Tuesday, November 18, 2008
The poor thing vomited twice on the way there and I actually considered calling and rescheduling his appointment. Upon further consideration, I realized how silly that would sound. "Hi, my kid's too sick to come to the doctor!". That and the fact that he would be close to six by the time they rescheduled his 5 year appointment.
When we arrive, there is a sign on the door that says because of the increased volume of sick children, expect a delay. Joy! Happiness! More time to stew in the crockpot of viruses that is the waiting room.
We were taken back rather quickly to my surprise. The nurse sends us to the exam room and joins us shortly. She flips through his chart and asks who I am. Um, I'm his mother. She didn't even try to hide her incredulous look! "Oh, you are? " You could just see the fifteen question marks at the end of that question. I affixed her with the laser beams of death and asked "why wouldn't I be?" She had the temerity to look at me and say (with her hand on her hip, no less!) "well, frankly, I thought you were his grandmother". Yes! She did! So I killed her with my bare hands and we left.
I didn't really have a problem with her thinking it (ok, yes, I did) but more with the attitude in which she said it. I am forty one years old, so biologically I could be his grandmother, but she could have at least had the decency to be mortified, apologetic, and offer his appointment free of charge because of her error. Instead she's all "well frankly..."
I was still schooling Miss Thang in the error of her ways when the pediatrician came in. The pediatrician who is the same age as me. The one whose daughter was born six months after Silas. The one who was infuriated that she had just been mistaken for her daughters grandmother and complained to me about it at our last visit. Yeah....her.
I have an idea that even if Miss Thang thinks it, she'll never say it again. Never piss off two old broads with eighty years between them.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
That's blood spatter all over my front door. I was all, ???? So I proceeded into the house, albeit a bit cautiously. This is what I found:
This is all over my house! On every wall, door, appliance and piece of furniture. SweetieDarling is at school, Silas is with me, and Sam is at work, so exactly whom has bled all over my house? The house doesn't appear to have been ransacked (well, anymore than it usually does) and there is nothing missing. Hmmm. Time for some sleuthing.
The first thing I notice is that the blood never extends over three feet high. So a little person has broken in and flung blood all over my walls? Probably not. All of the blood either looks like it's been painted on with a feather, or it's in round or oblong dots. So...after a quick consultation with Gil Grisson I determine that something bloody has been flung against the walls over, and over, and over again. My brilliance never ceases to dazzle, does it?
I finally (three or four hours later) figured out that the end of Gus' tail is bloody and when he wags it, he flings blood everywhere. Yeah. Ever tried to bandage the end of a dogs tail? Talk about a Sisyphean endeavor. Put it on, he chews it off. Put it back on, he wags it off. The dog has only recently discovered his tail. He will occasionally catch sight of it out of the corner of his eye and it surprises him every time. He will then chase it until he clamps the end of it between his teeth. This hurts so he yelps and lets go. Until he sees it again. Repeat ad infinitum.
I'm tired of wiping blood off the walls. I've done it every evening for a week. Someone tell me how to keep the dog from chewing his tail, I beg of you. I hope there's never a need for the police to luminol my house. I'll have some splainin' to do.