Mahvelous, dahlink

There was a little foot poised perfectly in midair in front of my face.  "I want purple!"  the voice above me commanded.

As I bent over, assuring my spinal demise, I gently held the foot in one hand, squinted, and tried to steady the other, the better to apply polish with.  Cursing is done silently, mentally, with abandon.

I have no one to blame but myself, that she is addicted to the shot of color on her toes.  There was a brief respite, when tights were fabulous, but they've fallen out of favor in the wee one's court.  It's so much easier to shuck off shoes and socks than deal with tights, afterall.

Try grabbing a pea and painting a bullseye on it, and you will know what I'm dealing with here.

I paint one or two toes, and present them for final approval before proceeding.  "Well?  What do you think? Pretty?"

I feel a pat on my head as she replies, "Yes, my dahrling.  Pretty."

As I look up at her, I can't help but wonder where she got her Zsa Zsa.

"You are the Princess of the House,"  she announces, "and I am the Princess of the World."

Mahvelous, dahlink.

But he's still sexy

We were watching the Grammys tonight.   Have to get my fill of eyeballing the musicians, you know. 

It was just before the kids were in bed, and they were doing their tribute to Sly and the Family Stone. 

Ryan was sitting in my lap, and we were shaking our groove thangs while we watched.   Steven Tyler came out to sing, and let loose a couple of high screeches like only he can.

I hear Audrey say:  "He sings like a girl."  She opens her mouth--" 'aaaahhhh aaaaahhh' like a girl."  And then she sniffed in disgust and shook her little head.

Of course, I cracked up. 

I resisted telling her that he although he is looking a little worse for the wear, he is still sexy. 

I'll just have to wait for her to figure out that rock star mystique when she gets older. 

Nolan, on the other hand, wondered "Did he lose a bet?" when Sly came out sporting that white-silver sky-high mohawk.

Oh, my boy.  <sigh>   You have so much left to learn.

Things I hear

Audrey has decided that my bathroom is her bathroom.  She is the only kid that has done this, and I guess as long as she's using it, I can't complain.

The other night she came running in like always, and she semi-closed the door.  She is funny, she will plop down, and we'll hear her singing, or she'll start talking to us. 

On the night in question, she was campaigning for a bath.  I'd bathed her earlier in the day, and I had told her she was fine.  She was arguing with herself as she sat on the pot, babbling away:
"I ask Mommy to take me a bath and she say nooooo but I stink, I stink.  Mommy.  I stink.  I need bath..."

"No, you don't."

She commences again..."I go to school, I play, I go to 'kido, I ready, it's dark, I need a bath.  I stink.  I stink like a dog.  I stink like a smelly dog!"

Mr W and I look at each other, and we are trying not to laugh out loud, because she will hear us and not drop it.  It was hysterical.  "I didn't know smelly dogs smell like vanilla shampoo,"  I said to Mr W.

Then there was the night I had my back to the kids, making dinner.  I could hear Ben talking, and this is what made me pause:
"Then the man sticks something in the woman, and that's how the babies are made."

???  I perked up.  I had to know.

"Ben?"  I called him to me.

"Honey, what are you talking about?"

"We were studying fish.  And the male fish has to do something, let something over the female so the eggs will fertilize.  Gross.  It's gross."

"Oh."  I feel like I just dodged a bullet, got a reprieve, been given a pass.  "Fish, huh?  That sounds interesting."  I was really thinking, yeah, buddy, give it a few years.

Ryan lost a tooth recently.  He told us, "Did you know, that if you leave your light on, the tooth fairy won't come?"

I had to question that the next day, when he found three dollars under his pillow.  I looked at the tooth fairy and raised an eyebrow.  As we walked out into the hall, I said, 'Dude, aren't you raising the bar a bit high there?  Three bucks?  Are you nuts?"  "It was dark," the tooth fairy replied, "I thought I only had two bucks..."

Maybe Ryan knows what he's talking about, with the darkness.  The tooth fairy leaves more money when the tooth fairy can't see.

Now, that gives me an idea....

I'm part of the club

My hit counter got reset.

I feel like I'm part of the club now.

I think I remember what it was at before...

Does a cookie count?

I just had cookies.

For breakfast.  Shh.  Don't tell.

I'm sleepy, and goofy, and cranky. 

Saturday night, I spent the night in the ER with Ben.  Sometimes, Mom's shift doesn't end just because the sun goes down.  He was coughing like a madman, all my tricks weren't helping him, he started to panic; and who can blame him, breathing is important; and I was at a loss. 

Nothing says love like taking off your pjs, grabbing what you hope are clean clothes, and heading to the ER in the middle of the night.  

