Wednesday started with a frenzy. I was taking both kids to their dentist appointment and I barely slept the night before: too much coffee too late in the evening.
As I grabbed the last minute things to take with me, I realized that Ellis’ antibiotic was still in powder form. She needs to take it 30-60 minutes prior to her dental cleaning to prevent bacteria from infecting her heart. Keeping track of when to give her the medicine within the recommended time frame, in addition to all her morning ones, usually stresses me out. It was no different this morning.
When Chris picked up the medicine on Tuesday, we assumed the pharmacist reconstituted it already. I couldn’t even get mad because the pharmacist probably thought he was doing us a favor: longer shelf-life and convenience to mix it when we needed it.
I called Chris for help. Ringing, then voicemail. He was probably in a meeting. So I stashed the powder bottle in my bag and decided the best thing would be to reschedule Ellis’ appointment; only Elliot would have his check-up. Ugh, whatever, I’ll figure it out on the drive there. I told Ellis the situation expecting her to be delighted but her response was unexpected.
Ohhhh, the drama that ensued: Ellis moping because she needed professional help to check for loose teeth. The first baby tooth that falls out will magically turn her into a big girl. Elliot, hearing the commotion, asked with a grin if he could skip his appointment too. Sorry dude, you’re still going in. And the barrage of questions demanded answers that I wasn’t motivated to give: “How come she gets to….?” “Why do I have to…?”
Five minutes behind schedule and I’m running out of time to tend to my OCD counting before leaving the house.
We all had different needs begging for attention that morning.
I asked myself in exasperation: can’t these kids just give me one silent minute to count in peace? I’m not asking for too much. I just need to check the stove like 3-5 times until I’m reassured that it’s turned off. And if the kids don’t need my immediate attention, I can spend a few seconds to check more thoroughly by placing my hand on top of the burner. (I know it hasn’t even been turned on and it’s not hot at all, but I still feel the need to check). This behavior is bizarre, irrational and compulsive.
It was a wild morning. Thankfully, the antibiotics situation resolved. Chris called back and walked me through the steps to reconstitute the powder at the dentist’s office. And to Ellis’ dismay the dentist did not detect any wiggly tooth.
In the meantime, she can check herself for any sudden shakiness while keeping up with good dental hygiene. The former she does enthusiastically, but the latter with much reluctance and complaining like you wouldn’t believe.
I think God created kids to be adorable, with their small angelic faces and big smiles, to help parents to overlook the small things. There’s so much going on raising kids and living life that I’ve got to learn which battles are worth fighting.