Today, in a fit of insanity, I took all 3 of my children to an allergy appointment for Owen. Optimistically, I felt it would be fine, for the appointment was in the morning and I possess an angelic angel baby. Here’s what happened:
We came in like a wrecking ball. Henry started protesting loudly from the double stroller. Uhm, what? I don’t even know what to do here. I couldn’t buckle down and breast feed because the person who takes you back could pop up at anytime. “What a treat to have us in the waiting room!” I say to the secretary. I get one look of solidarity from a mom of twins with a side of “so glad it’s not me.” I plead with the corpsman to push the stroller for me so that I can carry the baby. I struggle to put on the Ergo. I forgot to buckle Maisy and she begins to ooze out of the bottom of the stroller. “I walk. I walk. I want to walk. I walk, I want to WALK.” Maisy is dressed like Punky Brewster because we were running late and I didn’t realize the air contained an autumnal chill.
Meanwhile Owen is practicing his own brand of slinky defiance. Stealthily removing clothing items. Silently laying on the floor and flopping limbs whenever I turn my back. When the doctor comes to take us into the room he comments on my “expanding family.” Dammit. I’ve got a hater. It would be super cool to have a crunchy female allergist because it could be real helpful to be able to whip out a nipple to soothe a baby. Ya heard? It’s not meant to be. The doctor becomes involved in some convoluted electronic record keeping. My children do not respect this and try to show him my DubSmash videos on the phone. “Not the Nelly one!” I silently implore. I pray my intense glare will scare the children. It does not. During the doctor’s examination I realize I forgot to brush Owen’s teeth.
Owen is then scheduled for a peanut tolerance test that is two hours long. “You’ll have two months to plan ahead, so you won’t have to bring them right?” And I said “Chip! I’m gonna come at you like a spider monkey!” Uhhhhhh. Yeah. Sorry. But then I thought to myself, this is a Taylor Swift moment. Shake it off. Haters will hate. Be free! Free from the judgement! I then put slinky Owen in the front of the stroller, Henry’s car seat in the back and wore Maisy as a baby backpack. And I held my head tall and thought “I’m proud of these little hooligans. I’m proud!!” And then I was a little embarrassed, but I kept saying in my head “I AM PROUD!”
And then Owen cried the entire way home because even though he apologized at the end of his reign of silent terror, he still did not get a treat.