He better remember that when I tell him he can't have the keys to the car.

There we sat, amongst the empty water bottles and garbage people would rather slide back under the chairs and benches instead of throwing in the trash can 10 feet away from us, waiting, waiting, waiting....

I knew we'd be there for a while, so it's not like it was a surprise to be waiting.  But it wasn't easy.

He made me chuckle, because all the lights and noise of unhappy children made him antsy.  Yup, I thought, that 'tune out the crying' gene doesn't get activated until you've had a baby of your own.

We had a better time of it sitting outside.  We went out, and it was quieter.  But it was colder too, so we couldn't stay long.

Ben finally nodded off a bit, around 2 am or so.  Right when they called us back.

I was relieved, but as they hadn't done the second triage I was expecting, was not holding out much hope that this was it.

But it was!  Delirium set in as we walked toward our 'room' while I envisioned George Clooney stepping in to check out Ben, patting me on the back and winking at me while complimenting my maternal instincts.   Is this sweatshirt clean?  I asked myself...

We were in the room just long enough for Ben to plant his butt on the bed, when in came the dr and the registration tech.   I'm answering questions to verify we are who we say we are, handing over the insurance card, while Ben is talking to the doctor.

Excuse me?  He's nine.  He doesn't know what time it was when I medicated him last.  He doesn't know anything other than he wants to stop coughing. 

Helga the tech backed off long enough for me to answer a few of the doctor's questions, he took a listen, said xray would be by shortly and pending the results, he'd give us some meds and send us home. 

I think he was in the room five minutes, tops.

Ben got settled, and a nurse came in.  "I know the doctor probably asked you all this already," she says, (then why are you here asking me too?), "did you get triaged out there besides when they did it right when you came in??" "No." "Of course not," she muttered under her breath.  Whatever.  I answer her questions, and they are pretty much the same.  I hold my tongue. 

Here comes the registration tech again, with my insurance card in hand.  "Your card says you..."   "...have a copay of fifty dollars," I interrupt.  She seems relieved that I know this.  "I can process that now for you if you want."

Come on, you're not surprised, are you?

"Does it mean I'll get out of here without having to stop and talk to anyone on the way out?"  "Yes."  I hand her the check.

We wait for the xray for about another 40 minutes or so.  After she leaves, another registration tech comes into the room.

As she begins to once again verify we are who we say we are, I resist the urge to slap the clipboard out ofher hand and beat her with it.  I can take no more--as she says, "you live at..."  I say "I already paid my copay.  Is there a reason we're going over this again?"

She is embarrassed.  Apologizing all over the place, she leaves, explaining that we "weren't checked off that this step was complete."  Stop apologizing and just GO AWAY, I mentally command her.

At this point, it's 3:15 am.  I've lost all faith in the system, seeing that I've spent more time verifying my address than I have discussing my child's symptoms.  Grrr.  Write the fucking scrip already, George, I'm afraid I can't see you anymore.

We receive our prescriptions, (steroids and an inhaler), I sign on the dotted line, and we are discharged at 3:45 or so.  (Yes.  Ben is still coughing.  But hey, his xray was clear.)

He falls asleep on the way to the pharmacy.  I went to a 24-hour one close to home, I've used them before, but not in a long time, so of course, the chances of this going smoothly were slim.

So slim, I'm never going to Vegas.

"Your insurance isn't going through,"  the pharmacist says.

It's 4:15.  I need to medicate the boy. 

"Just fill it,"  I tell him.  "You can come back on Monday and have us try to run it through again,"  he tells me.  Great.  "How long?"  "Fifteen minutes, there is one ahead of you."  I glance over to my sleeping boy next to me, and it doesn't move the pharmacist.  "I'll be back,"  I sigh.

I would say I watched cars go by, but it's like someone rolled up the streets once it was midnight.  Not many cars to watch.  I park under a streetlight on the other side of the pharmacy, and read for fifteen minutes, patting Ben occasionally when he stirs.

We get home around 5.  I have to sneak some food into him to get himhis medicine.   Poor kid.  He's exhausted.  I'm sleepy too, and thankful Mr W is off today.  I had already called in sick to work.

He was coughing still on Sunday, so bad I called his pediatrician to ask if I should worry.  We went to see him yesterday, as he was still not sleeping well at all. 

Which means I'm not sleeping either. 

The coughing is relentless, and he's not been medicated long enough for it to abate. 

I have some hope this morning, though.  He's not been coughing as much.

But I'm still sleepy, and goofy, and cranky.

Which leads me to the cookies....guess I should have some milk.

~~~~~~~~~~P.S.  Went to the pharmacy and they were able to get it to go through--so I got a refund. Yay!