23 Minutes
June 16, 2009
Dear Well-Meaning People At Our Vet's Office,
I know. I KNOW. He LOOKS CUTE. He's all blondish and be-dimpled, dressed up exactly like a real live human being with the polo and the shorts and the sandals. He'll tell you his name and his dog's name and his baby brother's name (though probably not in the same order you asked the questions). In other words, he LOOKS like the kind of kid you can win over with stickers and small plastic dog figurines...and inviting him into the back while you administer our dog's Bordetella vaccine sounds like a great idea, except for the part where you can't and it totally fucking isn't.
I don't know. I DON'T KNOW. He loves stickers! Especially circle stickers! Small plastic choking hazards are his FAVORITE! I don't know why today he's decided that stickers are the equivalent of putting dirty Band-Aids on his shirt and small plastic dog figurines are like, beneath him or something, God, and why his only true love in the world is your ceramic business card holder. Wait. That one I know. Because it is 1) Breakable, and 2) FULL OF A MILLION AND ONE FUCKING BUSINESS CARDS.
I do know a little more. See? He's three-and-a-half. Probably closer to four than I ever let myself admit, because FOUR. That's a PERSON. That's...not this kid right here, who is shrieking that I DON'T NEED TO LIKE TO READ A BOOK NO THANK YOU when I offer him something from your dog-eared collection of dog-themed children's books as an alternative to the business card holder. He is both acting his age and totally NOT acting his age, and I hope and pray this is just kind of part being this age. Dear God. He also, for the record, loves books, although today has been one of those fucking days where I would secretly like to fashion some kind of helmet that beams Yo Gabba Gabba directly into his brain if it would make him sit still and stop rolling around on the fur-covered floor like the Incredible Human Swiffer With Extra Whining Power.
(You're welcome for the clean floors, though. Don't mention it, we're just happy to help.)
I must admit to bullshitting you when I was all, "Noah, be GENTLE with Ceiba's leash, remember how I showed you? Don't pull on her, be GENTLE. You know better." Confession: I've never shown him how to walk the dog on her leash because he refuses to even acknowledge her waffle-stealing existence 99% of the time, like, I'm not even sure he's aware that we have a dog. I think he considers her more on par with an annoying battery-powered blinky-bloopy toy, and he has never ONCE been so fascinated with her leash and walking her around in circles as he is today and honestly I'm starting to wonder if maybe another mother and I got our children mixed up in the parking lot.
Please don't offer to let him go in the back with you please don't offer to let him go in the back with you please don't, oh crap. You did. Okay, watch this; it's really cool. I'll try to say "No, let's stay out here and wait together, okay?" and see how many words I can get out of my mouth before the screaming starts.
Three words! It's a personal best!
Fine. We'll go in the back -- path of least resistance and all, and a fierce desire to GET OUT OF HERE ALIVE -- and oh, look. There's dogs and cats in cages! He would like to stick his hand in those cages, and then he would like to run around and collide into pricey medical equipment. This is a TERRIFIC IDEA. You can tell that the vet thinks so too! Hi, Doctor. Yeah. It's us. There's an olde ancient Internet acronym for your facial expression. Double You Tee Eff, I believe it is called.
Okay! The vaccine took all of 30 seconds, which TOTALLY made this entire transition to the back room necessary and time to go back out front, Noah! Noah? Get...git...over here...now...hiss...gah...I will PUT YOU in the cone of shame, child, I KNOW they make them for your neck measurement I swear to...
Okay! Time to pay, make follow-up appointments at which I will feel deathly guilty over the state of my pets' dental hygeine, yep, I'd love a reminder card, something to look forward to! This! All over again! And oh God, please let the sticker thing go, I don't know WHY he's being such an ass about the sticker and I'm just all around mortified by this entire excursion and...wait...what are you asking him about?
Are we going to the bea...SHIT SHIT DON'T SAY IT DON'T SAY THAT WORD STOP.
Oh, hell. Yes, we needed the Bordetella because we're going to the b-e-a-c-h. On Friday. Which means it's totally not something we've mentioned to the c-h-i-l-d yet, because...well, never mind. I'm just going to crumble a couple of your business cards into earplugs for the ride home when he realizes we're NOT going to the beach right now and thinks that he's being punished for not being a good boy and perhaps I'll let him think that. Or not. I haven't had time to process my remaining patience level.
In summary, Well-Meaning People At Our Vet's Office, please accept my official and heartfelt apology for bringing an unhinged class five tornado onto your premises. Especially without a leash. He's really not usually like this, except for whenever it matters. THEN HE IS PRECISELY LIKE THIS. Thank you for maintaining that you found him utterly adorable, right up until the moment we left. Though I also wouldn't blame you if you're totally blogging about us right now.
