Today was that kind of day where I wanted to curl up in a ball, in the corner of the room, with a bottle of rum. Maybe two bottles of rum....don't even need coke and ice, just rum.
Adele is going through a time in her life that maybe some of you enjoy, but I just don't have time to cuddle for hours at a time. I love cuddles, just not all day long. Do I sound like a crappy mom? Adele is no longer a newborn, she is now awake a lot more and when she is awake, she wants to be loved. I guess it wouldn't be so bad if we didn't have a 20 month old who needs us, a lot, all day long, until bed time. As Adele gets older, her cries become louder and she is more persistent. I managed to have a shower and tried to block out the random shrieks coming from the bed. Almost like a quacking duck, or scared puppy or crazy cat, a dozen crazy cats. When I say "come on Adele", it doesn't seem to mean anything to her at this point. It means a lot to me and when I say it twenty times in a row, I see myself getting frustrated and well, Adele is frustrated too. I think we went in circles today. I talked, she didn't listen, I talked some more and she continued to not listen.
We had our appointment at the pediatrician's today, they just moved locations. I no longer take both kids to the car at the same time. I do it in two trips. Brinley goes first with my purse and the diaper bag. Adele goes next with the oxygen tank and anything else that needs to come along....and I lock the door.
We arrived at our destination a few minutes early. So far so good. On time.
I see the sign to the office and it says that there is parking around back. Ok, perfect. Drive down the street, around to the back and see that there is absolutely no parking. I'm confused. I drive back around front and look down at my feet as I exit the car. Forgot to put my boots on after I put Brinley in the car. I am in flip flops. Go around the car, feet in the snow bank and take a deep breath. Grab Adele and the oxygen. Oh damn, my purse. Move through the snow bank to the next snow bank and grab my purse. I will leave the diaper bag because nobody will poop!
Head around to the main drag, in the slush, in my flip flops. Deep breath. I unhook Brinley and realize that placing Adele on the street, on the main drag, full of traffic, is not a good idea. I grab Brinley and awkwardly head toward the sidewalk, through the snow bank. Breathe. Do I place my toddler on the sidewalk and risk her running onto the road or continue to have her dislocate my shoulder and rip all the tendons in my hand and arm and continue to the door?? I risk her running into traffic. I put her down. Even before her feet hit the ground, "Brinley, follow mom. Follow mom. Follow me." She listened. Phew!
We get to the door, walk in and it says to remove all footwear. F#$k that S#$t! I am not walking on the floor with no socks. My feet are wet. I don't need to take them off. I make my own rules.
I remove my flip flops and Brinley's shoes. I follow rules especially those posted on a door!
I check in and sit down. Brinley had fun turning the office lights on and off. On and off. On and off. On and off. ON AND OFF!!! ON AND OFFFFFFF!!!!!!!
Receptionist "you seem like you have your hands full." A little giggle.
So because I am super mom, I say "she is a really good girl and listens quite well." I needed to justify her turning the lights off. I needed to make sure that she knew that we don't let her run the house, make all the rules and we for sure don't let her play with the light switches. We have it all under control.
It's our turn.
"Just follow me upstairs."
What the f$#k!??!! Are you kidding me???
"Do you need some help getting upstairs?"
"No thanks, I'll be ok."
I am super mom and I don't need any help getting up your extremely steep stairs in this super really old house that has been converted to a doctor's office. Do I look flustered? I'm not. I'm fine. I don't need help.
"Brinley, go upstairs sweetie. Mommy will be behind you."
Each freakin step took 20-30 seconds because she was unsure of where we were...she was scared and I was getting pissed off because I was lugging over 30 pounds.
We get to the top of the stairs and my hair is stuck to my forehead, there are beads of sweat on my upper lip and my tube dress has come down to the point where you can see the top of my bra. Not a bra that I want the world to see, or the pediatrician. It's not frilly, it's not a push up, it's not black lace. It is beige. Just beige.
Ok, get the girls into the room. Brinley is so unsure. She stays close to momma. I tell her to play with the toys. Adele starts to cry. What the hell? Why are you crying? You were just fast asleep. I am meeting with your pediatrician. So Brinley sees her sister crying, this means that she must also cry, with her sister. It is now a competition. A fierce competition between two girls. Who will win? Who will embarrass mom the most? Who will piss mom off the most? It was a tie. A freakin tie.
The pediatrician was asking me questions and I was pretending that I was calm and had it all figured out and can handle all of this crying. I am super mom.
I ask her repeatedly to repeat the question because I wasn't focusing, in my head, I was praying that the crying would stop. I was praying that she would look at me and tell me that I was awesome and that I remind her of a Pinterest mom. I remind her of a mom that has it all together, all of the time. I wanted her to tell me that I must get up at 6:00am every morning and shower and put beautiful curls in my hair and have the coffee brewing and fresh cinnamon buns baking in the oven and dinner in the crockpot and the house vacuumed and all the crappers cleaned by the time the girls wake up. I just wanted to be told how great I am....at everything.
She didn't but I'm sure she was thinking it. We had limited time for our appointment.
I had to get Adele naked so we could check her weight.
"Do you want to change her diaper?"
"The diaper bag is in the car." This was said in a whisper because I am not a Pinterest mom, a Starbucks mom, a Martha Stewart mom....I failed. The diaper bag is in the fu#$%$g car because I couldn't lift one more thing...not ONE. MORE. THING.
I apologized profusely for the craziness and vowed to only bring one child next time.
I walked out of the room not remembering one thing. What was her weight? Why are we putting Adele on medication? What should be her daily volume intake? When am I coming back? Oh S#$t, I forget. I truly don't remember one thing. I need to record the next appointment."
Head down the stairs. I don't give a crap, I need help getting down. Please carry my child and you can stick Pinterest up your A@@!
I get downstairs and I hear "she looks like Monsters Inc!!!"
Did I just hear that right? Did you just call my child, who has Down syndrome, a monster. Deep breath and get ready for the attack. Get ready for me to shove my hand down your throat and rip out that punching bag thing at the back of your mouth. Get ready for an obscene amount of swear words, all directed to you, being shouted at your face, while I am three inches away from your nose. I don't care if I am in an office surrounded by kids right now. I have no shame. You just called my child a monster.
"Your little girl looks just like Boo from Monsters Inc. She is so cute."
"Who is Boo?"
"Johnny, show her a picture of Boo on your phone."
"Ohhhhhhhh, she does look like Boo."
Man walks in...
"Your daughter looks like Boo from Monsters Inc. She won't have to dress up for Halloween."
Leave me alone people. I need a drink.
Head to the car, load children, load oxygen, load purse.
I am sweating. I am ticked.
I text James and said "who, who, who has a pediatrician's office in an awkwardly shaped house and the patient rooms are upstairs. The rooms are upstairs!!!!! It's an office for children."
James knew to meet me at home, outside, ready to take the children.
My plan, which it never has been, was to come into the house and have one rum n coke while making dinner. I came in and forgot to drink.
Last non-pinterest mommy moment....a friend just stopped by to drop of a beautiful princess toy for the girls. I could smell something. I am a mom. I pull your pants out and look down your diaper. Yup, s#$t all over my fingers.
Rum n coke time!!