Thursday, September 8, 2011

And Then I Dove Face First into a Gallon of Ice Cream

It all started off so well.

I got the kids up, fed, and off to school. I worked out and cleaned up. I looked forward to 5 hours in which I wouldn’t have to cater to the short people in my household (and I can say looked forward because this is the 2nd day of preschool, and we’re both over the drama).

Then I found out my brother-in-law, a fine chap whom, despite the near constant teasing, I will allow to remain in the family simply because he has no problem admitting to occasionally being an Assbutt™, had a rough night in the hospital and a rough year over all, being sick for the majority of it. He’s going to get better, I know it, but he (and all of us) has had more than enough at this point and is just about ready to drink antifreeze if it would do the trick. He needs to be able to enjoy my new niece and chase after her older sister. And keep up with the teasing. Hang in there, Cody.

Then the phone rang, and it’s never good to see the elementary school on the caller ID. So, I went and picked up Sammy, who greeted me with a giant grin even though I’m told he’d been complaining so much about his ears that he couldn’t concentrate on his work. So much for my morning of peace.

Then, after we got Sabrina (who, blessedly, do not mount an insurrection or the like at preschool today, so there’s nothing to report there), we headed off to the ENT, where I told him the continuing saga of the Goopy Ear and practically begged him for a new treatment. After all, I am buying him a new Lexus, 1 office visit at a time. He nicely terrified me by speculating causes that would require surgery to correct, and I almost stuck his otoscope up his nose. Then he took out those long tweezer things, looked deep into my son’s ear canal, and pulled out a half inch long wood chip. Seriously. Suddenly I was living inside a family sitcom.

Then came the pharmacy, where I had to acquire the new medication that would address the infection he may or may not still have (depending on what that wood chip was doing in there) and that is apparently so foul tasting that the pharmacist visibly recoiled when reading the scrip. While we waiting for our prescription swill to be filled, we walked around the store. As I glanced to look at some pork chops, I saw out of the corner of my eye the shopping cart, containing my daughter, not only slide backward but tip over under the weight of Sammy hanging off the edge. I’m pretty sure that pharmacist doesn’t have anything for broken legs. Luckily, no one was hurt, but you’d think there was from the way Sammy whined. Yes, he who caused the whole thing in the first place.

Then as we walked out of the store, Sammy decided Sabrina was walking too slowly, and yanked her off the curb. It comes as no surprise at this point that, of course, Sabrina fell, scrapped up her knee, and started bawling. This was not agreeable to Sammy (aka The Perpetrator), so he began yelling at Sabrina to Stop Crying. And I got to be That Mother pulling 2 screaming children through the parking lot while trying to find her keys as quickly as possible.

If I did live it, I’d swear this was actual a movie plot somewhere. If it is, save your ticket money.

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