Thursday, July 11, 2013

Sure glad I consign children’s clothing. That $.40 sure came in handy.

Today was another day with the speed and agility camp forty minutes from home. And as it is closer to the pediatrician’s office than the house, I went ahead and scheduled checkups for random kids. Well actually not so random. The ones who needed their vaccines. Of course there was time to kill between camp ending and appointments beginning, so errand running commenced.

First stop was at the consignment store that I am particularly fond of. In a fit of purging and organizing I gave away all my baby girl items. It made sense at the time. But Cinco likes to poop and puke and so my attempts to keep her wardrobe to the bare basics were backfiring on me. As was the heat.  So cute summer baby items were accrued. With several put back because I’m still trying to keep it simple. Baba found a skirt she clearly like and told me that it reminded her of me. It was a valiant effort. Baby  found several items she wanted and cried when I broke it to her that she was not actually the daughter I was shopping for. X-Man found Lightening McQueen and had a complete a total meltdown when it came time to leave. He was so effective in his screaming that he was offered a lollipop to leave.  Maybe that’s why the clerk asked me if I had tied my tubes.

Then off to the library. Other than failing to return one overdue book, the visit went well. That is until it was time to leave. Again with the objections X-Man! He upped his level of resistance however, including collapsing and flopping and screaming and running opposite directions. Somehow I looked like the bad guy, here was a child, clearly wanting to stay surrounded by books and the opportunity to learn and I was literally dragging him kicking and screaming away.  I gave up on looking like a good mother around the time I became a mother, so I just went with it. But ten steps from building of silence and it became clear that X-Man was aiming for his own trip to the doctor with a dislocated shoulder, elbow and or wrist. He didn’t care. It would prove his point.

About then I reached my limit. I decided enough was enough. I removed Cinco from the baby carrier, had Baby hold her while Baba held a spazzing X-Man, Mac had enough sense to lay low. I adjusted the carrier and in went X-Man. I told him firmly “If you can’t behave, you will have to be carried like a baby.” Big mistake. He grabbed fistfuls of hair and shrieked “Whee!!!” He then attempted to steer me in his preferred direction by my hair. When we got to the car, he figured the jig was up and wrapped his fat little arms, absurdly strong little arms at that, around my neck and bellowed “No I go Mama!

He now calls the baby carrier “mine.”  I kept him in it at the doctor’s, as it was Mac and Cinco who had to be checked. Mac knew enough not to volunteer to the doctor that his favorite thing to do is play the Wii. He looked at me when asked, I encouraged “you like to play outside don’t you?” “Mostly no." Especially when you make me.” I might I said more, but X-Man was angry that I wasn’t responding to his “whee mommy!!!” Emphatic as they were becoming. He decided to start scratching which resulted in me yelling and Mac opining on which games he liked best on the Wii. And how he didn’t get to play that much. So on the parenting scale, I guess it was a wash.

Because knowing this makes it soooo less embarrassing.
Mac hyperventilated after his vaccines, and the medical assistant was way more sympathetic than I was. Then again, he thought taking off his band-aids hurt. 

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