I started off Monday by getting up early. If you know me at all, you know this is akin to Fat Albert doing the Iron Man.
After I nursed Cadrian, I got up spent time with God, blogged, went outside wrapped in a quilt and prayed in an Adirondack chair while I watched a magnificent sunrise. I got a lot done around the house that had been put off over the weekend (like finding the counters. And the floors.)
The girls had stayed over at their grandma’s. With no incessant
demands requests and interruptions, I was feeling peaceful and positive while I was being productive.
Then the girls got home. I’m not even sure if it was five minutes before I started yelling.
“Mama! Going potty!” as she is standing right next to me in the living room.
“But I Don’t Want to Wear Soos and Socts!! I Never Wear Soos and Socts!” as the other one follows us from room to room, her unremitting whining much like a tornado siren.
Cadrian’s screaming only adds to the cacophany, and before I know it, I’m frustrated and my jaw hurts from gritting my teeth.
Finally everyone is clean, clothed and herded into the van. (This is after another stern lecture about how we don’t scream and cry because giant sized pool floaties are not allowed to accompany us to my midwife appointment an hour away. Followed by another lecture about not climbing into the front of the van to push random buttons.)
“That’s it. No one is allowed to talk until we get to town.”
We are meeting my friend Pam and her daughter before we make the trip over to the midwife’s. She
crazily generously offered to watch my hooligans children for me while I get my check-up (and Pap) and then we were planning on having a play day.
Then I couldn’t get the seat that we were going to put Aly’s carseat in, the only available seat for another child, in an upright position. After wrestling with the thing for 15 minutes, we pile everyone into her van.
We arrive at Kathy’s office only a bit behind schedule, thanks to speeding and no traffic. We unbuckle and corral the three walkers and I carry the now very hungry, but not yet ravenous baby.
There’s a sign on the door to Kathy’s office that is not hers.
The door is locked.
I accost some guy stepping out for coffee. He informs me that Kathy is now keeping her office hours in her house! It’s close though, just a few blocks away. We try calling but get voice mail. He can’t remember the exact house number…
Urge everyone back out to the van. Buckle everyone back in. Try to appease everyone.
Follow some guy’s directions. Go on an adventure when the street dead ends into a park. Find the general vicinity. Call again.
“Oh Jessica Darlin’! I’m so sorry! Did you get my message?”
Jessica Darlin’ stares blankly at her phone. “No”
“I tried calling and calling your home but I never got an answer. I got called to a birth, and sent you an email.”
“By the way, we’re in your neighborhood because some guy by your office told us you’d moved.”
“You’re in Iowa City?!”
“Oh Jessica Darlin’! I was coming to you!”
She was halfway to my house when she got called to a labor in progress.
So Pam and I decide to go to this cute little bakery/deli I’ve eaten at before for lunch.
It’s closed. They’ve moved to another location.
We eat a Bruegger’s Bagels. Which we have in our town.
After much ado about going to the restroom–all five of us in a convenience store type restroom–and what to eat, and the eating itself, and the obtaining of the nutrition information binder, because yes, still doing Weight Watchers, and the breast milk leaking and the college students staring warily and mumbling to themselves, “I’m so never having kids!”, and the baby wailing and the girls running around in circles singing, and another trip to the restroom, and the tying of the baby into the Mei Tai, we are off to the park.
Oh and Pam has to be back at a certain time to pick up her kindergartner from school.
We’re at the park our alloted five minutes when Aly falls and bloodies her nose. Bloodies. As in Evander Holyfield bloody.
She really is fine, after the blood is all sopped up, not even a bruise or bump to show for it.
We play in a fountain for a few more minutes to wash the blood out of her hair and distract her from her crying. My girls end up in another time out.
And it’s back to the van. Three out of four of them napped on the way home. Pam and I had another wonderful visit.
The girls are asleep now.
And I didn’t have to have a Pap.