult. Once outside you warn him not to fool around in the snow as that is where he fell down last week. After strapping the little one in his car seat you turn to see the big one seated and stuck in what little remains of the snow bank. You yell at him to get up. He yells back that he can’t. You go grab him and he is crying because his pants are wet. He hates when any part of him is wet when he is cold. In a mother-of-the-year moment you tell him it really isn’t your problem. You told him to stay away from the snow, if his pants are wet at the doc’s he shall just have to deal. He cries a lot.
As you are driving to the doc’s both boys wail and you feel like Homer Simpson at the end of the New York City episode when the kids are asking when they can go back and the windshield is busted out and they are behind a garbage truck and trash is whipping into his face (Incidentally, tied with the Lisa-becomes-a-vegetarian episode for my all time favorite).
At the doc’s the nurse practitioner has no clue what the rash is. She decides to grab C’s doc. She also has no idea what the rash is. They both are sure it isn’t an allergic reaction to the antibiotics. So you go home to make dinner, confused about why you just spent another $25 you don’t have on nothing.
You finally can study at 8pm after the kids are down.
Studying. Mid term at 2. Freaking out. Wish me luck.
Cool light in my bedroom.
Rash on face.
Rash on eyelids.
He drives me nuts, but he is hella adorable. #nofilter