Sincerely,
Amy
PS. I am also sorry that my dog has such a weird, unpronouncable name. Before her next visit I'll train her to respond to Sheba or Sayiba or something like that.
PPS. He really did cry the whole way home about the beach. It was kind of sad, since I do still like him a whole lot, in spite of everything. I wasn't mean about it and tried to explain that we're still going, just not today, but it didn't really do any good. Turns out he mostly just needed a nap. This has since been rectified. Within 30 seconds of getting back home. With extreme prejudice. And door locks.
PPPS. The little one sure was cute, right? HE liked your stickers.
PPPPS. Though for future reference, eight-month-old babies should not be given stickers. Particularly eight-month-old babies who belong to harebrained, distracted mothers who are trying to wrangle a sobbing preschooler and a freaked-out hamsterdog who just wanted to wind her leash around everybody's fucking legs, because she might not notice until much later that the sticker has mysteriously vanished. He's going to poop it out momentarily, I just know it. I wonder if we'll still be able tell what brand of heartworm pills provided the stickers! Oooh, suspense!
What is with the vet's office and their commitment to pet dental hygeine? After spending $600 on my cat the other day they tried to make me feel guilty for not spending another $300 on his teeth. I did not have the heart to tell them that if the damn cat peed on the floor one more time I beleive my husband might put him out of his misery.
You deserve a martini after that one, lady.
It is after a day like this one, when you have wrung every last atom of patience and cunning out of every last cell in your body, and you are secretly hoping someone will break your legs so you can have a day or two in a hospital for the QUIET for gods' sake, that someone will say to you:
"Oh, you are at home full time? What do you DO all day?"
And murder doesn't seem like a terrible option at that moment, because at least you'd get a quiet cell with only one cellmate--with the option to upgrade to solitary!
As a former babysitter/nanny/camp counselor/kindergarten teacher, but not yet a mom:
this entry made me want to take a nap. SHEW!
ha.hahah. hahahahaha. LURVE.
These are the types of situations where, inevitably, my 4 year old somehow manages to vanish from my sight in the blink of an eye - usually right about the time I've reached the end of the stress rope - causing me to shriek "Jack!" in the ear of the person "helping" me, only to find that he is standing right behind me and is Not currently getting run over in the parking lot or otherwise getting into trouble. That always leaves 'em with a good impression of how well I have things under control.
You poor thing.
And I mean that seriously...you.poor.thing!
I have had days similar and it makes one question the whole procreation idea.
Oh, sweetie. Soooo been there. Been there in spades. Been there, only when the dog got a shot, she screamed like it had been her because "Mean Doctor HURT my DOG!" Alcohol and nap. ASAP
You've made my own special crappy day a little better by knowing that someone else is having an equally crappy day. Does that make me a bad person?
so had bad days too...have a large beverage (you know, the adult kind) and then hand everything and everyone over to Jason when he gets home :)
I expect a full report on the sticker when it reappears.
My nephew once ate some of the newspaper, and my sister could still read the comic strips when he pooped it out.
Oh dear. At least you all made it out alive and in one piece.
"Mama said there'd be days like this, there'd be days like this my Mama said..." Sorry, it seemed mildly appropriate. Meltdown, WTF moment, whatever you call it, it sure as shit is not easy to abide, or ignore, hence the lack of hair on my head, and grey in my beard! I feel for you, and just reading that has prompted a detour in my ride home to the local purveyor of distilled spirits. I'll be pouring a stiff one in your honor, and the second will be strictly for sympathy! Hang in there, and oil the door locks!!
You are so brave. Loved the post, praying HARD for you and trying not to laugh because DAMN you are funny.
I hear you on the stickers and eating of same. We had the screaming in the middle of the night and coughing it out follow-up, however.
I wish Sprite would ignore our dogs once in a while. The beagle may be closer to a breakdown than I thought.
And I agree with Mel. What's with the dental upcharge? As much as I love my two dogs, they're DOGS. They eat shit on a regular basis. And lick themselves and others. Tartar on their teeth? Next thing you know, the vets will be telling us to floss as well.
Well, the worst situations make the best blog posts. (Sorry for the evil/schadenfreude from me). My day wasn't as bad, although it was started with cat puke.
Hope tomorrow is better for you. Or that you can laugh harder at today, at least.
Oh, Amy. It's funny, but only because it wasn't me. Wow. Glad you all made it through!! Have an extra glass of wine tonight.
DUDE - I've just been blogging a SERIES of what it is to be 3.5. Here, come sit down, there's plenty of room of this misery-loves-company bench.
