shots

call me crazy. no really. go ahead and call me crazy. this is the one time it’s a-ok and I won’t go all mississippi ghetto on you or start a fued the likes of which the hatfield and mccoys could have never seen coming.

why crazy? there have been many days during my life since clara arrived that I thought “I could totally handle 3”. i am by no means done being preggo and our family is not complete (God willing), but I had planned on not even starting to attempt number 3 until after my 30th birthday. I turn 28 in 1.5 wks for reference. I just love being a mommy so much that I had *almost* convinced myself that we should try a little sooner…and then today happened.

clara is still on o2 and I’d like her off asap. it’s not that we aren’t used to it or that she is suffering in anyway. personally, id just like to put her in a baby carrier and keep her with me all day. as it stands now, she is a gold-medal contender in the baby swing olympics as she has had plenty of pratice. her doc would not sign off on another o2 test until he saw her and he had exactly 1 set of back to back appointment slots in july. (c 2 month, j 18 month). the available time slots just so happened to be RIGHT SMACK IN THE MIDDLE of naptime. Lord help me. knowing full well that things could go downhill real fast, I just made the appointment and hoped for the best. I hardly slept last night for worrying about the tantrums (Re: explosions) that would make icelands volcanos look namby pamby. me and the big JC have been extra close today because I prayed and prayed that all would go smoothly and I would have to handcuff my child to any discount office furniture to get him to cooperate.

it all started out really well. both the kids were dressed cute and I had a genius idea (*pat on back*) to ask Jack to help me push the stroller. um, how effin adorable was I with my matching kids and my toeheaded son pushing his bowheaded sister in her stroller? I was feeling good. J even said “up-plea” (up please) to me while I was filling out papers. I picked him up and he flirted with the receptionist and I was high on the hog. when I was done we walked into the waiting area and from thin air appeared a little girl (about 8 years old) named grace who took a liking to my most precious and  well-behaved son. he was so adorable I couldn’t stand it. he was well-mannered and respectfully and I was thinking “I got this” when the nurse called us back.  this IS a cautionary tale: don’t ever for one second get cocky about your parenting. emotional karma will sneak around a corner and kick you straight in the junk before you know what hit you. and that’s exactly what happened.

I don’t know if he could smell the other childrens’ fear or if I was sweating pridefulness, but the minute we stepped into the exam room, my child lost his damn mind. the nurse mercifully helped me undress j so I could concentrate on c. we had to practically drag him caveman style to the nurses station to get him weighed. sometimes I swear he can read. without bothering a single other button he kept pushing “off” on the scale and laughing. after the 3rd attempt, I held his hands and this fool flung himself backwards at the velocity akin to space mountain at Disney. mr. rico suave from before was thrashing about clad in just a diaper and screaming bloody murder. WTF? I’m sure my face was as red as a tomato and even though he was the one in a diaper, i was the one who was caught pants down. the whole tantrum probably lasted maybe 10 seconds, but I will swear to it that in that ten seconds they had enough time to turn up the heat and for me to get pit-stains.

I won’t go into the rest of his bad behavior bc at least the rest of it was behind closed doors. the FIRST thing I did when I got home though was make a massage appointment if that’s any indication of the expertise with which my son misbehaved.

my massage started at 645. it had 3 stages: stage one (aka the stage where I thought the lady was going to snap my clavical like a wishbone), stage 2 (aka the stage in which I got so relaxed I’m pretty sure I drooled on the chicks foot) and stage 3 (aka the stage where I really had to poot but didn’t want to poot in the closed up room so I laid there and clenched my butt cheeks really tight for the last half hour). remind me not to scarf down my dinner before a massage. that’ll really ruin the last half. I probably should have just let it rip and left a bigger tip.

and I’ll leave you with my favorite quote from the appt. the doc said “she’s perfect. she has no neck, but really she is perfect”. sad, but true

 

**edit: i feel like my neck is bruised ALL over today.  that lady worked me over good.  also, clara gets to do her o2 trial.  crossing my fingers and toes**

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