Chaos and Drama and Motrin and . . . Calm
So, Charlotte and I are recently returned from Seattle, and I'll (probably) write about that trip (go Hawks!) and the (go Hawks!) successful Super Bowl of my blessed Seahawks (go Hawks!), but first, I want to write about the past 20 hours.
Yesterday, Charlotte had her 4-year check-up. I knew this would involve MANY shots, so I've kind of been dreading it for a year. Oh well. It's part of mommyhood.
I arrived at school to pick Charlotte up early and found myself face-to-face with a screaming Lorelei in the hallway. They had been on their way to the office to ask the director whether I needed to be called to pick her up.
So, after an intensely chaotic 15 minutes in which I talked to multiple teachers--at once--and the director, managed Charlotte getting her stuff and signed out, plus a screaming Lorelei and all HER stuff, I got in the car. With both children. Barely. And we only forgot one girl's lunchbox.
I didn't know how I'd manage a crying Lorelei while simultaneously being a good mommy for the first-born during what I knew would be a lengthy--and difficult--appointment for Charlotte, but I decided to capitalize on the fact that we were already heading to the pediatrician and booked an appointment for Lorelei as well.
We did Charlotte's check-up first. And Lorelei cried.
The. Entire. Time.
Well, at least the doctor knew what I meant when I reported Lorelei had been fussy.
He examined her--which led to her hitting new pitches of screaming--and declared a bad ear infection. Of course. She also had a fever. So, the nurse came in and gave her a good dose of Motrin. Bless her.
Finally, it was time for Charlotte's FOUR back-to-back shots. The receptionist held Lorelei, so I could hold Charlotte in my lap and hold her arms down and still. This pissed off Lorelei to no end, so she screamed BLOODY MURDER. Charlotte, meanwhile, joined in the screaming and crying as she got shots--a couple of which the nurse informed me burn. Badly.
"OWIE OWIE OWIE!" my girl bellowed and shrieked and cried. But I eventually had to rescue Lorelei from the sweet receptionist.
Our exam room sounded like a room of horrors. So, I laughed. "Best! Day! EVER!" I declared, and the nurse laughed. I think. It was hard to hear in there.
The receptionist helped Charlotte dress, which ticked Charlotte off because she wanted her mommy. Also, she kept saying--legitimately--that her arms hurt. I finished dressing Lorelei while the receptionist took Charlotte to behind the front counter to pick out a zillion stickers.
The receptionist and nurse were SO sweet to my girls during all the drama. On our way out, over Lorelei's crying, I thanked those two women. Profusely. The nurse grinned and told me, "It's all over. Go home and have a big glass of . . . soda."
"Oh yes. I've been looking forward to that glass of, um, soda," I agreed.
Once my offspring were loaded into the car, I had the joy of informing Charlotte that we couldn't go to Dogfish Head (brewery/restaurant) like we had planned. Lorelei was sick, after all.
Charlotte had been looking SO forward to that trip, and she knew it was her reward for surviving the shots. So, she burst into tears. She was so, so disappointed.
"Can't just you and I go?!" she wailed. "Daddy can take Lorelei!" Ugh. My guilt-o-meter was off the charts. And her idea wasn't terrible.
So, I tried to get a hold of Chris to see where he was. If he was close enough, maybe I could hand off Lorelei and not fail my oldest daughter.
By the time I reached him, it was too late, he was just leaving the office and not halfway to where I needed him to be, and it just was not going to work out. Charlotte was devastated, but at least I hadn't told her that just the two of us going was even a possibility.
At home, Chris walked into the kitchen to be greeted by two wailing girls. Lorelei was miserable and Charlotte was upset all over again about Dogfish Head. And not getting candy. And not having mac and cheese for dinner.
Finally, the children were in bed.
Though pooped, things could've sucked more. We got that infection diagnosed ASAP, so Lorelei already had her first dose of antibiotics in her by the time her little body snuggled into her crib. And ear infections aren't contagious and are pretty simple to deal with. And let's face it--anything sans puke is a win.