My prayers for you are twofold: that you recover from this challenging experience and prayers of joy that you will one day be on the backside of this phase.
You have a husband, no? Why is he not taking the animals to the vet after he comes back from work? I have had 4-5 vets over the years, they all have evening/weekend hours. A baby, a hypersensitive dog and a hypersensitive kid who does not care for the dog all together at the vet? Oh boy, reading all that made me break out in cold sweat.
I really admire you, because I'd want to beat the everloving shit out of my kid when we got back to the car. Delicate sensitivities notwithstanding.
Or maybe hire responsible teen to take the dog to the vet? I don't see how you can do all this yourself, even though you obviously are. But I think a neighborhood helper would make life a lot easier.
I just took our two 15 lb cats to the vet for shots - and lo and behold my husband had failed to take the stroller out of his car and put it in my car, so I had to balance 30 lbs of cats on one side and 19 pounds of 6 month old on the other (we grow 'em big at my house) and the chipper 12 year old vet tech didn't even make a move to help me get through the door. $92 EACH for the privilege - no extra charge for the dental upsell guilt... You betcha I wuz drinking after that!
I make it a point never to take my kids to the vet with me - but I was always considering that it seemed needlessly cruel to the cat to bring them along (they love the "pet" ie smack, the cat, chase the cat, shriek in joy in the cat's ear -and I fgured a trip to the vet was stressful enough to the poor animal). I never once really considered my stress level in the whole situation, but man, my decision to always get a babysitter when the cat needs a checkup is looking better than ever now. I'm sending you a big mental martini!
I was walking through Target with The Daver on Sunday and mentioned that it was 'hahaha, so FUNNY, hahaha' that we burn up our babysitting time doing chores.
Then I cried. Because yeah. Obviously.
...and perhaps I'll let think him that. Or not. I haven't had time to process my remaining patience level.
And that's why I read your blog--as much for the humor as for moments like these, that let me know I'm not the only one who has thoughts like that. More than once, I've realized that I'd just used up the last of my patience--and I wasn't even at the vet.
I hope everyone has calmed down and that there are no more vet visits in your near future.
Amy, I get that you are angry at the situation for transpiring this way, and you have my sympathy that it went down like this.
I think you took a little too much on - a preschooler with special needs and a baby and a dog to the vet for a shot is a lot to handle.
You're doing an admirable job. Let your husband take the dog to the vet or watch the kids while you do.
I took my four year old for his checkup today at the ped and he was SO good. He has autism but sees a regular ped and sometimes the nurses don't seem to know what's up with him. So they treat him like a typical kid, tell him the bp wrap is "hugging" his arm, etc. Today it all went GREAT. He even said "doctor" to the doctor! Then we came home and he proceeded to lose his freaking MIND for hours and hours. Kicking, screaming, screaming, braying, screaming, etc. etc. on and on until - well, actually he's still pretty noisy but my husband has him in the bath. My point is, I sort of wish he would have been crazy at the ped for 20 minutes, rather than for four hours at home. You never know, right? Let's have wine tonight, a ton!
This post is hilariously funny - not the experience so much as it sounds like that was more than a little trying, but your recounting of it...and hey, you're laughing, right? Isn't that better than the alternative?
Teenagers are soooo much easier than this! I hope to gah that Noah turns out to be an easy teen for you.
Oh, sweet Amy. With no kids, I can't begin to imagine the hilarity that must ensue. But I can tell you this: kids Noah's age have no sense of time. Thomas the Tank engine coming today or Next Never brings the same angst and anticipation.
Noah is lovely, Ezra is adorable and you are drunk. By now. I'm guessing. Good girl. Tomorrow is another day.
This post CRACKED me up. (wiping tears from my cheeks)
Good GOD I am glad I am not the only one who goes through this shit!! I feel for you, Amy. I do. Great post!!!
Taking children to appointment-y type things is SO not my idea of a good time. And then to bring the dog (obviously), too?! You are a brave, brave woman. *tips hat to you*
I thought you were going to say Noah freaked out when he saw the needle for Ceiba.
I've been there, done that with a toddler that was just not in the mood to cooperate, no. matter. what. And the rolling on the floor, swifferizing? oh. my. goodness! that's my life!
all that to say. I feel your pain! I can't speak for all moms, but I've been there. You really do express it soooo much better than I!
Just don't forget if the sticker ends up on little Ezra's boyparts that it IS A STICKER. I seem to remember an entry where Jason freaked out because you thought Noah had some crazy extra skin that came off his willie...and it was a sticker.
God, after that vet visit, did you Irish up your coffee/iced tea/water/drink of choice?
