First let me say that I took no pictures or video, it would have been unusually cruel and that's unconstitutional. At least I THINK it still is...
Dylan's appointment (which we waited two months to get) was today at 8:20 am. In Snowflake. Which the way I drive is about a half hour away. My husband insists it is a 15 to 20 minute drive, which lets you know which of us is the leadfoot.
I wake up this morning in a panic at 7:22 am. I should have already been gone by then, but my husband did not wake up early for work today and I was counting on his noisiness to wake me up in time.
If you're keeping score, that's TWO instances of bitchiness toward the hubs so far in this post.
Gah! An hour is barely enough time. To his credit, Bob got the kids ready while I whirled around getting dressed, grabbing keys, grabbing my purse, slugging down old coffee from yesterday. Ew.
All the kids were buckled and in the car in 10 minutes and we were off....but wait! Damn I forgot the paperwork. I called Bob and told him I was coming back for paperwork which he found AND met me in the driveway with like the sweet guy he is.
If you're keeping score, that's TWO instances of praise for the hubs. So I'm even now.
Back on the road, now we've lost 10 minutes of precious time.
I make it to Snowflake in near record time, about 27 minutes, haha, I have 15 minutes before the appointment to rush to my friend's house (hey Christina!) drop off the bookend children and then rush to the dentist's office in time.
I pulled up, passed Christina the children, Ben's diapers and an empty bottle (which WAS full of milk when we left the house) and jumped BACK into the car. Five minutes to get there. PLENTY of time in tiny Snowflake.
Some old dude pulls out into the road in front of me in a busted old pickup truck and he actually DID THE SPEED LIMIT all the way from Christina's house to the stoplight. Yes, THE one and only stoplight. Old dudes are such sticklers for the rules. That took me down to just ONE minute to arrive.
We pulled up and got checked into the appointment just two minutes late. I was terrified that they would tell me, so sorry, you have to reschedule just because they could. But they did not! Yay!
I had to fill out the paperwork right there in the office. Bad mom!
Anyway...they called Dylan back to start getting him knocked out. First they weighed him, I suppose to determine how much knockout juice he would need. Then the anesthesiologist -- who incidentally was waaaay amped up for a person who puts people to sleep for a living -- went through a checklist of safety stuff, is Dylan allergic to anything, does he have asthma, does he do coke, that sort of thing. No, no and no for the record.
Then Dylan sat in my lap and the fast-talking anesthesiologist pulled a ninja move and poked him in the arm with the needle of sleepy juice before Dylan even knew what was going on. Despite the doc telling me it would take a few minutes (at least I THINK that's what he said) Dylan started slipping into dreamland within 60 seconds. The doc took off Dylan's shoes and socks, in case they needed to run his IV through his foot, and then took Dylan off to the room to get his cavities filled.
I went back to the waiting room and read four issues of Time magazine and obsessively texted Christina.
It was about 10 am when they were all done with Dylan and they brought me back to see him. He was stone cold knocked out. Totally asleep.
The anesthesiologist told me to "mess with him" to get him to wake up. At least that's what I THINK he said. He talked so fast!
It took about another half hour before Dylan roused himself and wanted to sit up. He was acting like a little drunk kid. I was laughing. A lot.
It was another ten minutes before he said anything. He mostly just looked around dazed and tried to lay back down suddenly.
When Dylan DID speak (the criteria for letting us leave was that he had to start talking) he said "Hiiiiiiii mooooooooom" just like that. Like we were underwater and overemphasizing his words so I'd understand him.
Then he looked around again, drunkenly, and leaned into me and said "Iiiiiiii waaaant toooo geeeet ouuuuut of heeeeeeere."
So we left.
He was dead weight for sure, and I carried all 36 pounds of him to the car all while he was fighting me trying to get down and walk. With no shoes on, and on at best wobbly legs.
We went back and picked up the other kids. Dylan was WAAAAY out of it. He didn't really seem to know where he was, who he was, or what was going on around him.
I got the other two in the car and stopped off to get gas. As I was pumping the gas, Dylan puked all over himself. Nice. I didn't have any towels so I cleaned him up with a sweater that happened to be in the car. Waay nice.
Then I remembered that I had to mail some packages and get milk as we were almost out. I drove all the way to Lakeside to go to the post office there, because you can see the parking lot through the window there and I was not afraid to leave the kids in the car. Then I jammed to Wal-Mart, Dylan still could not walk, and got milk, eggs and other essentials.
At the checkout line, Ben AND Dylan both decided that they had had enough of the day, the shopping and being awake and/or sane and they both started howling and screaming and crying.
So much so that I forgot my PIN for my debit card and the lady behind me said "Honey you need to get home, take some sedatives and drink a glass of wine."
And I would have agreed if the screaming wasn't damaging my brain so much at the time that I could barely register the fact that this woman was talking to me and suggesting dangerous drug interaction, which is totally my style. Kidding. Maybe.
I got out of there so fast and strapped the kids back into the car, Benny still wailing. Then I high-tailed it home, tossed Ben into the crib where he is STILL sleeping Praise Jesus! and drank not a luded out glass of wine, but rather a delicious diet cream soda. Yum.
Upon returning home, Dylan swiftly returned to his normal form: Insane Three Year Old.
He STOLE my cream soda AND began demanding chicken nuggets.
Yeah, he's back to normal.
I, however, am ready for a nap. Is it bedtime yet?