By dawn, we realized the girls' school would open at 10:00 due to ice. Chris said a bad word, as he had an important early-morning meeting.
"Calm down," I snarled, ticked off that he had woke me up with his reaction to the late start. "I'll take Charlotte in at 10:00."
"Are you sure?" he asked. School is a smidge over 30 minutes away, so it IS sort of a hassle, if you're not already going in that direction.
"Chris, I'm home with Lorelei today anyway. What on earth is the problem?" His mood brightened considerably when he learned that not only would the ice not affect him in any way, but he had also dodged school drop-off AND the county's schools were closed, which meant stellar traffic.
I hadn't slept well (remember? Lorelei? ear infection? plus I had worked until about midnight to give myself breathing room today), so I dozed off again, coming around again around 8:00 (I know! EIGHT!!!) when Charlotte, half-dressed, came in asking for help with some tangled jammies.
"How long have you been up?" I asked, a bit mortified at my shitty mothering.
Charlotte looked at me blankly.
"What have you been doing?" I rephrased, helping her foot into one side of her PJs.
"Well," she said brightly, "I played in the play room, then I got a piece of bread for breakfast [note: we do not just give her bread for breakfast--she was being resourceful in her lack of adult supervision], and then I went poop."
"Oh, um. Okay. Who wiped you?"
STUPID QUESTION.
"I wiped myself."
Of course. And she had actually done a really good job. (What? Too much information?)
I checked the baby monitor, and Lorelei was starting to stir, so after some breakfast and typical morning routine stuff, we were on our way to school. There, Charlotte slipped on ice, fell, and soaked through her pants. She bawled all the way to her classroom, despite me telling her we could put dry clothes on.
Lorelei cried the whole way back home.
Happily, though, she took her next dose of Motrin and antibiotics like a pro, and has been napping soundly.
And as drama- and stress-filled as the past 20 hours have been, I'm pretty happy. I get some one-on-one with my little Lorelei, and we're cozy at home while the rest of the world is covered in ice. Timing worked out well, getting her into the doctor ASAP and on antibiotics before the infection got super nasty. The school delay coincided with me already arranging to be home, so we benefited there.
All. Is. Fine. Isn't it funny how intense drama gets followed by such silence and calm?
Yesterday, Charlotte had her 4-year check-up. I knew this would involve MANY shots, so I've kind of been dreading it for a year. Oh well. It's part of mommyhood.
I arrived at school to pick Charlotte up early and found myself face-to-face with a screaming Lorelei in the hallway. They had been on their way to the office to ask the director whether I needed to be called to pick her up.
So, after an intensely chaotic 15 minutes in which I talked to multiple teachers--at once--and the director, managed Charlotte getting her stuff and signed out, plus a screaming Lorelei and all HER stuff, I got in the car. With both children. Barely. And we only forgot one girl's lunchbox.
I didn't know how I'd manage a crying Lorelei while simultaneously being a good mommy for the first-born during what I knew would be a lengthy--and difficult--appointment for Charlotte, but I decided to capitalize on the fact that we were already heading to the pediatrician and booked an appointment for Lorelei as well.
We did Charlotte's check-up first. And Lorelei cried.
The. Entire. Time.
Well, at least the doctor knew what I meant when I reported Lorelei had been fussy.
He examined her--which led to her hitting new pitches of screaming--and declared a bad ear infection. Of course. She also had a fever. So, the nurse came in and gave her a good dose of Motrin. Bless her.
Finally, it was time for Charlotte's FOUR back-to-back shots. The receptionist held Lorelei, so I could hold Charlotte in my lap and hold her arms down and still. This pissed off Lorelei to no end, so she screamed BLOODY MURDER. Charlotte, meanwhile, joined in the screaming and crying as she got shots--a couple of which the nurse informed me burn. Badly.
"OWIE OWIE OWIE!" my girl bellowed and shrieked and cried. But I eventually had to rescue Lorelei from the sweet receptionist.
Our exam room sounded like a room of horrors. So, I laughed. "Best! Day! EVER!" I declared, and the nurse laughed. I think. It was hard to hear in there.
