Remember how I was all excited last week to meet the ST that, like, totally had the potential to be my lifesaver?
And we were going to go there after a trip to the dentist?
We didn't quite get that all done in the manner I was expecting.
And now here it is seven days later and I'm just getting the breathing space to talk about it.
First, let me say this: BD was gone. Again. He had to go back to Norway for close to two weeks. I whined almost the entire time because I was EXHAUSTED and I wanted him HOME and all of the sudden none of the jars in the house would open and there were bugs that needed killing and I wanted to grill things but I don't trust myself with propane (no, really) and blah blah blah, oh pooh.
It's amazing how independent I was before I got married and now? Hmph.
The dentist trip started out ok.
Until I got in the car.
Because that's when I realized that were weren't going where I thought we were going and now we'd surely be late because I hadn't planned on driving that far away. Ugh.
Eventually we got there. Late. And...it just wasn't my type of scene. There were these huge, unsupervised children - pre-teens? - on the play structure meant for children 4' tall and under, which of course my child wanted to play on even if that meant she would be trampled. There was yelling and screeching and...just when were they going to call us up, anyway?
The answer to that would be "five minutes from never."
We waited for over an hour. During that time, I saw a little boy finish seeing the dentist only to come out to the waiting room to no parent or guardian waiting for him. Regardless of the many signs posted NOT TO LEAVE YOUR KIDS.
Maybe one more sign would have helped.
When we finally did go back, Playette did fantastic. I was way more impressed with her performance than that of the staff. Zero patience for that crap, I have.
We happily left not knowing anymore about her mouth issues than we did when we came in and then yesterday? At this feeding specialist appointment we went to? Guess what they told us to do? GO TO THE DENTIST.
Insurance is going to laugh in my face.
"Yeah, I know she just went, but now can we go see a good one?"
And that's when things started going downhill.
After the crappy trip to the crappy dentist, I mean.
Playette seemed fine at first, but then the vomiting began.
First, on the beautiful Middle Eastern rug, then on herself, on the carpet, all over me, on blankets, on towels.
It was awesome.
(Needless to say, we had to cancel ST. womp, womp)
This kid never gets sick so when it does happen, I'm totally caught off-guard. I did my best to channel my great-grandmother and just keep pressing, thinking of how she'd call me a wimp since I only had one kid to take care of, didn't have to pick cotton or tobacco, have indoor plumbing, and (gasp!) there's a machine that washes all the pukey laundry for me. I mean, really.
I figured that if I just kept moving that I'd be ok, so that's what I did.
Somehow we made it to Saturday.
Saturday, there was no puking, but the scary high fevers and lethargy started. I think we watched a lot of TV that day.
I thought everything was done on Sunday. And then Monday happened.
But! BD was home by then, so at least there was backup.
He stayed home with her on Monday and they got some good bonding time in. By the time I got home though, she had a crazy rash on her face and nose (BD: "Didn't she look like that yesterday?") and she was pulling on her ear, saying "Oweeee."
Now, this is "funny."
Nary a week before, I was telling her Ped about how my kid had never had an ear infection and she was all, "Really?!" and I was all, "Really," as I popped my imaginary MomCollar.
So to teach me a lesson, the Ped totally gave Playette an ear infection and called it a flu shot.
Totally plausible, right?
So there we were, six days later, with Rashface McGhee, pulling on her ear, and I called that Ped's office right back. "Y'all are open until 8, right?"
"Yes, but we're all booked up tonight. Please hold for the Triage Nurse."
I turned to BD and begged for him to handle it.
I don't know about your situation, but when BD deals with the Ped's office, things always get done. They are sooo nice to him, wherever we are. The same thing was true when we lived in CA.
They ended up telling him the same thing, but then an hour later, miraculously, there was a cancellation so off they went. The front desk ladies are nice and all, but they would never have called me back with that revelation. Never.
Verdict: double ear infection
Playette and BD and Amoxicillin stayed home together again on Tuesday.
Oh, and somewhere in there, the truck started smoking and scaring the crap out of me while I was driving home from work. Like a doof, I screamed while driving it all the way to our driveway, where I jumped out like it was about to blow and ran to the front door, panting and wondering if maybe I shouldn't have parked it so close to the house because it was going to up in flames any minute.
Wait. Now I remember. That was also Monday.
The truck went in the shop on Tuesday and we got a rental car.
I'm pretty sure that repairs were $8 million, but I refuse to confirm with BD because I will break out in hives.
Yesterday, I took off work to take Playette to that feeding specialist I mentioned earlier and then I had an appointment of my own in the afternoon.
To celebrate making it through all of that, yesterday afternoon, I bought totally impractical, really sparkly girly-girl shoes.
(Photos do them no justice.)
And I'm not even a girly-girl.
Ask me if I care.