Just don't forget if the sticker ends up on little Ezra's boyparts that it IS A STICKER. I seem to remember an entry where Jason freaked out because you thought Noah had some crazy extra skin that came off his willie...and it was a sticker.
God, after that vet visit, did you Irish up your coffee/iced tea/water/drink of choice?
Just don't forget if the sticker ends up on little Ezra's boyparts that it IS A STICKER. I seem to remember an entry where Jason freaked out because you thought Noah had some crazy extra skin that came off his willie...and it was a sticker.
God, after that vet visit, did you Irish up your coffee/iced tea/water/drink of choice?
Just don't forget if the sticker ends up on little Ezra's boyparts that it IS A STICKER. I seem to remember an entry where Jason freaked out because you thought Noah had some crazy extra skin that came off his willie...and it was a sticker.
God, after that vet visit, did you Irish up your coffee/iced tea/water/drink of choice?
I had no choice but to take my 16 pound cat with a torn nail to the vets with my 2 1/2 year old extra-active daughter and my 6 month old son on my own just a few weeks ago. To the other posters asking about why she didn't have help - sometimes it's just not possible. Anyways, my trip was EXHAUSTING, especially since I have to walk to my vets and I only had room in my stroller for the cat. With the baby in a carrier and the toddler who doesn't know how to walk in a straight line... And then there's the water cooler in the waiting room.... Let's say the mop was involved more than once. I feel for you, Amy! :)
I'll trade you one vet's visit for a kicking,screaming, crying 3 1/2 yr old who is pissed because I won't let him sleep with his big brother because I have some insane parental notion of them actually being well rested. Argh.
I love reading your posts because they sound like my life a few years ago. Wait till Ezra can tell people to stop asking his brother questions because he does not like to answer them.
Somehow I am reminded about the day I was in the grocery store parking lot a couple of years ago and saw a mom with a pre-schooler unloading groceries in her car. As she put them in the backseat her child scrambled out of the cart and started crawling across the trunk of her car. As she reached for him he scampered out of her reach - repeatedly - as she tried to corner him.
As I watched this did I feel compassion for her, did I rush over and offer to help - maybe distract Jr. so she could catch him? Nope, I'm evil. I just thought to myself, "Hah! I don't ever have to do that again!"
Oh yes, been THERE, done THAT, so love that mine have grown up! Bwahahaha!!!
(BTW, I am the aforementioned sister whose baby ate the Sunday funnies and you could still read them when he pooped them out. Said baby turns 25 next month. :D)
Somehow I am reminded about the day I was in the grocery store parking lot a couple of years ago and saw a mom with a pre-schooler unloading groceries in her car. As she put them in the backseat her child scrambled out of the cart and started crawling across the trunk of her car. As she reached for him he scampered out of her reach - repeatedly - as she tried to corner him.
As I watched this did I feel compassion for her, did I rush over and offer to help - maybe distract Jr. so she could catch him? Nope, I'm evil. I just thought to myself, "Hah! I don't ever have to do that again!"
Oh yes, been THERE, done THAT, so love that mine have grown up! Bwahahaha!!!
(BTW, I am the aforementioned sister whose baby ate the Sunday funnies and you could still read them when he pooped them out. Said baby turns 25 next month. :D)
poopwatch2009.
keep us posted on the contents of your doggy poo. i will be on the edge of my seat until i know for sure which medicine it is.
poopwatch2009.
keep us posted on the contents of your doggy poo. i will be on the edge of my seat until i know for sure which medicine it is.
I teach a year 1 class over in australia and i kid you not they love your 8 month old son ezra. they are totaly over the whole praise thing and as a reward i now crank out the laptop and show them photos from your blog. if i had a dollar for the amount of times a day i get a cute face looking up at me saying baby photos? i would be rich, im prety sure they are using it as black mail now. im most likely the worst teacher when it comes to appropiate rewards and blah blah blah but c'mon if cute baby photos stop a bunch of 6 year olds from screaming then ill take it!
by the way how do you prenounce your dogs name??
I'm with you on the "please don't mention the beach" thing. When my older daughter was 3 we went to Disney with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law and their 2 kids, one a year older and one a year younger than mine. My SIL thought nothing of talking about plans that may or may NOT happen in earshot of the children. HER kids regularly tuned out what adults were saying and had no idea. MY kid turned around (in stroller) and started... "fireworks? we're going to see fireworks? when? when are the fireworks?" at 3 in the afternoon. I wanted to strangle my otherwise-very-lovely SIL more than once on that trip, just for normal conversation. It was the first time I realized that not all parents talked in whispers and code around their children.
OMG. Sorry for that part of your day :/