Bia has been on a campaign this summer to get her family to write haiku (she does all these clever little things to create memories for her family - like having her kids send postcards home to themselves while they are away on a family trip).
So, to honor Bia, here is my summer haiku for today:
Life with two, not three,
Should be easier than this.
Sad to say, it's not!
If I weren't so gosh-darned wordy, I'd leave it at that. If you want to stop reading, you can!
This morning, MS slept until 10 a.m., so it was really no problem explaining to him that if he had actually gone to bed when I put him down at 9 p.m. instead of repeatedly coming out for bathroom trips and to check on Mommy, he would have woken earlier and we wouldn't have missed the "Bee Movie." I still made him hustle, though, because I intended to head to our nearest Aldi store (a fabulous grocery store where you save money and the food is often better than the name brands being sold in the big chain grocers) which is a 25 minute drive away (I'm thinking maybe I should calculate the money spent on gas versus the money saved, to see whether this is still a worthwhile venture).
Alas, I didn't move as quickly as we should have, so our morning was frantic clear up until nap time. I had scheduled a doctor appointment with our family physician (they always seem to make you do that before seeing a specialist - even though you know you need to see a specialist) for 1:30. We arrived home at 12:45 and I hadn't even fed the boys lunch yet. I had to feed them in the van, while I unloaded groceries. MS managed a Kraft Bagel-fuls (convenient and delicious, but too pricey without introductory offers and a coupon) and a banana without too much mess. YS munched Quaker Oatmeal Squares from a bowl (and, yes, spilled the bowl while I was running back and forth, but managed to retrieve the pieces which fell into his car seat) and a banana (he seemed to be ready to throw his last bit right across the van, but thankfully, with many pleas from me and extra correction from his helpful older brother - "DON'T THROW IT, BROTHER! DON'T THROW IT, BROTHER! NO, BABY! NO, BABY! DON'T THROW IT, BROTHER!" - he held it in his hand until I took it from him).
As I signed in at 1:40, I apologized. The receptionist replied, "Your appointment was for 1:45, so you're doing fine." I just made the appointment this morning! You would think it wouldn't be possible to forget the time. You would think.
During our 15 minute wait (thank goodness, it wasn't longer), the boys played with the germ-ridden toys in the waiting room (sorry, my husband is a germophobe and it has rubbed off on me). Gee, will we find ourselves back in that office before the week is out, for new ailments? When they tired of that, they began to climb the furniture and pull on the mini-blinds. MS had a very intriguing question which I couldn't answer:
"Mommy, look at the roof of the building down there (roof of the entryway). Why are there all those rocks on the roof?"
Now I'm thinking I should have answered, "To keep superheroes from trying to walk on the roof of a building!"
When climbing furniture was no longer appealing, they decided to chase each other from one side of the waiting room to the other. Then came wrestling moves. When I told MS to sit on a chair, he said he really wanted to wrestle me. Then he shouted, "T-BAG!!" (must be some wrestling move ES has taught him.)
The real fun came when I was shown to an examining room. I'm trying to communicate the history of these rashes and all of their various forms, plus the numerous creams and treatments I have already tried, all while trying to rein in two rambunctious, barely fed, nap-ready boys. Perhaps, this is why I haven't sought professional help again recently. And let me tell you, I need more professional help than just rash relief!
The end result: The doctor referred me to a dermatologist. Thankfully, the name sounded familiar because it is the same dermatologist my ob/gyn referred me to when I was dealing with the rash during pregnancy. Unfortunately, at that time I was living in IL and didn't really want to schedule another doctor appointment in Indiana, so I went with the Rockford dermatologist. We'll see if this dermatologist can get to the bottom of my itching issues.
So, you see, I am really missing the third son in our package. If ES had been here, my day might have played out differently. Here's what I envisioned: With ES's help, we would have made it out the door more quickly this morning. Then, he would have groaned about having to go shopping and would have begged to be allowed to stay in the van with the two little ones. I would have given in and rolled down the windows, locked the car, and left him in charge while I scurried through my Aldi shopping in quiet comfort and haste. This would have put us home earlier. Again, with ES's help, I could have unloaded the groceries faster and had help with hand-washing. After a similarly easy lunch, I probably would have put YS down for a nap (he naps in our room in a pack-n-play because MS is a reluctant napper now), put MS in his room with a book on CD and left them home with ES.
Think of that quiet, magazine-reading wait in the doctor's office. Not giving the slightest notice to the looks of other patients while waiting - there'd probably be no looks. Stepping on the scale without trying to keep watch on MS who had been told to hold YS's hand to keep him sitting on the bench instead of running off. Being able to talk with the doctor uninterrupted. Listening every minute for the cell phone and loving every minute when it didn't ring. Coming home to find ...
Okay - let's ditch the romantic dreams. It wouldn't have played out any better, probably. ES may have killed MS. That would have been an interesting phone call to receive. Plus, they would have bickered, whined and fought all morning, right?
Really, the day went fairly well considering our tight schedule. MS skipped a nap. YS had a brief nap. They both ate lots of fruits and veggies at dinner. They were both in bed and asleep by 9:30. Success!
Well, I still hope ES is having fun at camp. And, if I could get my hands on a paintball gun, I think it would be really good therapy. Who knows, maybe the rash would go away on its own if I just had a week at camp on my own!