I took Baby to the doctor two weeks ago with her second ear infection/sinus infection in about a month's time. With the first one, I scheduled an appointment for a re-check for two weeks later, as the doctor instructed me. But me being me, I forgot the re-check appointment and missed it. We got in a week later and VOILA! Baby had another ear infection...or hadn't recovered from the first one. The doctor slightly scolded me for missing the appointment a week earlier and told me as I left to make a re-check appointment for two weeks. I made that appointment for today and guarded the little reminder card with my life. Miraculously, it made it from the doctor's office to our house without disappearing into the Deep Abyss of Darkness, otherwise known as my purse. I carefully placed it on my fridge with two - not one, but two - magnets to secure it in clear view for me to see. I read it every day. I memorized it. I engrained it into my brain. Thursday, April 20, 10:30 a.m.
I wasn't going to forget.
The office even called me yesterday to remind me, to which I haughtily replied, "Yes, yes. I know."
Today I got up, got everyone dressed in cute, going-out-in-public attire. The girls wore matching outfits, complete with sweet, little, puffy hairbows. I fixed my hair. I put on makeup. And we got out the door at 10:00. Plenty of time. We arrive at 10:15. Those little girls in the office are going to be so impressed with me. I'm early!
But the look on the receptionist's face wasn't exactly impressed. More like confused. "We're here for a 10:30 with Dr. McConnell," I say. She looks at her little sheet. "What's the name?" she asks. I tell her. She looks at me with a wry little smile and says, "Well, we have her down for 9:45."
"Uh, my reminder card says 10:30," I start to dig in the Abyss, but remember the card is at home on the fridge. I don't like the way she is looking at me. I can tell she thinks I forgot again. Another girl in the office says something to her and she turns to listen. She turns back to me. "She (referring to the other office girl) says she told you 9:45 yesterday when she called to remind you." Her tone. Her manner. She's starting to chap me. Don't treat me like I'm a moron. Did she say 9:45? I don't know. Am I really supposed to remember that? Is that really my responsibility to actually pay attention to what she says to me in a 6-second phone conversation? Maybe I read the card wrong. Maybe I put the wrong card on the fridge. I did find about five of them in my purse the other day. I'm full of self-doubt. It's obviously my fault. They wouldn't make such a mistake. That's my job.
"I...I'm sorry," I stammer. "I didn't pay attention...I, uh, I guess I'll have to reschedule." And I slink away, red-faced, to do just that. They can't get me in until Tuesday. That's five days. Almost a week. Dr. McConnell will raise her eyebrows at me. I'm so ashamed.
I stew about it all the way home. I can't believe I did this. What's wrong with me? I give myself a good beating for being such a flibbertyjibbit. Yes, that's right. A flibbertyjibbit.
I get home and we finish up our reading lesson. I let the kids play outside while I put fish sticks in the oven and get water boiling for mac n cheese. They are so adorable and the weather is so gorgeous, I go out, too. Brother and I play soccer. I take a picture of Baby who has put on her sunglasses upside down and looks way cuter than any baby should be allowed to look. Sister wants to plant more seeds, so I get out two seed packets, soil and egg cartons and let her get to work. Well, Sister opens up the tomato seeds, which are virtually microscopic, and spills them. I come to the rescue and try to get them all into an egg carton before the wind blows them away. I'm poking seeds, scooping dirt and trying to get Sister to finish up the job, but she is four, and female, and is suddenly bored with the whole thing. Brother is clamoring for me to play soccer some more, Baby is climbing onto the porch and reaching for the saw Hubby left out, and here I am trying to simultaneously do three things at once. Then I suddenly remember I have lunch cooking inside and I am outside. I rush inside, taking Baby kicking and screaming, and rescue lunch...barely. I send the kids out with the spray bottle to water the newly planted seeds, which, of course, starts an argument about who will go first. Once we get that settled, they decide they don't want to water the seeds.
Oh, no. Those seeds will be watered.
I give them a lecture on finishing what you start, blah, blah, blah, to which they gleefully respond and go straight away to obediently do what their mother has said.
While I am giving said lecture, I hear a noise coming from the kitchen. I walk in to find this:
Baby had found the bag of cat food and dumped the entire thing into the floor.
Then she starts crying. Wait a minute. If anyone gets to cry here, it should be me.
Lunch was loud. Lots of shouting and screaming. The kids were pretty noisy, too.
After lunch, we read books and I get everyone down for naps. I take Baby to my room to lay her down on my bed. My entire bedroom is very light. Mostly white, but some lavender and light blue. My comforter is white and periwinkle, with tiny pink flowers on it. Very pretty. Very fluffy. And it won't fit in my washer. So when one of my children vomited on it and Baby's diarrhea diaper leaked on it, I had to take it to the laundromat and wash it in one of the super-sized washers. Just did that two days ago. So what do I find right smack dab in the middle of my lovely, light-colored bed? A big, steaming pile of brown cat puke.
I am not smiling.
After cleaning that up and getting all my children down, I remember something. I rush to the kitchen to check out the card on my fridge. Do you know what it says?