I used to think I was a sweets girl, perhaps because of my proficiency with a spoon and a pint of Breyers. I have been known to admonish J upon his return from an afternoon of errands, “You left me alone with the Nutella again.” And, before we had kids, when we actually went to parties, we were known to meet one another’s eyes from across the room at 10:40 and rapidly make our way to the door so that we could get to Krispy Kreme while the “HOT” light was still on.
Yes, I like my desserts. This is why I began Tuesday morning with a chocolate doughnut. I have fallen off the sweets wagon of late, and I did not think I could face the craziness of the day I was about to have without a little pick-me-up. I munched it in the car on the way to our first engagement of the day, a meeting with an administrator at a school we are considering for Zachary when he starts kindergarten in two years.
Although private school would be a hell of a stretch for us, we are fortunate that we can even consider it as an option.
Meeting over, we zoomed over to the house, where the sellers were supposed to be moving out at the same time we would be moving in. Our agent met us there. The other movers were gone, but the seller had left piles of trash in the bins and was slowly moving the last of his things out. The family had, in fact, left a refrigerator full of condiments, complete with Hershey’s syrup, which I guess would come in handy were I a sweets girl.
Although the sellers’ behavior throughout was annoying and the house has a lot of maintenance items we need to address with contractors over the next few days, we are fortunate to be able to afford a place to live.
I fielded a call from Zach’s preschool, telling me the afternoon enrichment courses we had signed him up for were not happening due to low enrollment and we needed to choose new ones. Just the conversation I wanted to be having as I stood outside the new house, waiting for the seller to stop bitching to his agent that he didn’t know we would be there that morning (did he miss all the emails?).
We are fortunate to have a lovely preschool that gives our son enrichment opportunities.
I headed out again, leaving J to wait for the movers and deal with the clueless seller, as I had another appointment to make. This was the only time that we could get me a slot to take the written test required to get a California license. The test, I might add, was probably written by the guy who sold us our house, because it was about as clear as he seems to be. Nonetheless, I fortunately managed to pass.
Back at the new house, J was telling the movers where to put what. I called the babysitter to see how Benjamin was feeling. The poor kid started oozing out of orifices on Saturday, and the resident who saw us that afternoon gave us eye drops. Those drops seemed to be working on the conjunctivitis but are rather useless against the fever he started running Saturday evening, three hours after we left the urgent care clinic. Fever reducers helped temporarily, but when the sitter told me he still is hot, I called the doctor.
We are fortunate to have an excellent babysitter.
Twenty minutes later, I was back in the car, headed out to meet Benjamin and the sitter at the doctor, whereupon I took one bleary-eyed, sticky child from her and sent her to collect the other one from school. The doctor looked. The doctor listened. The doctor poked and prodded. Then, the doctor declared Benjamin had an ear infection in his right ear, which would explain why he had been getting progressively more miserable with every passing hour.
“We’re supposed to fly to D.C. on Thursday,” I told her.
“Well, that’s not ideal,” she replied.
We are fortunate to have medical insurance, not to mention the prescription coverage I made use of a few minutes later.
My first call was to J, who was appropriately aghast at the prospect of putting this child on a plane a day and a half after starting antibiotics for an ear infection. My husband was the Ear Infection Kid, and as an adult survivor of that particular pleasure, he has memories of writhing about in pain. “Maybe we could change the flight to next week?” he suggested, although we both knew it would prove prohibitively expensive.
My second call was to my friend in Boston. I cannot cancel the trip to see Grandma, Grandpa, and Great-Grandma, but I surely was not getting a kid with an ear infection on another flight two days later. I told her I was not coming. I am fortunate to have an understanding best friend.
Throughout the afternoon and evening, I kept stumbling upon my good fortune. We were able to change the flight to go out on Tuesday, giving Benjamin almost a week to recover. Let me tell you, it ain’t cheap to change a flight, but we were quite fortunate to find that this particular flight change was at least in the vicinity of our budget.
But, there was only one moment in the entire day during which I truly felt fortunate, and that was on the drive from the doctor’s office back to the new house, where J, the babysitter, and Zachary were entertaining themselves with Zach’s temper tantrum and the first load of stuff, from London (the Philly shipment came on the next day). As I fought late afternoon L.A. traffic with a dripping, glazed-eyed child in the backseat, I was fortunate to pass a McDonald’s. Whereupon, I felt the steering wheel turn of its own volition into the drive through line.
The vanilla milkshakes were fine, although Benjamin had no interest in his. But that order of medium fries? That rocked my world, especially with the extra salt I added.
It is time to come to terms with the facts. I like sweets, but when push comes to shove comes to ear infection, I am definitely a savory kind of chick.