The receptionist helped Charlotte dress, which ticked Charlotte off because she wanted her mommy. Also, she kept saying--legitimately--that her arms hurt. I finished dressing Lorelei while the receptionist took Charlotte to behind the front counter to pick out a zillion stickers.
The receptionist and nurse were SO sweet to my girls during all the drama. On our way out, over Lorelei's crying, I thanked those two women. Profusely. The nurse grinned and told me, "It's all over. Go home and have a big glass of . . . soda."
"Oh yes. I've been looking forward to that glass of, um, soda," I agreed.
Once my offspring were loaded into the car, I had the joy of informing Charlotte that we couldn't go to Dogfish Head (brewery/restaurant) like we had planned. Lorelei was sick, after all.
Charlotte had been looking SO forward to that trip, and she knew it was her reward for surviving the shots. So, she burst into tears. She was so, so disappointed.
"Can't just you and I go?!" she wailed. "Daddy can take Lorelei!" Ugh. My guilt-o-meter was off the charts. And her idea wasn't terrible.
So, I tried to get a hold of Chris to see where he was. If he was close enough, maybe I could hand off Lorelei and not fail my oldest daughter.
By the time I reached him, it was too late, he was just leaving the office and not halfway to where I needed him to be, and it just was not going to work out. Charlotte was devastated, but at least I hadn't told her that just the two of us going was even a possibility.
At home, Chris walked into the kitchen to be greeted by two wailing girls. Lorelei was miserable and Charlotte was upset all over again about Dogfish Head. And not getting candy. And not having mac and cheese for dinner.
Finally, the children were in bed.
Though pooped, things could've sucked more. We got that infection diagnosed ASAP, so Lorelei already had her first dose of antibiotics in her by the time her little body snuggled into her crib. And ear infections aren't contagious and are pretty simple to deal with. And let's face it--anything sans puke is a win.
By dawn, we realized the girls' school would open at 10:00 due to ice. Chris said a bad word, as he had an important early-morning meeting.
"Calm down," I snarled, ticked off that he had woke me up with his reaction to the late start. "I'll take Charlotte in at 10:00."
"Are you sure?" he asked. School is a smidge over 30 minutes away, so it IS sort of a hassle, if you're not already going in that direction.
"Chris, I'm home with Lorelei today anyway. What on earth is the problem?" His mood brightened considerably when he learned that not only would the ice not affect him in any way, but he had also dodged school drop-off AND the county's schools were closed, which meant stellar traffic.
I hadn't slept well (remember? Lorelei? ear infection? plus I had worked until about midnight to give myself breathing room today), so I dozed off again, coming around again around 8:00 (I know! EIGHT!!!) when Charlotte, half-dressed, came in asking for help with some tangled jammies.
"How long have you been up?" I asked, a bit mortified at my shitty mothering.
Charlotte looked at me blankly.
"What have you been doing?" I rephrased, helping her foot into one side of her PJs.
"Well," she said brightly, "I played in the play room, then I got a piece of bread for breakfast [note: we do not just give her bread for breakfast--she was being resourceful in her lack of adult supervision], and then I went poop."
"Oh, um. Okay. Who wiped you?"
STUPID QUESTION.
"I wiped myself."
Of course. And she had actually done a really good job. (What? Too much information?)
I checked the baby monitor, and Lorelei was starting to stir, so after some breakfast and typical morning routine stuff, we were on our way to school. There, Charlotte slipped on ice, fell, and soaked through her pants. She bawled all the way to her classroom, despite me telling her we could put dry clothes on.
Lorelei cried the whole way back home.
Happily, though, she took her next dose of Motrin and antibiotics like a pro, and has been napping soundly.
And as drama- and stress-filled as the past 20 hours have been, I'm pretty happy. I get some one-on-one with my little Lorelei, and we're cozy at home while the rest of the world is covered in ice. Timing worked out well, getting her into the doctor ASAP and on antibiotics before the infection got super nasty. The school delay coincided with me already arranging to be home, so we benefited there.
All. Is. Fine. Isn't it funny how intense drama gets followed by such silence and calm?
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