This post is not for the weak of stomach. I promised to keep things real and honest here, and this is as real and honest as it gets. I am also sure someday this will all be hilarious--just not yet.
Yesterday was a rough one. I mentioned Evan got sick twice Wednesday night/early morning, but I didn't mention that after the first incident at 3 he ended up in our bed with me. Brad moved to the couch, and I spent most of the rest of the night awake. He didn't sleep well, which meant I didn't sleep well. Bottom line: I was running on about four hours of sleep yesterday.
The good news is Evan didn't get sick any more, but he was incredibly needy and wouldn't eat. While I didn't mind the extra snuggles, I found myself mentally compiling the list of everything that was not getting finished. I also found myself laying out a virtual buffet of everything he thought he might eat. Peanut butter sandwich--sure. Popcorn--you bet. Apple--absolutely. All producing a consumption of maybe five bites. Sigh.
I also found myself doing a ton of laundry--sheets, blankets, pajamas, pillows, and pillow pets. (By the way, ignore the pillow pet website. You can totally machine wash and dry those things. It was a $15 gamble I was willing to take yesterday.) The grossness just would not end. Sigh.
Brad came home early to relieve me so I could go get Issa and take her to the dentist. She had her first set of x-rays, and that kid was a rock star! Her mouth is so tiny, but they really worked with her to get the images. They like to have them by age four, but it just wasn't possible until now. Oh the drama that began.
It seems poor Issa inherited my teeth, which means the very back ones tip in to their neighbors. Consequently, each of those teeth are rubbing and causing pre-cavities. Long story short, we got a referral to a pediatric dentist to have some mini-fillings placed in those spots. Pediatric dentists are able to use laughing gas to make the experience more pleasant, and I am all for that. The dentist told us we are brushing and flossing well; it was basically just the shape of the teeth causing the problem. Mommy guilt just crushed me, though. Maybe if I brushed just a little longer...checked her flossing a little more. I don't know. The hygienist was incredible, though, and answered my gazillion questions about what's next. (I swear nurses and hygienists are angels.)
The dentist didn't share all of this with Issa, though. That became my job. I tried to keep it positive and remind her that the dentist said she was doing well, but there was the inevitable questions and concerns.
We got home just in time to change into a leotard and head to ballet. On the way, she was complaining about the yucky taste in her mouth, and just as we pulled into the parking lot she popped--as in threw up all over the van. Sigh.
She immediately felt better, and I'm sure it was a combination of dentist taste, flouride in her tummy, and nerves, but we headed home. For a brief mom-of-the-year moment, I actually thought about trying ballet. My head knew better, but I was just done. A full day of rough news and sick kids, I needed ballet. It's become my hour for the week. I get to watch my girl dance and talk with my best friend. Its disappearance was the final blow. Sigh.
We came home and got everything cleaned up. I had made taco casserole in my one pocket of free, un-barnacled by a two year old time yesterday, and it went back in the refrigerator in exchange for plain pasta. Sigh.
We got the kids in bed, and I spent time researching pediatric dentists in our network. I also indulged in some comfort food that can only happen the week after a trip up North--Balreich's and french onion dip. You can take the girl out of the mid-west but you can't take the mid-west out of the girl. (For those not from the mid-west, Balreich's are chips we can only get there and they just scream home--not fabulous--but home.) (And thank you Aunt Carol for always sending a bag back with me because I seem to be patently incapable of getting myself to a grocery to buy them.)
This morning, in the usual morning chaos of getting everyone out the door, I read Issa a letter from her school. Her class is sponsoring a child from an angel tree, and each child was asked to earn a dollar to bring in for the project. I explained what the angel tree is, and she immediately announced we needed to count her pebbles. (She does chores for pebbles, and when she hits 50 pebbles she gets $5.) She had well over 50, so I broke out the five ones I keep for just this occasion. She put $1 in her save jar, $1 in the envelope for school, and I gave her the remaining $3 to divide between her save and spend jars. That little angel looked at me and asked, "Do you think Miss Jennifer would mind if I gave $2 to the angel tree?"
No, baby, I don't think she would mind. Blessed. We may have had a day of vomit, but some families are facing cancers and the unimaginable with their children. We may have some funky teeth stuff going on, but we have great insurance and I can take her to have it fixed comfortably. I may have yet more laundry to do, but that means I have clothes and sheets and pillows and pillow pets to care for. Blessed.
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