It’s Friday, whew. This past week was spent in doctors’ offices, as was the week before. I’m sick of doctor’s offices, but the good news is, there should be no more appointments till next Friday. However, seeing as I’ve gotten rather accustomed to watching professionals poke my progeny, there’s a small chance that a string of seven doctorless days might leave me feeling directionless and adrift.
Nah, there’s really no chance of that. I’m stoked to have my life back.
Actually, all those appointments weren’t really that big of a deal—
Wait. I take that back. Last week was a big deal since there were so many unknowns and we kept getting bounced around from place to place. But this week was easier since I kind of knew what to expect and could schedule some Regular Life around appointments. Regular Life is awesome. Regular Life is wonderful. (Even though I do it all the time) Regular Life ought never be taken for granted.
The smartest planning move—the move that made all the difference in the world—was that I picked up some books on tape from the library last Saturday. In the midst of appointment overload, those tapes saved my butt, my eardrums, and my sanity. Like, totally, dude. Every morning when I’d pull out of the driveway on our way to the psychiatrist, ENT, family doctor, or dentist, I’d pop in a tape and a magical hush would descend on the car—until a minute down the road when I’d let out a yell, whip the car around (“kids, tell me if any cars are coming!”), and zip back to the house to get my sunglasses or medical forms or whatever it was I had forgotten.
(At the tail end of the longest trip, a three-hour one, a bit of squabbling broke out. Now, it just so happened that I had been reflecting how easy the trip had been and how wonderful it was that all four kids could enjoy the same book on tape. As I pondered the relaxing car trip we were all enjoying together, it slowly dawned on me that this new turn of events meant the kids might be ready to go on some cool outings—perhaps we could take a trip to the zoo or hit up some DC museums! So when the bickering started up, I launched into a detailed account of my most recent epiphany. I ended with, “But now you’re fighting so maybe you aren’t really ready to do fun stuff like that. Maybe you’re not mature enough to go on longer car rides. Maybe we’ll have to wait till your older till we can do fun stuff.” They shut right up.)
It’s because of the whomping shovel that we’re in this doctoring marathon. While I’m not glad the shovel whomped, nor am I glad it whomped my kid (heavens no), I must admit that if the shovel had to whomp, I’m glad it whomped my little boy and not my little girl.
My little boy is a real champ when it comes to doctors. He follows every instruction, grinning mutely and hugely, and never complains. He is the complete opposite of his sister (thank goodness), his sister who is otherwise known as the Doctor-Kicking, Curtain-Climbing, Fire-Spitting Wild Cat.
I find it interesting that two of my children can be so completely different. But instead of perplexing me, tying me up in knots (what did I do wrong?), their oppositeness soothe me. Kids are different. It’s them, not me. I can no more blame myself for my daughter’s horrible behavior than I can pat myself on the back for my son’s stellar patient performance. It’s just the way it is (or, they’re just they way they are), no mother guilt necessary (though a hefty dose of forbearance is all-important).
Next Friday my baby’s toughness gets put to the test. That’s the day I get to take him to the hospital where he’ll be put under (I keep saying, “he’ll be put down,” much to my husband’s consternation) so they can cap his tooth with some shiny stainless steel. I’m not too worried about the surgery (I get to take my computer along and drink coffee so I’m kind of excited), but I’ll be very glad when it’s all over and we can spend our mornings in our house instead of our car.