May 6, 2008

why we are never having family dinner again, ever

At the dinner table.

Henry: Dad, how did you know that Charlie’s arm was broken?

Charlie: Because it was BENT!

Me: Whoa, stop. Please.

Henry: But did you KNOW it was broken?

Wade: Yes.

Henry: How?

Charlie: IT WAS BENT!

Me: STOP. Please.

Henry: Come on, Dad, tell me. How did you know that Charlie’s arm was broken?

Charlie: Henry, he knew because it was BENT. Like THIS.

Me: OH MY GOD I AM BEGGING YOU TO STOP NOW.

Henry: How much was it bent? Like this? Or more like this?

Charlie: It was TOTALLY bent, just like this–

Me: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE STOP NOW PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU.

And then Wade choked on his dinner because he was laughing so hard. The end.

April 24, 2008

four-OH!

Today is my birthday; I am 40. I could wax eloquent about all the things I expected to do before I was 40 or all the things I hope to do now that I am 40, but instead I will tell you about my day, because you will NEVER BELIEVE THIS.

My birthday went like this: get up, get dressed (in an actual DRESS even because I was going to have lunch with my husband and then go to the Apple store to replace my iBook’s power cord and perhaps also stop at J. Crew because IT IS MY BIRTHDAY), get kids up, get kids dressed, take kids to school. Come home, eat cereal, read New York Times, get ready to talk with magazine editor about writing for magazine. Call editor, leave message, think about starting to clean up house.

And then the school calls because Henry has an ear infection and has cried the ENTIRE WAY through Mass. Woo!

I spent the rest of the day with a kid who alternately felt FINE and wanted to tell me IN GREAT DETAIL about an episode of SpongeBob he watched TWO WEEKS AGO when Charlie was forbidden to move and was watching TV for twelve consecutive hours each day and then felt HORRIBLE and cried and sobbed and wailed and moaned and clung to me with all his strength and power and 63 pounds of heft.

All this was all before lunch, which clearly I was NOT going to spend in a grown-up restaurant with my husband. Instead we took Henry (who was feeling pretty good at that particular moment) to HIS favorite restaurant, a local sandwich place that I have decided I am OVER. And we had a lovely lunch even though I am OVER Gourmet Deli. Sorry.

After lunch, Henry spent what seemed like a hundred hours but was probably only one sobbing and crying and insisting that I FIX HIS EAR RIGHT NOW. And then he was fine again and we picked Charlie up and they talked about their days and then we got to the doctor and he sobbed in the waiting room and then we went into the examining room and he was polite and cooperative and then we left to drive through at the pharmacy and he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and insisted that the people in front of us FINISH ALREADY AND GET OUT OF THE WAY because his EAR HURT WHY DIDN’T ANYONE CARE THAT HIS EAR HURT AND WHY WEREN’T WE GETTING THE MEDICINE AND HIS EAR HURT DID I HEAR HIM ABOUT HIS EAR WHY AREN’T WE GOING HOME YET OWOWOWOW ITHURTSITHURTSITHURTS MAKEITSTOPNOW!!!

I’m guessing that I must have passed out about then because I have no idea what was next.

So far, being 40 feels just like being 39 and 30 and 25, except for the part about the screaming kid, which I would never have seen coming a decade ago (or really even yesterday because who knew he had an ear infection?!? not me, clearly). Apparently 40 is the new 30, whatever that means, although I think really it just means that a whole group of us is getting old and trying desperately to turn old into cool which just seems kind of lame to me.

And that is what I have learned at 40: trying to be cool is lame. Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen! Apparently I my work here is done.

April 15, 2008

a little something to take the edge off

Pharmacist: How can I help you?

Me: I called in a refill for my son, and got a message saying that the scrip can’t be filled. I’m just wondering what’s going on.

Pharmacist: Patient’s name? (Looks him up in the computer.) Oh, right! We’re all out of that.

Me: Come again?

Pharmacist: It’s on backorder at the manufacturer. We’ve been waiting about three weeks but we still haven’t gotten any. Apparently they’re just not shipping it.

Me: Okaaaaay …

Pharmacist: You can try giving him a different antihistamine, an OTC, if this is for allergies –

Me: No, see, he takes it for ANXIETY and he’s really having kind of a tough time right now and he really NEEDS his meds and OH MY GOD IS THERE ANY WAY TO FIND SOME BECAUSE WE ARE TOTALLY OUT see my husband spilled the bottle but I was out of town and my OTHER child has a broken arm and it’s been really HARD for all of us and we’re not sleeping very well and –

Pharmacist (stepping back from the counter and putting her hands up in the air in a gesture of what can only be described as alarm): Um, I’ll see what I can do.  You just … stay right there.  Okay?  Okay …

Honestly, I have no idea where Henry gets his anxiety. I cannot even imagine, can you?  You know, with such calm and cool parents.

(Still no meds. Apparently there MAY be a similar drug he can try, but the developmental pediatrician was out of the office yesterday and until we change the scrip we’re just medication free!  Woo!  Which is really not lowering MY anxiety level AT ALL. The end.)

March 19, 2008

is it spring yet?

Things I am not ready for: on the way to school this morning, Charlie asks, out of the blue and very seriously, “Mama, how does the baby get out of the mommy’s tummy?”

And I say, “Oh, buddy, I don’t know. I didn’t go to medical school, you know!”

Go ahead, judge me. I don’t think well on my feet first thing in the morning.

After school, I take the boys to Saturn Grill for a snack, and then to the drugstore to pick up Henry’s medication. He takes this particular medication for his anxiety, but he’s seven so we just tell him it’s for his allergies. Which he worries about.  Because he is ANXIOUS, you see.

I can’t imagine where he gets it.

I pull up to the drive-through window and the pharmacist happily informs me that the drug company is discontinuing this medication! and that the pharmacy is almost out! thank you for shopping at Walgreens!

Henry says, “What did she say? What’s wrong with my medicine?”

“Nothing, buddy,” I tell him, “they’re just not making it any more.”

“But but but,” he splutters, “WHAT WILL I TAKE FOR MY ALLERGIES?!?”

Those two moments pretty much sum up my whole day.  They also leave me thinking that maybe I should have gone to medical school after all.

March 12, 2008

spring break, day three: it’s a total zoo around here

I took the boys to the zoo today, because it was EIGHTY DEGREES in Oklahoma City (thank you Jesus). We saw the baby lions and the snow leopard and some turkeys and a whole slew of bats.  And then we went out for lunch and played outside and went to the grocery and watched a movie and cooked hamburgers on the grill.

It was a really lovely day.

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February 22, 2008

Turtlerama 2008

We finished Henry’s turtle project, without any tears or yelling, although I have to admit to having very little to do with the diorama part, for obvious reasons (hello, NO CRAFTING SKILLS). Fortunately, I married a man who used to build models and dioramas for fun when he was a kid, so that worked out well.

It’s really a habitat, Henry says. Whatever.

Last night as we were getting ready to sit down to dinner, my phone rang; it was a call I really needed to take, so I went off upstairs to consult and Wade fed the kids and cleaned up and then moved everyone up to the playroom to make a turtle habitat. By the time I finished on the phone, the turtle was living large in my shoe box.

Well, not too large; they were small shoes.

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